Marcus
The quiet places remember
Finally he saw it. The Citadel, carved against pale winter sky, a promise of safety and an end to this trek, rising out of Snowcloak. The sight eased something deep in him, loosened the coil that had wound tighter with every mile. They were close. Close enough to believe none of this would fall apart at the last moment. He heard the call about memory mud, and sighed.
“Right,” Marcus murmured, clearing his throat. He guided his gelding toward the spot Deimos had indicated, helping coax the still-mobile luxere into a tighter cluster away from the hazard. “Easy, easy, now, keep with me,” he hummed, slipping into the familiar cadence of song to soothe their skittish edges.
Marcus helps keep the luxere calm and in formation!
“Right,” Marcus murmured, clearing his throat. He guided his gelding toward the spot Deimos had indicated, helping coax the still-mobile luxere into a tighter cluster away from the hazard. “Easy, easy, now, keep with me,” he hummed, slipping into the familiar cadence of song to soothe their skittish edges.
Marcus helps keep the luxere calm and in formation!
