He's used to feeling powerless. Trapped in circumstances he can do nothing to change. Their prison plunges those feelings to a new level. What he's not used to is having to scrabble just to stay alive. The handful of hours he's been here is long enough for the reality of their situation to sink its teeth in deep: meager food, little water, and no shelter.
In the brief moment that Istredd places his hand on his shoulder, Wilhelm closes his eyes and tries to block out his surroundings. Breathing in deep, he focuses on Istredd's steady presence. In a short time, the man has come to be someone he can depend on. They've come a long way since that first, terse conversation aboard the Arcanis, when Wilhelm regarded him with the disposition of a feral cat.
His eyes open, and they're still in the dark.
"Okay," he says, trying not to sound as sullen as he feels. It's not clear if this is a response to the promise that they'd figure this out, or the comment about food. He channels his frustration into dragging the edge of the rock over his cloak, scraping off a little more of the goop.
no subject
In the brief moment that Istredd places his hand on his shoulder, Wilhelm closes his eyes and tries to block out his surroundings. Breathing in deep, he focuses on Istredd's steady presence. In a short time, the man has come to be someone he can depend on. They've come a long way since that first, terse conversation aboard the Arcanis, when Wilhelm regarded him with the disposition of a feral cat.
His eyes open, and they're still in the dark.
"Okay," he says, trying not to sound as sullen as he feels. It's not clear if this is a response to the promise that they'd figure this out, or the comment about food. He channels his frustration into dragging the edge of the rock over his cloak, scraping off a little more of the goop.
"What if...we never get out of here?"