"Kratzer," he says shortly, voice brusque. His head is still pounding and, if he's honest, he probably wouldn't be able to make out anything being said if it weren't for his unnatural hearing and context.
"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 only nodded, having nothing more to say in light of his shock and confusion. He slowly got up, feeling his ribs ache with bruising as he took in a deep breath. He took another good look around them, and still had no idea where he was. He glanced back at the cottage, wondering if it was empty, or if someone were there who had answers.
The cloaked man spat out blood onto the ground, grimacing. He was fairly certain he had several broken ribs, and had definitely taken a stab or two and several slashes when fighting with Taipan. The blood loss wasn't a problem for him but the pain was beginning to rise up as the adrenaline faded and he found himself back on the ground, clutching his side and coughing up yet more blood. Verdammt! Right now? Seriously? When he was undefended and alone with strangers?
"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."
Siren did not know exactly how to properly address Kratzer about what was going on. So she just asked him "Was it pirates?" Her current lisp made it sound a bit obscured, but it was not too difficult to make out.
Bad souls have born better sons, better souls born worse ones -St Vincent
"Nein," was his curt response, his voice strained.
"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."
"Nein, no, none," he growled in retort, leaning back against the wall and putting his hand over the gash in his side. "How the Hölle did you to get 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."
Siren stroked her chin wisely as she recalled the events of the previous day.
"After a day of fighting pirate invaders, I choked on a snail, and fell down some stairs. And then I ate a bad fish. A bad, bad fish. Then I woke up here with you two!''
She stopped, and squinted suspiciously. ''...Did either of you eat any fish?''
Bad souls have born better sons, better souls born worse ones -St Vincent
He just grunted and didn't dignify this with a response, too distracted by his pain to bother with anything he didn't find important or relevant.
"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 was looking inside the window of the cottage when he called out his response.
"I didn't eat any bad fish. I was... currently in the middle of getting a beating," he said plainly, figuring Siren might ask about his black eye when it became more visible later, since she seemed the curious type.
"Thieves," was his brief reply. He paused to look at the ground, trying to preoccupy his mind from the swirl of guilt that had begun to stir at the very utterance of the word. He looked back at Siren.
James didn’t see anything notable, which would’ve namely, been a person. Or people. But from where he was looking, it looked like a normal cottage, if unusually sparse and lacking signs that it’d been lived in. He sighed, resting his forehead on the window. “Looks like we’re the only ones here,” he muttered, even though he wasn’t 100% sure yet.
"We are," Kratzer affirms. Well, either that or someone else didn't have a heartbeat or breathe, so, he could pretty safely say they were alone as far as the living went. Even a vampire would have a heart rate.
"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."
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