Witch's Marsh prorsus

the guard's ears swept forward despite the somber bearing of his figure. "you are a storyteller." a statement of interest rather than a question. he had not known many; the career into which germanicus had been thrust required little to no imagination. and yet the young guardian longed for it. even if he could not describe the battles and colors in apt detail, he found intrigue in those who could make such spellwork.

"i would like to hear them. one day," the whitebark man went on, turning his face away once more to scuff idly at the remains of their meal. at length germanicus stirred, set his gaze onto ico. "will you allow me to escort you back to your home?"