It's too much to bear my darlin', the weight of the world
And I would carry it for you
The sky over Stormbreak was overcast when Noah arrived via his compass. The clouds were a flat, bruised grey and pressed low over the tower. Rain threatened, with distant rumbling thunder, but had not yet begun to fall. The city stood quiet beneath it—watchful.
Wounded.
Or healing?
He waited without fanfare, cloaked carefully in invisibility thanks to Deimos. The rose lay wrapped in linen, nestled in a pouch across his chest, its heat barely muted. It hadn’t withered. He waited for Zavien at the base of the steps. When he finally appeared, Noah lowered his hood and revealed himself from beneath the invisibility cloak.
The Dragoon looked tired but steadier than the last time they’d spoken, and as their eyes met, Noah gave a small nod. ”Ready?” The Forsaken asked, looking then around at residue of the Void—still, and wrong. The kind of stillness that came after too much silence.
Wounded.
Or healing?
He waited without fanfare, cloaked carefully in invisibility thanks to Deimos. The rose lay wrapped in linen, nestled in a pouch across his chest, its heat barely muted. It hadn’t withered. He waited for Zavien at the base of the steps. When he finally appeared, Noah lowered his hood and revealed himself from beneath the invisibility cloak.
The Dragoon looked tired but steadier than the last time they’d spoken, and as their eyes met, Noah gave a small nod. ”Ready?” The Forsaken asked, looking then around at residue of the Void—still, and wrong. The kind of stillness that came after too much silence.
