Daegsatz tilted his head at the music box, eyeing it curiously. The idea of a sentimental gift was, even with all of his years, still a bit strange to them; Vail's pirates being pirates, gifts were not given often, and those gifts that didn't contain generous amounts of alcohol typically had some kind of practical value: weapons, an extra sack of gil, new boots, the like. The music box could arguably be defined as the antithesis of that principle. Nero would have certainly gotten a kick out of disassembling the thing, but the Roegadyn himself held no value for it.
And yet he kept it. Even the simple-minded Sea Wolf could see that it represented Roen's compassion. Daegsatz took care not to accidentally crush the fragile-looking box in his massive hand, and nodded at the paladin. "I'll be holdin' on ta it till me release, then," he offered as he lumbered back into the gaol, having caught the Lalafell's glare.
"Wish ye luck, lass. In whatever it is ye be seekin' ta do," the Roegadyn rumbled as he sat back down on the cot and watched her retreat.
Day 9
Nine suns. Much of Daegsatz' days in the gaol had been filled with idleness and boredom; those bells when Roen visited him were the only times he could expect to do anything besides lay in the cot. Even with all of the amenities she provided with him, the bells seemed to take years to pass. The stack of parchment in the corner had grown, the images on them becoming increasingly more elaborate as the Roegadyn made a conscious effort to soak up as much of his idle time as he could with them.
The music box, sentimental gift that it was, provided no comfort in the end, though Daegsatz was aware of its meaning. How much longer would he be in here? The question echoed in his mind with growing frequency. He was sure that sooner or later he would simply stop counting the bells and the suns, but he had not reached that point yet.
And yet he kept it. Even the simple-minded Sea Wolf could see that it represented Roen's compassion. Daegsatz took care not to accidentally crush the fragile-looking box in his massive hand, and nodded at the paladin. "I'll be holdin' on ta it till me release, then," he offered as he lumbered back into the gaol, having caught the Lalafell's glare.
"Wish ye luck, lass. In whatever it is ye be seekin' ta do," the Roegadyn rumbled as he sat back down on the cot and watched her retreat.
Day 9
Nine suns. Much of Daegsatz' days in the gaol had been filled with idleness and boredom; those bells when Roen visited him were the only times he could expect to do anything besides lay in the cot. Even with all of the amenities she provided with him, the bells seemed to take years to pass. The stack of parchment in the corner had grown, the images on them becoming increasingly more elaborate as the Roegadyn made a conscious effort to soak up as much of his idle time as he could with them.
The music box, sentimental gift that it was, provided no comfort in the end, though Daegsatz was aware of its meaning. How much longer would he be in here? The question echoed in his mind with growing frequency. He was sure that sooner or later he would simply stop counting the bells and the suns, but he had not reached that point yet.
