brave as a noun

ooc. you're welcome to ping me more often for tags, I'm really sorry for dragging this out ugh

The girl joined him in a quick examination of the worn leather and crumbling plastic of the old office chair, and admitted that her parents were smart. Ah. Without faltering, she launched into an explanation of what her parents had been the most well versed in. A mother who was familiar with the inner machinations of various animals and insects, as well as a father who was a skilled crafter. Well, it certainly explained the technical prowess of the goggles she wore. It was only with the mention of the Long Night that he heard her voice crack, and her zeal trickle away. gawky young digits began to absently work away the frayed and crackling leather that covered the cushion. Slime, fungus, sickness. The death of her parents. Her features downcast, idly prodding the remains of the dark leather with a small paw.

The burly young male sighed softly, a gentle nod of his head of understanding being the best he could offer. "We lost many of our family to the sickness, too." he admitted quietly, dropping softly onto his haunches to peer down at the girl. "Is there someone taking care of you, since your parents...?" he didn't dare mention the harsh reality of her situation aloud. He remembered the sharp pains that used to arc through his chest at the mere mention of his mother after her death, and he knew she was well aware of their state. She was more than smart enough. "Because... I know a few folks who would be more than glad to keep teaching you about the world, if you need somewhere safe to rest your head." rumbling baritones escaped gently, wreathed in that thick English accent and all too familiar with the pain that lingered in the fringes of her awareness at all times.