Don't shout at me like I'm across the room when I'm right here, when you're right this time
There’s no knock on the door – and that’s probably for the best to be honest. He focuses on trying to clean up the mess that is his home after the rubble have crashed through. He focuses on the remains of his own small private funeral of his family. He focuses on how to try and deal with being the only Westfall now. And all of it is a struggle, a damned hard one, but he tries regardless.
He opens the door late at night to try and dump out a dustpan of rubble when he spots a package left on the doorstep. A quick scan of his verdant gaze slips around the alley of his home, finding it empty and dark and quiet, and he tenderly reaches out to grab the box. It’s heavy, and he pulls it in and shuts and locks the door behind him and decides whether or not to open it.
Perhaps he’s a bit paranoid, unsure of whether it’s a good idea to try and open it. What if it’s a trap of some sort? What if those within Snowcloak had actually gone through with some tremendously terrible joke to get back at him?
In the end, he opens it regardless of his worries, swallowing down a lot of alcohol and internally beating himself over his anxieties. And when he does, there’s a few boxes within a thick canvas. A new saw with glimmering teeth, sharp as can be. A box of nails and some of the antiseptic that seemed somewhat familiar. And really? It was… So incredibly kind that Glas remains speechless, unable to do anything else other than sit there with a sheen of tears in his eyes as he stares at it.
He opens the door late at night to try and dump out a dustpan of rubble when he spots a package left on the doorstep. A quick scan of his verdant gaze slips around the alley of his home, finding it empty and dark and quiet, and he tenderly reaches out to grab the box. It’s heavy, and he pulls it in and shuts and locks the door behind him and decides whether or not to open it.
Perhaps he’s a bit paranoid, unsure of whether it’s a good idea to try and open it. What if it’s a trap of some sort? What if those within Snowcloak had actually gone through with some tremendously terrible joke to get back at him?
In the end, he opens it regardless of his worries, swallowing down a lot of alcohol and internally beating himself over his anxieties. And when he does, there’s a few boxes within a thick canvas. A new saw with glimmering teeth, sharp as can be. A box of nails and some of the antiseptic that seemed somewhat familiar. And really? It was… So incredibly kind that Glas remains speechless, unable to do anything else other than sit there with a sheen of tears in his eyes as he stares at it.
GLAS
