Aamu
Usually he considers it one of the greatest losses of Ascension, but in the Feverlands he considers it a blessing. He can breathe in (or not breathe at all) the thick and humid air without the overpowering smell of death and decay, the rotten and fetid stench of things dying and breaking down in pools of murky water.
It's not like Aamu likes the marshlands, but they are a part of his past, his childhood, his youth, a path traversed many, many times until he was no longer welcome in Stormbreak.
It usually doesn't hurt (a dull ache).
But tonight, it is piercing.
That's why he's out here, honestly, seeing if he can find the way through the Feverlands again, close enough to see the tall cliffs and the distant crown of the city up on high. It's one of the few things that might be the same. Some comfort. (No. He can't get close anyway.)
The swamp is a curse and a blessing, a lonesome place where he is spared the fickle whims of his affliction. Aamu is blissful in his loneliness, a long feeling rod in one hand as he skips from tussock to tussock, trying not to disturb the murky waters.
It's not like Aamu likes the marshlands, but they are a part of his past, his childhood, his youth, a path traversed many, many times until he was no longer welcome in Stormbreak.
It usually doesn't hurt (a dull ache).
But tonight, it is piercing.
That's why he's out here, honestly, seeing if he can find the way through the Feverlands again, close enough to see the tall cliffs and the distant crown of the city up on high. It's one of the few things that might be the same. Some comfort. (No. He can't get close anyway.)
The swamp is a curse and a blessing, a lonesome place where he is spared the fickle whims of his affliction. Aamu is blissful in his loneliness, a long feeling rod in one hand as he skips from tussock to tussock, trying not to disturb the murky waters.
This is how it works, You're young until you're not
You love until you don't, You try until you can't
You love until you don't, You try until you can't
