Nate !
Rexanna’s version of Deepfrost sounds pleasant. Darkness and fear replaced by light and laughter, gifts and dancing. It sounds like a happy place, free of the burdens the denizens of Caido must carry. Nathaniel tilts his head, though, and echoes, “Servant?” back at her, curious. “Your society had… castes?” He is not particularly familiar with such a thing. Here in the barrier they exist in loosely organized fashion, always have. Maybe Nathaniel has heard Outlanders talk of different customs, but he fails to understand them. How some people could fancy themselves innately more deserving. Were there wealth in Caido, Nathaniel thinks they would share it.
Well, maybe not with Outlanders.
He turns away at her comment, one hand rubbing the back of his neck. Not sure they deserve it — when the choices are survival or violent death, are the survivors all that strong? “Well,” Nathaniel says, “We could try celebrating your way, if you want. You can come in. It’s… clean. I think I still have a bottle to share…” He glances back over his shoulder at her, not sure if he wants her to accept or decline. If she does accept, she will find the cabin a snug but comfortable space beyond, evidence of Nathaniel’s work lining most surfaces in the form of furs stretching or waiting to be sold, a few plants still clustered by the windows.
Well, maybe not with Outlanders.
He turns away at her comment, one hand rubbing the back of his neck. Not sure they deserve it — when the choices are survival or violent death, are the survivors all that strong? “Well,” Nathaniel says, “We could try celebrating your way, if you want. You can come in. It’s… clean. I think I still have a bottle to share…” He glances back over his shoulder at her, not sure if he wants her to accept or decline. If she does accept, she will find the cabin a snug but comfortable space beyond, evidence of Nathaniel’s work lining most surfaces in the form of furs stretching or waiting to be sold, a few plants still clustered by the windows.
