While Warren's preparations might have been subtle, he hadn't been by Howl's room in the Duskbreak yet, either. It looked as though a tornado had gone off inside. Pieces of armor, lances, warm cloaks, and a camping tent (the kind they called "pup tents" for some reason) lay in a heap up against one wall; papers, maps of Coerthas, and books were strewn liberally elsewhere; and the whole room had the musty smell of carelessly tended clothes and clutter.
Howl had tried to clean the leather armor he'd worn for what felt like forever in Coerthas about five times, but simply touching it, handling the leather, feeling it against his skin again, brought him back to that isolated mountaintop and all of the horrors he had witnessed there. The smell, blood and sweat and filth, ingrained in the armor, did nothing to help. He wasn't sure if he could get back into that armor again. And yet, he couldn't quite bring himself to throw it away.
Something had kept him and Warren from really talking lately. They had retreated into their own minds, passing one another by in the Duskbreak, busying themselves with small logistical issues of the trip rather than really talking about any of the bigger plans. Privately, Howl was well aware this wasn't healthy. He had his suspicions for the reasons behind Warren's distance the past few days, the way he'd buried himself in the preparations for the trip rather than the reasons behind it. He was dimly aware that Warren had killed a man while trying to find him in Coerthas last time - Right's father, he suspected, the father of the man Howl had killed - and something about that death weighed heavily on him. But they had both so carefully avoided talking about each other's ghosts from that horrible time that Howl was hesitant to drag it into the light.
But he knew if he didn't here at some point, Ryuuga would. He knew in a way that Warren didn't understand how Ryuuga would turn any weaknesses in their heart against them.
He glanced, unwillingly, down at the Ishgardian helmet he had set aside. It was his one concession to what Coerthas had made of him, to what he supposed he was now. He traced the iconic shape of the helmet, like a wedged dragon's head, hiding the eyes - to prevent a dragon's influence, Renae had said.
This isn't who I am now. This isn't me
Renae's revelations about the true nature of what Ryuuga had called the "inner dragon" had unsettled him more than he cared to admit - and he knew at some point, Warren was going to demand answers.
And probably rip me a new one for not talking to him about it. Peace! What am I supposed to say? "Oh yeah, Warren, by the way, when I became a dragoon, in addition to losing my eye, I gained this weird inner dragon thing and I'm not sure if it's friendly"? I'm sure that'll go over real well. He already thinks I'm enough of a freak now.
He let his hand slide off of the glossy, dark metal of the helmet.
He promised us, though. That no one would ever want us once he was through with us. Not that anyone really wanted me before, but...
He set the helmet on his head, clenching his jaw. It smelled new and clean, at least, and that made it easier to bear. He resolved to talk to Warren, and soon. If they didn't go into this dragon-hunt with clean hearts, they'd be headed into worse than certain death. That much felt completely certain to him. They had more preparations to make than warm clothes and armor.
Howl had tried to clean the leather armor he'd worn for what felt like forever in Coerthas about five times, but simply touching it, handling the leather, feeling it against his skin again, brought him back to that isolated mountaintop and all of the horrors he had witnessed there. The smell, blood and sweat and filth, ingrained in the armor, did nothing to help. He wasn't sure if he could get back into that armor again. And yet, he couldn't quite bring himself to throw it away.
Something had kept him and Warren from really talking lately. They had retreated into their own minds, passing one another by in the Duskbreak, busying themselves with small logistical issues of the trip rather than really talking about any of the bigger plans. Privately, Howl was well aware this wasn't healthy. He had his suspicions for the reasons behind Warren's distance the past few days, the way he'd buried himself in the preparations for the trip rather than the reasons behind it. He was dimly aware that Warren had killed a man while trying to find him in Coerthas last time - Right's father, he suspected, the father of the man Howl had killed - and something about that death weighed heavily on him. But they had both so carefully avoided talking about each other's ghosts from that horrible time that Howl was hesitant to drag it into the light.
But he knew if he didn't here at some point, Ryuuga would. He knew in a way that Warren didn't understand how Ryuuga would turn any weaknesses in their heart against them.
He glanced, unwillingly, down at the Ishgardian helmet he had set aside. It was his one concession to what Coerthas had made of him, to what he supposed he was now. He traced the iconic shape of the helmet, like a wedged dragon's head, hiding the eyes - to prevent a dragon's influence, Renae had said.
This isn't who I am now. This isn't me
Renae's revelations about the true nature of what Ryuuga had called the "inner dragon" had unsettled him more than he cared to admit - and he knew at some point, Warren was going to demand answers.
And probably rip me a new one for not talking to him about it. Peace! What am I supposed to say? "Oh yeah, Warren, by the way, when I became a dragoon, in addition to losing my eye, I gained this weird inner dragon thing and I'm not sure if it's friendly"? I'm sure that'll go over real well. He already thinks I'm enough of a freak now.
He let his hand slide off of the glossy, dark metal of the helmet.
He promised us, though. That no one would ever want us once he was through with us. Not that anyone really wanted me before, but...
He set the helmet on his head, clenching his jaw. It smelled new and clean, at least, and that made it easier to bear. He resolved to talk to Warren, and soon. If they didn't go into this dragon-hunt with clean hearts, they'd be headed into worse than certain death. That much felt completely certain to him. They had more preparations to make than warm clothes and armor.
People have forgotten this truth. But you mustn't forget it. You become responsible forever for what you have tamed.
Howl's Wiki
Howl's Wiki
