[center][color=82ca9d] Uaithne Cináed Fearghal Orvar [/color][/center]

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[i]Uaithne dimly heard voices around him, he noticed one had belonged to Sister Deborah. Frowning slightly he tried to piece together what she had said... The words came to him with a bit of effort. If we're up for it? And what about those who weren't up to it? What about the people who would never be up to it?

It would be anger that burned away the fog, some cynical piece of his mind noted. The fog and the perceived chill faded. He scowled at Sister Deborah, she hadn't precisely said to abandon the people who couldn't make their own way back... But it was a plausible deduction. And that hit awfully close to the emptiness Dad's death had caused. It hadn't helped that Mom had never been the same either, always ... Somewhere far away. His tone was caustic, the words dripping venom. And his glare held an intensity not often seen in the eyes of the young, an intent to cause harm.[/i]

[Color=82ca9d]"I suppose the ones that aren't up for trip back can rot where they lay? It's not like there's a shortage of candidates or anything... "[/color]

[i]Uaithne prowled past Sister Deborah barely holding back the sudden fountain of rage, that was probably fueled by the slowly fading effects of the wellspring. He focussed on the path ahead, failing to register anything said to him as his blood pounded in his ears and dim shadows of memories danced through his head.

He would cool down elsewhere, and probably apologize later, but for now he all but ran up the path. Trusting his feet to find sure footing in the dim light. Normally he would be using a simple charm for enhanced low-light vision, but all his tools were back at the house and he was too angry to focus on such a delicate spell properly. Sensory enhancement done wrong... Well, it could leave permanent side effects. He simply moved at brisk walk, a slow enough pace to adjust each step before shifting weight to it for him, thanks to his love of walking through the woods and the well maintained path he walked upon.

His hands clenched and unclenched as he stormed away, breathing deeply more to gain some semblance of control than because of his pace. He stepped around anyone ahead of him, passing in the span of two or three strides, due to his small stature. He made his back to the porch, ditched the robe unceremoniously on the threshold, and began filling his pockets. The familiar motions and weight calming him significantly. And he figured he was going to be in trouble... First night, and he'd already pissed the coven leadership off. Fantastic. Brigid would be cackling as soon as she found out... [/i]

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[center][color=82ca9d][b]Speaks to[/b]:[/color] Sister Deborah [/center]
[center][color=82ca9d][b]Mentions[/b]:[/color] N/A [/center]