"But the dream, the echo, slips from him as quickly as he had found it and as consciousness comes to him (a slap and not the gentle waves of oceanic tides), it dissolves entirely. His muscles relax as the cold claims him again, as the numbness sets in, and when his grey eyes open, there’s nothing but the faint after burn of a dream often trod and never remembered." --Brigade, written by Laura
Chasmata shakes off his apology, and though he’s sure her words are meant to be kind - they trouble him. He didn’t like the idea that being himself meant bringing harm, no matter how small, to someone else. He wanted his presence to bring nothing but joy and pleasure - it didn’t seem right that it would be anything else.
Laurelin maintains his smile while these thoughts plague him for a short moment - mostly because he’s not quite sure what else to do with his face while he’s thinking. He’s not usually one for deep introspection. In fact, these troublesome ideas end up completely evaporating when Chasmata asks him a question.
“Nowhere and everywhere.” He says because he likes the way it sounds - and it’s true enough. But he explains anyway, happy to talk about himself, even when he does not have anything particularly interesting to say. Then again… if it’s about him - isn’t it all interesting? “My mom and I didn’t have an official home when I was little, we just sort of wandered wherever we wanted and I’ve just sort of kept up that tradition.” He hadn’t really given a thought to settling into one particular land over another. How do you even choose?
Perhaps his pretty companion had some insight into that. “What about you?"