makinglies | Respite

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faerun

Respite

The lake is dark and calm with a small breeze by the time they arrive at its shores. The stars above reflect perfectly in the still waters before them, and a small copse of trees lines one side, starting on their side of the river and jumping along the other side.

Chris takes a moment to re-prepare the spell he hadn't been able to cast in five years and gestures vaguely to the area around them as a suggestion for what the others can do. Gathering in the forest, sitting on a nearby over-turned log, it didn't matter to him. What he needed was an hour without interruption.

He settles down on the ground and presses his hands together as he closes his eyes to focus on the image in his mind. Within minutes, the white, shimmering outline of a large building forms in thin air. The gentle glow of its light barely spreads from the growing structure.

As promised, it takes the full hour before the slowly filling-in form is complete and finishes with a jaunty, echoing click.

Chris takes a breath, now sitting in front of the stoop that looks annoyingly like the one he'd passed earlier in the night, and gets back onto stiff legs as the glow fades away, leaving smooth, but otherwise unremarkable, white stone behind.

"Here we are. Home for the next however long we need. I'll start working on food and water next." Once they're inside, anyway, which is why he takes back his things from where he'd left them and leads them into the temple, marked only with the carving of ravens on the black wood of the double doors.

Inside is something just shy of opulence. The same polished white stone makes the walls, though black and gold veins course through the marble. The floor is the inverse, a black stone with white, shimmering speckles like a night sky if looked at for long enough. A single window faced East high up on the wall. The temple was alight with sconces at regular intervals along the walls, illuminating an open area that held all the offerings of comfort Chris could think of.

A large hot-springs-like bath, complete with a miniature waterfall, took up the left side of the room and ran into a smaller, similar bath at dog-height. Next to it, covered by a retractable screen, was a shower. Along the back wall, a raven's head emblazoned the white wall in black and watched out over a set of tables, chairs, and a couple of sofas. The majority of the center was clear for walking, but the right edge and right side of the room held a deeply inset pit of pillows, cushions, and blankets in various soft (black and purple) fabrics.

Finally, in the middle of the right-hand wall, there were two closed doors that, when inspected, revealed one room with a large, soft chair and rug, while the other room was made of nothing but stone with jars, pitchers, and plates on shelves along two walls and a cork wall perfect for catching daggers on the other side.

"I hope it works for everyone. I didn't...I didn't make separate bedrooms this time. I didn't figure we would need them tonight."

♥

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"My friend Agnes gave it to me for safe-keeping. Much like the cursed pocket watch you gave me. I have that, as well." He doesn't go fishing for it in the lead-lined box he'd pulled out of his safe in the Archives, but he knows it's there... waiting.

"And we can tell people it's a hand from a very powerful and evil wizard who sacrificed children to a horrible spider monster." Which isn't entirely accurate, but it's close enough. "It would be a conversation piece, if nothing else. I also think opening an archive is going to need to wait... a significant amount of time. It's not exactly something easy to carry around with me. We'd need to know where we're settling and if we're settling."

Jon lets the dogs sniff at the box as he checks on the hand--still intact and not rotting in any evident way--before stowing it again and returning to the task of lighting the fire. This one time, he can use the lighter. After that... maybe it would be better to have Chris bless it. Or dispel it. Or whatever he does to remove potential curses.

And here she was thinking Jon's life couldn't be any stranger. Amelia huffs incredulously and then puts a hand up as she shrugs. That's enough about a random severed hand for now, thanks.

"We have a few things to work out before we decide where we want to spend the rest of our lives. We may even need to keep moving for a while to take care of it all." They'll need to work out some kind of transportation if that's the case. Too many miles for someone unused to walking all the time, too many miles to ask if the animals, and too much stuff for all of them to carry around. It'll require a lot of gold, but they can make that. Eventually.

Though, now that the topic is open... She looks between the two of them as she flips to another page in the journal. "What sort of things are you looking forward to when we're fully written into the Weave? Anything but each other, I mean."

Wolfe doesn't answer. He glances at Jon as if giving him the room to do so, but in all honestly he... hasn't really thought about it other than the travel that Chris said he wanted. Wolfe's spent his entire life trying to either support or temper the dreams of others. When it comes to himself, he loses focus.

What does he want?

