Wesley. I asked to help you here because the shopkeeper at the bookstore didn't want me there anymore. Look, I don't doubt what you're saying. I just think you're a lot kinder and more understanding than they are. Than most people are.
Before I came here, I separated paths from someone I loved when they decided they no longer wanted me around. Before that, though - there were good times. When he would return from trips away, he would bring me things. Books were one of my favorites.
[He debates his answer not because he wants to neutralize it so much as he doesn't want to just dump it on Alina; however he does consider her a friend and so he doesn't detract any of the facts for her sake, heavy as it can potentially get:]
Wil, my maker. He made me in an image he considered ideal, and after a few decades he didn't like me anymore. Mostly because I wasn't actually the person he tried to copy.
It's fine. I actually like being able to talk about it, it probably does me some good.
[Like may be exaggerating it a little - but it does feel... better?]
It's not the greatest, but there were good moments. I think that's the worst part of it? When you've loved someone and things have changed, but you miss what was.
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I've talked with Nikolai about it.
It just takes time.
And it certainly doesn't help that they're reminded every time they look at me.
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Working at the library has to be helping to some degree. Many of the native townsfolk are really grateful for our services.
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I asked to help you here because the shopkeeper at the bookstore didn't want me there anymore.
Look, I don't doubt what you're saying.
I just think you're a lot kinder and more understanding than they are.
Than most people are.
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[Admittedly:]
I know I can be a lot more naive than them, too.
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You can always smack me with a reality check, alright?
I'm woefully less worldly than most people.
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Keep it up then, will you?
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And here I thought you'd only hired me because I showed up smelling of books.
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Admittedly, one I'm favorable to.
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Something about it reminds me of - good times.
[Reading, escaping, positive memories of delving into something new or familiar.]
Some people might like those fumes, though.
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Before I came here, I separated paths from someone I loved when they decided they no longer wanted me around. Before that, though - there were good times. When he would return from trips away, he would bring me things. Books were one of my favorites.
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Wil, my maker. He made me in an image he considered ideal, and after a few decades he didn't like me anymore. Mostly because I wasn't actually the person he tried to copy.
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"From bone and ash and his own blood" if I recall correctly.
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I didn't realize.
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[But he'd like to be human, tries to consider himself such.]
It's not a secret but it's just not something I bring up often.
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I didn't mean to pry.
It doesn't sound like a good memory.
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[Like may be exaggerating it a little - but it does feel... better?]
It's not the greatest, but there were good moments.
I think that's the worst part of it?
When you've loved someone and things have changed, but you miss what was.
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I know the feeling.
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