Technically, there is no such a thing as a competent surgeon.

The half-child has spent the morning practicing with his needle, using his mind to help control the way the item twisted and carved through the air. He has no flesh to press it through, no bodies to heal or make better, no lacerations that required stitching, and yet he has found himself obsessed with the idea. So he practices yet, waiting for the day when his services will be required. By himself, he can make intricate motions, the needle twisting at just the inkling of his thought, words no longer required. Just imagining the way it twists is enough to cause the needle to turn and dance in the air. With Tobias, the motions become jerkier, but stronger, where perhaps they will be able to push the needle through thicker or harder types of flesh. He cannot wait…

An echo from a cave nearby causes him to finally replace the needle in its leather case, drawing his attention and curiosity. He and Tobias have often wondered about the cave where these sounds come from, dreaming of what mysteries might lie within. It is a curious creature that calls the place home, and one that Adelric has as of yet been too timid to speak with, but today he finds himself intrigued. Smirking to Tobias, the half-child begins to sneak forward, first just his nose, but soon his whole body sneaking around the edge of the opening, disappearing into the darkness of this place. He tries to walk softly, so as not to announce his presence, but he is not made for such clandestine actions, and so he surely makes some sound as he comes forward. Tobias is admittedly better at moving silently, but even dear cannot be whisperless upon stone.

As he sneaks forward, the half-child hears of the Moon Goddess and Confutatis (this name seems to keep coming up), of the Hidden Falls and war, and of Ulrik the weaver. He cares little for the Moon Goddess or what she has done. The gods are but trifles to him, having not directly touched his life. Even so, as he stops in the shadows just beyond Zikar-Sin, he cannot help but wonder how it is that the god steps from the mirror. An interesting magic that molds the very material the glass is made of- a scientific curiosity. It is not until the word death that his interest really grows. He steps from the shadows, almost boldly, though he is meek, waiting until the god has finished speaking to give voice to his own thoughts.

“Horses have died for less,” he almost whispers, his eyes alight with morbid curiosity. Death does not frighten him. He was too young when his father left this earth, so loss is simply a fact of life to the half-child. Besides, if Confutatis is brought down, her corpse left upon the borders of Basin, he will finally have a subject to study, and he cannot deny that it would be like Christmas come early for such a gift to be given to him. “Think how much we could learn from her body…” Tilting his head almost innocently, he looks to Zikar-Sin, wondering if the strange creature agrees.