It’s a distracting question that has Jon’s brow furrowing as he builds his kindling up in a cleared area nearby. The answers to that question have shifted. Meeting Chris’ friends and family, starting an archive for the new city of Deismyr from scratch, and getting to dress in fancy royal attire every day are out the window.

There’s a wholly embarrassing answer that he doesn’t consider relevant to either of them, which is ‘not having to deal with quota and just getting to do things if and when he wants to indulge Chris’ interests. They might think he means he wants to do kinky things with Chris. Especially after teasing Amelia earlier. That would be unacceptable.

“Studying the rules of magic here for people who aren’t clerics. I don’t plan on becoming one, personally. Which necessitates learning Common… and a slew of other languages, I expect.”

Jon's answer earns a soft laugh. It's very much the sort of thing she thought he would want to do with the rest of his life, but that's not what she asked. At least, that's not what she meant to ask if the question is being interpreted that way.

"I was thinking more about tangible things. Swimming in bodies of water that aren't filled with monsters, eating foods we couldn't get in Duplicity, wearing certain styles of clothes. Things like that." Another laugh as she tilts her head back, disrupting Little Thunder enough to have the raven hop to her lap. "There were a lot of convenient things about the city, but I'm looking forward to living under the stars again, nothing but candles and torches and fireplaces to light up wherever we live. That..." She sighs, a dreamy hint to the sound of it. "That will feel good after years of the sky being blotted out by electric lights."

A beat. "I do wonder if we can find a telescope, though. The heavens here must be different from what were in the city, but I'm curious to know if they have the same sort of objects up there." The sky is already beautiful here, but how much more could it be with swirling masses of colors and bright stars? She wants to know.

"Oh!" This he has answers for. "I want to be able to just do magic without it being forbidden or strange or people insisting it doesn't exist. I'm also looking forward to being intimate in the ways we want and choose instead of whatever anyone else dictates."

He smiles, finishing up the skin and setting it aside for tanning. Next he starts to cut the meat into chunks for stew. "And certain sounds. Like the clack of a loom or rattle of a spinning wheel, the way a forge hammer sounds when it strikes a sword on an anvil, the kinds of things that were lost to manufacturing in Duplicity and to space technology in the Fleet. I didn't realize how much I miss hearing the foundry sounds of Kirkwall, even if I don't miss ash all over everything.

"Lastly, clothes that fit and last longer than ten minutes before getting holes. This t-shirt is probably going to last a month total here but my boots have gone through three corners of the multiverse." Actually that isn't quite true, but he's a little more distracted by remembering they're still swampy to dwell on it. He pauses to just take them off in the name of comfort, bare dirt be damned.

Edited (fucking autocorrect) 2025-10-24 05:03 (UTC)

Jon casts Wolfe a side-eye when he mentions people insisting magic doesn't exist and regrets it when he sees the carnage that's been wrought. His attention goes back to the fire as he grimaces. "I'd imagine a city like Iliniver, steeped in in the arcane, would have a telescope. Astronomy and heavenly bodies probably play into one of the colleges of magic here." And from Chris' description of the place, they're more advanced than the whole of the Moonsea when it comes to magic.

"I think you're more likely to find monsters in the water here than you might think, though. Just not ones like to f-" He cuts himself off, feeling a blush rise across his cheeks. Jon clears his throat. "Not like the ones in Duplicity.

"It's very quiet here, though, since you mention the sounds. Uncanny, honestly. I can hear things, but there's something missing." The larger structure of the fire begins to take shape as Jon moves from kindling to breaking larger branches for the support. "If you're looking for the tangible, I'm looking forward to magical items that aren't cursed. The root of the supernatural in my world is terror and suffering. We have cursed artifacts people can use to their advantage if they're careful and very clever, but their only purpose is to inflict terror, and they often end up 'turning' on the people using them.

"Not needing to be on guard for every potential magical thing trying to bite us in the ass will be nice. I know we had some of that in Duplicity... but most of the 'native' magic there was sex nonsense."

Amelia's all smiles as Wolfe answers, brightened that he mentions things that she's also been missing. The intimacy, though... that she isn't quite ready to deal with. She wants that with him, but after so long without except for once with a stranger, she's not certain she's ready for how overwhelming things could become. Give her the playful, the fun, the slow unwinding that holds her attention without being too much, and maybe, maybe she could do it.

Her cheeks flush a light pink at her own thoughts and she's grateful neither man seems to be looking at her. It gives her a chance to breathe through the rush silently and jot down a few details they've mentioned.

