[ Who Ithaqua approaches is a young boy in his mid-teens, who stares at the foreign wizards both in awe and in trepidation. He almost jumps when Ithaqua speaks to him—it's almost as though he can feel Ithaqua's Northern affinity—but his eyes widen and snap up to his mask when he mentions his mother. ]
...My mother was a witch, too. A famed and powerful one.
[ His speech is polite, but his voice firm with conviction. He wraps his hands gently around the staff and hugs it to his chest. ]
I'll take good care of this. I'll place it somewhere befitting your mother.
no subject
[ Who Ithaqua approaches is a young boy in his mid-teens, who stares at the foreign wizards both in awe and in trepidation. He almost jumps when Ithaqua speaks to him—it's almost as though he can feel Ithaqua's Northern affinity—but his eyes widen and snap up to his mask when he mentions his mother. ]
...My mother was a witch, too. A famed and powerful one.
[ His speech is polite, but his voice firm with conviction. He wraps his hands gently around the staff and hugs it to his chest. ]
I'll take good care of this. I'll place it somewhere befitting your mother.