That was the big question, wasn’t it? What, in Rosestein Stone’s life, could be better?
Clearly, she couldn’t ask Aspel to kill her mother. Not that the old sow deserved such a gracious punishment—or perhaps, just perhaps, Stone didn’t hate her mother that ardently. At the least, she offers to help Audren with things, just… rarely, if ever, seems to follow through with any promises.
Okay, not the best subject to bring up at the moment, as Stone felt her brow furrow. Hands still on her knees, she stood; the youth crossed her arms, and mulled over the question in her mind, before letting her eyes rest at the blacksmith’s.
“…I don’t know,” she finally admitted. “I don’t really know what I want out of this stupid world. Here I am, doing work, living for my baby brother, and that’s it. If I cared about my health beyond being able to go out and do stuff for Audren, I’d probably wonder if worrying so much would make me sick.”
And that’s when she sat back down on the stool, huffing a little. ‘Wonderful, a sappy batch of word-vomit,’ Stone admonished herself.