the smell of sleep and disinfectant

"Your family controls fire?" Her surprise took him aback and it showed on his face. He was so used to being around fire that it didn't occur to him that it might be an unusual thing. His appreciation for his family's superiority grew. Perhaps fire was a gift to his people from the Fallen God. Pyrrhic hadn't considered that; its commonplace appearance throughout his growing up had him assuming until now that it was just one of those things everyone had and mastered with age. There was no other explanation for it; fire was a God thing. "We do," he said with surety as if he hadn't just reached the conclusion he was about to share. "Our mastery is a gift from the Fallen God."

Muses went on to mention that she wished to try smoked fish and Pyrrhic, seizing on the opportunity, couldn't resist tossing out an invitation after explaining what a castle was. "It's a big stone structure with lots of rooms in it. It's kind of like an above ground cave system. There's only one castle in Auster so if you ever go down there, howl for me and I'll let you try some smoked fish."

Her next statements confused him. Why was she sorry about his father? There was no time to dwell on it, however, as she went on to tell him about her own family. Honestly Pyrrhic wasn't sure what to make of what Muses said. It sounded to him like her family was aligned with one of the usurper gods and he didn't know how to spin that in his favor. Befriending mortals only worked if you were nice to them and he doubted she would like him if he told her it was good that her pagan family had been slaughtered. For her benefit his expression saddened. "That's awful, I'm sorry. You're not, " he had to fight to keep his voice sad because it wanted to be hopeful, "All alone now, I hope?"

"Talk"