Quiet for a few long moments as he turns those words over in his head, the eventual nod of assent is reasonably quick to surface. The cup in his hand looks small, but there's a considerable amount of effort into not spilling any as he walks side by side with Zevlor until they reach the water's edge. Somehow it feels cooler, even though the distance from the camp itself isn't enough to create an actual variation in temperature.
He thinks on the story about the smells and knows he's afflicted by something similar without knowing the full shape of it. A looming spectre he doesn't know what to call but understanding it's more complicated than he can fathom for now.
His companions - his friends - all have their own worries to contend with, and the idea of piling on more seems unfair. So he carries what the scent of blood does to him alone, until now.
"Part of the problem is... my head is too clear. No, not clear. Not empty either. But barren of... memory. Meaning, too. I find myself caught up in feelings that must be mine. But recognition is beyond my grasp."
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branchandroot
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Date: 2024-09-14 10:53 pm (UTC)He thinks on the story about the smells and knows he's afflicted by something similar without knowing the full shape of it. A looming spectre he doesn't know what to call but understanding it's more complicated than he can fathom for now.
His companions - his friends - all have their own worries to contend with, and the idea of piling on more seems unfair. So he carries what the scent of blood does to him alone, until now.
"Part of the problem is... my head is too clear. No, not clear. Not empty either. But barren of... memory. Meaning, too. I find myself caught up in feelings that must be mine. But recognition is beyond my grasp."