Blacktail Deer Plateau history is filled with liars

i was just digging, the boy admits. the truth was not as grand as rusalka had imagined, and he ponders for a moment that the boy's circumstances in life so far had made him so ... serious. granted, this was something rusalka himself could sympathize with. his father had not been the sort of man to indulge in child's play or enrich the imagination. the opposite of the sort of father rusalka strove to be.


i see, the seaking drawls, a soft 'hmm' lingering in his throat.

i get the some desire, sometimes, rusalka admits morosely. except instead of digging, i patrol the borders. but to each their own. is something bothering you? rusalka asks then, tentatively; an invitation to share if granite desired but not one that he was required to indulge rusalka in.

sometimes, the urge to dig was just the urge to dig, but the father in rusalka was always looking for a deeper meaning; pulling from how he tended to approach his own thoughts and feelings.