I am not a scholar and I don't believe in fate
Noah finished off the last of his whiskey while Oliver pulled himself back from the awe he had felt during the story telling. Noah watched how his expression changed, though the man did not give him any less of his focus than he had been giving before. Noah returned the same curtesy--he listened intently as Oliver shared about himself. When Oliver offered condolences, Noah nodded and offered a small smile. He did not know what else to say. The pain he felt at the losses that added up day in and day out was healing. He felt more pain still for losing Weaver than he did anyone else within the year. The Blacksmith--while Noah knew him--was not close to his heart like the Hale woman had been.
"That would be kind." Noah said at Oliver's eagerness to help. "I am sure the guard is lacking in weaponry since the loss of our blacksmith. He always outfitted them well." Noah felt the vocational tone rise up from his heart through his throat as he directed Oliver's kindness and skill. As the other man had brought up his homeland, Noah lifted a brow. "The Hollowed Grounds...everyone there seems to know more about the gods than we do here in Halo. What can you tell me about them?"
NOAH
