<span style="font-family: 'Georgia'">Approaching the other man in such a fashion had been foolish, of that Quinlan was certain. He had no way of knowing how things would end, had the vaguely alien man actually possessed some connection to <i>them</i>. In truth, though Quinlan had long scoured the world for answers, for leads, for anything that might take him from the unyielding pit of uncertainty, he hadn't the foggiest idea what he might do if confronted with those he sought. After all, what could one do in the presence of all-powerful gods?<br/>
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Of all things, the man expressed some understanding for his brusque approach, for which the Englishman found himself grateful. Though he was a socially awkward man, he was not without feeling, and he knew full well that his initial reaction had not come across as benign. In hindsight, he considered himself lucky that the stranger had neither fled nor attacked him. He would have been well within his right to either one. Instead he stayed, sympathized, and finally offered something Quinlan had not expected.<br/>
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Where he expected physical items, things he could see and touch, he instead received images. Images that caused the same buzz in his forehead and behind his eyes when he "heard" the other man "speak." Though where words took very little mental focus to understand, images took considerably more work. What was more, the experience was so uncanny that it nearly made him sick. Had he not been paralyzed with shock, Quinlan might have asked him to stop. But as the imagery flitted across his mind's eye, he recalled only too vividly experiences he had tried his utmost to forget. It felt like that same bleak period all over again, when <i>they</i> had "spoken" in this manner, invading the sanctum of his innermost thoughts until he stood only a hair away from his breaking point.<br/>
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As the stranger continued, Quinlan began to appear visibly pained. To such a degree, in fact, that he turned away and clasped a hand over his eyes. Hearing the serpentine utterings in the back of his head was far too much, all but taking the wind out of him until he was forced to sink into the rocks to sit, at which point he finally dared to speak. "Enough," he pleaded, fighting to maintain strength in a voice that momentarily sounded afraid. "Enough..." Indeed, Quinlan knew not how he would handle the knowledge he sought - but it seemed he would soon have to find out.<br/>
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"... How can you look as you do, how can you have laid eyes on these things, yet not understand why I approached you with such suspicion?" Quinlan had yet to fully comprehend that as unlikely as it was, the stranger knew little of his brethren. "What you've shown me are things I have not seen for ages. Those things were... a lifetime ago."</span>