There's little enough comfort in the Path of Light itself for a man in Ver's situation; it wasn't made to offer any to the Profane.
He takes the chair, huddling beneath his cloak as if it could shield him from the doom hanging over him. It can't, of course; he's gone too far in his (as he now recognizes it) stubborn unwillingness to pay attention to the gods' portents. And now a Shepherd's come, and whatever time left to him was up... So it remained only to do the last right thing he could, in hopes his soul wasn't forfeit.
It is very kind of Shepherd Dain, he thinks, to allow him that and not punish him instead. Hopefully the gods would smile on him for it.
"...Honey. Please." The bees would need seeing to. He'd never impose on a Shepherd but Tuo might be able to find a home for them, or someone else who could.
His throat tightens suddenly; he puts his head down on the table, shock-born stoicism abruptly giving way to silent and tearless sobbing.
cw for some suicidality here 8[
He takes the chair, huddling beneath his cloak as if it could shield him from the doom hanging over him. It can't, of course; he's gone too far in his (as he now recognizes it) stubborn unwillingness to pay attention to the gods' portents. And now a Shepherd's come, and whatever time left to him was up... So it remained only to do the last right thing he could, in hopes his soul wasn't forfeit.
It is very kind of Shepherd Dain, he thinks, to allow him that and not punish him instead. Hopefully the gods would smile on him for it.
"...Honey. Please." The bees would need seeing to. He'd never impose on a Shepherd but Tuo might be able to find a home for them, or someone else who could.
His throat tightens suddenly; he puts his head down on the table, shock-born stoicism abruptly giving way to silent and tearless sobbing.