who's to know if your soul will fade at all

the one you sold to fool the world

She was nothing like the diseased creature he had once set eyes upon. This child was meek, subdued, a pale skeleton of her past self, and the Thief wondered if the experience had changed her; if perhaps, at one time, she had been full of life and colour. Roland might have believed he was in the company of a ghost, if he held any stock in such abnormalities. She seemed intangible and troubled as she hovered on the stream’s bank before him. It was not fair, that someone so harmless could be taken, possessed, by something that she could not control. And now she had the memories, or mere shreds of recollection, to look back upon. Roland wondered if she was as haunted by her past mistakes as he.

The child’s voice was a mere whisper when she spoke, but Roland strained to hear her over the shift of wind through grass and wildflowers. There was little he could have done to offer her comfort, and it pained him to think he was not well equipped to help her in any way he was able to, but he could assure of her one thing, at least. “No,” he responded firmly, and not at all unkindly. He had escaped harm from both the child and her accomplice, even if one of their party had not been so lucky.

The Thief watched as she lowered her head, turning her face away from him as if attempting to sever their connection, and cease conversation altogether. Perhaps he had been too forward in expressing concern for her wellbeing, but after a few moments of agitated silence she granted him with a response. He nodded in understanding, flashing her a hesitant smile before averting his own gaze. Moonlight danced across the stream, illuminating the rocks beneath its surface, and Roland was struck by a sudden idea. “Would you like to throw stones?” He asked, ignoring the absurdity of his own question. He wasn’t doing this for his own sake, after all.

“It’s therapeutic,” he assured her on some whim, though he himself wasn’t quite sure what it was. But it passed the time. No doubt it was a fruitless sport his friend Murdock could amuse himself with for hours upon end, the Thief thought fondly as he looked over the edge once more. He did his best to ignore the instinctual leap of his heart when peering over such a seemingly bottomless gorge. Surely, if this place were as magical as it felt, the Gods would not let any creature come to harm by slipping over the edge? He certainly wasn’t about to test that hypothesis. His four feet were perfectly content where they were, rooted firmly into sturdy ground.

With a hesitant look back at the filly, he lowered his head to the stream bank and pulled a rock in between his teeth. He raised it with a crafty look thrown her way, hoping to lift her spirits, and then turned back towards the starlit abyss. With an arch of his neck he let it go, releasing the ashen stone into the air, and followed it with his gaze for only mere seconds before it was swallowed by shadow laden cloud. Roland imagined he could hear the dull thud of its impact far below, but no sound beyond wind and water reached his ears. He then aimed a hopeful look back at the child, wondering if it was too foolish a game for her to find some entertainment in. Or perhaps it was he who was the fool. Turning his gaze towards the stream, he directed another careful inquiry her way. “What’s your name?”

( @[Sikeax] Don't worry about it!)