"Magic they often claimed wasn't magic," to put the mage's point into perspective. "In a world like this, people are more likely to be open about what it is they're doing, even if we don't like it. At least as far as the type of magic they're using. Those that aren't open aren't likely to be good to us anyway." There's always ruffians and thieves about, many of them not even rogues if the trends she knows of from Ragneux hold in this plane. They'll certainly find out once they make it to Illnivur.

She's quiet for a moment, lips pursed in thought. "What about... places to go? I never asked Chris much about the various places here as I thought we'd be dragged around by the Guardians. Did either of you pick up some place we should add to our list once we're in the Weave?" It's as much a probe for their thoughts as it is a curiosity about the world itself. Other than the Moonsea and Melvaunt, she really doesn't know of other places to visit.

Both his companions blush at two different things and Wolfe can't help but grin. He doesn't get the chance to tease before Amelia's off on another subject though.

"I know Chris wanted to go to the Sea of Fallen Stars down south. And-" He lowers his voice so Chris isn't as likely to hear them. "-anywhere else that isn't the Moonsea he wouldn't have been to before. I think once we get our feet under us properly, we should look at leaving the region for awhile. Let him see the sights, you know?"

That, at least, Wolfe has thought of. Making their way west to the Sword Coast or south through... Cormyr? Cormynther? He doesn't remember but Chris had mentioned it in one of their many, many talks about places in Faerûn. Honestly anything is new to him so he doesn't care where they go, so long as it puts a smile on Chris' face.

"Maybe somewhere warm? Which I guess would be going north not south, but wherever the wind takes us I supposed."

Amelia keeps saying ‘we,’ which is a far cry from the ‘you’ she’d been so concerned with an hour or so ago. Jon doesn’t call it out, just marks it. She’s clearly trying to be more cheerful, perhaps a defense against the existential dread crawling through her mind. He’s not usually a fan of that sort of thing, but it’s an interesting conversation, and he’s keen to keep the peace after fucking up so spectacularly within a day of arriving in this new world.

The hunger for far more than the game they’re chopping up gnaws at his insides.

“Ilinivur was of particular interest. I don’t care for the circumstances, but it’s… nice we’re headed there straight out. Zenithil’s somewhere else. It’s one of the more technologically advanced cities in this world. I think it’s somewhere that would be… if we’re going to sell ‘invention’ ideas, they’re likely to get the most traction there.

“Regardless, we’re already in the north, from my understanding. I expect it’ll get warmer if we head south.” Jon gestures broadly to the distance. “There’s mountains that way. That’s, er… that’s… north, right?” He realizes very suddenly that he’s been assuming. But he doesn’t actually know. They’d headed away from the Moonsea, so presumably they’d gone north?

"Unless the sun rises and sets in different directions than I'm used to here, yes, that's north." What that means for where things get colder or warmer, she doesn't rightly know. 'Amelia Royer of Ragneux' studied regional geography solely for the purpose of her business dealings and to have a decent understanding of why certain areas were more or less politically important to those in charge of the country she came from. She saw a sea once in her life and was too young to understand where it was in relation to what little she knew at the time. It didn't really matter when she was Shadow Mistress so long as she knew the names of a few seaside places travelers to Ragneux might have come from in their long journeys toward her country's capital.

She shrugs, making a few more notes about where they'd like to go. "I'm certain we can find all of these places and that at least one will be warm. If it's not, I'm certain Chris can be convinced to go to a few." Her lips pull into a smirk as she looks up at Wolfe, waiting for him to meet her eyes before she says, "He does so enjoy the view when you get warm." And dreams know she's always up for that view. She had multiple pictures on that stupid device from the city to prove it until yesterday.

That pulls a laugh from Wolfe and he continues chuckling as he finishes with the badger and moves on to other game, motioning to the dogs that they can have at the bits he won't be putting in the stew. The girls fall upon their meal happily.

"I forgot where you're both from is backwards and it gets warmer the more south you go. Something about 'planetary axis tilt' or whatever Jim said." The Jim Kirk from the Drift Fleet, who he spent a month with in his first casual relationship. At least he's still out there somewhere, traveling the stars.

"In that case, it's probably warmer on the Sea of Fallen Stars since its south of here. We'll definitely need coin first if we're going to travel like we're talking about." He pauses and looks up from his work. "We'll have to ask Chris about the vaule of a gold when he's done casting. Maker- Gods only know how far each gold will get us in terms of supplies."

