Snippet #2626107

In the weeks Borne had spent much of his time to himself, and surprisingly kept relatively sober. When he wasn't trying to keep his skills sharp he was carving a piece of wood with his nail, talking to his ferret, and looking into a jar of black liquid. What interactions he did with the others were brief and at times awkward, but he tried to be more courteous than he was before. With the platypus he kept mentioning that Enyo is a talking animal too and that it was nice for her to no longer be the only one, likely to even Mercutio's confusion. It grew clear that he had very little interactions with other people, having hinted he essentially been raised by Hazarmaveth after his mother's death, some of it showed more but he remained relatively crude, sleeping wherever he felt tired not too unlike an animal.

At the time of the gathering he had taken his cloak and worn it specifically over his missing arm. It was clear from the weight that it was converted in order to hold his various instruments including knives and self-made devices, knowing well he'd need quite a few.

He squinted quite a bit in front of Lycaon, all the bright light was a bit much for him, in between each flash trying to make some he had tried to pose a question, then soon found himself atop a warg and not far from the Ulmish mountain border.

"Well," Borne groaned. "At least we are done zapping about... I think."

Enyo squirms in the pack on his back. As usual he acts as if this means something more than being restless.

"Huh? What? Yeah, did we happen to have a... plan?"