VoLimiNaL

[Wickerford - Ryke] An eye for an eye

Kind remained quiet all throughout their journey to Wickerford, observing its surroundings and still finding itself perplexed at this strange environment. Three years, and the creature was still not quite used to living so small atop one of the floating pebbles that it'd usually ignore. It would every now-and-then stare at the sun up above, searing its eyes as if being scolded for looking too long. Before, Kind would not be blinded so easily, not by a star much smaller when compared to the many it has already seen... "It is quite... It saddens me, it does..." Kind spoke, not to itself nor its current companions- but to the sun. "...That you no longer look as tasty..."

But it did not let the sadness stay too long, for at least it had humans travelling along with it. The thought of finally having a full meal tempted it, but looking at the red-haired man and the two other strangers, Kind had estimated that they would not make for easy pickings. The sentient object and its slime friend did not seem to be the type that would sit idly by, either. There was something about them that convinced the creature they are capable of defending themselves if ever push comes to shove... Or rather, if the hunger gets the better of its "kindness."

When they arrived at the village, Kind felt strangely somber at the sight. There were humans, yes, but few and dull. Kind didn't understand how or why this body reacts the way it does, but it was the least of the creature's worries... "Might not be the best... Course of action." It said in response to Fredrick, already walking away from the group. Asking things of strangers had led to worse things in the past, and though it did take a risk with the old man at the guild, there was an instinct from its body that could tell whether or not a person would be open to being asked things. These villagers did not seem to want to have anything to do with them.

"I will look into the houses... Over there..." Kind said without looking at them, lifting its arm and pointing its bony fingers toward the direction of the fields. When it arrived, there was a clear suspicion from the humans there, mostly due to the creatures unsettling demeanor. It glared at each one that it saw poking out their windows or doors, or simply walking by. "Brenwick... Brenwick... Brenwick..." Kind repeated to itself in a quiet sing-song melody, not quite aware of what its body was doing with its vocal chords, yet going along with it. Then, it finds a house that seems separated from the others, old and unattended. Kind moved towards it. Whether or not this was M. Brenwick's house, the creature was attracted by the sight of abandonment.

[Wickerford - Ryke] An eye for an eye

Kind listened intently to the old man's words, and was quick to frown when he said that there was no reward listed. Is this quest even worth the trouble, if it wasn't certain it could replenish afterward? It then turned to look at the others in the company... At least three of them looked human, but the animate pot and its slime companion (or perhaps it was an extension of itself?) did not seem appetizing to the pale creature. Kind at least has some assurance that it'll still have a meal or two in case it got too tired and hungry, whether or not a reward would be received after this small journey. "Friends." Kind muttered as its eyes scanned each of them carefully, the word uttered without warmth nor malice. It then cranes its neck back to the old man.

"W... Wicker... Ford, you say? T-Then... Then that's where we will go, sir." It gave a stiff bow, before turning to head out towards the door, its upper body remaining still as its long bony legs walked wide but steady steps.

It halts when the red-haired human spoke to it, referring to something that it was not very familiar with. Kind slowly turned, then crouched down just enough to meet him at eye-level. It raised its brows, eyes widening every so subtly as it recognizes something within the man's eyes... "Not your body, too?" It grinned, feeling a rare rhythm beating in its chest... The rhythm of human excitement. "Did you fall from the stars, like I did? Or..." The creature's excitement slowly turns into curiosity as it tilted its head, confounded by this man's very presence.

"...No. Y-You are from... From elsewhere... Where, I wonder?" It tapped its chin before standing straight up, eyeing the parchment that it was still holding with its other hand.

"The paper does indeed... Have this strange allure." Kind said, answering the red-hair. "The old man read it to me... Some human by the name of Brenwick lost an offspring... And is... Asking for h-help. Oh, right... I am Kind." The creature smiled, turning to the newcomers. "Not rude- never rude. Will you be coming with me? To Wick-" It chokes on its own spit, but recovers briefly. "To Wickerf... Ord?"

[Wickerford - Ryke] An eye for an eye

Kind's neck twisted quickly as it craned its head eerily towards the entrance of the annex, having felt an odd presence approaching the building. Deep-purple eyes fixating on each corner and raised splinter on the wooden door, as if looking for whatever it may be that caused the pale man to react in such a manner. This was not the first time it happened- but whenever it did, Kind did not like it. Whoever's body this formerly was, it had a good sense for the presence of others. It then takes a mental note of the general change in the atmosphere when it approached to ask about the letter. It turns its attention back to the quest board, plucking the parchment, poking and caressing it as a child would to a foreign object. "More... Coming for you too?" It asked the indecipherable piece of paper. "Your allure... is... Int- Interest... ing..."