Jon makes a face to himself at Amelia’s innuendo and finishes arranging the wood. The next challenge is actually getting any fire to take.

“Isn’t gold worth… a ridiculous amount here? It’s actual gold, right? So it could be what someone might make in a month or more.” He doesn’t know if what he would consider ‘realistic’ economics will prevail in Faerûn.

“We’d probably be making… bronze or copper pieces with odd jobs. Maybe silver. Unless we manage to find someone filthy rich to work for.”

As Jon speaks, the temple shimmers back into form and around the gathered things still in place. Though a feather motif adorns the lines and arches of the building, some web-like designs decorate corners and have taken up accentuating the ravens on the door. Doors sporting disembodied hands as door pulls.

Chris sighs, annoyed but resigned. This is what he gets for letting himself listen to some of what was being discussed.

“An average worker can usually expect two-three gold at the end of a tenday for their work. Most food and basics cost coppers, crafter goods cost silvers to gold, depending. Adventuring can pay well if the risk or value is there. We can probably expect coppers and silver for basic jobs.”

He rubs his face. “You’ll have to get used to ‘a week’ being ten days too. Depending on what we can find, I know Ilinivur has escort services that’ll pay well.”

"Escort services?" Jon twists around, lighter in hand, knee smacking the ground a little harder than he means it to with the turn. "What, like the Crucible?" Maybe that's not what the workers at the Crucible did, technically, but it's close enough. If the cleric is suggesting they start up some sort of 'gentleman's services,' he has another think coming.

It's only once he's turned around that Jon registers the external changes to the temple. The hands on the doors are... concerning, but it's the web patterns that draw his eyes. "Why the hell did- what are those?" He stabs a finger at some of the more prominent web patterning.

"It's more likely he means escorting travelers or merchants on the roads. It's a time-tested and honored tradition in Ragneux as well." As are the other type of escort services, but that's not relevant right now. "I doubt any of us are seriously thinking about anything like what we did in the city where my club and its services for clients were concerned." Not yet. If they get so desperate for coin that they need something that will pay immediately, then it's possible. Amelia highly doubts that's going to happen, though.

She takes a look at the temple after tucking the pen in her hands into the journal. It's certainly a different motif than the previous. Her head tilts slightly to one side. "Chris, how closely were you listening to us while you were casting? We were just talking about the Web and the hand Jon brought with him."

"We were apparently distracting," Wolfe chuckles, not minding the somewhat creepy motifs as he finds it quite charming their conversation crept into Chris' concentration as he was casting.

"I wouldn't mind bartending, but I imagine it doesn't work the same way here as Duplicity either. Back in Thedas the barmen were also the owners and the severs hired were women to make the men spend more. I suppose I could be a barmaid," he says, preening theatrically but being careful not to get blood in his hair.

"That said, I would request we all stay away from any sex-related work at least until we all get used to it not being imperative, please." Despite his much improved mood, that ask is made with more seriousness. He means it, in a way that hurts to think too much about. He was always slow to untwine sex and love and while he can easily point to the difference now, and even have casual partners if desired, he misses thinking of it as an expression of feeling and not something of a chore.

“When you’re all going on about the hand you apparently brought instead of anything else useful and the Web and all, how am I not meant to have my mind wandering?”

Chris rolls his eyes at his partner…but then gets up and looks anywhere but his family as Amelia proclaims he hadn’t meant what he did and Wolfe makes his request. He hadn’t thought the suggestion unreasonable when he’d only meant himself. It was the only job besides the theatre he’d ever had and he’d grown up in the environment, it made sense to him as a ‘if needs must’ option.

Embarrassment burns in his chest.

“Yeah. Sure. There’s options for our services to earn coin. Anyway, the temple’s ready whenever you all like, including some books to help teach on flora and fauna and basic Common.”

Plus some other additions he hopes they like.

Chris’ embarrassment is noted and approved. He should feel bad about that ridiculous suggestion. No amount of Amelia and Wolfe trying to cover for him can help that. But it’s just a side note in Jon’s mind as his eyes stay fixed on the web patterns.

The explanation for their presence is eminently reasonable. Paired with the hands on the door, it makes sense. It all makes sense, and yet…

He stands and marches to Chris to press the lighter into his hand. “Make sure this isn’t cursed and all of you stay outside. Poppet, come here, pretty girl. I need your help.” The mothcat had been cleaning herself nearby, but flutters over when called. Jon holds out a hand for her to land on.

