Weariness settled into his figure as he sat there across from Gianne in the cool morning sand. She wanted to know him more…but did she really want to know him? Where could he start as not to scare her off? He didn’t want her pity; he was no beaten dog that needed to be taken in and coddled. No; he had done his best to set himself aside from that past even if he was struggling with it. And it almost seemed the further back in his past he went the worse things got…A simple question was then issued…she wanted to know where he was from.
A question that anyone else could answer with ease he struggled with. Where was he from? It almost confused him as he toiled over what to tell her. The confusion however would not be completely evident…composure was important to him. Something he learned working in the Opal Order; no matter how confusing or hectic things got it was important for a healer to show they were gathered together. That they could make logical and prepared decisions even if they were torn on the inside; even if they were witnessing horrible injuries. It was a somewhat practiced art…one that he hadn’t mastered yet.
There were signs of this struggle as he breathed evenly and managed a small weary smile at the edge of his mouth. ‘Tell her…you will not regret it’ That was what he told himself as she announced how much of a mystery he seemed to be to her.
“Some things are better left that way.” He said…not knowing that thought had escaped his mouth as he looked to her face apologetically.
“It…” He stammered a little as he ran a free hand through his hair to gather his thoughts. ‘Just tell her you have already been a jerk!’ And he agreed.
“This…past I am trying to distance myself from.” He said rolling his left arm so she could see the horrible scarring. There was very pronounced radial scarring around his wrists likely from horrible ill fitting iron shackles. Many of the other scars were easily visible to her as well, but as to what caused them…well only a few knew the truth of that.
“And this past is where I started living.” He rolled over his right arm to expose the gnosis mark from Rak’keli.
He let that silence sit for a few moments as he continued. “I am from Mura, although that was not where I was born nor where I grew up. I don’t know where I was born, and can’t remember growing up. I don’t remember my parents, friends, family…nothing before the camp. Nothing before the suffering. But Mura…” He said as if he was trying quickly to transition away from those thoughts associated with the camp and the horrid nightmares associated with it.
“Mura I remember well. The Konti took me in with open arms, brought me back to health and their sister goddess Rak’keli gave me new found purpose. I was renewed on that Isle among the Konti. Then when the time was right I found myself needing to challenge myself again. I couldn’t remain on Mura forever easily. So I came to Riverfall.” That was likely a little more information than she needed…but he wrapped it all up nicely for her.
“I am Serrif Von Chatlyn of Mura.” He stated with certainty to her. It sounded right to him, even though it was an assumed name and he had no real idea where he came from. But as far as details before Mura…his body told the story better than he ever could. And if Kavala ever walked his memories; he was sure he had given her more than just a few nightmares of her own.
A question that anyone else could answer with ease he struggled with. Where was he from? It almost confused him as he toiled over what to tell her. The confusion however would not be completely evident…composure was important to him. Something he learned working in the Opal Order; no matter how confusing or hectic things got it was important for a healer to show they were gathered together. That they could make logical and prepared decisions even if they were torn on the inside; even if they were witnessing horrible injuries. It was a somewhat practiced art…one that he hadn’t mastered yet.
There were signs of this struggle as he breathed evenly and managed a small weary smile at the edge of his mouth. ‘Tell her…you will not regret it’ That was what he told himself as she announced how much of a mystery he seemed to be to her.
“Some things are better left that way.” He said…not knowing that thought had escaped his mouth as he looked to her face apologetically.
“It…” He stammered a little as he ran a free hand through his hair to gather his thoughts. ‘Just tell her you have already been a jerk!’ And he agreed.
“This…past I am trying to distance myself from.” He said rolling his left arm so she could see the horrible scarring. There was very pronounced radial scarring around his wrists likely from horrible ill fitting iron shackles. Many of the other scars were easily visible to her as well, but as to what caused them…well only a few knew the truth of that.
“And this past is where I started living.” He rolled over his right arm to expose the gnosis mark from Rak’keli.
He let that silence sit for a few moments as he continued. “I am from Mura, although that was not where I was born nor where I grew up. I don’t know where I was born, and can’t remember growing up. I don’t remember my parents, friends, family…nothing before the camp. Nothing before the suffering. But Mura…” He said as if he was trying quickly to transition away from those thoughts associated with the camp and the horrid nightmares associated with it.
“Mura I remember well. The Konti took me in with open arms, brought me back to health and their sister goddess Rak’keli gave me new found purpose. I was renewed on that Isle among the Konti. Then when the time was right I found myself needing to challenge myself again. I couldn’t remain on Mura forever easily. So I came to Riverfall.” That was likely a little more information than she needed…but he wrapped it all up nicely for her.
“I am Serrif Von Chatlyn of Mura.” He stated with certainty to her. It sounded right to him, even though it was an assumed name and he had no real idea where he came from. But as far as details before Mura…his body told the story better than he ever could. And if Kavala ever walked his memories; he was sure he had given her more than just a few nightmares of her own.