Bog Man, Lead Me to the Land (Lloyd) [Private]
Dec 1, 2023 1:08:49 GMT -5
Post by Askr Mimameith on Dec 1, 2023 1:08:49 GMT -5
Distractions are supposed to be a good thing.
They are not always a good thing, as far as Askr knows– sometimes a distraction only ever rips you from the things that matter most to you, prevents you from doing the things you are supposed to do, keeps you from moving forward when you must, but as with all things, there are exceptions, and this seems to be one. He knows, objectively, there are many things he should be focusing on, that he should be back in the Ash Lands, trying to restore the land to what it was before a god split it apart, but the glass thing in his chest feels a thousand times more brittle in that land of flame, now, more than it ever did before.
So it is easier to wander– to stray to other places, to let work lead him elsewhere as it did before, when the concept of a ‘home’ was still foreign on his tongue. It is easier to walk toward the sands of the Oasis, to the cold snows of the Frost Gale, to anywhere but there, where the skies are too clear and the air is too heavy– with memories, with sorrow, with guilt.
This time, it is a distraction that has taken him down to the Marsh Flats, to the Black Bog, back to the side of Miss Issala Arodre, all for the sake of fulfilling a mission– like the mercenary he was and is. It is not the kind of work he is accustomed to; he is used to being sent after bandits, to hunt men, to fight or guard, to protect or kill, to brandish a blade for or against another man, but this time, they have been asked to contribute to… field research.
They are supposed to look for something called a “bogaboo.” Askr does not know what it is, but he admittedly does not care– he does not care what the work entails, how long it takes, or what the creature does. All that matters is that it is work, and that it is away, and it demands his attention.
He is ordinarily a quiet person, but he is even quieter as he and Issala traverse through the miry bog, the sky dark, the atmosphere silent– he has little to say, and so he opts to say nothing, at least, not at first. Not until they have spent enough time walking with no answers and no signs of the creature, until he cannot resist asking in a quiet, tired voice–
“...Miss Issala, do you know what a Bogaboo looks like?”
They are not always a good thing, as far as Askr knows– sometimes a distraction only ever rips you from the things that matter most to you, prevents you from doing the things you are supposed to do, keeps you from moving forward when you must, but as with all things, there are exceptions, and this seems to be one. He knows, objectively, there are many things he should be focusing on, that he should be back in the Ash Lands, trying to restore the land to what it was before a god split it apart, but the glass thing in his chest feels a thousand times more brittle in that land of flame, now, more than it ever did before.
So it is easier to wander– to stray to other places, to let work lead him elsewhere as it did before, when the concept of a ‘home’ was still foreign on his tongue. It is easier to walk toward the sands of the Oasis, to the cold snows of the Frost Gale, to anywhere but there, where the skies are too clear and the air is too heavy– with memories, with sorrow, with guilt.
This time, it is a distraction that has taken him down to the Marsh Flats, to the Black Bog, back to the side of Miss Issala Arodre, all for the sake of fulfilling a mission– like the mercenary he was and is. It is not the kind of work he is accustomed to; he is used to being sent after bandits, to hunt men, to fight or guard, to protect or kill, to brandish a blade for or against another man, but this time, they have been asked to contribute to… field research.
They are supposed to look for something called a “bogaboo.” Askr does not know what it is, but he admittedly does not care– he does not care what the work entails, how long it takes, or what the creature does. All that matters is that it is work, and that it is away, and it demands his attention.
He is ordinarily a quiet person, but he is even quieter as he and Issala traverse through the miry bog, the sky dark, the atmosphere silent– he has little to say, and so he opts to say nothing, at least, not at first. Not until they have spent enough time walking with no answers and no signs of the creature, until he cannot resist asking in a quiet, tired voice–
“...Miss Issala, do you know what a Bogaboo looks like?”