// we stood, steady as the stars in the woods, so happy-hearted
and the warmth rang true inside these bones, as the old pine fell we sang //
and the warmth rang true inside these bones, as the old pine fell we sang //
They’d remained close to home, after the whole… Everything. That and with the Infirmary and everything that happened from that, well, they didn’t want to test their luck in a space that certainly didn’t have the protections that the Grounds offered for them. They were becoming more and more aware of how people felt outside of the little bubble they’d grown up in and while it had taken some getting used to, it only proved to Azrael that they wanted to make the Grounds something of beauty, something of power, of home for themselves if they weren’t welcome anywhere else.
So, many of their days are spent working in the Ruins, clearing out a lot of the debris that had accumulated over the centuries there, and hiding away in a random house when the sun rose so they might be able to recharge. They get the letter from their father, and once they’ve finished the task they’d worked on that day, they head for the Artist’s Sanctuary, never one to keep their father worried. They don’t even have time to open the door themself, because the door opens as soon as they step on the porch, and Bastien is there with a wide grin spread across his face.
“Hi Papa.” They announce with a bubble of laughter that leaves them as they’re lifted in their father’s arms. Their own arms wrap around him in turn, nestling in close to their father, before they pull away. “I’m alright. I’ve been working in the Ruins.” They say quite proudly, letting the sensation flicker through their face as if it might ooze their pride. “What did you want to talk about?”
So, many of their days are spent working in the Ruins, clearing out a lot of the debris that had accumulated over the centuries there, and hiding away in a random house when the sun rose so they might be able to recharge. They get the letter from their father, and once they’ve finished the task they’d worked on that day, they head for the Artist’s Sanctuary, never one to keep their father worried. They don’t even have time to open the door themself, because the door opens as soon as they step on the porch, and Bastien is there with a wide grin spread across his face.
“Hi Papa.” They announce with a bubble of laughter that leaves them as they’re lifted in their father’s arms. Their own arms wrap around him in turn, nestling in close to their father, before they pull away. “I’m alright. I’ve been working in the Ruins.” They say quite proudly, letting the sensation flicker through their face as if it might ooze their pride. “What did you want to talk about?”
Azrael
