This town will never change, People come and go, it's all the same
On the surface, he's a farmer. It's what he's always known, how to build and foster life, how to keep a community strong by feeding and sheltering it. He's also apart of the Grounds' council, which is a position he had a lot of motivation for. Now, though, his motivation has run dry. If he has a deeper purpose... he's never known, but he'd always wanted to search for it.
"I've never been on my own like this," he says, "I thought it's what I wanted, to be independent and have nothing holding me back, but..." it wasn't, not truly. He sees that now. He needs people that need him, too, or else what purpose does he truly have?
People die. Isn't that just the sad, dark reality. You never really think it'll happen to the people you love, though. Not until it does, and nothing could've prepared you for it either. No amount of knowing, of understanding that this is just the way it is.
Henry shuts his eyes, fingers curling against his palm and tightening into fists as he listens for Noah's words. His gaze flickers open when he's asked what he can do. He shakes his head miserably. "I'm a farmer, my family were always farmers," he scoffs, "and I can build... I'm good with my hands, but..." an aggravated sigh tears through his lungs and he shifts restlessly in his seat, "I don't know. My father always wanted me to take over the farm when he passed," he settles now, looking down at the puddles forming around them, "carry on the 'Walker legacy'," but there's bitterness edging his tones, "I never wanted to," he looks up at Noah with furrowed brows, "I wanted to be an explorer. Get out, see the world. But that's what everyone does... everyone leaves, and the Grounds..." Well, the Grounds need people.
"I've never been on my own like this," he says, "I thought it's what I wanted, to be independent and have nothing holding me back, but..." it wasn't, not truly. He sees that now. He needs people that need him, too, or else what purpose does he truly have?
People die. Isn't that just the sad, dark reality. You never really think it'll happen to the people you love, though. Not until it does, and nothing could've prepared you for it either. No amount of knowing, of understanding that this is just the way it is.
Henry shuts his eyes, fingers curling against his palm and tightening into fists as he listens for Noah's words. His gaze flickers open when he's asked what he can do. He shakes his head miserably. "I'm a farmer, my family were always farmers," he scoffs, "and I can build... I'm good with my hands, but..." an aggravated sigh tears through his lungs and he shifts restlessly in his seat, "I don't know. My father always wanted me to take over the farm when he passed," he settles now, looking down at the puddles forming around them, "carry on the 'Walker legacy'," but there's bitterness edging his tones, "I never wanted to," he looks up at Noah with furrowed brows, "I wanted to be an explorer. Get out, see the world. But that's what everyone does... everyone leaves, and the Grounds..." Well, the Grounds need people.
HENRY
