Grayson could do little more then give him a nod, a smile, or a shake of the head in acknowledgment of each passing word. He didn’t know what to say or how to manage what people perceived of him. He was young, but he felt a lot younger than he looked. The truth behind the whole “looks can be deceiving” might have never been applied so directly. But still he continued his conversation with the man because the alternative was to be alone and he’d had enough of that.

He passes a curious glance his way, and for the first time wonders who this man actually is. Was a friend, foe, or neither? He offers his name but nothing else, no further explanation to the vague statement of potentially wishing he’d never see him. Grayson does not know about Aura or even Kane’s job. Hell, Grayson doesn’t even know a whole lot about this war they were fighting. All he knew was Tristan was a side in it and he’d always stand behind his cousin. Always.

Death was an unavoidable consequence of life, an inevitability, it’s reaches will eventually pull even the ancients into its depths. Nothing, not even the universe can hide it’s light when death comes to snuff it out. He couldn’t answer the begging question of why he hadn’t died then - he should have. He’d even give him self a faint glimpse of hope - some elaborate and pre woven plan that he was needed for a much bigger purpose. The fragment of a thought, that he had a destiny, could have shifted the earth beneath the feet of a better man then him. But, he stood grounded, the roots of fear threaded around his feet forcing him to pause. Grayson was only just that, Grayson. He was nothing special, nothing extraordinary. He had a lot of hopes and dreams, who didn’t? Beyond that, he was rather simple if not boring in comparison to some of the well lived lives that inhabited Shaman. His footprint would never be enough to curb the tide of justice and deliver his cousin a happiness that he longed for - that he deserved. So what was the point in pretending to care? Except to help comfort those who once knew him, hoping it was more than a brave face. It was all about the illusion of caring, which was faltering at the current moment. A peak behind the blinds that Grayson unknowingly lifted into the home that he dwelled within. But Grayson knew, he was more befitting a cage then a home. An odd thought seeing as he’d never done anything wrong his whole life. Why did he have this thought? He shifts noticeably uncomfortable as the weight of the ascertain settles on his shoulders, causing them to stoop with resign.

He was more depressed than he let off to be, more than he probably knew. He thought he could get over it. Being reminded that he still breathed life every morning he woke from
his slumber should have been enough - but it wasn’t. But there was a distinct difference between being depressed and actually wanting to die. As confused as he was, and as deep as he was sinking into the tar of self doubt, Grayson did not want to die. At his heart he was a fighter, a damn good one, it just might take some time for that part of him to wade through the ebbing tides and reach the shores of his conscious thought.

“Actually... he says, his voice low and already trailing. I don’t know much about the rebellion. He isn’t ashamed to admit it, and he doesn’t know why he does. There was something strangely comfortable about the guys presence. On the other hand, maybe he just needed to open up to someone. “And someone did steal my sword.” he smirks, and his brows draw in as he tries to recount the days that lead up to his disappearance like he’d done one to many times already. It didn’t matter if it was a wooden sword or a real sword, it was a sword nonetheless and one that meant a lot to him in childhood. “And I also can’t remember the last few years of my life, my familiar and I we..” he hesitates, wondering if he should share anymore. He didn’t want to share anymore, it made it that much more real. Verbalizing and thinking it seemed like two totally atmospheres in polar opposite planets. So with a hard swallow he frowns, “We both, far close to death when we were found.”

His face softens, a sadness resonates in the blues of his eyes. Saying it aloud, that never got any easier. “So pardon my doom and gloom.” his words were hushed, barley audible. His statement wasn’t one to throw in Kane’s face, it was quite the opposite. It was sincere, and in all likelihood and apology. If there was anything to take from that, it was that he was ashamed that someone was actually noticing and that in turn might be affecting someone one way or another. Grayson used to be strong and he didn’t know if he ever would be again.

Grayson