sacrifice what you are for what you can become
If Henry were in better spirits, he might smile in return at Azrael's confirmation that they are simply 'growth spurts', might have made a joke about his never being anything quite like that. But instead he absorbs the amusement directed toward him, not to return it so easily now. He's still sorry for it, pressing his brows together and offering an apologetic expression as he lets Azrael in through the door.
It's a bit cramped within, but there is a chair - a single chair - beside a small writing desk. Henry motions toward it with a slow-moving hand, nothing lively about his movements. But he tries to be encouraging and polite to his guest, as he was always taught to be by his mother. "Please.. have a seat," he says, "I hope you don't mind the mess..." he points a stare towards the papers spread across the desktop, where he's spent hours writing down thoughts.
It's a mixture of diary-like entries, streams of consciousness, and... most notably, poetry - if Azrael is the type to take a curious gander. Henry doesn't particularly care either way; if anything he's a bit self-conscious about it but there's nothing to be done. The company was unexpected.
What Azrael says about his help doesn't go unheard; quite the opposite, he feels a lighter pulse of his heart at the sentiment. His expression softens, even if it's directed at the basket, but for the moment he doesn't say anything to it.
He places the basket down on his cot and takes a seat beside it, slowly looking through as Azrael explains what's in it. "Beans, huh?" He echoes, scoffing slightly, "it's... uhm, it's more than enough." He looks up towards Azrael, earnesty ringing strong in his tones, "Thank you."
As for the elephant in the room, Henry heaves yet another sigh and looks down. "What happened to my family was terrible," he wipes his hand across his mouth, even though there is nothing there to wipe (he probably hasn't even eaten a decent meal in a while), "but they're not the first to go in Longnight." He peers up towards Azrael, remembering their mother.
Silence takes its hold, at least for Henry, but something that's been troubling him manages to come to the surface. "I'm trying to carry on in spite of it, but I just... I don't know what to do with... the land, anymore. It's all ash and dust, and I don't know if I'll be able to rebuild the farm. And even if I am, I don't know if I'll be enough to manage it..."
"I don't know what I'm doing anymore."
It's a bit cramped within, but there is a chair - a single chair - beside a small writing desk. Henry motions toward it with a slow-moving hand, nothing lively about his movements. But he tries to be encouraging and polite to his guest, as he was always taught to be by his mother. "Please.. have a seat," he says, "I hope you don't mind the mess..." he points a stare towards the papers spread across the desktop, where he's spent hours writing down thoughts.
It's a mixture of diary-like entries, streams of consciousness, and... most notably, poetry - if Azrael is the type to take a curious gander. Henry doesn't particularly care either way; if anything he's a bit self-conscious about it but there's nothing to be done. The company was unexpected.
What Azrael says about his help doesn't go unheard; quite the opposite, he feels a lighter pulse of his heart at the sentiment. His expression softens, even if it's directed at the basket, but for the moment he doesn't say anything to it.
He places the basket down on his cot and takes a seat beside it, slowly looking through as Azrael explains what's in it. "Beans, huh?" He echoes, scoffing slightly, "it's... uhm, it's more than enough." He looks up towards Azrael, earnesty ringing strong in his tones, "Thank you."
As for the elephant in the room, Henry heaves yet another sigh and looks down. "What happened to my family was terrible," he wipes his hand across his mouth, even though there is nothing there to wipe (he probably hasn't even eaten a decent meal in a while), "but they're not the first to go in Longnight." He peers up towards Azrael, remembering their mother.
Silence takes its hold, at least for Henry, but something that's been troubling him manages to come to the surface. "I'm trying to carry on in spite of it, but I just... I don't know what to do with... the land, anymore. It's all ash and dust, and I don't know if I'll be able to rebuild the farm. And even if I am, I don't know if I'll be enough to manage it..."
"I don't know what I'm doing anymore."
HENRY
