Absalom sat in the clean house the Myconoids provided their rag-tag group of would-be heroes. It had been an exhausting few days, he reflected, as he finished drying off his journal. But where to begin? Patting his pockets for a quill and ink, Absalom found himself to be out of luck. Of course, that's what he got for going swimming. To be fair, he was surprised he even had pockets after all the beatings he'd been taking. Grumbling to himself, he activated a prestidigitation spell to sew a few threads together. Clarissa wouldn't have approved, but she wasn't around to get after him now, was she?
Opening his journal, Absalom begins to write. On the idea of faith, his discussion with Salie, the use of faith as a power source. Goodness, to believe that the gods themselves could be struck down would label him a madman across the continent, should he ever publish his work. Still, Absalom mused as he wrote, it's not as though he was looking to see a printer anytime soon. But then, he may find someone interested in his writing.
Sitting back, eyes hurting from squinting, Absalom cleans his spectacles before placing them on his nose. Marking his place, he closes his book and moves to a window. Admittedly, this requires moving a chair as well, but the view was worth it.
It was strange, Absalom thought. He had visited this cavern before, but he must not have sought further exploration into its depths. He'd always preferred to travel in the fresh air anyways, but still, the Myconoid village was fascinating. Amidst the luminescence, Absalom could almost ignore the sights he had been seeing since that fateful night 3 years ago. His chest still hurt sometimes, despite the lack of scar. Would they be able to solve this mystery, and find the womb-like cave? Somewhere out there, something was growing, and preparing to enter the world. Would they be strong enough? Would they care enough to stop it?
Shaking his head, Absalom was amazed at himself. Chuckling, he considered that never before being rescued by those he now called friends, did he consider himself to have companions before. Life was lonely, and sometimes it was awful. He'd accepted that. But maybe it didn't have to be. Maybe, Absalom thought, returning to his journal…maybe there was something to Magnus and his dry, stubborn optimism. Whatever the case would be, Absalom had already admitted to himself that he was willing to die alongside his companions. Now, to ensure that that would never happen…