He laughed in response to her reasoning. He imagined the look on men's faces, the color draining from behind their eyes and down their cheeks, as Weaver pulls her scythe from some seemingly small pocket. He could imagine it to bring terror to even the strongest of men. He had witnessed before her wrath to drunken hunters who tried to place their hands in certain places without permission, to grab without forethought. Weaver would wipe away any impolite thought from them for the rest of their lives with the way she swung her weapon. He did not know a lot about the world outside of Halo, but the fear Weaver could strike into the hearts of men did not stay contained in the frozen part of the world.
"I've been thinking about visiting a shrine." His statement is simple. He shrugged the pack and the luxere to shift on his back, easing the weight more between his shoulder blades. "I don't know if they'll take kindly to me. I could have been praying my whole life. They gifted me with being attuned, and I have left them to dust in my life." Truly, Noah might have prayed more if his parents had been more in tune with the workings of the gods. His mother, like Weaver, was an abandoned one -- though she was a healer and used her magic for the service of the citizens of the Citadel. His father was just a man, accepted, who encouraged his sons to attune to help them survive in the world. After their deaths, Noah hardly had a mind to turn to religion for aid in survival. "Korbin has been having trouble with the shrines lately. I'm sure that is what would become of me, too." noah olson |
