It’s not dying I’m afraid of
”Poor world,” she agrees, with a wicked little grin that suggests she does not feel sorry at all. ”Poor Korbin, really.” At that, she laughs, because while she does feel a little bad for her brother, he probably needs the parasite and the fungus in his life. Even if it hates it.
She gives him an appraising look at the comment, finding no sadness in there as he mentions his past. Well well, Loren. ”I was referring to the lovely stone golem incident. You survived that rather well. Better than I did.” Not that a few rocks would end her, but it had gotten her shoulder pretty good.
”Good is funny term,” she muses, adjusting the pack on her back as they walk with the pony, heading out of the forest and back toward the portal. The trees are a little less here, a little more sunlight beginning to filter through. ”People use it because they are afraid to admit that maybe they aren’t good. Because really, how many of us are actually good?”
She gives him an appraising look at the comment, finding no sadness in there as he mentions his past. Well well, Loren. ”I was referring to the lovely stone golem incident. You survived that rather well. Better than I did.” Not that a few rocks would end her, but it had gotten her shoulder pretty good.
”Good is funny term,” she muses, adjusting the pack on her back as they walk with the pony, heading out of the forest and back toward the portal. The trees are a little less here, a little more sunlight beginning to filter through. ”People use it because they are afraid to admit that maybe they aren’t good. Because really, how many of us are actually good?”
weaver
it’s dying without ever having lived
