"Okay." There's a deliberate nod when Cadeyrn confirms he's heard the young teenager, and he clicks his lip ring between two teeth as he considers how best to approach him. Smokey eyes still remain steady, for a moment more, before he turns them, watching the blond from the corner even as he glances away. Despite his previous fears, the child seems willing enough to stay near, at least for now.
"I don't know," he admits fairly readily. "I've been informed that this is a school."
Sharing knowledge is often dangerous-- but there are just so few people here. There are just so few people here. Their survival will require-- their survival will demand cooperation at best. He raises his hand slowly-- gently, carefully-- to point out at the limits of where they can go though.
While they have room enough to weave in and out of the doomstones, trash clusters just a bit further, an upwelling of discarded plastics and rot that crashes against the last bastion keeping them trapped. Vines grow just in the distance, thick as Cadeyrn's arm, and teeth-like thorns jut from the twisting mass, vicious as a blade, and twice as sharp.
"We're surrounded by these walls though-- it seems more accurate to call it a prison." But he doesn't mean to bring the child's mood down. Again, his movements are slow and deliberate when Cadeyrn shifts back to watch the boy again, wary that he might set him scampering off if he moves just a tad too quick, just a bit too sharply.
"I'm trying to clean an area on the first floor to keep us from--" here, he can't erase the disgust that pinches the bridge of his nose as he waves at the piles of detritus gathered all around. "All of this. You're welcome to join me if you want." It's an offer freely given. And besides; it makes sense that Cadeyrn invites them. They'll need a regrouping area, a main camp, so to speak. And Cadeyrn would rather it be somewhere Clean, thank you.
no subject
"I don't know," he admits fairly readily. "I've been informed that this is a school."
Sharing knowledge is often dangerous-- but there are just so few people here. There are just so few people here. Their survival will require-- their survival will demand cooperation at best. He raises his hand slowly-- gently, carefully-- to point out at the limits of where they can go though.
While they have room enough to weave in and out of the doomstones, trash clusters just a bit further, an upwelling of discarded plastics and rot that crashes against the last bastion keeping them trapped. Vines grow just in the distance, thick as Cadeyrn's arm, and teeth-like thorns jut from the twisting mass, vicious as a blade, and twice as sharp.
"We're surrounded by these walls though-- it seems more accurate to call it a prison." But he doesn't mean to bring the child's mood down. Again, his movements are slow and deliberate when Cadeyrn shifts back to watch the boy again, wary that he might set him scampering off if he moves just a tad too quick, just a bit too sharply.
"I'm trying to clean an area on the first floor to keep us from--" here, he can't erase the disgust that pinches the bridge of his nose as he waves at the piles of detritus gathered all around. "All of this. You're welcome to join me if you want." It's an offer freely given. And besides; it makes sense that Cadeyrn invites them. They'll need a regrouping area, a main camp, so to speak. And Cadeyrn would rather it be somewhere Clean, thank you.