FINN
He smiles at her words, the way they paint pictures behind his eyes, the way her voice melts around him and whispers moments of peace so rarely found these days. So busy is Finn, imagining these things that aren’t there, that he doesn’t see the tail that curls around her to keep her warm. He probably wouldn’t comment on it either way, too used to the strange to think it anything other than his mind’s own personal pantomime.
”You returned them to us, too. The heralds,” he mumbles, and for a moment his mind is star-bright and velvet black with thoughts of them. ”Though you are right, in that it had a cost. One which we must now find a way to pay. If you asked me, though,” and here his voice lowers, a conspirator on the beach, ”the fight now is worth the cost of all your freedom. We’ll win it, more so because the people of the Hollowed Grounds are not trapped.”
He’s rambling, nearly missing the question about his home, Finn passing a hand over his closed eyes, letting his shoulders relax. ”It’s quite grey,” he remarks. ”With high cliffs. The clouds touch the buildings in the mornings, at times...”
”You returned them to us, too. The heralds,” he mumbles, and for a moment his mind is star-bright and velvet black with thoughts of them. ”Though you are right, in that it had a cost. One which we must now find a way to pay. If you asked me, though,” and here his voice lowers, a conspirator on the beach, ”the fight now is worth the cost of all your freedom. We’ll win it, more so because the people of the Hollowed Grounds are not trapped.”
He’s rambling, nearly missing the question about his home, Finn passing a hand over his closed eyes, letting his shoulders relax. ”It’s quite grey,” he remarks. ”With high cliffs. The clouds touch the buildings in the mornings, at times...”
