Oh, he had been in more trouble, but he didn't have the emotional strength to go into detail about it at the moment. He would need to eventually, maybe even later today... But not right now. Not with things so fragile and just waiting to snap within him. "The same could be said of you," was all he murmured instead, a flicker of a smile on his lips that was barely a shadow of his usual lively expressions.
Into the forge, and a turn back towards Caiside's past that had the bard nodding in sympathy. "The problem is, the stigma is only justified if it applies to both sides equally," he pointed out. "The winners rarely have less blood on their hands than the losers in those situations." And didn't he know that a little too well? He glanced at his hands as he pulled on his gloves, half-expecting to see a tell-tale shadow of red there, but it was just the reflected light of the forge coals.
Wasn't it?
He nodded and sent his friend a look of gratitude and relief at hearing that he didn't blame the dead. Edy hadn't deserved to die as she had, and her passage still hurt more than he could say. Not least because he hadn't been able to truly apologize to her before she went. It was a relief to them both to move on, however, and the bard managed a weak smile at the reassurance that they would be moving beyond nails today. His brow rose at the iron that appeared from Caiside's basket, intrigued and a little impressed. "Blades? Always more violence, isn't it?" he mused with a shake of his head. His smile was a little sad, but he reached for one as well, nodding his agreement. "Unfortunately, I fear they'll be more useful than plowshares in the coming season. Even if swords aren't much use against the Long Night monsters, they'll still do to keep the winter wolves and banshees at bay." He hefted his own pun thoughtfully, then moved to join Caiside at the forge, awaiting instruction on how to begin.
Into the forge, and a turn back towards Caiside's past that had the bard nodding in sympathy. "The problem is, the stigma is only justified if it applies to both sides equally," he pointed out. "The winners rarely have less blood on their hands than the losers in those situations." And didn't he know that a little too well? He glanced at his hands as he pulled on his gloves, half-expecting to see a tell-tale shadow of red there, but it was just the reflected light of the forge coals.
Wasn't it?
He nodded and sent his friend a look of gratitude and relief at hearing that he didn't blame the dead. Edy hadn't deserved to die as she had, and her passage still hurt more than he could say. Not least because he hadn't been able to truly apologize to her before she went. It was a relief to them both to move on, however, and the bard managed a weak smile at the reassurance that they would be moving beyond nails today. His brow rose at the iron that appeared from Caiside's basket, intrigued and a little impressed. "Blades? Always more violence, isn't it?" he mused with a shake of his head. His smile was a little sad, but he reached for one as well, nodding his agreement. "Unfortunately, I fear they'll be more useful than plowshares in the coming season. Even if swords aren't much use against the Long Night monsters, they'll still do to keep the winter wolves and banshees at bay." He hefted his own pun thoughtfully, then moved to join Caiside at the forge, awaiting instruction on how to begin.
