Weaver
Time is the substance from which I am made.
Time is a river which carries me along,
but I am the river;
Time is a river which carries me along,
but I am the river;
She nods as he mentions luxere in the Grounds, glad someone has confirmed that bit of information for her. She’d thought she’d heard such, but wasn’t sure if the luxere appeared in other places with snow as well. ”They do not like those who wield dark magic,” she says, flame jumping to life on her outstretched palm to make the point. She rarely catches a luxere, though on occasion she can manage to snare one in a trap. It is as if they know though, as if the scent of her magic is left behind, and they steer clear of the things she has touched and set in hopes of them. The luxere Weaver had gotten from Wessex for the simple price of a tour had been a welcome gift indeed. Funny, how they are protectors in the Grounds, but little more than food in Halo.
The fire in Weaver’s hand dies as the tower comes down, turning into a lake of fire instead. How appropriate, she thinks, for it sometimes feels as if she is walking a tightrope above a lake of fire not of her own making. The sort of fire that could burn her, that could ruin her. It feels like one more wrong step may bring everything tumbling down. At least where Korbin is concerned. Everything else though - all the rest is looking brighter than she’d ever dreamed, brighter than she still dares to hope most days. ”I know you are right,” she says with a soft sigh. ”He has never been the same since our older brother died. Since I nearly died. And I cannot blame him. He buried our brother alone, he watched me on what seemed like my deathbed. He is afraid, and I do not help in the matter. But I cannot stay still.” There is too much to live for, even if that life ends up being short.
The fire in Weaver’s hand dies as the tower comes down, turning into a lake of fire instead. How appropriate, she thinks, for it sometimes feels as if she is walking a tightrope above a lake of fire not of her own making. The sort of fire that could burn her, that could ruin her. It feels like one more wrong step may bring everything tumbling down. At least where Korbin is concerned. Everything else though - all the rest is looking brighter than she’d ever dreamed, brighter than she still dares to hope most days. ”I know you are right,” she says with a soft sigh. ”He has never been the same since our older brother died. Since I nearly died. And I cannot blame him. He buried our brother alone, he watched me on what seemed like my deathbed. He is afraid, and I do not help in the matter. But I cannot stay still.” There is too much to live for, even if that life ends up being short.
it is a tiger that devours me, but I am the tiger;
it is a fire that consumes me, but I am the fire.
it is a fire that consumes me, but I am the fire.