The elderly man catches Kind's attention, his gaze piquing the pale creature's interest as it returned a cold glare- not out of anger or fear, but detached curiosity. Its tattered black cloak shifted as it strode quietly towards him, holding out the letter. "Would you... Would you be so kind? Read it... For me?" Kind's lips slowly curls up once again into an uncanny smile, baring a row of sharp white daggers. "The two over... There aren't good of hearing..." It explains, though it was yet to learn how to sound warm and friendly. "N-Need gold, you see... For meat..." It pats its belly. "Meat I need is... Not sold for cheap, sir..."

[Wickerford - Ryke] An eye for an eye

The old wooden door creaked as it opened slowly, followed by the heavy thuds of boot against dirt- then wood. A tall pale stranger entered the annex in a way one can only describe as unnatural. The man stood there for a moment too long, letting the door slam itself shut and causing a few turned heads and suspicious scowls from the adventurers before they briefly returned to whatever they were doing. A slow shaky inhale through the nose followed by an even slower release of cold breath through the mouth, then it spoke. "Warm here." It's voice was low enough to be considered a whisper as its deep-purple eyes scanned the room, its lips unsure whether to smile or frown as it quivered. A few more moments of quietly standing, and the man finally moved towards the quest board, where two others stood by.

Kind has been wandering for two days straight, knowing that in this body, it would not do well to sit and lounge around after a large meal. Whenever it was full, it wandered aimlessly, waiting to feel hunger again. Though, it did notice itself being drawn to large crowds. The crowd at the Adventurer's Guild wasn't anything impressive, yet it found a strange comfort in the presence of other humans. Besides, having only been human for three years, it still had plenty to learn... And one of the more recent things that Kind learned is the importance of money, which humans gain this by using their skills and profession for the convenience of others. Kind, luckily, was skilled with the dagger, and quest boards usually presented an opportunity to be paid for being skilled.

"Hello." It said to the two that stood by the quest board, its voice almost a whisper. "I am... Kind." It held a pale bony finger up, as if to correct them before they could even ask. "Not rude. Kind. A kind servant and good friend, I am." Every word that left its white lips sounded too carefully spoken, as if at any moment, the vowels would cause its tongue to snap. Then slowly, it gave them a wide smile that did not reach its cold eyes, an eerily awkward and poorly practiced attempt at warmth. The sharp row of teeth didn't help make it any warmer, either. "This quest..." It pointed to the lone piece of parchment pinned to the board. "What does it say? I am not... I haven't learned to read yet, you see."

[The Kingdom:Fort Bael] ·:*¨❆༺ ❅ 𝔄 𝔅𝔞𝔰𝔱𝔦𝔬𝔫 𝔬𝔣 𝔈𝔫𝔳𝔶 ❅ ༻❆¨*:·

Axol approaches the fallen elk, unsheathing a small blade from his belt. However rotten its flesh was, cooking it would surely make it safer to eat, he'd just have to power through the excruciating torture of stomach aches. Before he could even get near it, however, the creature dissolves into the snow, leaving Axol visibly confused and his stomach displeased. "...Perhaps the Gods are trying to dissuade us from harming you further." He says to himself as he patted an apology to his belly. He then turns to where Rachel and Bromann stood, and is quickly discouraged when he finds no signs of a bread basket on the former's person, but thought it odd that she was very transfixed at her dagger. "Everyone here's odd... Thankfully, I am of sound mind."

The sellsword, hungry and dissatisfied with the small battle they had, now bears a scowl on his face, walking towards the rest to regroup. "Seems everyone is fine, I don't know about the one with the mechanical friend, though." He says, responding to Rachel's query as he nodded towards Curly. "It was a good fight, though. You. Bromann. Rachel." He gives each one of them a small nod in spite of his sour mood, but makes no effort to make eye-contact with any. Then, his eyes land on Andrea, remembering the ritual she used and how the dead rose and fought at her command. He ponders quietly for a while, though his brows furrowed with great effort as he thought back on the creatures they slew.

