There had been a time when his every trip to Stormbreak has begun and ended at the Eye of the Storm, between the hours of moonrise and moonset on the night of the full moon. It had been a year and a half since he had moved under such limitations. An eternity. A blink of an eye.
And now, for the first time since legs had become a regular way of life for him, he had returned.
Hadama ducked beneath the leaves at the grotto's entrance, though he could not avoid their touch entirely as he paced slowly along the path. His eyes traveled the shadows, noting what had stayed the same since Sohalia had been deposed as the Heart. Noting, too, what had changed, whether for better or worse.
Or more violet.
He was not expecting there to be another in the waters when he reached them. A stranger, but there was something familiar in the cast of his eyes. The curl of his hair. Enough that the Tidebreaker remained outwardly relaxed as he began to disrobe, removing his wrap top to reveal a heavily muscled torso crossed with scars that had been tattooed over in gold across his brown skin. Each scar a lesson in survival, stitching together a man with long hair that looked grey in the twilight and eyes the green of true emeralds. "Pardon my intrusion," he murmured, his voice the deep, low rumble of distant summer thunder.
And as he slipped into the water there was a moment of hesitation. A ripple of tension through his body as his legs sank beneath the heated surface. A flicker of shadows over his skin, swiftly obscured by steam as he settled into the much-needed springs and let the warmth begin to soak into his muscles.
And now, for the first time since legs had become a regular way of life for him, he had returned.
Hadama ducked beneath the leaves at the grotto's entrance, though he could not avoid their touch entirely as he paced slowly along the path. His eyes traveled the shadows, noting what had stayed the same since Sohalia had been deposed as the Heart. Noting, too, what had changed, whether for better or worse.
Or more violet.
He was not expecting there to be another in the waters when he reached them. A stranger, but there was something familiar in the cast of his eyes. The curl of his hair. Enough that the Tidebreaker remained outwardly relaxed as he began to disrobe, removing his wrap top to reveal a heavily muscled torso crossed with scars that had been tattooed over in gold across his brown skin. Each scar a lesson in survival, stitching together a man with long hair that looked grey in the twilight and eyes the green of true emeralds. "Pardon my intrusion," he murmured, his voice the deep, low rumble of distant summer thunder.
And as he slipped into the water there was a moment of hesitation. A ripple of tension through his body as his legs sank beneath the heated surface. A flicker of shadows over his skin, swiftly obscured by steam as he settled into the much-needed springs and let the warmth begin to soak into his muscles.
