Board Thread:Roleplaying/@comment-17114085-20150912153321/@comment-5543592-20150915014653

Pierre groaned quietly to himself, pretty much racked with guilt, and conflicted beyond measure. And it was not like the conflict had a simple answer. He had no idea what to do.

He reached up to touch the Kate's face, hesitated, and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. The camp had grown quiet now, the fire dead, and Pierre sighed. He'd come to an idea of what to do.

Pierre wasn't large, but he wasn't small either. In fact, he worked at being notice, which contributed to strengthening his body. He just hoped the hard muscles of his chest wouldn't be distinguished from the firm ash of the ground beneath the bed roll. He steadily shifted sideways, gradually easily himself out from underneath Kate, wincing whenver she made a sound or movement, and when he finally freed himself, he landed with a some thud in the ash. He quietly pulled on his clothes, was careful not to let his armor clank, and then strapped on his sword.

He glanced down at Kate.

"I'm sorry." He muttered, crouching, and planting a light kiss on her forehead. "But I still haven't figure out just who Pierre is yet.  I doubt you'll have much luck."

His boots left silent prints in the ash behind him as he retraced his path back to Skyrim.

The whie rose rested in the bed roll beside Kate's head.