She has experienced both versions of death. John was the first to go. Slowly, painfully. They watched him turn into a shell of himself, watched him wither away as they cleaned up the vomit and the blood. Her mother was the next; she’d gone out to hunt and never came back. Simple as that. Her brother was a similar story, except she’d been with him that day, and she’d nearly died as well. If they’d been farther from town when it happened, she would have bleed out on the snow as Erebor did. It was only luck that kept her alive. She’d give the gods credit, but if anything, Mort had simply decided he didn’t want anything to do with her yet.
”I suspect he would be proud to know you took over his role,” she says, meaning it, even if she does not know them. She’s never heard anything bad about the Captain. Unlike most of the cabinet, Morgan was at least a natural. Not an outlander, not a Launceleyn. Not that those were necessarily bad things to be, but still, it is nice to know they are protected by someone who actually understands this land. ”Though I am sorry he was not around for you longer. This land has a habit of taking its residents far too young.”
”I suspect he would be proud to know you took over his role,” she says, meaning it, even if she does not know them. She’s never heard anything bad about the Captain. Unlike most of the cabinet, Morgan was at least a natural. Not an outlander, not a Launceleyn. Not that those were necessarily bad things to be, but still, it is nice to know they are protected by someone who actually understands this land. ”Though I am sorry he was not around for you longer. This land has a habit of taking its residents far too young.”
weaver
-- kiss you like a whiskey fire --
