Dead men walking

It was awkward, and for the first time (perhaps ever) Ronin was more content to sit in uncomfortable silence than to fill it with conversation. He watched quietly as Loren found a place on the floor for the wine bottle, and some distant part of himself (hidden, buried deep within him now) gave an aggrieved shrug at the the lack of hospitality, of care shown to friends lost and found, whatever the circumstances. Because for as horrible as Ronin looked and felt, Loren hardly seemed the man who had left either. But it kept coming back to him, to his injury, to his sickness, and Ronin growled his annoyance under his breath. "Have you been living under a rock or something?" he snapped, before raising a finger at Loren. "Do not answer that," he said, frowning deeply and glaring at the ground. "There is a sickness in the Greatwood that people have been calling the blight. It has started to spread to people - and I have it. How I got it is another story, it doesn't matter much right now." He waved the explanation away. "There's no cure, not one that we've found yet anyway. I've got until Deepfrost until... well. I die, one way or another." Again. Apparently. The apology fell flat against Ronin's blunted edges, and the hunter tiredly ran his fingers through his hair. For someone to have been here the whole damned time and to not know any of this was beyond him. "Yes, Loren. I died. I fought the Spire Demon - the monster that guarded the Spire - and it self-destructed and took me with it. The goddess Safrin put me into the sky as a star, where I spent a lovely few lifetimes with Vanya, and then Ashetta made a deal with the god of death and plucked me back again." He spread his hands, as if to say 'are you happy with that', before realising he had missed something out. "Ah, yeah. Vanya died, too. In this room at Longnight, giving birth to our daughter. So that happened shortly before I exploded, as well." RONIN Darkness is a funny thing. It creeps up on you.