[ The cold of the Blight in Gray is so complete that Silco's communion is ice poured upon ice: still unpleasant, jolting Gray where she lies, but simply another discomfort for the list. By now she shivers uncontrollably, and a spark of self-preservation urges her to roll to her side, then slowly push to her knees.
She doesn't recognize the voice communing with her, and she can't keep a tint of uncertainty from their connection... but right now, she's a beggar without the luxury of choice. She shows him what she can see: a street name, a landmark. Providing real directions is currently beyond her; she doesn't remembering walking here, and the roots have twisted the city beyond recognition. ]
I need help with my Blight... if that's alright.
[ Dire straits or not, she hates to be an imposition. Especially on a stranger — but again, she has no choice but to put aside her manners. ]
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She doesn't recognize the voice communing with her, and she can't keep a tint of uncertainty from their connection... but right now, she's a beggar without the luxury of choice. She shows him what she can see: a street name, a landmark. Providing real directions is currently beyond her; she doesn't remembering walking here, and the roots have twisted the city beyond recognition. ]
I need help with my Blight... if that's alright.
[ Dire straits or not, she hates to be an imposition. Especially on a stranger — but again, she has no choice but to put aside her manners. ]