[Mini Event] To See and Pray [OPEN TO ALL]

Oh soldier, take your time No one said the words all have to rhyme ☙ Nathaniel doesn't get involved in things like this. He lives in the middle of fuckoff-nowhere for a reason. He doesn't pick fights (anymore), doesn't stick his nose in anyone's business, doesn't care enough about Outlanders to memorize their names or faces. He is only nearby because he is unlucky. Because he walked slightly nearer the spire today on his way to somewhere else. He was, in fact, on his way to the market, a bundle of furs on one shoulder, the Outlander tagging along somewhere behind him. Both because the Outlander can at this point be trusted about as much as a months-old puppy and because he's good at talking. A skill Nathaniel decidedly lacks. A skill one needs if one is going to trade. But he won't make it to the marketplace today. He hears it at first as distant commotion: raised voices, strange sounds, the hair on the back of his neck going up as if something, something, has just stalked by behind him. Nothing (worth noting) is behind him. Something is over there. Nate pauses, head up, like a hound catching the first traces of scent. His features shift, concentration a distant frown. Something about it is serious. Something about it makes him change direction. At first, cautiously, but then at a run, dropping his things and moving quickly toward the Spire. He has not formed the thought by the time he reaches them, this group huddled out of danger's way (as if anything ever is). He is running on Spire, he is running on Yelling, and then he is upon them and he recognizes some the faces, Maea and Rory and Wordsworth twins, some of them angry, along with a bunch of Outlanders. Nathaniel slows. The second thing he notices, a thing there in the distance, a thing he wishes he had not seen, is the monster and the small group of idiots in the middle of entertaining it. "Fuck," says Nate. He has forgotten his own Outlander for the time being, so preoccupied with whatever the fuck is going on here — whatever combination of courage and stupidity. There will be a lot of blood to clean up. And for a moment he hates them, really fucking hates them, anger a white heat in his gut and behind his eyes. Outlanders at it again, getting into everything they shouldn't, trying to take what they haven't earned. But he's worried, too. Worried he's about to see people die today, messy and horrible, screaming and painful, a lesson in fucking with things you don't understand. Nate stands rigid at the edge of the group, his eyes lifted, ignoring for now the petty arguments. "Can any of you heal?" he asks in a very flat voice. Finally, his eyes shift toward them, brows creased with worry. Even if they don't, no one needs to know you gotta let things go