Laena wasn’t sure if Thorn would take her up on her offer to leave the room. He was fiercely protective of the other two - a position Laena hadn’t yet earned, she surmised, not to their level in any case - and this was an unusual request given they’d only just found what seemed to be a decent place to rest. She gave a faint smile at his initial protest. “I don’t need sleep, not the way they do. It’s a…pointy people thing,” she explained.
He seemed to consider a long time, the figurative (and literal?) gears turning options over in his head until he finally relented and nodded. The way he shushed her was endearing more than threatening, despite his size. She nodded and mimicked the finger to her lips and slipped out behind him. Her senses were on high alert, searching the passageways around them, listening intently for sounds of anyone or anything other than them in the area. A quick sniff of the air found nothing unusual nearby, as far as she could tell.
Still, she kept her voice low when she spoke. “Thorn, something is going to happen tonight, something you need to know about,” she started. She tried standing still but kept shifting her weight on the balls of her feet until finally she had to take a few steps. She paced the width of the passageway. “I’m…more than just an elf, a pointy person. My kind, we’re…rare. We usually stay secluded out in the wild, keep to ourselves mostly. Sometimes someone of my kind, they’ll get…they leave.”
Gods was this even making sense? She had no idea how much experience Thorn had in the world, what he’d seen, what he’d been taught, what he knew. She had no idea how much she would have to explain, so she decided to be more direct, let his questions come as they will. “Thorn, do you know about werewolves?” she asked. Those genetic aberrations had flourished outside of the Lythari culture, to the point that more people knew of them than her own kind, it seemed.
As Pointy People speaks (and paces), Thorn can hear Kitty scratching at the closed door from the inside.
“It is sleep time, Kitty,” Thorn says gently through the door. His voice is more a low rumble than the coo he intended.
Pointy People was acting very strange. What is going to happen tonight? Did she lead them into a trap? He steadied his Warhammer Armblade just in case. Then she talked about being more than a Pointy Person and trying to keep to herself. He knew what it was like to keep to yourself. Sometimes that was better than being misunderstood, unless you were around somebody who was nice and tried to explain and understand. Like People Kitty.
But then she said something about werewolves. He stared at her hard as she said the words. He was trying to remember something, back from when he was a soldier. She stared back. Foolish because she could not win what People Kitty called a staring contest - Thorn’s eyes could stay open as long as he wanted because they were not the eyeballs that living things had. People Kitty said the eyes had to close sometimes to water them.
“Ah yes, Puppy People,” Thorn says sagely, finally remembering. He flips to the earliest entries of his journal, which he carried outside with them. “They try to be People Puppy but a lot of times it is hard and they are just Puppy People.”
He finds the page he was looking for and holds it out to Pointy People. It was back from when he was in the army. If his drawings now showed a simplistic rudimentary art style, his oldest drawings were largely child-like. This one was the head of a dog with floppy ears on a humanoid stick-figure body. The dog head’s eyebrows were angled downward at the middle to display anger. Next to that was Thorn’s drawing of himself, his own head strangely square, holding out a bone.
“I know about Puppy People yes,” Thorn says with a close of his journal. He stares at Pointy People again. Were the Puppy People coming tonight? Again, was this a trap? This would be the perfect opportunity. Thorn looked down the halls eagerly, his Warhammer Armblade at the ready.
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