Roen sat quietly in the shack, listening to the exchange between Nero and Lancel behind her. Her eyes lingered on the boy’s father that she had just healed, though her thoughts drifted to the smuggler who was just making his exit. With her back to them, she did not bother to hide the slow grin that rose.
He does care. The paladin glanced down at her hand--the one the boy had shook with enthusiasm, her skin still tingling with the memory of his joyous gratitude. She felt suddenly lighter then, as if the air in her chest had become more buoyant, her senses less encumbered by the stale heat that pervaded the small cabin.
"My thanks to you, Miss Deneith," came a murmur from the man who began to rustle in front of her. It seemed that his lucidity was returning to him after the healing that his leg had received. The older Highlander turned to her, his grizzled face crinkled with gratitude and relief.
Roen returned a nod, the warmth in her expression lingering. "What is your name, Mister...?"
"Lowell Radulf," the Highlander rasped, trying to sit up straighter as if to be polite. Roen shook her head and waved him back down.
"Just rest, Mister Radulf. I would not want you to undo all the work I just did." It was a jest on her part; his leg was healed and it just needed time to regain its strength... but he did not have to know that. The Highlander blinked and nodded solemnly, laying back down. The strict adherence to her words made her feel a little guilty.
"You leg just needs some rest, and practice." Roen reassured him. "Then you would be back to hunting in a few suns, I imagine."
The Highlander nodded. “I owe you Miss Deneith. And that man, Mister...â€
“Sebastian,†Roen finished for him. Nero had given them that name, the same one he had given her first time she confronted him. She presumed he had his own reasons for doing so, and she was not going to betray it.
“You two are a Twelve-send,†Lowell continued, tired eyes looking up at the low shoddy ceiling. “I had to hunt further and further away from the camps and...†The man curled his arm over his eyes, as if to hide his despair. But it shook his voice. “Lancel’s mother was lost to the poison sickness. I am the only one left for the boy.â€
Roen leaned over and lightly touched the man’s arm. “He still has you. And he is a smart and resourceful boy, your son. He came to find us on his own.†Her words were soft. She dismissed the frown that rose as she recalled the stories of the poison sickness that passed over a month ago, but it had claimed many lives, especially in the refugee camps. The repercussions were still felt to this day.
The Highlander lowered his arm, his sorrow giving way to some measure of hope as he looked back at her. “I hope to see you two again, to repay my debt. May Menphina bless you both in your future.†His smile broadened knowingly.
Roen blinked. He thinks we're-- Her lips parted to protest, then she thought twice and closed them shut, her lips tugged in a way that tried to emulate a smile but quite wasn’t. The man seemed so sincere in his thanks that she was certain it was just a polite parting words. She nodded again oddly, then rose and ducked out of the cabin.
When she emerged from the shack, Nero was waiting for her, his arms crossed. Despite the awkwardness that lingered in the back of her mind, the paladin offered him a genuine smile. They had done good, and she no longer had any doubts about trusting her instincts regarding the smuggler’s intentions. He could be as smug and sarcastic as he wanted; she was determined not to let it affect her. As long as his compassion remained for the poor and the discarded, she would do what she could to help him.
“So?†Roen stepped up to Nero, dusting off her tunic and breeches. The heat and the sand were starting to cling onto their skin and clothes as the Thanalan sun continued to beat on them. “What is next?â€
He does care. The paladin glanced down at her hand--the one the boy had shook with enthusiasm, her skin still tingling with the memory of his joyous gratitude. She felt suddenly lighter then, as if the air in her chest had become more buoyant, her senses less encumbered by the stale heat that pervaded the small cabin.
"My thanks to you, Miss Deneith," came a murmur from the man who began to rustle in front of her. It seemed that his lucidity was returning to him after the healing that his leg had received. The older Highlander turned to her, his grizzled face crinkled with gratitude and relief.
Roen returned a nod, the warmth in her expression lingering. "What is your name, Mister...?"
"Lowell Radulf," the Highlander rasped, trying to sit up straighter as if to be polite. Roen shook her head and waved him back down.
"Just rest, Mister Radulf. I would not want you to undo all the work I just did." It was a jest on her part; his leg was healed and it just needed time to regain its strength... but he did not have to know that. The Highlander blinked and nodded solemnly, laying back down. The strict adherence to her words made her feel a little guilty.
"You leg just needs some rest, and practice." Roen reassured him. "Then you would be back to hunting in a few suns, I imagine."
The Highlander nodded. “I owe you Miss Deneith. And that man, Mister...â€
“Sebastian,†Roen finished for him. Nero had given them that name, the same one he had given her first time she confronted him. She presumed he had his own reasons for doing so, and she was not going to betray it.
“You two are a Twelve-send,†Lowell continued, tired eyes looking up at the low shoddy ceiling. “I had to hunt further and further away from the camps and...†The man curled his arm over his eyes, as if to hide his despair. But it shook his voice. “Lancel’s mother was lost to the poison sickness. I am the only one left for the boy.â€
Roen leaned over and lightly touched the man’s arm. “He still has you. And he is a smart and resourceful boy, your son. He came to find us on his own.†Her words were soft. She dismissed the frown that rose as she recalled the stories of the poison sickness that passed over a month ago, but it had claimed many lives, especially in the refugee camps. The repercussions were still felt to this day.
The Highlander lowered his arm, his sorrow giving way to some measure of hope as he looked back at her. “I hope to see you two again, to repay my debt. May Menphina bless you both in your future.†His smile broadened knowingly.
Roen blinked. He thinks we're-- Her lips parted to protest, then she thought twice and closed them shut, her lips tugged in a way that tried to emulate a smile but quite wasn’t. The man seemed so sincere in his thanks that she was certain it was just a polite parting words. She nodded again oddly, then rose and ducked out of the cabin.
When she emerged from the shack, Nero was waiting for her, his arms crossed. Despite the awkwardness that lingered in the back of her mind, the paladin offered him a genuine smile. They had done good, and she no longer had any doubts about trusting her instincts regarding the smuggler’s intentions. He could be as smug and sarcastic as he wanted; she was determined not to let it affect her. As long as his compassion remained for the poor and the discarded, she would do what she could to help him.
“So?†Roen stepped up to Nero, dusting off her tunic and breeches. The heat and the sand were starting to cling onto their skin and clothes as the Thanalan sun continued to beat on them. “What is next?â€