“We’re going to check the temple for spiders. If you find any, don’t eat them. These spiders are bad. They’ll make you sick. Just point them out to me, all right?” Poppet trills and fluffs herself up proudly.

Jon looks at the others, heart pounding a little harder. He transfers Poppet to his shoulder. “Stay outside here until I come back. I’ll… If I’m myself, I’ll tell you…” What would be a good identifier? “I’ll tell you the name of the cat Ava gave me in the city.”

This is probably over-dramatic and unnecessary, but so saying, Jon will walk up to the door of the temple unless stopped and knock. When no horrible spider monsters answer, he’ll open the door slowly and peek inside.

Jon's sudden need to check out the temple on his own is... unexpected. Apparently something happened with this Web that's got him seriously on edge. Amelia frowns briefly but doesn't try to stop him, if only so she doesn't start another fight. It would be good to assure him that everything is all right and must be safe when this temple is of Chris' making, but she doubts that will stop him. Better to let him have his moment of paranoia to get it out of his system.

Which leaves her with two things that need to be done. First, she sets the journal on her pack and moves to Wolfe's side. Once his hands are immediately occupied with his work, she takes his face between her hands and presses a soft, heartfelt kiss to his lips. She has an equally soft smile on her face when they part and she brushes his hair from his face. "I have no intention of sharing myself with anyone who isn't in our party for a while unless it's an option of last resort for a long time. I remain yours, Adalwolfe Hawke, just as I've always been." Her smile warms a bit more as she gives him one more kiss and then withdraws to Chris' side.

The cleric gets a hand down the side of his arm and her fingers lingering close to his without grasping, in case he doesn't want to be held at all. "Hey," she murmurs, trying to keep Wolfe from hearing her, "are you all right? I hadn't meant anything cruel or untoward with my words. You're fine to listen to us and if you meant we could use our bodies in bed to make coin, there's nothing wrong with that. I was only curious and trying to offer multiple options for all of us to take part in." She smiles wryly at him. "I'm sorry if I hurt you. Dreams know we're going to need to be realistic about every option available to us for work."

Usually Wolfe is generally aware of what the people around him are generally feeling. Jon is indignant and paranoid, as usual, and Chris is embarrassed, though Wolfe is not entirely sure if its because he jumped to sex so quickly as a means to earn money or because it's one of the few things he's ever done to make coin. Chris has told Wolfe before of what he feels are gaps in his broader education. He was brought up to rule and there are a great many skills that go into that, but holding down a mundane job is not one of them.

Amelia surprises him when she kisses him, prompting his own flush to cross his face in a mirror of Chris'. He's not embarrassed, but the declaration of her being his, just his, even if he always knew that, sends a tremor through his heart and he has to duck his head to poorly hide his bashful smile, though he does mumur "I love you, too."

He doesn't follow her to Chris, nor does he interrupt Jon's paranoia-fueled sleuthing exploration into what he imagines is a perfectly safe temple. Its Chris' magic that brought it into being and Wolfe is entirely certain nothing would have gotten into that spell work to harm them, motifs notwithstanding. It happens when thoughts stray during a long casting, but Wolfe has a solid feeling that the Matron won't allow them to be harmed in a place dedicated to her. Not unless they bring it on themselves.

That's an odd feeling, knowing a god really exists and truely offers protection and peace. After the Maker only dubiously existing with His flock committing atrocities in His name and the elven gods being revealed as ancient mages playing at divinity, Wolfe didn't think he'd believe in any sort of higher power. But then here comes Chris with a practical certainty of the devine and now Wolfe is a believer of some kind.

Easier to do when you have solid proof, he thinks, glancing at the temple. He doesn't know how Anders would feel about his newfound faith, and he supposes he'll never know.

Jon is starting down on his paranoia path and Chris almost tries to intervene to curtail it when Amelia comes to him and brushes his arm. He turns to her and shakes his head.

“You haven’t, I’m just…it’s what I know to do and can easily get involved in. We have many needs and little means, if Gideon cannot or will not make a loan to us to get started, a fair thing when we’ll be asking so much already, then I’m simply trying to think of what I can do to help quickly and effectively. I didn’t…mean any harm by it. I didn’t think much of offering in the first place.”

