if it doesn't burn a little
The Fae relaxes only slightly, and Weaver leaves her alone about it. The tiny woman, though clearly fierce, would be a fool not to be on edge in Halo. Weaver isn’t about to try and convince her otherwise. Still, Weaver grabs another log and puts it down nearby, clearly a seat, if the Fae wants to relax by the fire slightly.
Weaver shrugs slightly at the apology. ”It is normal, particularly around here,” she says, though she appreciates the apology nonetheless. It was the nicest thing to offer to someone in such a situation, even if it did nothing in the end.
The next question comes rather bluntly, and Weaver is almost thankful for the tone. It’s better than pity. She hates pity. ”An ursur. We got caught in a blizzard right around here, not far from town at all, when the ursur snuck up on us. They are damn hard to see in the middle of a blizzard. It came for me, first. Nearly killed me. Put a hole in my chest. My brother saved my life, but died for it.” It is not something she talks about often, but she will tell the story when asked. It feels strange to say it, though maybe appropriate to say it here, now.
Weaver shrugs slightly at the apology. ”It is normal, particularly around here,” she says, though she appreciates the apology nonetheless. It was the nicest thing to offer to someone in such a situation, even if it did nothing in the end.
The next question comes rather bluntly, and Weaver is almost thankful for the tone. It’s better than pity. She hates pity. ”An ursur. We got caught in a blizzard right around here, not far from town at all, when the ursur snuck up on us. They are damn hard to see in the middle of a blizzard. It came for me, first. Nearly killed me. Put a hole in my chest. My brother saved my life, but died for it.” It is not something she talks about often, but she will tell the story when asked. It feels strange to say it, though maybe appropriate to say it here, now.
-- weaver
then what's the point in playing with fire?
