The problem with the world is that everyone is a few drinks behind
She is not surprised by his response, given what she knows of Loren’s past. He’d told her little of Neron, giving away only his secrets and not his brother’s, as much as that is possible with a shared history. ”Halo has a way of bringing families together,” she says with a slight chuckle. Perhaps overly true for him, pieces of his family brought here together because of him. Still, though some survived Halo alone, most found that life was better together.
Weaver grins slightly at the mention of being polite. ”No need for that. I am not polite company, you will find.” She could be, if someone really wanted, but why bother? Why put on airs of being proper, when in the end, everyone was probably thinking the same thing anyway. Weaver usually liked to cut through the bull, where she could. ”Though I admit, that is my goal. Hopefully it works.” Though she’s pretty sure this place will be bustling come Deepfrost. With nothing else to do, they would come here when the weather allowed short walks. They would come and drink and people would probably throw knives into the wall, but she didn’t really mind. Scars were stories. She might even pin up a couple of targets.
Her eyebrows raise slightly at the mention of the Eirachi, though Weaver says nothing until he finishes his story. ”I sort of thought she was a myth,” she muses, a bit surprised to find out the goddess (lesser goddess? entity? whatever she was...) was here, living in Halo. ”She didn’t happen to tell you why? That is a strange bargain.” It doesn’t really explain much of anything, though she doesn’t expect that Neron has much more information. He could be holding out, certainly, and she wouldn’t blame him. Though some part of her expected that the Eirachi hadn’t given him a more satisfactory answer. None of the gods ever do.
Weaver grins slightly at the mention of being polite. ”No need for that. I am not polite company, you will find.” She could be, if someone really wanted, but why bother? Why put on airs of being proper, when in the end, everyone was probably thinking the same thing anyway. Weaver usually liked to cut through the bull, where she could. ”Though I admit, that is my goal. Hopefully it works.” Though she’s pretty sure this place will be bustling come Deepfrost. With nothing else to do, they would come here when the weather allowed short walks. They would come and drink and people would probably throw knives into the wall, but she didn’t really mind. Scars were stories. She might even pin up a couple of targets.
Her eyebrows raise slightly at the mention of the Eirachi, though Weaver says nothing until he finishes his story. ”I sort of thought she was a myth,” she muses, a bit surprised to find out the goddess (lesser goddess? entity? whatever she was...) was here, living in Halo. ”She didn’t happen to tell you why? That is a strange bargain.” It doesn’t really explain much of anything, though she doesn’t expect that Neron has much more information. He could be holding out, certainly, and she wouldn’t blame him. Though some part of her expected that the Eirachi hadn’t given him a more satisfactory answer. None of the gods ever do.
Weaver
