"I am from..." Skellig looks down at the table, his mug of beer, his hands (which no longer ache, not since the moment Kreyu picked him up off of the sand and coated him in her blood) and then his attention shifts to the doorway as someone walks in. It is nobody of importance, but it gives him at least a reason to shift his gaze.
your kind
"I do not believe I am from this side of the great sea," he offers, voice low. It is not tinged with sadness or regret, but Elihu might pick up on a hint of something when he speaks, that runs beneath the surface of his words. The pain of not knowing, perhaps. "I...I do not remember from where I hail. And as far as I know, there are no others of my kind."
your kind
"I am what Kreyu calls...god-touched," he adds, lifting his mug to his lips - and meeting Elihu's gaze again. "At least, that is how she says these people would speak of me."
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timeasmymeasure
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Date: 2024-05-26 08:02 pm (UTC)your kind
"I do not believe I am from this side of the great sea," he offers, voice low. It is not tinged with sadness or regret, but Elihu might pick up on a hint of something when he speaks, that runs beneath the surface of his words. The pain of not knowing, perhaps. "I...I do not remember from where I hail. And as far as I know, there are no others of my kind."
your kind
"I am what Kreyu calls...god-touched," he adds, lifting his mug to his lips - and meeting Elihu's gaze again. "At least, that is how she says these people would speak of me."