He listened and learned, and some of the gentle amusement left his eyes at Flora's quiet explanation. "Thank you," he rumbled, low and thoughtful as he studied her expression and drew, perhaps, some conclusions of his own. But he released her when she was ready, and when she spoke again he understood the desire for a little space. Some words were more easily spoken if one could see the person they were meant for, and Hadama's expression softened to hear her gratitude.
"You have been there for me." He found his own smile tugging at the corners of his mouth as he let his hands rest at his sides. "When I have needed a friend. It is a point of..." He paused, seeking the right word before settling on "...joy," with a warming of his smile. "And pride. To return the favor." Yes, even when he was angry. Perhaps especially then.
But beyond their bond of friendship was their connection as rulers, and he sensed the shift in the wind as she turned away. His warmth remained in his eyes but his smile faded to solemnity as she spoke. He nodded slowly, turning the question over as his own eyes looked up to the top of the lighthouse beside them.
And then out across the ocean to the violet streaks marring the stars on the horizon.
"The tax," he answered, and this time his words were firm as he considered their foe. And their future. "Before, you asked us to plan for the worst scenario. To not pin everything on our battles." And he and Deimos had gone off to fight, leaving Flora alone to make a deal with the Reaper. He drew in a deep breath of salt-laden evening air, clean and cooling from the day's heat, if humid. "You were right." He slanted a glance at her, a flicker of fond amusement in his eyes in spite of the seriousness with which he spoke, though it vanished just as quickly as it had appeared. "The Wyrm remains. The battles grow more difficult with every level we descend. Our warriors grow weary. So. We plan for the worst."
His eyes returned to the distant island, expression going from merely solemn to grim, his voice growing soft enough to barely be heard above the quiet hush of the waves lapping the shore. "Something of the Void nearly destroyed Safrin. And we know that something with the power of a god is growing within that place. Perhaps they are not the same. But if they are..." He grew quiet for a short time before reluctantly putting his fears into words. "It will take more power than She has to protect Torchline from it. I would have us be ready to make the offerings to Vi if what sleeps beneath that island is beyond our power to end before it wakes."
"You have been there for me." He found his own smile tugging at the corners of his mouth as he let his hands rest at his sides. "When I have needed a friend. It is a point of..." He paused, seeking the right word before settling on "...joy," with a warming of his smile. "And pride. To return the favor." Yes, even when he was angry. Perhaps especially then.
But beyond their bond of friendship was their connection as rulers, and he sensed the shift in the wind as she turned away. His warmth remained in his eyes but his smile faded to solemnity as she spoke. He nodded slowly, turning the question over as his own eyes looked up to the top of the lighthouse beside them.
And then out across the ocean to the violet streaks marring the stars on the horizon.
"The tax," he answered, and this time his words were firm as he considered their foe. And their future. "Before, you asked us to plan for the worst scenario. To not pin everything on our battles." And he and Deimos had gone off to fight, leaving Flora alone to make a deal with the Reaper. He drew in a deep breath of salt-laden evening air, clean and cooling from the day's heat, if humid. "You were right." He slanted a glance at her, a flicker of fond amusement in his eyes in spite of the seriousness with which he spoke, though it vanished just as quickly as it had appeared. "The Wyrm remains. The battles grow more difficult with every level we descend. Our warriors grow weary. So. We plan for the worst."
His eyes returned to the distant island, expression going from merely solemn to grim, his voice growing soft enough to barely be heard above the quiet hush of the waves lapping the shore. "Something of the Void nearly destroyed Safrin. And we know that something with the power of a god is growing within that place. Perhaps they are not the same. But if they are..." He grew quiet for a short time before reluctantly putting his fears into words. "It will take more power than She has to protect Torchline from it. I would have us be ready to make the offerings to Vi if what sleeps beneath that island is beyond our power to end before it wakes."