He turns to Bromann beside him. "Weren't they undead, those creatures? Like the ones Andrea summoned?" Axol asked, not necessarily accusing the pointy-eared woman of further suspicion, but curious on how the others think of her abilities. He still doesn't fully grasp the concept of keeping his voice down, but unlike before, he recognizes that he probably shouldn't have spoken that so loudly, and behind her back. "Forgive me. I'm just hungry..." He then lowers his head, placing one foot after the other as he kept himself quiet, not wanting to provoke the pointy-eared woman with his brash behavior. Though his mind kept bickering questions at him... "Could she bring Aena back? Should she be brought back? What would she say to me... What would I even say to her?"

Suddenly, he sprints. The snow on his boots flying as he ran with a speed that seemed unfit for his size. He quickly crouches down in front of a fallen soldier, whose body is eaten away by snow and time. "Ale!" Axol screamed at the top of his lungs, turning to his companions with a smile so wide it seemed uncanny. Without a second to lose, he snatches the flask from the corpse's belt and removes the cap, then chugs it down like it was water. He then got up and walked back to the others, still drinking from the stolen treasure. The sellsword withdraws his lips momentarily from the cold metal to speak. "Not ale. Wine. Good enough." Then he dove back down, slower this time, relishing the taste and warmth it brought to his belly.

[The Kingdom:Fort Bael] ·:*¨❆༺ ❅ 𝔄 𝔅𝔞𝔰𝔱𝔦𝔬𝔫 𝔬𝔣 𝔈𝔫𝔳𝔶 ❅ ༻❆¨*:·

The impact of his blade hitting the pitiable creature sent a subtle shockwave from the greatsword's handle to Axol's arms, a much longed-for itch that now demanded more scratching. He watched as it flew, spinning in the air before hitting some barricades. A satisfied smile was plastered on his usually hardened face. Though to his surprise, the gross elk lives, writhing from pain, yes, but still moving unnaturally. The blackness obscuring its body and its ungodly noises aside, Axol finds himself scrunching his nose in annoyance and confusion. "What the hell is that thing, even?" He growls, ready to throw another attack as he marched past Ironbelle.

In the corner of his eye, he saw Andrea, tempting him to turn and witness something he can only describe as profound. Dead men raised from the ground, attacking the agitated dog (bear) at the pointy-eared woman's behest. "Is this the forbidden practice you spoke of?" Axol thought to himself, now fully understanding why villages would cast her out, why she was the Exiled. Then a dangerous thought crossed his mind, putting his advances to a halt. He watched the unwilling corpses attack the beast, their flesh and skin taken away, their movements mindless yet obedient to Andrea's will. "How much of someone could this woman bring back..?"

Axol shook his head, recovering his arrogant resolve. "No. Aena would kill me. She rests. Let her be." He turns his attention back to the elk who is now moving to flank their sides, its eyeless sights still on Ironbelle. "Got an appetite for steel, do you?!" He taunts as he strode towards it, hoping to intercept the small creature's advance. "Well, here's a bite that'll keep you full!" He picks up his pace, now rushing boldly, ready to sweep with the greatsword's dulled edges. It didn't matter if it got up again- In fact, he would rather the fight last longer.

Actions:

1. Move 20ft towards the elk
2. If the elk meets him halfway, will use basic heavy attack

[The Kingdom:Fort Bael] ·:*¨❆༺ ❅ 𝔄 𝔅𝔞𝔰𝔱𝔦𝔬𝔫 𝔬𝔣 𝔈𝔫𝔳𝔶 ❅ ༻❆¨*:·

Axol watched, his brows narrowed and hooding observant eyes, more observant than he had ever shown to his companions. This was battle; his profession and passion. And before him were warriors, rusty and honed alike, dancing to his favorite tune. The fear still bites at him, fearing he won't make it out of this, fearing he won't see his son again. Yet the excitement was too palpable, a selfish drive that he feels he owes to himself. After all, he only keeps enough money to eat and drink for a week in spite of scarce work, while the rest went to the boy. Being a father is a fight he can't really seem to grasp just yet, but this fight he can do just fine.

He stood not too far from the rest, waiting for the right moment to jump in. "Six feet of heavy steel, they're bound to get caught in it, reckless as I am." He kept his weapon over his shoulder, yet he paced impatiently. Heart beating against his chest, mind slowly blanking, and his soul adjusting to the symphony of violence that needed no beat. "The misshapen dog should be worth while." He mutters to himself. Axol did not really know that bears were called bears, he had always just assumed they were very big dogs... And this big dog's frosty mange was unlike anything he had seen.

