He allowed himself to be helped up and lifted his lantern to give them (well, him) light on the way back. The white glow was stark against the black substance of the Spire, and he glanced over his shoulder into the now-empty room one last time with a frown before following the red head of his friend back down.
He took the steps more slowly, leaning on the wall for support, though his pride snapped through his weariness at the thought of asking his companion for help. His lips tightened, white and thin for a moment at Sam's suggestion, and for a moment he seemed on the edge of refusing.
But Rory wouldn't forgive him if he passed out in the fields and froze to death in the cold Leafchange night, so he simple sighed and nodded. "I suppose. If you must." He frowned, rubbing a hand over his arm as if to chafe warmth back into it, though the gesture was useless. "Gods least fortunate, I wish I could just get warm again. It feels like it's already Deepfrost in here." In spite of his petty grumbling it really wasn't that cold inside the Spire. Not yet, at least, but in a few more weeks they would find out how cold the snow could make it.
"How is Mia doing these days?" It was abrupt, an almost rude change of topic, but weariness was shifting towards irritability at their lack of success in finding out the Voice's secrets, and the bard was desperate for a distraction lest he being snapping at his friend.
He took the steps more slowly, leaning on the wall for support, though his pride snapped through his weariness at the thought of asking his companion for help. His lips tightened, white and thin for a moment at Sam's suggestion, and for a moment he seemed on the edge of refusing.
But Rory wouldn't forgive him if he passed out in the fields and froze to death in the cold Leafchange night, so he simple sighed and nodded. "I suppose. If you must." He frowned, rubbing a hand over his arm as if to chafe warmth back into it, though the gesture was useless. "Gods least fortunate, I wish I could just get warm again. It feels like it's already Deepfrost in here." In spite of his petty grumbling it really wasn't that cold inside the Spire. Not yet, at least, but in a few more weeks they would find out how cold the snow could make it.
"How is Mia doing these days?" It was abrupt, an almost rude change of topic, but weariness was shifting towards irritability at their lack of success in finding out the Voice's secrets, and the bard was desperate for a distraction lest he being snapping at his friend.
