Perhaps they are more alike than they know. Weaver doesn’t mind the pain of her past because it helps her to live now. Would she prefer her family still be alive? Of course. She’d trade anything to have them returned to her. And yet, without that option, she lets the pain remind her she is still alive. She lets the pain remind her that she needs to live, because they cannot.
She laughs at the nickname of fishboy. ”I would really like to blame him, but I owe him a letter with a date. There’s quite a lot to organize to open a bar, as it turns out. But I found a location not too far from the market, I’m working with some of the locals to get all our supplies…” she trails off, mind ticking off the things she knows they might need, unable to stop herself. ”Though I admit, I cannot wait for it to all be done.” Because she is so ready for this next stage of her life.
Weaver’s mother’s fate is the most uncertain. She assumes Erebor and John are in Mort’s realm, and she simply wonders what life is like for them now. Her mother though? Her mother had simply disappeared. They could only assume her mother had died, but in truth, some part of her wonders if her mother managed to escape. She was the sort of woman who might have climbed The Fangs and survived. At least, in Weaver’s mind, but she suspects she remembers a version of her mother made larger by childhood and distance.
”Would Delphia be interested in a free drink? I will soon be able to trade such things for a bit of help.” That would require her coming to Halo, which was another question entirely, but people usually enjoyed their booze enough to make a trip for it. ”If Mort showed, I’d shit a brick. Hell, I will probably still do so if Ludo shows,” she says, though her expression softens a bit. ”I will try not to give up though. I don’t want to.” And that’s the honest answer. She doesn’t want the new gods. She wants her gods, the old gods, the real gods, even if they don’t want her.
She laughs at the nickname of fishboy. ”I would really like to blame him, but I owe him a letter with a date. There’s quite a lot to organize to open a bar, as it turns out. But I found a location not too far from the market, I’m working with some of the locals to get all our supplies…” she trails off, mind ticking off the things she knows they might need, unable to stop herself. ”Though I admit, I cannot wait for it to all be done.” Because she is so ready for this next stage of her life.
Weaver’s mother’s fate is the most uncertain. She assumes Erebor and John are in Mort’s realm, and she simply wonders what life is like for them now. Her mother though? Her mother had simply disappeared. They could only assume her mother had died, but in truth, some part of her wonders if her mother managed to escape. She was the sort of woman who might have climbed The Fangs and survived. At least, in Weaver’s mind, but she suspects she remembers a version of her mother made larger by childhood and distance.
”Would Delphia be interested in a free drink? I will soon be able to trade such things for a bit of help.” That would require her coming to Halo, which was another question entirely, but people usually enjoyed their booze enough to make a trip for it. ”If Mort showed, I’d shit a brick. Hell, I will probably still do so if Ludo shows,” she says, though her expression softens a bit. ”I will try not to give up though. I don’t want to.” And that’s the honest answer. She doesn’t want the new gods. She wants her gods, the old gods, the real gods, even if they don’t want her.
weaver
-- ask no questions, and you'll be told no lies --
Quote by Charles Dickens
