[Loneliness and lighthouses somehow seem to go hand in hand, and it's easy for Martin to get drawn in by the desire to investigate, to help, and to re-ignite the lamp he's sure lies at the top of the stairs.
Cautiously, he pushes the door that stands ajar a little further open, and he recoils at the scent of floral scented vileblood that brings a wave of dizziness with it. With a soft noise of disgust, he brings his arm up to cover his mouth and nose with the sleeve of his robe.
The voice that calls out draws him in to investigate further, and it hits as a surprise when he comes across the man.
Of course Martin is going to try to help him. He can't not at least try to be of some assistance.]
Oh, god. This isn't all yours is it? No, of course not. It can't be. Are you hurt? How bad is it?
Lighthouse
Cautiously, he pushes the door that stands ajar a little further open, and he recoils at the scent of floral scented vileblood that brings a wave of dizziness with it. With a soft noise of disgust, he brings his arm up to cover his mouth and nose with the sleeve of his robe.
The voice that calls out draws him in to investigate further, and it hits as a surprise when he comes across the man.
Of course Martin is going to try to help him. He can't not at least try to be of some assistance.]
Oh, god. This isn't all yours is it? No, of course not. It can't be. Are you hurt? How bad is it?