Those that are Sleepers should return in time, though that may be via the ocean per the readings he's done. They do not always explain how they are transported there from wherever they fall. However, far be it for the apparent mystery to be the first in Mayerling's lifetime, nor even his short career in Trench.
"All the more reason for me to gather them," Mayerling suggests. He sees more days in the Archives and nights in the lands around Trench and the Outpost in his future. He supposes others gathering the mushrooms may simply stockpile what they need. Why face the spores or risk paralysis otherwise? It pays in ways reading does not, yet.
Whatever his reasons, Mayerling's long life has taught him to be wary of too eager of allies. Carmilla's betrayal freshest of all. The line between cultivating a relationship and not being taken for a fool can be harder to navigate than the derelict roads of the Frontier. As deadly.
"A practical purchase," Mayerling joins the man in stocking up on incense. As much as blood functions like currency, he does not mind to part from some of it for something less tempting.
Leaving the incense behind, Mayerling turns to give a shallow bow to the new acquaintance, still without a name. "I am Mayerling," he introduces himself, "What is your name?" They might have the skills to track each other down, but they can be more civilized than that.
no subject
"All the more reason for me to gather them," Mayerling suggests. He sees more days in the Archives and nights in the lands around Trench and the Outpost in his future. He supposes others gathering the mushrooms may simply stockpile what they need. Why face the spores or risk paralysis otherwise? It pays in ways reading does not, yet.
Whatever his reasons, Mayerling's long life has taught him to be wary of too eager of allies. Carmilla's betrayal freshest of all. The line between cultivating a relationship and not being taken for a fool can be harder to navigate than the derelict roads of the Frontier. As deadly.
"A practical purchase," Mayerling joins the man in stocking up on incense. As much as blood functions like currency, he does not mind to part from some of it for something less tempting.
Leaving the incense behind, Mayerling turns to give a shallow bow to the new acquaintance, still without a name. "I am Mayerling," he introduces himself, "What is your name?" They might have the skills to track each other down, but they can be more civilized than that.