His mind raced while he waited for the elezen to return to him with his reins. Victory had been allowed to rest for bells and bells while Warren had toiled in the dark outside of Dragonhead, straining his ears against the wind and his eyes against the night, and now the sun was higher in the sky than he'd like. Nervous, shaky hands rapped against his armored arms which had folded over his chest not for duty but for warmth. He'd grown accustomed to the piercing numbness that came and went over his extremities and found he could handle it. If there was any lasting damage he would see a cleric about it but unless his arms and legs fell off and his eyes dropped out of his head he wouldn't allow himself to stop.
The elezen approached, his demeanor obviously not one with glad tidings. Warren considered the short list of reasons his demand would have not been met; His gil was good and plentiful and he had no reason now to hold back on it, and he hadn't violated any laws and there was no good reason why he should waylay him now, as soon as Victory was back on his feet they would resume and he'd go
"Can't let that bird out of my stables in good conscience, master." The elezen's words were soft and lacking strength. His hands were wringing a small kerchief, likely of their own volition. Warren stared back, not sure if his ears worked properly.
"He's... Well, he's sick. If I let you take that chocobo out into Coerthas, he's not going to make it. Cold'll do him in. It gets nasty out there, master." Again the elezen spoke with soft tones, a man trying to gently appeal to someone's better sense.
For a maddening moment, Warren's eyes darted back and forth, searching the air for a sign that didn't exist, his vision blanking out to something in his mind. His mouth opened a moment to object but nothing but cold air came out, a short puff before his features broke. Waves of heartache ran him over as his days of exhaustion added to his lack of conviction. A part of his mind was dimly aware he was hunched over and sobbing but he tried to keep the rest of it thinking, working to solve the problem.
The elezen was beside him now, setting a steadying yet unfelt hand on Warren's shoulder. "It's not your fault, sir. These things happen. It'll be fine after a day or three, I promise. We'll take good care of him here; it's warm and cozy where he's resting and we'll keep him happy until he's over it. Why don't you pack it in, get a warm bite and a hot bath drawn? It'd do you some good, you look like you've been running ragged since the Era changed."
Warren buried his face in his cloak and wiped furiously at his eyes while he beckoned his eyes to stop leaking.
You're going to kill the whole lot of you. It's already your fault they're lost out here, now just throw yourself and your pet onto the pile. Plenty of room out here for nobody to ever find any of you, you know.
"It's not your fault, master." The elezen was still looking at him, unsure of what to do to try and comfort the silent giant.
can't eat they haven't eaten don't deserve to be warm they're freezing can't let this be it have to keep going can't stop
"Whatever your hurry is, sir, it can wait. It's not worth dying for, right?"
Warren turned away, unable to bring himself to speak and blindly finding his way to a stone bench. He collapsed onto it and drew his cloak up around him, pulling it tight to try and shut the world out.
It had been two days. Victory was ill. He had no signs, no clues. The voices skulking in the back of his mind told him it was impossible, there wasn't any way they could have made it. He pulled the hood of the cloak down over his face, ashamed to hear the front of his thoughts starting to agree.
The elezen approached, his demeanor obviously not one with glad tidings. Warren considered the short list of reasons his demand would have not been met; His gil was good and plentiful and he had no reason now to hold back on it, and he hadn't violated any laws and there was no good reason why he should waylay him now, as soon as Victory was back on his feet they would resume and he'd go
"Can't let that bird out of my stables in good conscience, master." The elezen's words were soft and lacking strength. His hands were wringing a small kerchief, likely of their own volition. Warren stared back, not sure if his ears worked properly.
"He's... Well, he's sick. If I let you take that chocobo out into Coerthas, he's not going to make it. Cold'll do him in. It gets nasty out there, master." Again the elezen spoke with soft tones, a man trying to gently appeal to someone's better sense.
For a maddening moment, Warren's eyes darted back and forth, searching the air for a sign that didn't exist, his vision blanking out to something in his mind. His mouth opened a moment to object but nothing but cold air came out, a short puff before his features broke. Waves of heartache ran him over as his days of exhaustion added to his lack of conviction. A part of his mind was dimly aware he was hunched over and sobbing but he tried to keep the rest of it thinking, working to solve the problem.
The elezen was beside him now, setting a steadying yet unfelt hand on Warren's shoulder. "It's not your fault, sir. These things happen. It'll be fine after a day or three, I promise. We'll take good care of him here; it's warm and cozy where he's resting and we'll keep him happy until he's over it. Why don't you pack it in, get a warm bite and a hot bath drawn? It'd do you some good, you look like you've been running ragged since the Era changed."
Warren buried his face in his cloak and wiped furiously at his eyes while he beckoned his eyes to stop leaking.
You're going to kill the whole lot of you. It's already your fault they're lost out here, now just throw yourself and your pet onto the pile. Plenty of room out here for nobody to ever find any of you, you know.
"It's not your fault, master." The elezen was still looking at him, unsure of what to do to try and comfort the silent giant.
can't eat they haven't eaten don't deserve to be warm they're freezing can't let this be it have to keep going can't stop
"Whatever your hurry is, sir, it can wait. It's not worth dying for, right?"
Warren turned away, unable to bring himself to speak and blindly finding his way to a stone bench. He collapsed onto it and drew his cloak up around him, pulling it tight to try and shut the world out.
It had been two days. Victory was ill. He had no signs, no clues. The voices skulking in the back of his mind told him it was impossible, there wasn't any way they could have made it. He pulled the hood of the cloak down over his face, ashamed to hear the front of his thoughts starting to agree.
![[Image: yEROfKO.png]](http://i.imgur.com/yEROfKO.png)
