Tal wasn't bothered by the heights either, though he probably should have been. Brashly confident in his own abilities, however, he moved fearlessly along the narrow path, going just slow enough that his friend could comfortably keep up with him. He was still unaware that she could shift into a winged form if she needed to, and he wanted to be close enough to catch her hand if she should slip on the rough trail.
Her presence was reassuring, too, as the singing stones lived up to their name and wailed their lonely dirge to the uncaring sky. He glanced to Soh with a quirk of a smile for the contact and reached across to place his other hand atop hers, squeezing lightly in silent gratitude. "Yeah? I guess it prob'ly grows on you... or it drives y'crazy. Either one." Ever the poet, Tal tried to shake off the unnerving sounds and spied a singing stone within reach of the trail. He tugged Soh over to it and freed his hands to draw his Dagger and a bottle of oil.
"I'm gettin' an extra blessin' on my Dagger," he explained, finding a smooth section in the whale-worn stone that was nearly flat and pouring some oil onto it. "From Frey. I gotta do a couple o' things first, though. One of 'em is sharpenin' it on a singin' stone." He began to strop the knife slowly but deftly at an angle over the rock, pushing a little puddle of oil with the blade until it ran down the side of the stone and he had to pour on some more. "Y'ever sharpen a blade before?" he asked her curiously, uncertain about what her guardian had and hadn't taught her before they died.
Her presence was reassuring, too, as the singing stones lived up to their name and wailed their lonely dirge to the uncaring sky. He glanced to Soh with a quirk of a smile for the contact and reached across to place his other hand atop hers, squeezing lightly in silent gratitude. "Yeah? I guess it prob'ly grows on you... or it drives y'crazy. Either one." Ever the poet, Tal tried to shake off the unnerving sounds and spied a singing stone within reach of the trail. He tugged Soh over to it and freed his hands to draw his Dagger and a bottle of oil.
"I'm gettin' an extra blessin' on my Dagger," he explained, finding a smooth section in the whale-worn stone that was nearly flat and pouring some oil onto it. "From Frey. I gotta do a couple o' things first, though. One of 'em is sharpenin' it on a singin' stone." He began to strop the knife slowly but deftly at an angle over the rock, pushing a little puddle of oil with the blade until it ran down the side of the stone and he had to pour on some more. "Y'ever sharpen a blade before?" he asked her curiously, uncertain about what her guardian had and hadn't taught her before they died.
