I am not a scholar and I don't believe in fate
The Forsaken didn’t expect Deimos to have all the answers, nor did he need Deimos to take anything off his shoulders. He did want to strategize, to talk. Not to bury Deimos in responsibilities that weren’t his. His jaw feathered. Noah hadn’t seen Vi in quite some time. It had felt too heavy for too long, but he was beyond that now. He shook his head, indicating as such. I am, soon. He said in regards to Vi. To seeing his patron.
Then I am less concerned. It was…you know, you’ve been there. It was dangerous. Knowing she was getting a rose but not knowing what it was for just had me worried for her. He had no intentions of lording jurisdiction or control over her — that’s not who Noah was, even if others chose not to see that. Even if others chose only to believe their own narrative that they’d written of him.
He knew who he was. He was someone who cared, who wanted to help. Always had been, always would be.
He was not jaded and scarred and destroyed.
He was good.
Then I am less concerned. It was…you know, you’ve been there. It was dangerous. Knowing she was getting a rose but not knowing what it was for just had me worried for her. He had no intentions of lording jurisdiction or control over her — that’s not who Noah was, even if others chose not to see that. Even if others chose only to believe their own narrative that they’d written of him.
He knew who he was. He was someone who cared, who wanted to help. Always had been, always would be.
He was not jaded and scarred and destroyed.
He was good.
NOAH
