She laughs. Not at his hesitation at the word friend (that could be a tricky word, a tricky relationship to define), but rather at the rest of it about nearly being eaten. “Exactly. There is one properly habitable place in Halo.” she says, feeling vindicated that her statement was in fact correct. Or correct enough. Unless you liked running from cannibals in which case then there were totally two habitable places in Halo.
Her eyes don’t linger long on the scratches, which do indeed look like something a prisoner might scrawl. Perhaps he was marking the seconds ticking by while stuck in her company waiting for the sun to set, but Weaver didn’t think she was particularly bad company. There were definitely worse options, at any rate. Instead her eyes flick back up to the baskets, the sun inching closer toward the moment when they could “catch” the sun. Catch it only to release it again soon anyway. She understands the point of the festival, of course, but there is something still rather silly about it. Of course, given her general lack of love for the gods, she finds anything to do with them vaguely silly. It was either far too easy or far too hard to love someone that didn’t love you back.
He responding, pushing the positivity that she’d offered bundled in concerns. She doesn’t think much of it, really, other than that he probably really wanted the portals open. “Of course. There is better booze this side of the portal.” She says it with a playful grin, though it’s also true. In the end though, he’d be sorely disappointed if he hoped she’d speak fondly of any god, let alone one she didn’t know. The Voice was a rumor she heard, some god stuck in a tower who’d probably spent three hundred years plotting revenge. To the gods, Weaver was an abomination. Her smartest plan was to just stay off their radar as long that was possible, though she wasn’t entirely sure how long that would be possible. Granted, since they seemed to want nothing to do with her, maybe she’d just steer clear of them forever. Them, yes, but not necessarily their schemes.
“How boring. I will be certain to show you the exciting and fun things. ” she says, wondering if that business had been the influx of people that came to ‘explore’. Exploring for them, intruding for the Halovians. She’d be angry about it except that now she was clearly doing the same thing in reverse, and so she finds it rather hard to be annoyed at them. Besides, she’d just steered clear before and been left alone anyway. He asks about the Hallowed Grounds, and she nods. “The people, mostly. It is nice to see new faces, because that doesn’t really happen in Halo. It is so very small that you know everyone after a time, at least by face if not by name.” There were pretty areas of the Grounds too, of course, but she was a girl of snow and ice all her life and she would always love it the most.
Her eyes don’t linger long on the scratches, which do indeed look like something a prisoner might scrawl. Perhaps he was marking the seconds ticking by while stuck in her company waiting for the sun to set, but Weaver didn’t think she was particularly bad company. There were definitely worse options, at any rate. Instead her eyes flick back up to the baskets, the sun inching closer toward the moment when they could “catch” the sun. Catch it only to release it again soon anyway. She understands the point of the festival, of course, but there is something still rather silly about it. Of course, given her general lack of love for the gods, she finds anything to do with them vaguely silly. It was either far too easy or far too hard to love someone that didn’t love you back.
He responding, pushing the positivity that she’d offered bundled in concerns. She doesn’t think much of it, really, other than that he probably really wanted the portals open. “Of course. There is better booze this side of the portal.” She says it with a playful grin, though it’s also true. In the end though, he’d be sorely disappointed if he hoped she’d speak fondly of any god, let alone one she didn’t know. The Voice was a rumor she heard, some god stuck in a tower who’d probably spent three hundred years plotting revenge. To the gods, Weaver was an abomination. Her smartest plan was to just stay off their radar as long that was possible, though she wasn’t entirely sure how long that would be possible. Granted, since they seemed to want nothing to do with her, maybe she’d just steer clear of them forever. Them, yes, but not necessarily their schemes.
“How boring. I will be certain to show you the exciting and fun things. ” she says, wondering if that business had been the influx of people that came to ‘explore’. Exploring for them, intruding for the Halovians. She’d be angry about it except that now she was clearly doing the same thing in reverse, and so she finds it rather hard to be annoyed at them. Besides, she’d just steered clear before and been left alone anyway. He asks about the Hallowed Grounds, and she nods. “The people, mostly. It is nice to see new faces, because that doesn’t really happen in Halo. It is so very small that you know everyone after a time, at least by face if not by name.” There were pretty areas of the Grounds too, of course, but she was a girl of snow and ice all her life and she would always love it the most.
weaver
-- ask no questions, and you'll be told no lies --
Quote by Charles Dickens
