Leaving the elven tomb, Gaebriel dropped behind the group. With his mind weighed down by heavy thoughts, his body slowed accordingly. The others, especially Orra, made sure never to outpace the distracted invoker too far but they gave him his space. The Deva’s muttering and fidgeting betrayed his calm avoidance in the tomb.
”...red?” Gaebriel muttered, the last word caught by Charley’s ears. The bard saw Gaebriel rub his eyes and then his newly shorn head before pulling the hood of his robe up, concealing his face.
”...same but different…unbound…” He spit the last, rambling nonsensically as far as Hack could tell. The avenger wasn’t one to worry overly much about philosophy and the abstract.
”...abandoned?” The end of the question came from the invoker’s unsure lips, heard by Orra, causing a frown on the dragonborn’s face. His friend was usually calm and sure, this uncertainty was…strange.
”...that power needed no longer… I am truly free.” The words were spoken hesitantly and with wonder. Rosey, the slyest of the group, heard the most and his keen eyes saw a small smile on Gaebriel’s lips.
Nothing intelligible was heard from the invoker for the remainder of the trek, just nearly inaudible mutterings. He trudged along, head down, walking with the new staff as if he had used it on a thousand journeys while also occasionally holding it far from his body as if it were completely foreign. Whatever he pondered was obviously consuming him.