( he hasn't seen anything particularly dangerous yet, in this place--everything feels more unsettling than life-risking, but he doesn't like the feeling. it's almost like there's something that's on the cusp of happening, but it just hasn't reached them yet. with one look, he sizes up the stranger: a spear is probably the right fit for him. doesn't look like he could handle a two-handed sword. then again, he's been surprised by cadets before.
it's the question that lingers, that he lets wallow in silence for a long moment. lips pressed together, he watches the picture melt and burn at his feet; wordless, he stubs the toe of his boot over it, as though to put the flame out. )
...My mother. ( --is what he finally admits, though his face twitches, as though there's some pain, or perhaps shame, in admitting it. he looks back up at the stranger again. ) You had pictures show up? In your apartment.
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( he hasn't seen anything particularly dangerous yet, in this place--everything feels more unsettling than life-risking, but he doesn't like the feeling. it's almost like there's something that's on the cusp of happening, but it just hasn't reached them yet. with one look, he sizes up the stranger: a spear is probably the right fit for him. doesn't look like he could handle a two-handed sword. then again, he's been surprised by cadets before.
it's the question that lingers, that he lets wallow in silence for a long moment. lips pressed together, he watches the picture melt and burn at his feet; wordless, he stubs the toe of his boot over it, as though to put the flame out. )
...My mother. ( --is what he finally admits, though his face twitches, as though there's some pain, or perhaps shame, in admitting it. he looks back up at the stranger again. ) You had pictures show up? In your apartment.