Not Something Easily Done

Garand sat cross-legged against the boulder, head lowered and partially covered by his hood, every other aspect of his securely blanketed under his cloak. He sat unmoving as the others shifted about, working to set up camp and conversating. Unbeknownst to them all, Garand was not resting, but absorbing his surroundings, the sights, the sounds, the words. He still found that he preferred the outskirts of this group rather than being anywhere near the center. It had always been that way, even before he hardly found himself in tight circles with the others. It didn't bother him though. Not much.

Garand felt his ear twitch against the cloth of his hood and turned to Balar as he addressed the Miles and the Half-Elf. He listened intently as Balar asked perhaps the most important question as of yet. Garand raised his head, his eyes meeting the warrior's. Miles spoke first, the Half-Elf absorbed every word, though it should have been unnecessary to do so. It was as simple as numbers. For now, his chances would be much greater behind these people, rather than on his own. A quiet laugh escaped him, as if to an unheard joke. He wished it really were that simple.

Miles had decided to remain within thier ranks, mostly for the sake of continuing to help others. For the first time since he had encountered this group, he wondered if they all truly did want to help others, or if they only did so because it often happened to be conveinient.

All was silent but the wail of the cold North winds, with Miles' response concluded, the spotlight was almost entirely on Garand. He felt the gaze of the Jotun upon him and glanced at Erik, a twinge of uncertainty crossed his face as he failed to hold the gaze for much more than a second. Erik wanted him gone, he knew it. If the numbers weren't compelling enough, his ever-growing desire to prove the Jotun wrong was more than sufficient. His uncertain expression stiffened into a look of rebellious defiance.

"I am of a similar mind as Miles. I wish to atone for my sins, not something easily done on my own. My past is my past, I fully intend to make much-needed improvements in the near future."

Garand clasped his hands together under his cloak. That would have to suffice. As much as he would have liked to change the Jotun's impression of him, he knew well that it would have to happen gradually, he had done enough already.

"I wish to remain with you all, I doubt I could soon repay you all for what you have done for me, and I doubt even further that I would get very far on my own in this state."

With time, he just might fit in, it was an uncharacteristically hopeful thought, but it still lingered within the Half-Elf's mind. He felt a strange sort of connection to these people, in spite of the circumstances. Perhaps his meeting them was more than chance.