Tormented Tarns you got time to reconcile with your fear

The lad seems to take the words to heart, but Dirge couldn't help but wonder if he was all there to begin. Especially with an opening question like that. Maybe it's the weariness of the world getting to him, or maybe it's the decisions before him that he must decide rather than default on that made him set his jaw evenly. The bratty child not willing to pick one but to want both when the world simply decrees that it cannot be. Yet he is no stranger to the fact that life is not fair, nor the reminder that it is not that frequently came crashing in.

”Far away from here, I assure you,” he answers, dismissively. This was probably another scout let loose to the wilderness. Go forth and find something useful to bring back—how bitter the thought he toyed with. ”What of you, hm? Did you come down from the mountains to play in the mud?” This time it turned derisive; the words left his mouth before he entirely had a handle on them. So much for that mask of solid stoicism, apparently he was going to throw that the hell away too.

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