Which might be its own problem, but he hadn’t thought of that.

He leans in and presses a kiss to her forehead, tone even, honest. “I’m alright, I promise.”

What Jon finds is similar to how the temple was the night before. The entry way opens to a wide and tall structure. Three doors now line the right side. One leads to a few bookcases stocked with more than one copy of the same book and some chairs to read them in.

The next two appear to be meditation or resting rooms with lavish couches and rugs, though the middle room sports a ceiling and wall of windows to the outside and the other room hosts a large wardrobe.

The center of the temple still holds the pillow pit and tables and chairs at the back, now with a clothesline and clothes washing station in the back right corner.

The left side hosts two shower stalls, a simple kitchen with wood-fire stove and chimney, and a curling stairwell that led to a seating area once more under a splash of windows.

Jon’s investigation is far more thorough than it probably needs to be. While he finds web motifs throughout the temple, he can’t spot any actual spiders or cobwebs. Poppet returns to him and shakes her head periodically when he sends her up in each room to check the ceiling and higher spots that he can’t see over.

The wardrobe is his last stop for searching, and all he can think of are horror films where the monster is hiding in there. It takes him several seconds to work up the nerve to open it. Blessedly, nothing pops out to snatch him, but he starts going through all the clothes, just to be certain. He does toss one woolly scarf onto the ground, and Poppet moves on it immediately with a delighted mew.

He may be here… some time. But if there are any spiders in these new clothes, Jon intends to catch them.

"I didn't either. It is a good way to make money, and an option to keep in mind if we don't find other methods of work." She may keep it in the back of her mind as an option to choose only after all others have been exhausted, but that doesn't make Chris wrong to think of it first. It's what he's used to, of course he's going to bring it up right away. Amelia smiles and and gives the cleric a gentle nudge in the arm with hers.

"Between all four of us, all our wits and charms and skills, we'll figure something out. Jon may not be used to this kind of world and Wolfe may not be able to speak the language for a while to help smooth ruffled feathers, but you and I? We've both trained to negotiate and find ways to get people to hand over coin they may not otherwise have wanted to part with. We'll take care of it, together, even if it's just you and I for a time." Nothing and no one is going to stop either of them from caring for the group as a whole, and that means they'll be fine.

But that's enough on the subject. Amelia's eyes turn toward the temple as she knocks her head towards it and raises her voice to let the mage back into the conversation. "So, what new things can we expect today? I'm certain you remembered laundry and a kitchen, but what luxuries did you decide we needed? The temple yesterday was very comfortable." Dreams, that bedding alone was everything she could've wanted when it was time to pass out.

"Showers again I hope, though I'll rinse off in the lake before I sully the place." He finishes carving out the unimportant bits of the animal in front of him, much to the girls' delight. He is absolutely splattered with blood, but it doesn't appear to bother him overmuch. "And clothes. I need to wash this badly."

Sitting back on his launches, Wolfe pauses for a moment to wipe his face with one side of his arm that he hopes is clean enough. He should probably say something else but he doesn't really have much else to say, for once. He's tired in a way he's only been a few times in his life and this time he hadn't fought any overwhelming battles or survived being held captive in a pit.

Or maybe he has. He's been a prisoner for years and it had only gotten worse over time despite the shining bright spots that were his friends - his chosen family. His whole life has been a flow of fighting and running, scrabbling for everything he could call his own and then losing it all.

But that's not true, is it? He's only from Duplicity. He's five years old - maybe younger - but with all the baggage of a man who had been through multiple flavors of hell. The wave of anger at the thought bubbles up like nausea. Why does he have the fallout of someone else's traumas? Of Adalwolfe Hawke the first's tragedies? He could have been anyone, why does he have to be him?

Because who else would I be? His own voice reasons to him in his head. He may be molded from someone else but that doesn't make his life any less important or any less his. If anything, it makes him more free. Only after so long with responsibilities and worries and something big and unmovable to fight against, he feels free in a way that's oppressive. Its easier just to focus on preparing this meal and then rinsing off, and then laundry, and putting one foot in front of the other.

Wolfe goes back to what he was doing, as if he hadn't just wanted to lay face down in the dirt and decay there. At least he succeeded on keeping it all inside. He thinks.

Good. He doesn't want to worry them over what's probably just a stage of grief or him finally letting go of some things or... something.

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cw: paranoia, PTSD

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dirty 20 deception check.