She gave him a sidelong glance. "So is any sane person who's been betrayed and had their life on the line for it. But a bit more tolerance would be nice. Considering I've already gotten shot for you and your sorry-a** friends."
"All that is gold does not glitter, Not all those who wander are lost; The old that is strong does not wither, Deep roots are not reached by the frost."
“You also tried to kill one of my friends,” he said, looking down to the forest floor with a straight face. “I know you’ve more than made up for it, and I’m sure your gifts were some sort of apology, even if you never said so outright. So... sure. I’ll try to be more tolerant. I don’t know what you expect that to look like though.”
She paused. "I tried to kill her because for a long time, all I could see is..." she hesitated, the memories flashing through her mind. The blood. The agony. The terror, the fear, the screams. "Is what monsters do, Tiberius. Because, inevitably, most of them wind up hurting people. It doesn't matter who they are or if they try. Gods know I've seen it enough. I want to protect people from what I- from that." With this, she stood. "Come on, we aren't going to get any closer to Bane or your friends sitting here."
"All that is gold does not glitter, Not all those who wander are lost; The old that is strong does not wither, Deep roots are not reached by the frost."
James got up, giving her a sidelong glance. It would’ve made sense that something happened to her or people she cared about were hurt by werewolves, or some kind of monster. That much was implied. That was why she was monster hunter - the only other reason people went into the field was because they were adrenaline junkies or they had a death wish.
After a small pause, he corrected her.
“It’s James,” he said. “I don’t go by Tiberius anymore.”
"James, Tiberius, Liam, whatever the f*** your name is, get over here and get on the horse 'cause it's gonna be a helluva lot faster than walking," she answered flippantly, swinging up on Nightmare's back.
"All that is gold does not glitter, Not all those who wander are lost; The old that is strong does not wither, Deep roots are not reached by the frost."
She simply shrugged and clucked to her horse, going back towards their old camp to track down her dog. With luck, Bane would await them there.
"All that is gold does not glitter, Not all those who wander are lost; The old that is strong does not wither, Deep roots are not reached by the frost."
James loosely held onto Tasha for balance, but dreaded the tense silence that would ensue as the ride went on. The last time he tried to carry a conversation with her though was when he was literally carrying her, and that didn’t go well at all. To be fair, at the time she was in a significant amount of pain, but he had a feeling it might only end up the same were he to try again.
Begrudgingly, he decided to at least try. If she was going to stay with them for however long, it would be easier if they weren’t always butting heads.
“When you went back to get your sword,” he started, only to realize he might not like the answer to the question he was going to ask. His voice faltered as he searched for words, trying to find a question that was less direct, or less likely to get an inflammatory response.
And she thought she was bad at starting conversations. "My father gave it to me," she stated in an unnaturally even and emotionless tone. "That thing's saved my life more times than I can count. It's more like my arm than anything else. Fighting with a different one just don't feel the same."
"All that is gold does not glitter, Not all those who wander are lost; The old that is strong does not wither, Deep roots are not reached by the frost."
“Ah,” he said, looking out into the forest beside them blankly. “I understand that. It’s been ages since I’ve had a... consistent weapon. It sounds nice.”
"I wouldn't if I didn't take unnecessary risks to keep it," she answered. "Is it stupid? Probably. Reckless? Definitely. But, ain't got much to lose at this point, so may as well keep what I've got, no?"
"All that is gold does not glitter, Not all those who wander are lost; The old that is strong does not wither, Deep roots are not reached by the frost."
“I suppose,” he said, looking down at the sword at his side. He’d never fought to get back a weapon, but...for a horse, sure. “I assume you’ve dealt with theft more than once here in the Outlands.”
"Who hasn't?" she countered. "Me 'n Bane 'n Night are a team. Ain't gettin' separated by some good for nothing thieves or monsters or anyone the hell else. What is it you fight for, James? There's gotta be something even for you."
"All that is gold does not glitter, Not all those who wander are lost; The old that is strong does not wither, Deep roots are not reached by the frost."
James’s heart stopped for a split second as the question registered, and his gaze dropped to the ground - not that she could see. It was a question he’d been asking himself for the last three years, and he still didn’t have a straight answer. At least, not one he could really put into words.
He was, however, aware of the passing seconds of delay as she awaited his answer, and tried his best to come up with something.
"Oof, heroic type, huh?" she asked with a slight smile. "Nah, I know the feeling. Hope you get whatever it is you're going for in all of this."
"All that is gold does not glitter, Not all those who wander are lost; The old that is strong does not wither, Deep roots are not reached by the frost."
'The Answer to the Great Question... Of Life, the Universe and Everything... Is... Forty-two,' said Deep Thought, with infinite majesty and calm. — Douglas Adams, The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy
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