She still wasn't sleeping. Not after she had left the dead there in the woods, alone, unattended, un-washed, and open to the elements. It had been the best she could do at the time, and along her travels towards Kirkwall she had find a place that had helped her remove the chains from her "jewelry", but if she were to try and go home, to show back up in her parent's house.
Well she couldn't could she. Kirkwall was not the same as it had been when she had been stolen away. 'And they hadn't bothered to plan it back out right when they rebuilt after, had they?' She sighed as she moved along the road, through various shops in Lowtown. She needed to find the blacksmith's shop, and she had been pointed along when she had gestured her question to someone on the street. It wasn't as if she couldn't talk, after all, she could. She just...
Wouldn't. It was better if she didn't after all. She was afraid if she did, she wouldn't be able to stop telling all the horrors she had seen, Guiding the dead. But it hadn't been all bad -- there was a peace among the departed that always seemed to calm her. After all, Prim had spent the last nearly 15 years among the dead. After that long, one tended to find them more comfortable than the living.
But before she could do anything else in this life, she needed to be rid of the reminder of her enslavement. She was free now, in the Free Marches, home in Kirkwall -- she could seek out her parents, if they were still alive, honestly, they probably died when the place blew up. And maybe Alesander was still here -- it was a foolish thought. He would have already been shuffled off to someone else.
She should have stayed and been content with a life that would have been loveless, but comfortable and safe.
The past was always so much easier to decide what to do with, once it was just that, the past. The future, she could catch glimpses of, but they didn't always give her a clear view. The problem with possessing the type of magic she did -- it was always left to interpretation, and she had never learned how to spin the stories around what she saw like some of the greater ones had.
Ducking inside the blacksmith shop, she waited for the man in front of her to notice she was there, gently clearing her throat to capture the attention she couldn't speak to get. She schooled her face into one of questioning, already moving a hand towards one of her wrists to make a cutting motion when the man turned. Surely she could do this without having to speak, it wasn't that difficult to understand, or at least, Prim didn't think so.
@Neology
Well she couldn't could she. Kirkwall was not the same as it had been when she had been stolen away. 'And they hadn't bothered to plan it back out right when they rebuilt after, had they?' She sighed as she moved along the road, through various shops in Lowtown. She needed to find the blacksmith's shop, and she had been pointed along when she had gestured her question to someone on the street. It wasn't as if she couldn't talk, after all, she could. She just...
Wouldn't. It was better if she didn't after all. She was afraid if she did, she wouldn't be able to stop telling all the horrors she had seen, Guiding the dead. But it hadn't been all bad -- there was a peace among the departed that always seemed to calm her. After all, Prim had spent the last nearly 15 years among the dead. After that long, one tended to find them more comfortable than the living.
But before she could do anything else in this life, she needed to be rid of the reminder of her enslavement. She was free now, in the Free Marches, home in Kirkwall -- she could seek out her parents, if they were still alive, honestly, they probably died when the place blew up. And maybe Alesander was still here -- it was a foolish thought. He would have already been shuffled off to someone else.
She should have stayed and been content with a life that would have been loveless, but comfortable and safe.
The past was always so much easier to decide what to do with, once it was just that, the past. The future, she could catch glimpses of, but they didn't always give her a clear view. The problem with possessing the type of magic she did -- it was always left to interpretation, and she had never learned how to spin the stories around what she saw like some of the greater ones had.
Ducking inside the blacksmith shop, she waited for the man in front of her to notice she was there, gently clearing her throat to capture the attention she couldn't speak to get. She schooled her face into one of questioning, already moving a hand towards one of her wrists to make a cutting motion when the man turned. Surely she could do this without having to speak, it wasn't that difficult to understand, or at least, Prim didn't think so.
@Neology
07-19-2024, 11:40 PM
