In my brightest reverie I can see her walking next to me
I feel her breath upon my cheek, speaking gentle words to tame the beast
I feel her breath upon my cheek, speaking gentle words to tame the beast
Ah, history. Surely there is someone better at this than Anju to explain it to Sohalia as they fold and stretch the taffy methodically, but there is nobody else in the room to take the question in her stead. Anju knows the Order had existed but beyond that, their smoke-and-mirrors dealings and plans had been far beyond her (and gladly so). But at least in terms of leadership, she can supply that information.
"Before we had a true Commander, we had The Order. A government of multiple individuals headed by a man named Cian." Her tone is perfectly neutral, betraying nothing of what she'd thought of this man or the council that had once been. "Some perished in independent circumstances, but the Order was destroyed when the Ascended attacked the Tower and killed many more." Grief does not make her hands shake. They stopped doing that when she was a young woman, face bloodied and sword-arm trembling with the agony of overuse. But she still prays; for Seraphina, for Falke, for Abraham. "Ronin Taliesin - Safrin's demigod - defended the city that day. In the aftermath, he became our Commander." Something she had wholly approved of.
"However, after the war he left his post and never returned. And we have operated without a leader since." If she were not so forthright perhaps she would make it flowery, talk about his sacrifices and his well-deserved solitude with his husband, but Anju doesn't find it meaningful.
"I believe we can begin cutting it now," she instructs, and takes the stretched-out taffy in hand to set it on the island once more, handing Sohalia the same sharp rectangular blade. She demonstrates without a word; cutting a width-wise strip and then segmenting that strip into little squares.
"Before we had a true Commander, we had The Order. A government of multiple individuals headed by a man named Cian." Her tone is perfectly neutral, betraying nothing of what she'd thought of this man or the council that had once been. "Some perished in independent circumstances, but the Order was destroyed when the Ascended attacked the Tower and killed many more." Grief does not make her hands shake. They stopped doing that when she was a young woman, face bloodied and sword-arm trembling with the agony of overuse. But she still prays; for Seraphina, for Falke, for Abraham. "Ronin Taliesin - Safrin's demigod - defended the city that day. In the aftermath, he became our Commander." Something she had wholly approved of.
"However, after the war he left his post and never returned. And we have operated without a leader since." If she were not so forthright perhaps she would make it flowery, talk about his sacrifices and his well-deserved solitude with his husband, but Anju doesn't find it meaningful.
"I believe we can begin cutting it now," she instructs, and takes the stretched-out taffy in hand to set it on the island once more, handing Sohalia the same sharp rectangular blade. She demonstrates without a word; cutting a width-wise strip and then segmenting that strip into little squares.
Anju
