RONIN
the darkstar
light is easy to love.
"I'll have you know that we dragons prefer to tumble elegantly down stairs, but I suppose you could still describe it as using them." Making the joke before anyone else can, Ronin is at least able to laugh at himself, and he straightens up from the nimbus to take a few steps around on the massive, stage-like centre of the amphitheatre, his coffee still in hand.
"That would make a lot of sense, actually. I could see the heralds coming here to amuse themselves, or the demigods and their loved ones being unvited for a night of entertainment." Especially in the days of old. For his part, Ronin is doing his best not to imagine the faces of the Court they'd battled; very easily, he can see them sitting in those seats.
Remi's question is both a balm in the form of a distraction and something the Nova isn't sure how to take, Ronin pausing in his walking tour of the stage. "Does needing them ever stop the gods from creating them?" he counters. "In terms of preparing for war or conflict, no, I suppose not. But for the gods' own agendas? Almost definitely."
"That would make a lot of sense, actually. I could see the heralds coming here to amuse themselves, or the demigods and their loved ones being unvited for a night of entertainment." Especially in the days of old. For his part, Ronin is doing his best not to imagine the faces of the Court they'd battled; very easily, he can see them sitting in those seats.
Remi's question is both a balm in the form of a distraction and something the Nova isn't sure how to take, Ronin pausing in his walking tour of the stage. "Does needing them ever stop the gods from creating them?" he counters. "In terms of preparing for war or conflict, no, I suppose not. But for the gods' own agendas? Almost definitely."
show me your darkness.