Axol watches as the new-addition (who he hopes is charitable like the archer) uses his mechanical companion to protect himself from the beasts' attack, wondering what other tricks the it could do, like brewing ale, maybe? Hopefully. The sellsword also took note of Bromann's almost manic state, sending arrows flying toward the ungodly elk which reacts in a foreign gore of rot fumes and sharp shrieks. Rachel, whose name he had just now overheard, enchants the arrows, empowering the next volley and causing some satisfying damage to the larger target. Axol enjoys the surprising spirit the young archer has, never-mind the lack of composure. "First battle, lad?" He calls out to Bromman, not really assessing that now is not a good time to engage in small-talk. "Let the fight steer you," he lets the greatsword leave a trail through the snow as he dragged it, walking toward the huge hound. "Thinking will come naturally."

But before he could tackle the big dog, Andrea pounces on the beast with admirable ferocity. Instinctively, a strong jolt of annoyance shot through his veins seeing someone else take on his target before even asking. The mischief in the pointy-eared woman's voice spoke out again, one he is now considered to be a prick on his behind. "Again with that bloody voice." He turns his attention toward the elk, the creature still adamant on tearing away at their new companion's flesh despite the mechanic defenses he had put up. He gripped his greatsword tightly, rushing toward the skinny beast and ready to swing the width of the blade in hopes of knocking it away. "Brace, whoever you are!" He announced with the excitement of a child as he steps a foot forward, holding the blade high like a bat before spinning once to earn momentum, then again to deliver the blow, meeting his target's empty eyes with a blood-thirsty grin, a small part of him hoping that the machine-wearer would not be hit, a bigger part of him hoping he could take the blow if it did...

Actions:
1. Move towards the elk.
2. Use "Be Humble" ability on the elk.

"Be Humble"

[Fighting Style (Swords)] E, [Knockback] F - With the width of his sword, Axol swings with great force, knocking his foe back. E Grade - 1 Post Cooldown

[The Kingdom:Fort Bael] ·:*¨❆༺ ❅ 𝔄 𝔅𝔞𝔰𝔱𝔦𝔬𝔫 𝔬𝔣 𝔈𝔫𝔳𝔶 ❅ ༻❆¨*:·

A sigh of relief left Axol's lips as the horn blew its low and looming note, demanding urgency from the dwellers of this cold keep. The sellsword took his time though, strolling casually as he followed wherever the soldiers ran towards, hoping it'd lead him to where he needed to be. Though he seemed aloof, his heart beat against his chest. He felt as though the blade he wielded was a limb that itched to hurt. "If I can't get ale, they could at least give me a good fight..." As he made his way, his mind drifted back to his current companions. Besides Andrea, whose eyes spoke of past battles, he wonders how his other companions would fare on the battlefield. At least the archer had a weapon. He prays the rest have theirs hidden somewhere in their person, lest he be burdened with carrying bodies back to the Bastion. Aena wouldn't allow him to leave his fallen comrades unburied and without prayers.

The harsh winds blew against him once more when he arrived at the ramparts. There, he found the rest of the party, and the young lord who had employed them. Axol had grown used to the cold, but couldn't find it in his heart to dislike it any less. The pointy-eared woman joined them, a strange feeling of comfort mingled with suspicion grew as her presence entered. The two exchange a knowing look, before Axol's eyes made its way to a strange man beside and even stranger machine. He seemed as out of place as the rest of the travelers. Is he lost? Slowly, the sellsword starts to piece it all together...

"GODS!" He yelled in frustration. Another one? One more to take a slice out of the already thinning pie that is their bounty? He's starting to think that this is being done to him on purpose. After breathing heavily for a few seconds, Axol finds it in himself to regain composure, but refuses to explain his outburst.

"Archer." He said without meeting to face the charitable young lad, his tone flat and clearly still heated. "What is your name? You seem young. How badly do you need the money? Are you willing to be more charitable and keep only ten-percent?" He then side-eyes the alcohol-hating lady, whose face seemed to turn pale upon seeing what hid behind the raging wall of snow from the distance. "You've spoken with her, yes? Does she think money is a sin? Does she intend on taking her share?"

