Ashenheath
The smell was so bad, Dee was already regretting her decision to linger longer than she intended; would her clothes smell like this forever? She shivered at the thought. No point moaning about it now. She would have to wash her clothes later. Instead, her attention was catered solely towards this… fellow. His hood covered any feature that might identify him and all she could remotely make out were some glowing eyes in the darkness. One hand now covering her mouth to try detract from the odour, brows creased in discomfort, she listened to his answers, her eyes glimmering in quiet surprise. She had never really prayed to any God, Faolan had hardly ever mentioned them and she had never felt like she needed to speak to one particularly. Not that one would answer. Rumour had it they weren’t answering. Or maybe they stank the place out whenever anyone tried to contact them.
“Your respect is wasted on them” she said quietly, almost apologetically, before removing the hand from her face.
She watched him as he watched her, two strangers in a smelly shrine, surrounded by a bubble they couldn’t escape, he had arrived in a prison—she almost pitied him. Almost. He offered a name, or kind of a name, Enigma was what the folks who knew him called him and Dee, taking in his shadowy appearance, thought she understood a little of why. She looked at him with amusement, but only nodded her acknowledgement and soon he was closing the gap between them.
A flash of alarm crossed her face, she didn’t converse with other dwellers all that often, let alone outlanders, and suddenly the walls around her felt a lot crowded than they did before. She took in all his height, he was taller than she first thought… Quite a bit taller.
“You mean, was I born in this squalor? Yes” she paused, Dee had never really thought about other worlds, if there could be other worlds. Where did these outlanders come from? She had never really cared, but now stood in front of one, it felt silly not to ask.
“There aren’t usually many—“ she gestured to him with her hand “outlanders. What are you doing here?” why would anyone come here she thought at the same time.
“Your respect is wasted on them” she said quietly, almost apologetically, before removing the hand from her face.
She watched him as he watched her, two strangers in a smelly shrine, surrounded by a bubble they couldn’t escape, he had arrived in a prison—she almost pitied him. Almost. He offered a name, or kind of a name, Enigma was what the folks who knew him called him and Dee, taking in his shadowy appearance, thought she understood a little of why. She looked at him with amusement, but only nodded her acknowledgement and soon he was closing the gap between them.
A flash of alarm crossed her face, she didn’t converse with other dwellers all that often, let alone outlanders, and suddenly the walls around her felt a lot crowded than they did before. She took in all his height, he was taller than she first thought… Quite a bit taller.
“You mean, was I born in this squalor? Yes” she paused, Dee had never really thought about other worlds, if there could be other worlds. Where did these outlanders come from? She had never really cared, but now stood in front of one, it felt silly not to ask.
“There aren’t usually many—“ she gestured to him with her hand “outlanders. What are you doing here?” why would anyone come here she thought at the same time.
nobody teaches you how to reminisce, nobody teaches you to hurt like this
