sacrifice what you are for what you can become
Henry nods along; he's heard stories of a similar vein. Elemental spirits that dwell in trees or flowers, or that symbolize the coming and going of a season. He hadn't made the connection, though, which he realized he found to be intriguing. Compelling, even. Torchline did not remind him of home, of course, being that that was the Grounds. So he can only try to understand what it must be like for an Outlander, to find comfort in places that remind them of a home they can no longer reach.
He follows along at her side, gaze raking over the beach but, truly, his concentration is more on Arialla and the conversation.
"The Grounds will always be home to me, of course.. but, Torchline has a certain.." he looks at her and cracks a boyish half-grin, "appeal," more seriously, he lifts his chin and goes on, "but hey, maybe you're right. It would make sense. The tree being a spirit, I mean. I don't think anyone will cut it down but, I do have to wonder what they'll do if it doesn't stop growing." He chuckles lightly at the thought.
"So how are we going to put all of this together?" He asks, holding up the object in his hand to peer at her through it. After some fiddling, he had realized it was once a kaleidoscope or a telescope. Now, though, it was just an interesting-looking... well, piece of junk. No real value except for whatever they put into it. "Could make one giant sculpture out of it all. Call it... the 'Flotsam Monster'," he spreads his hands out in front of him in emphasis of the name, shooting her a humorous look.
He follows along at her side, gaze raking over the beach but, truly, his concentration is more on Arialla and the conversation.
"The Grounds will always be home to me, of course.. but, Torchline has a certain.." he looks at her and cracks a boyish half-grin, "appeal," more seriously, he lifts his chin and goes on, "but hey, maybe you're right. It would make sense. The tree being a spirit, I mean. I don't think anyone will cut it down but, I do have to wonder what they'll do if it doesn't stop growing." He chuckles lightly at the thought.
"So how are we going to put all of this together?" He asks, holding up the object in his hand to peer at her through it. After some fiddling, he had realized it was once a kaleidoscope or a telescope. Now, though, it was just an interesting-looking... well, piece of junk. No real value except for whatever they put into it. "Could make one giant sculpture out of it all. Call it... the 'Flotsam Monster'," he spreads his hands out in front of him in emphasis of the name, shooting her a humorous look.
HENRY
