And hung from the rafters
The stratagem swings
When Morgan needed time to consider a new development, she could never do so within the confines of the Citadel, with it's shouting markets and echoing palace; not when there was a chance for one of her lessers to interrupt her with some nothing about schedules. Even worse, Neron could ask her to do something important and she'd have to do it - as much as it was an honour to serve the man, she needed to escape and think on this herself.
She was thinking of course, of the new portal to Torchline. Access achieved through the work of the 'Ascended' (ironic name, she thought. Ascended to what? Lifeless things?), which inherently made her wary of it, but access nonetheless. A new area made accessible meant new people to work out, new threats to assess, and she'd hardly had time to do so for the Hollowed Grounds or the Greatwood.
(Though, as far as she's been able to tell, there isn't much to worry about in either of them. She doesn't like to be too cocky, but she's sure Halo would win in an all out war if it had to come to that. Their opponents are organised like a teenagers bedroom.)
So where to go, with so much on her mind? Only one place for it: The Fangs, her real home, as she often considered it. The only thing that made her regularly want to return to the Citadel other than duty was her wife, who could not be convinced to live out on the snowy stone, yet gracefully rolled her eyes and allowed Morgan to spend a ridiculous amount of time sat out in the mountains staring over the expanse.
This was why she'd been so successful, after all. She didn't just act. Sitting on a ledge precariously close to the edge of a large drop she crossed her legs and put her hands on her knees, occasionally lifting a stone nearby with her mind - something she'd been trying to work on - as she focused and began to formulate her plan, the cloak around her body keeping her from frostbite.
She was thinking of course, of the new portal to Torchline. Access achieved through the work of the 'Ascended' (ironic name, she thought. Ascended to what? Lifeless things?), which inherently made her wary of it, but access nonetheless. A new area made accessible meant new people to work out, new threats to assess, and she'd hardly had time to do so for the Hollowed Grounds or the Greatwood.
(Though, as far as she's been able to tell, there isn't much to worry about in either of them. She doesn't like to be too cocky, but she's sure Halo would win in an all out war if it had to come to that. Their opponents are organised like a teenagers bedroom.)
So where to go, with so much on her mind? Only one place for it: The Fangs, her real home, as she often considered it. The only thing that made her regularly want to return to the Citadel other than duty was her wife, who could not be convinced to live out on the snowy stone, yet gracefully rolled her eyes and allowed Morgan to spend a ridiculous amount of time sat out in the mountains staring over the expanse.
This was why she'd been so successful, after all. She didn't just act. Sitting on a ledge precariously close to the edge of a large drop she crossed her legs and put her hands on her knees, occasionally lifting a stone nearby with her mind - something she'd been trying to work on - as she focused and began to formulate her plan, the cloak around her body keeping her from frostbite.
Born from the ashes
Of counterfeit kings
MORGAN
Base Code by Sky!
