Tora listens to the entirety of the tale in silence.
By the time Broly lapses too into quiet, afternoon shadows have begun to grow long across the pocked, arid land far below. The alcove that Broly shares with his friends – (new friends, by the understanding that Tora has managed to piece together by now) – occupies a high, lonely vantage point, and Vampa stretches away into shimmering haze on all sides. Eyes trained on a vague spot beyond the sun-baked horizon, Tora draws his mouth into a brooding line.
”So that’s the story, then.”
He had wondered before about the worn old pelt. Well, now he knows. The space of several heartbeats bleeds by, and at length he hisses out a low sigh through his teeth, dipping his chin.
(‘Your old man deserved the end that came to him,’ he thinks, but doesn’t say, with a vicious conviction he hadn’t expected to feel. ‘He did. I don’t care what anybody else says.’)
He’s aware, in an unhappy way, of Broly’s hulking presence at his side, and of the pelt hung heavy, as it always is, about his middle. Vampa is little better than a grave for things better left buried, Tora decides; and yet here Broly is once more. With new friends this time. Supplies.
“…Is being here what you want? Even now?”
Broly finished telling his tale of the origin of his pelt, after having seen this one’s eyes wander to it frequently, he felt it was time to discuss it in full. Though, after he was done speaking of it, and the next question was asked, the Saiyan turned his head forward and looked out among the harsh landscape. A low gust of wind blew past both of them, and he had to take a deep breath to calm himself. “There’s... too many memories here. Hard to leave it...”
Yet, he knew that wasn’t the right answer in which this one wanted to know, but Broly was having a difficult time trying to make that out for himself. He forced his gaze over towards the other, and solemnly stared, as if expecting the answer to just easily come from the other’s mouth. “I don’t... I don’t know what I want...” He finally found the right words to say, feeling just as lost as he secretly did whenever his new companions managed to give him some time alone.
“Why?” The question hanging open, and the Saiyan wondering endlessly for some time as to what purpose these sort of questions have? He didn’t really know this individual too well, other than that he visited a few times, which didn’t bother him too much. He could take care of himself.
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