The answer to that is a bit more complicated than it might seem. I haven't
spoken to my mother in so long that I can't imagine she hasn't given up
hope of seeing my return. Tara would know I never intentionally left. My
traveling companions also know that I have good reason not to abandon our
common quest.
Seven of us began together, our fates linked by the parasites inside our
skulls. There are more than ten in camp now, though, as we've picked up
more throughout our mission.
It's difficult to say, honestly. As we've traveled together, I've come to
truly admire all of their strengths and enjoy their company.
It's strange, in a way. Before all this, social circle was more of a dot.
Perhaps even a pinhead... It was just Tara, really, for at least a year
after the orb lodged itself in my chest. Even before that, though, I always
struggled.
Horrible things keep happening, but in the process, I've met some of the
more amazing people. Like you.
Of course I am. I'm sorry if I've given you any reason to doubt it. I want you to know that you've become one of my dearest friends, in this world or any other.
[It's heartening to hear Gale say that; however, it also reminds Pom of how much he hasn't told Gale, how much they don't really know one another. There's a lot he hasn't told anyone at home or in Karteria, but the thought of revealing all that to Gale rattles him in a distinct way. After all, the wizard is a good person - he's the kind of fella who would make sure he doesn't explode too close to town, lest he harm anyone.
Pom, meanwhile, is the sort who would sacrifice half the city if it meant keeping Gale alive. That's not the sort of thing a good person thinks, and he knows it - that's not the sort of thing a person contemplates at all. He should be better than that, he reminds himself, much as Purl would do - he should be better for Gale.
But that'd just be a mask, wouldn't it? Another lie to pretend he's more than he is. He finds himself at odds, who he wants to be clashing with what he believes he's actually capable of, and there's no Purl to give him direction. Gale has other friends back home, better prospects, people he would surely want to keep around. Pom doesn't even know what he really wants, other than Gale's attention in a way he's not sure he can vocalize.
So he's silent for another few seconds before he finally pushes himself to say something.]
Thanks. I'll be home soon, so don't wait up, all right?
[Oh. That's... a lack luster response. Not offensive in any direct way, but certainly impersonal in a way that feels dismissive. Not for the first time, he thinks he must have made incorrect assumptions, or some social misstep, that he hasn't yet sorted out. He won't let that show, however.]
Alright. I'll leave dinner for you in the ice box.
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That I didn't leave them on purpose.
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The answer to that is a bit more complicated than it might seem. I haven't spoken to my mother in so long that I can't imagine she hasn't given up hope of seeing my return. Tara would know I never intentionally left. My traveling companions also know that I have good reason not to abandon our common quest.
But I would still want them to know, in my words.
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[Aside from the two missing ones.]
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Seven of us began together, our fates linked by the parasites inside our skulls. There are more than ten in camp now, though, as we've picked up more throughout our mission.
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It's none of his business; why does he care?]
Got a favorite?
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It's difficult to say, honestly. As we've traveled together, I've come to truly admire all of their strengths and enjoy their company.
It's strange, in a way. Before all this, social circle was more of a dot. Perhaps even a pinhead... It was just Tara, really, for at least a year after the orb lodged itself in my chest. Even before that, though, I always struggled.
Horrible things keep happening, but in the process, I've met some of the more amazing people. Like you.
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I'll try to make it worth your while, assuming neither of us goes feral.
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Don't be ridiculous, you don't have to put in any special effort. I'm grateful to have met you already.
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[His voice is quiet, uncertain, as though he thinks better of asking, but doesn't manage to stop himself.]
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Pom, meanwhile, is the sort who would sacrifice half the city if it meant keeping Gale alive. That's not the sort of thing a good person thinks, and he knows it - that's not the sort of thing a person contemplates at all. He should be better than that, he reminds himself, much as Purl would do - he should be better for Gale.
But that'd just be a mask, wouldn't it? Another lie to pretend he's more than he is. He finds himself at odds, who he wants to be clashing with what he believes he's actually capable of, and there's no Purl to give him direction. Gale has other friends back home, better prospects, people he would surely want to keep around. Pom doesn't even know what he really wants, other than Gale's attention in a way he's not sure he can vocalize.
So he's silent for another few seconds before he finally pushes himself to say something.]
Thanks. I'll be home soon, so don't wait up, all right?
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Alright. I'll leave dinner for you in the ice box.