Board Thread:Roleplaying/@comment-7262318-20170128213721/@comment-5543592-20170129015125

"I think about my son." Markos said, tapping the table with a finger. "I try to remember the good things.  But all I can think about is the moment he died." He gave a short laugh suddenly, likely surprising Najiima, and leaned forward over the table, oddly smiling. His eyes didn't meet hers, however.

"I... replay it over and over again in my head.  Wondering what I could've done differently."

He leaned back again, pensive now, and scratched the ragged beard that had cropped up on his chin. Markos' whole appearance was unkept, from the bags under his eyes, to the dirtiness of his hair, and rags he wore that passed for clothes, the look of a man who was long past caring what anyone thought of him. "It's a curse, having known him now.  I sometimes find myself wishing he'd never been born."