Redhawk Caldera roses are yuge, violets are bigly

While Whip wasn't necessarily sure what exactly his sister had in store for him, he could see some level of certainty written across her face. Somehow, she knew what to do. He trusted her, and her professional judgement, with all of his being. She couldn't lead him into harm, as that would be entirely agaisnt her kind and nurturing nature. So, when he was beckoned, Whip trailed behind his sister in direction of the rendezvous site and left the grave of his father, and hopefully this looming spell of sadness, behind him.

As they walked, Whip wondered what his sister had planned. "What are you going to do to me?" he asked. It would take nothing short of a small miricle to fix him, he thought. Of course, Whip was willing to let his sister try anything, but there was a nagging suspicion that led him to belive that the broken thing he had become was incapable of being anything else.