"Weird ... most'o'th'time ..." Tristaan echoed with a laugh, amused, speaking while glancing at the menu, one hand thoughtfully over his stomach as he considered his options, "Oes, I won't argue. I once thought 'em all insane, honestly."


He eyed the food and smiled at the witch as Hal handed her coins. The passive paused to order his own breakfast, deciding he might have to stop by on the way back for Sarinah. The thought of delivering her breakfast pleased him greatly.

"It was a textile mill in Vienda. I ran off after losin' a friend, an' I got it in my mind t'go home. Muffey. I think I might have wanted t'see m'folks—not that it would've happened. Nor would it've gone well if I ever made it there."

Tristaan smirked, shaking his head, "I was barely sixteen an' hadn't been on my own since m'folks left me on th'streets. I had no idea where I was goin', an' I was so mung used t'factory life bein' all regular, I had no clockin' idea what I was doin' outside. I was pretty much lost an' hungry when that caravan o'Crows found me waitin' t'die by th'side of th'road."

"I'm sure I was a sight t'see back then." The swordsman added with self-depreciating humor. While his childhood memories as a galdor's son had long since tarnished and faded, buried as they were under factory grime, blood, and road dust, even his earliest memories of his life with the Red Crow were still fresh.

"I didn't know what else t'do, so I gladly let them take me in. Well, mostly. I kinda hated it for a while. Alioe, did I ever." Tristaan grinned sheepishly, "I got over it, an' they're all family now. I even call one of 'em da. It wasn't easy, an' I drifted a few years ago ... ended up in th'Harbor on m'own. Like I said, I ent good at family. I didn't want anyone gettin' hurt ... because of me."

The swordsman wasn't too afraid to share his ingrained fears with Hal; he figured the passive boy would understand. Still, even now that he had experienced his own diablerie, it was still unpleasant to relive in his mind. With a shrug, he attempted to shift the subject from himself,

"What 'bout you, Hal? Y'ent wearin' blue in Brunnhold, so you must've have somethin' of a story."

"Hm? Oh," he had been so intent on Tristaan's history that Hal almost didn't catch the question,"After I was tested, I got sent to Brunnhold. I didn't really work at the school there, 'cause I got sent to work fer some great-uncle or summat. They didn't want me there, so they sent me to some friends in Ol' Rose. I was messin' around an', well, burned the place down."

He tilted his head down to his scarred shoulder, "That's where this is from. Still stings when I'm too close to fire. I don't like it so much. After it happened I ran off. Without the tattoo, mos' people jus' figured me for human, you know? An' so I had to take care 'o myself. I was just a messenger boy up till I started working for the brothers. Then I was still a messenger, but I was an informant, too. 'Fore I met Calli, me 'n this other passive had this plan to go rally up all the passives 'n free 'em all. But that, uh, kinda fell through. I hopped the caravan with her to Vienda. Bit of a stowaway, you know. An after that we came here. Not all that excitin', really."

Tristaan listened quietly, realizing that despite Hal's burns, his life had been spared both servitude and indentured labor. Granted, living on your own as a kid in Old Rose wasn't exactly a cake walk, either. He felt for the boy, but could see he hadn't let his difficulties bring him down so much.

"Stowaway, eh? That was rather brave of you, ye chen. I'd say th'Circus life might be a bit safer than any job with th'Brothers in th'Harbor. You'll prolly get t'see a lot more places this way, too. Th'Circus felt a lot like spoke life with the wicks, so it ent gonna be borin'."

He shrugged, "I'll be headin' back t'Old Rose after th'festival, so if y'find it's too crowded in th'Circus after all that's happened, y'let me know. I have a feelin' that everythin' can still work out for all'o'you, though."

Hal nodded silently. Now, he at least had a way out. If he needed it. He munched on the hingle while it was still hot.

"I'll think about it," he said. "I still don't know jus' what I'm doin'. Here or anywhere, really. So I might take you up on it. But I dunno."

He bowed his head a moment, thinking as he observed the particular shade of green on a honeydew melon.

He looked up, "Thanks."

((I was thinking the same thing-- I'm not sure where to go next, either. So... fin?))