Board Thread:Roleplaying/@comment-5543592-20150828011841/@comment-6006054-20150828024453

Kjalek thought absent mindedly about what exactly his home had been. He had one for five wonderful years, a good building that he had built with his own hands. But it had just been a place, one he had never had the heart to return to after it had been burned. He hoped someone had tended the graves. He decided that he never really quite had a home, nowhere he felt the need to protect and die for. There were people for whom he would have done that for and more, but people couldn't be homes, could they? He reached a consensus with himself that he didn't have one.