[t̸h̸e̸ t̸i̸n̸y̸,̸ b̸a̸r̸e̸l̸y̸ h̸e̸a̸r̸d̸,̸ d̸i̸s̸g̸u̸s̸t̸i̸n̸g̸ l̸a̸u̸g̸h̸t̸e̸r̸ r̸a̸n̸g̸ t̸h̸r̸o̸u̸g̸h̸ h̸i̸s̸ m̸i̸n̸d̸ f̸o̸r̸ a̸ m̸o̸m̸e̸n̸t̸,̸ b̸e̸f̸o̸r̸e̸ f̸a̸d̸i̸n̸g̸ a̸w̸a̸y̸ w̸i̸t̸h̸o̸u̸t̸ I̸l̸l̸u̸g̸a̸ n̸o̸t̸i̸c̸i̸n̸g̸ i̸t̸]
He was doing just 𝘧𝘪𝘯𝘦.)

and he had to think about his own urgent paperwork as soon as he would be done inspecting and securing this supplies transfer mission… he couldn’t afford to think about those things, dark things. Not now. Not yet. +

Unworthy. Forever the only survivor 𝘣𝘦𝘤𝘢𝘶𝘴𝘦 of that cowardice.
…his hands clenched in fists as he put down another sack of supplies onto the cart, as he closed his eyes for a moment.
No. No.
He needed to stop thinking about that. He had to focus. There was still so much to do, +

In truth, he should have admitted it to himself that maybe that inner voice he heard berating and belittling him, he has been hearing since he remembers himself.
Because… wasn’t that precisely what he was asking himself all the time when his thoughts would turn to the past?
A coward. Weak. Useless.+

With the Traveller’s and everyone’s reassurance, for a short-lived time, he thought he was doing alright.
Until…
He recalled that time he was walking back from one of the patrols at night. Was it then that he began to hear that murmur in his mind? In truth, he doubted it. +

(He was… working. And working. And working. Anything to drown down and dull out the thoughts he would be succumbing to, as soon as he would stop doing 𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 useful.
It was… it felt - weird. Strange. Unusual.
Because initially he was sure that he came to terms with everything. +

// That little rascal. Then again, well. They match their freak, or how they say? 😂

And I would be a poor host if I let my esteemed guest sleep anywhere but the most comfortable place, sir Flins! Still, you wording it in such a way – so you are not staying in Piramida the night? Eager to escape to your lighthouse, as always?