WHO: six, marcus, marcoulf, barrow, matthias, laura & derrica WHAT: escorting some stranded orphans back to ostwick WHEN: firstfall 9:45 WHERE: on the road to ostwick NOTES: n/a.
"They are worse," Laura mutters, which is unfair of her. She does not dislike the children--but neither does she know what to say to them or which things she should expect them to be capable of doing. After a moment, pulling her cloak tighter around her shoulders, she asks, "Are all children like this?"
Incapable of defense but aware of things Laura only learned in the last few months, by turns desperate for attention and insistent that they want to do things for themselves. Every time she thinks she understands one, it turns out she is wrong.
"I have not spent a great deal of time with children," Six admits quietly. She was barely one herself until she fled her home and it feels strange to consider herself anything like these strange creatures; she was never as carefree as they are, surely. She cannot imagine a world where there is no weight on her shoulders, no burden for her to carry.
She finds it slightly unnerving how excited they are by a large blade.
"I imagine they must be, since no one else has said otherwise."
"Neither have I." She suspects that is already evident. Laura has never met a child before, only seen them on streets and followed orders to hunt them. (One, she killed. One, she saved. She does not wish to think of either and finds it difficult not to, under the circumstances.) As a result, she does not know how to talk to them or answer their questions, or what to do when they stare at her and whisper to each other. "They are...confusing."
Does this mean that the world at large simply tolerates that fact? She does not mind the idea that these children are what they are supposed to be, but she wishes she had some certainty.
"I think they are aware. Perhaps they're trying to be kind but do not know the best way to do it." It's a half-hearted, awkward suggestion, born of someone looking for hope rather than trying to believe in it personally. It's as if she is in another world, especially when they stare up at her with their big, wide eyes and poke at her arms and her holy symbol and try to touch her sword.
Silly, dangerous, wild and irresponsible things. She cannot remember ever being that way herself.
"Perhaps because they are allowed their youth. I know many are not given such a chance."
But Laura can think of little she'd like less than to talk with a near-stranger about the ways childhood is stolen from children. There are too any answers, all of them unpleasant, and most reflect too closely lives that look like her own.
As a result, she falls quiet, her arms hugging around her knees. She's content, for a moment that might feel awkward, to sit in silence, right up until her attention snaps toward something ahead of them, slightly off to the left. "Did you hear that?"
She's already standing up, not bothering to brush the dirt from her trousers.
Six knows that she wasn't given it, that her childhood was ripped from her. She knows that it pains her, even now, to think back to what her family did, what her father did to her - the wicked, dangerous echoes of her own childhood. Some people here have borne witness to it, seen it, knew it, but she had to keep it close to her breast for fear of more judgement and more shame.
It's better to bite her lip, to keep her mouth closed. Better and easier.
She tenses at the noise, lifting her head and gritting her teeth, hand immediately going to the her sword.
"Yes. Ahead." She pushes herself up a little higher, eyes narrowing as she stares forward.
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no subject
Incapable of defense but aware of things Laura only learned in the last few months, by turns desperate for attention and insistent that they want to do things for themselves. Every time she thinks she understands one, it turns out she is wrong.
no subject
She finds it slightly unnerving how excited they are by a large blade.
"I imagine they must be, since no one else has said otherwise."
no subject
Does this mean that the world at large simply tolerates that fact? She does not mind the idea that these children are what they are supposed to be, but she wishes she had some certainty.
no subject
Silly, dangerous, wild and irresponsible things. She cannot remember ever being that way herself.
"Perhaps because they are allowed their youth. I know many are not given such a chance."
no subject
But Laura can think of little she'd like less than to talk with a near-stranger about the ways childhood is stolen from children. There are too any answers, all of them unpleasant, and most reflect too closely lives that look like her own.
As a result, she falls quiet, her arms hugging around her knees. She's content, for a moment that might feel awkward, to sit in silence, right up until her attention snaps toward something ahead of them, slightly off to the left. "Did you hear that?"
She's already standing up, not bothering to brush the dirt from her trousers.
no subject
It's better to bite her lip, to keep her mouth closed. Better and easier.
She tenses at the noise, lifting her head and gritting her teeth, hand immediately going to the her sword.
"Yes. Ahead." She pushes herself up a little higher, eyes narrowing as she stares forward.