i think it's time that you call back home, son. fire's been scorching,
There were so many things that happened in such a short amount of time, rocking his world and everything he’d ever known. First, the strike against the Palace, falling rubble crashing into the fireplace of his home while he was more than blissfully unaware, catching fire and destroying everything that remained. Then there were his parents, stuck between some of the destruction, dying together yet alone, among it.
It left only him now. And with Weaver as Warden he had simply assumed things would get better, go back to whatever normalcy there was, before he’d heard the news of her too.
And now there was nothing but grief and rage, of moving his things into the workshop because that's the only thing of his that remained. He almost misses his parents telling him what he should do and how he should act, when the nights get cold and dark. Now? Now there’s nothing left for him other than the dark shadow that passes over him, that keeps him quiet and sullen, exhausted and forgetting to eat, attempting his best to keep his thoughts in line.
And now it’s him, alone, standing on the outskirts of the crowd, listening to the speeches but not really all there, listening to the rebuttal from someone he’s never seen before but assumes must be Ascended for how she speaks on it. But between them all, Morgan had been the one his family dealt with a decent amount. Loren had wished to make him feel better, had attempted to do so in the short time he’d crossed the Grand Healer. He doesn’t really care what she has to say. So he focuses on what those wishing to be Warden had to say instead.
But unlike before, the young crafter might have looked toward and followed his parents choices for him, for their lives. Now there was nothing left for that either. So his hands tighten in his pockets of his jacket, tired and hollow green eyes shifting between Loren and Morgan.
It left only him now. And with Weaver as Warden he had simply assumed things would get better, go back to whatever normalcy there was, before he’d heard the news of her too.
And now there was nothing but grief and rage, of moving his things into the workshop because that's the only thing of his that remained. He almost misses his parents telling him what he should do and how he should act, when the nights get cold and dark. Now? Now there’s nothing left for him other than the dark shadow that passes over him, that keeps him quiet and sullen, exhausted and forgetting to eat, attempting his best to keep his thoughts in line.
And now it’s him, alone, standing on the outskirts of the crowd, listening to the speeches but not really all there, listening to the rebuttal from someone he’s never seen before but assumes must be Ascended for how she speaks on it. But between them all, Morgan had been the one his family dealt with a decent amount. Loren had wished to make him feel better, had attempted to do so in the short time he’d crossed the Grand Healer. He doesn’t really care what she has to say. So he focuses on what those wishing to be Warden had to say instead.
But unlike before, the young crafter might have looked toward and followed his parents choices for him, for their lives. Now there was nothing left for that either. So his hands tighten in his pockets of his jacket, tired and hollow green eyes shifting between Loren and Morgan.
you've been scorned and you look abused
GLAS
