FINN
the spyglass
”I can well imagine why,” he says of the ocean, and for a moment Finn seems strangely at peace with the view, staring out at the heaving waves, the shoreline stretching beyond where the eye can see. Were it not for his trepidation in the face of such large bodies of water, he might have done just the same. As it stands, though, he is content to watch it from the shore. Or from here. He hums an affirmative that yes, the does work for someone, tearing his gaze away and absently turning his collar up against the chill.
”My assignments take me wherever I need to be. I... find people.” The way he says it is hesitant; it’s not a lie, but nor is it really everything. ”A cartographer, though? That sounds interesting. In a place like this too, the sailors will thank you for it.” As will any travellers - like himself.
”My assignments take me wherever I need to be. I... find people.” The way he says it is hesitant; it’s not a lie, but nor is it really everything. ”A cartographer, though? That sounds interesting. In a place like this too, the sailors will thank you for it.” As will any travellers - like himself.
