He forced himself to relax, letting his shoulders slump slightly, and put on a mask of weary, philosophical vulnerability.
"Well," he began, his voice dropping to a low, contemplative murmur, letting his shoulders slump even further as if the weight of his existence was too heavy to bear. "After getting injured and almost dying... seeing the darkness... it changes a man, Veyra."
He looked into the crackling fire, his eyes distant and misty, as if seeing something far beyond the mud walls of the hut.
"I realized that life is fragile. Like a leaf in the wind. One moment you're here, the next you're some beast's poop. I realized I've been a burden. I realized that the flavor of a boiled root is the flavor of sadness, and I don't want to die sad. I want to live.
He took a deep breath, channeling every ounce of drama he had ever seen in movies.
