lenpelletier says:
She smiles a sad smile and takes the metallic rose.
"My namesake, how did you know?"Kit shrugs.
Things occur to me. Ideas. Pictures. Words. It seemed appropriate.
lenpelletier says:
She watches, mesmerized, as the metal fades into firefly sparks that disperse into oblivion. After, she listens to your question and responds.
"Whitesparrow is just another dying town in the north, I guess. Trying to make an honest living is pretty much impossible. I watched my mother do it all my life and she has to show for it is mountains of debt and a rotting inn. She told me stories of how beautiful this place used to be, but my whole life all I've ever thought about is leaving. I figured I could make some quick coin with the Night Blades, enough to get me to Katagia."Kit looks upon her with sorrow in his eyes.
Poor naked wretches that bide the pelting of this pitiless storm. How shall your houseless heads defend you from seasons such as these? If we think on these things without all remedy, shall we be without regard? Or is it true that what's done, is done?
lenpelletier says:
She looks ashamed of herself. One of the other bandits, the one that Raishe knocked out in a single blow, speaks up.
"Nobody would blame you for leaving, Rose. Your mama would understand."
At that moment, a person comes out of one of the buildings, and walks briskly across the main square. His eyes happen to look up in your direction, and he freezes. He breaks into an all out run back the way he came, and the next thing you hear are bells clanging.
A pair emerges from behind the inn, hastily donning jackets and doing up sword belts, which you quickly realize are old Arkasian military issue. Longbowmen emerge from other buildings and start taking up positions along a low, crumbling wall. The two dressed in Arkasian uniforms stride up the road toward you.
"Here comes the sheriff now, and her brother." says Rose.
Kit watches as Barendd interposes himself between him and Rose and the sheriff. As the Dwarf speaks of reward, Kit's heart is heavy. He looks to the boarded up buildings and the fallow fields. None of this feels right to him, yet he feels powerless to do anything about it. It is not just Rose he pities, but all of these bandits. The crushing despair that has driven them to this is not something he's familiar with. Even in his earliest days in the theater, scrabbling for coppers, he knows he was always there by choice. That at any moment, he could choose to take control of his fate and use what was his by accident of birth to raise himself from the lowest of situations. Indeed, that is what he did. But these low creatures? This Rose, by name and by mien? What choices did they have?
Near to tears, he briefly places a hand of ineffectual comfort on Rose's shoulder before walking away, unable to bear witness to the inexorably unfolding events.