"Has there been any discontent about it?" he asked, a little hesitant and a great deal curious how the Natural population of the Citadel was taking it. "I know it's a great deal to ask, even if we're sending them with their own supplies. I'm sure Neron has received the gratitude and accolades of the Grounders for allowing this, but we appreciate all of those who are willing to shelter our people here." Halo was more than just one Northhaven refugee, after all.
The bard nodded wryly at Weaver's points, but there was a bitter sadness in his eyes that spoke of painful memories. "Many reasons," he said softly. "The monsters can... get inside your mind. Play on your hopes as much as your fears. They can change their voices to sound like people you know, people you love. Your sister who went missing a year ago, begging at the door to be let in. Your father who lives down the street, desperate to bring help to your mother who was injured in a fall... A friend from a distant world who you gave up on ever seeing again, now crying at the threshold, confused and lost as you were when you first arrived, alone against the monsters in the dark..." He trailed off, swallowing hard. "Except that sometimes it's not the monsters. Sometimes it really is a neighbor, a friend, a loved one who ended up having to flee their home in the night. Every time that knock comes at the door during LongNight you don't know until you open it."
"Sometimes, even staying inside and hunkering down doesn't save you. The monsters will break in, if they can. It's happened to more than one family in the Outskirts."
He drew a steadying breath, slanting a wry smile at her, one that held a little more courage and a little more hope. "And then there are the ones the gods have given errands to. Tasked to walk the dark to save lives or souls." The Halo cold would kill just as surely as the monsters would, given the chance, but at least it would do so without malice.
He nodded thoughtfully at her response to his questions on the capitol, shrugging lightly and patting the satchel of books. "Something I read recently in an old book, but I don't know how out of date it is," he admitted ruefully. "If there's a way to communicate with other regions, one that doesn't rely on the Voice and her portals, I'd jump at the chance."
"A change?" His curiosity was piqued, but the name of the bar drew a cautious veil over his eyes. "Kraai... is that a regional word here?" It sounded like another language he'd heard snippets of before, though it didn't ring any specific bells. Just enough to raise the hair on his arms beneath his many layers. Nodding thoughtfully at the directions he managed a more relaxed smile. "Fair trade for a fair lady, kind Weaver. And I'll take any excuse to warm up when I'm visiting your lovely but very chilly city!"
The bard nodded wryly at Weaver's points, but there was a bitter sadness in his eyes that spoke of painful memories. "Many reasons," he said softly. "The monsters can... get inside your mind. Play on your hopes as much as your fears. They can change their voices to sound like people you know, people you love. Your sister who went missing a year ago, begging at the door to be let in. Your father who lives down the street, desperate to bring help to your mother who was injured in a fall... A friend from a distant world who you gave up on ever seeing again, now crying at the threshold, confused and lost as you were when you first arrived, alone against the monsters in the dark..." He trailed off, swallowing hard. "Except that sometimes it's not the monsters. Sometimes it really is a neighbor, a friend, a loved one who ended up having to flee their home in the night. Every time that knock comes at the door during LongNight you don't know until you open it."
"Sometimes, even staying inside and hunkering down doesn't save you. The monsters will break in, if they can. It's happened to more than one family in the Outskirts."
He drew a steadying breath, slanting a wry smile at her, one that held a little more courage and a little more hope. "And then there are the ones the gods have given errands to. Tasked to walk the dark to save lives or souls." The Halo cold would kill just as surely as the monsters would, given the chance, but at least it would do so without malice.
He nodded thoughtfully at her response to his questions on the capitol, shrugging lightly and patting the satchel of books. "Something I read recently in an old book, but I don't know how out of date it is," he admitted ruefully. "If there's a way to communicate with other regions, one that doesn't rely on the Voice and her portals, I'd jump at the chance."
"A change?" His curiosity was piqued, but the name of the bar drew a cautious veil over his eyes. "Kraai... is that a regional word here?" It sounded like another language he'd heard snippets of before, though it didn't ring any specific bells. Just enough to raise the hair on his arms beneath his many layers. Nodding thoughtfully at the directions he managed a more relaxed smile. "Fair trade for a fair lady, kind Weaver. And I'll take any excuse to warm up when I'm visiting your lovely but very chilly city!"