Axol takes a step to the edges of the wall to see what the young lord was referring to... And for a moment, his heart stopped. He had faced monsters before, but these... Too many. Cold sweat trickled down his brow as he felt a fear he hadn't felt in years. The creatures seemed intent on either storming the keep or leaving it in ruins to get elsewhere past it. He could feel their cold eyes even from such a distance; he knew that instinct drove them. Axol half-heartedly listened to the loud captain's advise, and his words of warning only served to make Axol's heart sink deeper. As he stood frozen for what was hours in his head, the fear in his heart is slowly invaded by a new volatile chemical; excitement. The two danced in his chest like a deadly brew, his grip tightening around the handle of his greatsword. Andrea's encouraging tease served as the spark to ignite the sellsword's own spirit. "Aye. The Gods are kind to us, friends. They've granted us a good fight!" He says to the other travelers as he turned and strode past them to follow the Exiled, battling the fear of death with a manic smile and thirst for the clash. "They'll not have me just yet, Aena. I won't leave our boy. For now, give me leave to do what I love most."

@Nachogod @The Voice @Slowpokie @Starleaper

[The Kingdom:Fort Bael] ·:*¨❆༺ ❅ 𝔄 𝔅𝔞𝔰𝔱𝔦𝔬𝔫 𝔬𝔣 𝔈𝔫𝔳𝔶 ❅ ༻❆¨*:·

Axol never thought of himself as the kind to spill feelings to someone who was essentially still a stranger, and yet, he could easily see the grief and sorrow that Andrea hid behind her eyes when she spoke of fighting the injustice that enslaved her people. Despite his distrust, there was a comfort in knowing he found a fellow struggler. It takes one to know one, after all. For five years, he had never spoken with anyone to this extent. The only conversations that lasted as long were negotiations with employers, which were almost one-sided since Axol negotiated with grunts of agreement or grimaces of disapproval. It proved to be effective, though. Once, some poor farmer offered to pay him eighty copper Rykes to get rid of a rogue troll couple that kept stealing his cows. One frown from Axol convinced the farmer he should pay the man one hundred and thirteen instead.

When Andrea asked for his title, he couldn't help but think back on that farmer. When he collected his pay, the farmer had but one cow left, two sheep, and his daughter, who looked feverish. That was a long time ago, but the guilt still caught on like barbed wire on his heart. He heard the old knight in his head. "I pray you use it for good..."

"The Unworthy," Axol answered, the tone of his voice now devoid of his usual arrogance or showmanship. "Much more interesting than 'Exiled', eh?" He teases with a playful smirk, an attempt to shrug off the weight the name carried. "I've done plenty to make people despise me, yet it's this sword that earned me that name." He lifts the massive, weathered blade and holds it upright in one hand, barely straining a muscle. It did not even shine when the sun touched it, its glory days having already passed away, along with its former and rightful owner. "Perhaps I'll tell you more of it the next time we speak. For now, let's leave it at that." He gave the pointy-eared woman a warm smile, rare for a man like him. "I must speak with the archer now, see if he really means to take only twenty percent of his own share and give the rest to us. Such acts of charity need to be double-checked."

"As for fighting... I won't make any promises." His eyes gleamed with mischief and a hint of challenge, though now it was less weighted and almost playful. "Unless one of these dull lackeys gives me ale, I'm bound to grow more irritable. Besides, fighting is good. Bickering and arguing can be annoying, yes, but it is a bond forged nonetheless, one shared exclusively between two. Real fights, however... Now, that's a dance that forges even deeper bonds." He grinned, his mind racing with memories of countless battles he had fought, man and monster alike. "It is my truth; a way to find a friend in my enemies. With every swing of a blade or hurling of a fist, you are showing one another your most honest selves, something that most can't even do with their closest companions. It's special." He sighed with a soft smile. With his words, he did not imply a threat; Axol merely expressed his passion. "A damn shame that they perish moments after our newfound friendship..."

The sellsword turns to leave, making his way back to the keep's halls to find the barracks. "I look forward to our partnership- and disagreements, Andrea, the Exiled!" His voice, loud as ever, boomed throughout the courtyard as he walked away, waving at Andrea behind him without turning to face her. On his way back, he pondered about the mysterious woman a while longer. Did she speak the truth as he did? Her eyes told a thousand stories, yet they were all vague. Axol could recognize that she can fight and is not afraid to go toe-to-toe with whatever danger they will be facing. Axol hadn't felt so conflicted about someone. He shrugs it off, whistling a familiar tune as he lets his greatsword rest on his shoulder. "Thinking is not your way, Axol. Go with your gut. Like you always do. Let the gods decide whether she is friend or foe."

