Rory
He wondered what this Northaven was, and why it had chosen to regurgitate its inhabitants here.
He felt too jaded to question such an occurrence at all; wasn't everything that happened in here some flavor of strange? Wasn't his ability to summon creatures a similar thing? It made him think of the stranger's accusations, that this was all somehow his fault: perhaps there was someone in this blighted land who had a power similar to his own, only on much stronger. It was an uncomfortable thought.
"...Can you tell me why?" In a sense, he was pleasantly surprised that she didn't question him, nor accuse him of having devised the creature lurking around the black tower. Again, his mind went to the idea of summoning such things, and again, he felt something in his gut twist. He thought he'd thought everything there was to think about the Spire and the monster, but here she was, taking his imagination places it hadn't been yet—and not in a good way. But obviously they hadn't run into the monster, which was a small relief. "A creature lurks around it," he began, trying to piece together what he knew of it. What was rumor and what was truth was hard to know with a thing that killed mostly everyone who came too close. "A terrible and horrible monster of sorts, killing those who stray too close. It doesn't seem to age nor die, as stories of it go back centuries. Of course, we've tried to kill it multiple times, but in the end, those who go are the ones to die." Rory shrugged slightly. Either they died to the creature, or the barrier, or some other whimsical horror, or to the cruelty of human nature.
Life within the bubble wasn't kind, but Rory didn't know anything else: he just knew that he'd made it twenty-seven years by choosing kindness, so then why didn't everyone else as well?
"I have a sister," he confirmed. He had other things as well, like goats and dead parents. "It is kind of you to offer. We're managing." Which was Rory for we don't have anything going on right now that I can't fix myself. He really didn't think it was worth taking her time just to have her look at an abscessed hoof—Rory had taken care of many of those successfully over the years—or the infected scratch one of the dogs had acquired in a scuffle. The swelling on that one was going down anyway.
The only thing that needed fixing was his sister, but her problems were not of the kind a healer could treat.
He felt too jaded to question such an occurrence at all; wasn't everything that happened in here some flavor of strange? Wasn't his ability to summon creatures a similar thing? It made him think of the stranger's accusations, that this was all somehow his fault: perhaps there was someone in this blighted land who had a power similar to his own, only on much stronger. It was an uncomfortable thought.
"...Can you tell me why?" In a sense, he was pleasantly surprised that she didn't question him, nor accuse him of having devised the creature lurking around the black tower. Again, his mind went to the idea of summoning such things, and again, he felt something in his gut twist. He thought he'd thought everything there was to think about the Spire and the monster, but here she was, taking his imagination places it hadn't been yet—and not in a good way. But obviously they hadn't run into the monster, which was a small relief. "A creature lurks around it," he began, trying to piece together what he knew of it. What was rumor and what was truth was hard to know with a thing that killed mostly everyone who came too close. "A terrible and horrible monster of sorts, killing those who stray too close. It doesn't seem to age nor die, as stories of it go back centuries. Of course, we've tried to kill it multiple times, but in the end, those who go are the ones to die." Rory shrugged slightly. Either they died to the creature, or the barrier, or some other whimsical horror, or to the cruelty of human nature.
Life within the bubble wasn't kind, but Rory didn't know anything else: he just knew that he'd made it twenty-seven years by choosing kindness, so then why didn't everyone else as well?
"I have a sister," he confirmed. He had other things as well, like goats and dead parents. "It is kind of you to offer. We're managing." Which was Rory for we don't have anything going on right now that I can't fix myself. He really didn't think it was worth taking her time just to have her look at an abscessed hoof—Rory had taken care of many of those successfully over the years—or the infected scratch one of the dogs had acquired in a scuffle. The swelling on that one was going down anyway.
The only thing that needed fixing was his sister, but her problems were not of the kind a healer could treat.
