Gerald
*..Sempiternity, huh..*

He didn't understand a damn thing that the person said, mostly because his mind could only focus on rest from exhaustion at this point, but he still took note of the word and his name. It was rude for him if he didn't respond to this one.

*"..I'm the Red Weaver." "..I'm not from this place."*

He made it clear with an indirect sentence that he wasn't really supposed to be here. He thought the way back outside from the blizzard was just going backwards from where he went, but..

He remembered now that something was watching him during that blizzard. He couldn't tell what, but he knew of it's intent just from a gaze. It didn't help with the feeling of impending doom waiting for him. And the kid.. He needed to get back to the kid..

*"..Are you.."*

It hurt to ask, because it didn't sit right with him to ask something like this to someone who just formerly welcomed him somewhere, but he wanted to know. He wanted at least a death wish to happen in case it were true.

*"Are you going to kill me?"*
Todd
```ini
[ "𝙺𝚒𝚕𝚕 𝚢𝚘𝚞?" ] 
[ "𝙰𝚛𝚎 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚎𝚡𝚙𝚎𝚌𝚝𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚝𝚘 𝚍𝚒𝚎?" ]```

The strange, robed man returned a question for a question; a habit of his which many of those who grew associated with him grew to despise. Rarely did he simply give an answer rather than question a question's nature, and even in the few times when he would, actually, give a response, it would, in one way or another, manage to elude a straight response. 

Was it because he despised answering others' questions? Was it because he found joy in toying with others, leading people on? Was it to elude forfeiting his knowledge, or to make nebulous his intent? No; none of these, at all. He simply found the nature of questions, to their very core, to be admirable. To pursue knowledge through others, and to sharpen oneself off another's sharpness. He questioned much himself, and to those who questioned him, he replied with questions — that both may gain greater understanding of that which they were truly seeking.

But now was perhaps an inappropriate time not to give a straight answer.
Still, he persisted. His peculiar offset of catechism was most burdensome to interact with.
_ _

```ini
[ "𝚃𝚛𝚞𝚕𝚢, 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚜𝚊𝚢." ]
[ "𝙰𝚛𝚎 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚗𝚘𝚝 𝚏𝚛𝚘𝚖 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚙𝚕𝚊𝚌𝚎?" ]```

Kaareish hovered his left hand over his mouth, hiding it behind the draping, pure-white silk that made the baggy sleeves of his saintly robe. The azure gemstone positioned at the center of his blindfold glittered as though it were to suggest the shifting of his nonexistent gaze, like the squint of eyes that did not exist.

```ini
[ "𝙷𝚎𝚛𝚎, 𝚒𝚜 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚗𝚞𝚌𝚕𝚎𝚞𝚜 𝚘𝚏 𝚍𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚖𝚜." ]
[ "𝚁𝚎𝚊𝚕𝚒𝚝𝚢 𝚘𝚗𝚜𝚎𝚝 𝚏𝚛𝚘𝚖 𝚕𝚞𝚌𝚒𝚍𝚒𝚝𝚢, 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚊 𝚠𝚘𝚛𝚕𝚍 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚎𝚜𝚌𝚊𝚙𝚎𝚜 𝚙𝚘𝚜𝚜𝚒𝚋𝚒𝚕𝚒𝚝𝚢—" ]
[ "𝙰𝚗𝚍 𝚊𝚕𝚕 𝚊𝚛𝚎 𝚋𝚘𝚛𝚗 𝚝𝚘 𝚍𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚖, 𝚊𝚛𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚢 𝚗𝚘𝚝?" ]


[ "𝚆𝚑𝚢 𝚗𝚘𝚝 𝚜𝚎𝚎 𝚒𝚝𝚜 𝚗𝚊𝚝𝚞𝚛𝚎 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛𝚜𝚎𝚕𝚏?"]```

The man turned, yet still did he peek over his shoulder. Toward the Weaver, still early within the forest, and having not yet tread deep into the forest. As Kaareish paced away, he gave not another word; yet his persistent glare would seem to suggest that he was inviting the outsider to follow him.
Gerald
He knew he'd die if he just stood around doing nothing, or even started to go away from Kaareish, but his legs were.. Heavier..

The exhaustion of his rough travels were starting to get to him. The slight pause that he took listening to him was enough for his muscles to start getting sore the moment he resumed. He couldn't mutter much back.

His primal instincts kicked in, his subconscious warning him that if he continues to move any further he might not be able to stay awake any longer if he stops to take a rest. His legs were aching, a burning sensation making it harder to walk.


He put a foot forward, lifting the two (2) walking sticks and following behind Kaareish, hiking slowly.
With every step he took, it drained him. Mentally and physically. His body didn't want to do this anymore. And the snow.. He knew how the snow was better to sleep on than any other rough spot he could think of.
It was inviting him. And the person in front of him walking away was almost teasing him, backhandedly telling him how weak he was. He was never fit for this job. All he did was heal people, and that was at the cost of his own life.

And now he would meet the consequences of his selfless behavior, to all the people that he had met, that he had healed, it all amounted to him dying here, in the snowy forest of a tower housing his impending doom..

..But he wasn't willing to die here.


He was back on a steady pace to Kaareish, silently following behind him.