Writers...
If you want to know more about me... go down to your local book merchant. Samuel tells me I'm famous. Do you know what writers do where I come from? Starve. Accidently fall onto someone's dagger or run through a bullet. I'd leave, quickly, if I were you. I don't want to kill anyone, but you can thank Sam Kent if you wake up with a severed limb problem. He has a way of making people around me die. That's if they are lucky. Sometimes, he makes them come back, and that's even worse. And if you think he'll show any kind of mercy on you because you are like him with your pen and paper and soft hands, think again. Just ask him what he did to my son. When I buried Ruston, I was happy. Do you have that word in your world? Happy, it means I hit my knees and thanked my god, because my son died on his first birthday and didn't have to live under the rule of Sam Kent.
Does that say enough about me? I'm empty. I'm a puppet. That's who Reagan DuSaint is.
Where were you born? Do you still live there? If not, do you miss it?
I'm not a woman.
I don't remember my birthplace. I began my life at the age you see me today. I do not have any way of counting the years I've lived. I'm not an old man, but I am not a young one either. Grey has only started to creep into my hair.
After I went over there to Sam's world, he brought Sarah back from the dead. Things were good for a while. We had a son, that was Sam's twisted gift to our little family. Ruston Delaney DuSaint. On his first birthday, we watched him die -- very violently.
The only way Sam Kent does not have control over my world is when we are in the same world. That day will come. I don't plan for anything more than justice.
This Sam Kent, in some measure, is much like Usia, though we submit to her will willingly. Nevertheless, have you considered that Sam Kent might be leading you to your true destiny? It is only through suffering that we grow stronger.
Unfortunately. You ask the wrong man. Great nobility is reserved for great men, and I am not a great man. I once believed myself to be, but when I discovered that Sam wrote me to be the man I was, and set me after his own warped destiny, I'm afraid I lost faith in everything and a man who has no faith can not answer your second question.
The only thing I still believe in is my weapon of choice. My derringers. I was created as a weapon, though, and I don't need iron.