Finding Purpose
Nathaniel wandered restlessly through the corridors. He’d done as much preliminary scouting as he could, though he had to admit that the variances in gravity in specific parts of the station were unsettling.
He’d spent most of his time in the BSL Habitats-being outdoors (or as outdoors as one could get in the place) was comforting. He’d spent years trekking across the land, both while serving in the Free Marches and in Amaranthine amongst the Grey Wardens. He vastly preferred camping out here in his tent rather than inside the station. He was not used to being surrounded by so much metal, and the noise could be overwhelming at times.
He was having a hard time accepting everything that had happened since he’d been whisked away from Kirkwall and deposited here, and he was having great difficulty taking it all in and accepting that this was real. But as vivid as the Fade could be, he knew instinctively that he was not sleeping. All of this, for better or worse, was really happening, and he’d best get used to it.
The hardest part was feeling useless. He was used to having a purpose, to doing something, contributing in some way. But he’d not been here long enough to figure out what his place here would be. So for the moment he’s idle, and he hates being idle.
He’d avoided The Bucket so far, as he was not really one to drink. But he’d been keeping mostly to himself since arriving, and he felt a need to be around other people. So he pushed open the door to the bar, trying to prepare himself for what he might find inside.
He’d spent most of his time in the BSL Habitats-being outdoors (or as outdoors as one could get in the place) was comforting. He’d spent years trekking across the land, both while serving in the Free Marches and in Amaranthine amongst the Grey Wardens. He vastly preferred camping out here in his tent rather than inside the station. He was not used to being surrounded by so much metal, and the noise could be overwhelming at times.
He was having a hard time accepting everything that had happened since he’d been whisked away from Kirkwall and deposited here, and he was having great difficulty taking it all in and accepting that this was real. But as vivid as the Fade could be, he knew instinctively that he was not sleeping. All of this, for better or worse, was really happening, and he’d best get used to it.
The hardest part was feeling useless. He was used to having a purpose, to doing something, contributing in some way. But he’d not been here long enough to figure out what his place here would be. So for the moment he’s idle, and he hates being idle.
He’d avoided The Bucket so far, as he was not really one to drink. But he’d been keeping mostly to himself since arriving, and he felt a need to be around other people. So he pushed open the door to the bar, trying to prepare himself for what he might find inside.