@The Voice

[The Kingdom:Fort Bael] ·:*¨❆༺ ❅ 𝔄 𝔅𝔞𝔰𝔱𝔦𝔬𝔫 𝔬𝔣 𝔈𝔫𝔳𝔶 ❅ ༻❆¨*:·

The wind blew a soothing chill to the sellsword's skin, the climate now becoming a bit more comfortable as he sat himself down cross-legged on the snowy cobblestones, listening as Andrea spoke with much less intensity than before. He nodded in agreement with her sentiment regarding the importance of gold, though he doubts that she knew just how much it meant to the man. For him, it was all he knew since he was a skinny fifteen-year-old taking odd jobs from shady persons that required his recklessness and talent for violence. It kept his belly filled with meat and ale, and he needed a lot, more than any boy his age. He had spent years just taking jobs, eating, drinking, then finding the next barn to sleep in, hoping that the owner would leave him be for the night. One couldn't even think someone as self-serving as he was could fall in love, let alone keeping that love going for years until childbirth took it away from him... At least now, he didn't need to loathe himself as much for needing gold. Now, someone else needed it.

"It is good to hear that," Axol began in response to Andrea's promise not to betray them, "I do not seek pleasure in having to cut people in half." He said without any sign of a threat in his voice, as if it were the most mundane thing. "Though I do wish to have more of the share, know that I do not intend to harm any of you for that. I've changed my ways long ago, I assure you. I did wish for harm to befall you lot, though- but it's not the same thing... I think." He scratches his head, thinking of the difference between wanting to harm someone and wanting harm to happen to them. Which would make Aena more furious to hear?

He concludes that the former is worse, but the latter is not so much.

Andrea continued, sharing her goals and the true reason why she arrived here in the first place. Axol looks around and sees that the free people she referred to do not seem thrilled with the little freedom they have, given the problems that lurk outside... "Then again, much better to have problems without having shackles." Her mention of using wicked souls did make him raise a brow. His memories snap back to the previous night, the woman's eyes glowing a green hue that reeked of mischief and plotting...

"I assure you, whatever you say to me stays between us. Besides, I do not speak much when drunk. I only throw fists. However, if you do find me drowning my sorrows, please stop me from singing. Apparently, I sing a lot." In his happier days, the sellsword would drink with his late wife when the moon rose, then throw vile accusations at him the following day, claiming that he sang at the top of his lungs, which he swore to her he had no recollection of. This was unfortunately proven to be true, as their neighbors would one day muster the courage to nervously ask him to be quieter so that their children would not be so frightened to sleep. He manages a faint smile at the memory, though his heart still aches. Were things different, he would have liked to hear her laughing at him again.

"You have piqued my curiosity, Andrea, that I admit." Axol's eyes were downcast, staring at the rusted ornamentation of his greatsword as he spoke, "I... I am sorry to hear what befell your people. Were it me in your stead, I would have likely already been dead for charging at the bastards at the first opportunity I'm given. Your patience is commendable." He chuckles, though his eyes remain on the blade. "I know what that feels like, to an extent." He says, referring to the pointy-eared woman's sentiments on being an outcast. "I've developed a reputation, you see. One that made it difficult to be welcomed by the commonfolk within villages. Aye, they served me food and ale when I paid. But no one even dared to look me in the eye, nor offer me straw to lie on when I had not a single coin left in my pockets and had to sleep on the streets. It wasn't just fear. I could tell. They despised me..." Axol remained quiet for a while, his eyes distant. In his head, he hears the old knight's dying wishes once more...

"Forgive me, Andrea. I did not mean to blight your day with my sorrows. Though I assure you that you did not blight mine with yours." He sighed, pushing himself back up on his feet, his heavy steel apparel singing along with every shift of his body. "Ah, I simply cannot picture myself sober. Look at what it does to me." He smiles, managing a jest. His distrust for her still lingered, but whether it was out of desperation or something else, Axol did need someone to hear him. Even if it were someone whose very presence still oozed mystique despite their intentions being laid bare. For too long, he had not even reflected upon all that's happened to him... And with Andrea, he was only picking at the surface.