I see we're both crazy
Falke frowns and shrugs again; perhaps this is to be a lesson in accepting the powerlessness of a situation. When he does not fly and indeed, the fog seems to grow thicker, the Fixer decides that he is simply going to stroll forward, choosing neither left nor right, but his own path. Binary choices are bullshit anyway, there’s always some variations of gray. Besides, he is used to the fog of Stormbreak and its cliffs. If death is what the whiteness hides (and somehow he doubts it - this is a drea after all), then he will meet Mort with open arms.
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Falke goes straight.
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Falke goes straight.
that's alright with me
come with me and let yourself go
FALKE
