[ Just in case she was starting to feel that his conviction's a one-way road.
And he leaves the conversation at that, for the moment. He settles into work without being asked; as she's already observed, he's ready for it, both by training and abundance of physical endurance. Godfrey shoulders the work himself of gathering wood, preparing their fire, and pitching both tents, with not a word of complaint and all of the precision of a soldier out of training. He asks her for nothing - not because of any fear or lacking trust, but simply because of the stark differences in their physicalities. Godfrey is strong, and taller, and hardly winded by the road they've walked - not so for her.
Besides... whatever she's doing has some import, maybe.
He isn't sure. He knows little about this worship; they're a secretive group. Godfrey has tried always to bear in mind his own lack of knowledge whilst dealing with Samarie, but-- well, it would be a lie to say that he has not felt himself hold his breath a little in her presence, and he swore an Oath.
For the time being, Godfrey - free of his heavy plate - squats by the fire. He cuts carrots from his pack into a hot iron pot, currently perched over the flame, driving the blade through the root and against his thumb.
Godfrey doesn't disturb her - but he watches her, as he might any idle curiosity. ]
no subject
[ Just in case she was starting to feel that his conviction's a one-way road.
And he leaves the conversation at that, for the moment. He settles into work without being asked; as she's already observed, he's ready for it, both by training and abundance of physical endurance. Godfrey shoulders the work himself of gathering wood, preparing their fire, and pitching both tents, with not a word of complaint and all of the precision of a soldier out of training. He asks her for nothing - not because of any fear or lacking trust, but simply because of the stark differences in their physicalities. Godfrey is strong, and taller, and hardly winded by the road they've walked - not so for her.
Besides... whatever she's doing has some import, maybe.
He isn't sure. He knows little about this worship; they're a secretive group. Godfrey has tried always to bear in mind his own lack of knowledge whilst dealing with Samarie, but-- well, it would be a lie to say that he has not felt himself hold his breath a little in her presence, and he swore an Oath.
For the time being, Godfrey - free of his heavy plate - squats by the fire. He cuts carrots from his pack into a hot iron pot, currently perched over the flame, driving the blade through the root and against his thumb.
Godfrey doesn't disturb her - but he watches her, as he might any idle curiosity. ]