Greatwater Lake she was afraid of dreadful prophecies

that's true, he says, impressed yet again by the girl's bluntness. he wonders what had made her that way— a wasteland upbringing, unfortunate circumstance, a beheaded childhood.
scarcely the age for heading out alone without your family, and even scarcer to be so militant and focused. when he was young, he hadn't been so razor sharp. so laser minded. his parents had struggled with teaching him to nuture some sort of empathy for others (an endeavour they had quickly given up on) before they'd realised it was better off this way for him. maybe not so much for others.
the grey man hums, contemplative. about the pack you mentioned earlier, he circles back, if they're still standing. were they that bad? in his mind he envisions a sort of dictatorship, a slave farm, a bottom-heavy society swarming with threadbare labourers. high above them, corporate gods. his mind flashes back to scylla's lonesomeness too, briefly lingering on what could've happen to her family for them to be so split apart.