[ Extra, super duper oh no. Oh, this has all gone so wrong, so fast.
Reynir bites his bottom lip, heart sinking. He had meant to provide reassurance and comfort, and instead he's just digging the hole even deeper, isn't he? Carlisle's grief is obvious even before he speaks, but Reynir at least has the good sense to remain silent, and wait for him to finish speaking.
Carlisle hadn't said anything earlier, when Reynir had mentioned that his own world is filled with monsters that were once human. Then again, Reynir's not surprised at that. From the way he's reacting, and the very very little he's mentioned about his life, this must be a recent development. Necromancers had invaded or something and it must have been recent.
If it were someone else, Reynir would definitely be touching his shoulder now or trying to grasp his hand in sympathy. Instead, his hands curl together on the table and he says, quietly: ]
Carlisle... I'm so sorry. I didn't know. If I did, I wouldn't have... anyway, just. I'm sorry.
[ He really means it, too; Reynir's shoulders are slumped and his freckled face expressive with grief and understanding. ]
Is there anything I can do?
[ Not to fix it, obviously, because he had never even heard of necromancy before a minute ago and they're both trapped here and Reynir is not some hero of legend. He's just a sheep farmer who knows some runes and has gotten lucky a few times. But he means to offer help now, support now, after the loss. ]
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Reynir bites his bottom lip, heart sinking. He had meant to provide reassurance and comfort, and instead he's just digging the hole even deeper, isn't he? Carlisle's grief is obvious even before he speaks, but Reynir at least has the good sense to remain silent, and wait for him to finish speaking.
Carlisle hadn't said anything earlier, when Reynir had mentioned that his own world is filled with monsters that were once human. Then again, Reynir's not surprised at that. From the way he's reacting, and the very very little he's mentioned about his life, this must be a recent development. Necromancers had invaded or something and it must have been recent.
If it were someone else, Reynir would definitely be touching his shoulder now or trying to grasp his hand in sympathy. Instead, his hands curl together on the table and he says, quietly: ]
Carlisle... I'm so sorry. I didn't know. If I did, I wouldn't have... anyway, just. I'm sorry.
[ He really means it, too; Reynir's shoulders are slumped and his freckled face expressive with grief and understanding. ]
Is there anything I can do?
[ Not to fix it, obviously, because he had never even heard of necromancy before a minute ago and they're both trapped here and Reynir is not some hero of legend. He's just a sheep farmer who knows some runes and has gotten lucky a few times. But he means to offer help now, support now, after the loss. ]