who we are and all that we're trying to be
The Sword, determined in his own factions and faculties, didn’t expect the sudden questions. He turned his head over his shoulder, half-distracted from returning the water into its former prowess, brow arching, segmenting, over the details that might have contorted and caused the inquisition. Maybe with the war brewing over the horizon, with its insurmountable wake, the other Abandoned had simply presumed he’d need to find and segment a place for himself. That was part of the problem too – most of the time, the gods didn’t adhere to the incantations in their blood. Too much vitriol from the Voice; from a being who’d had the grace and power, and then sullied it.
“I have met Safrin many times, Ludo several, and nature-Frey infrequently.” Truth and acknowledgment of his luck; though it hadn’t always been that way. Through trials, circumstances, and determination in the stokings of too many things he had to do, had to achieve, for his loved ones; otherwise, he might’ve been much like the others, and ignored them entirely. His eyes went downward for a moment, inspecting the snow and rime, pondering how he’d left it. “My loyalty is to Safrin – who, despite my magical abilities, has still patiently listened, advised, and guided me.” And he certainly hadn’t made it easy for the herald. “Your question is one I have asked myself many times.” Because he had Kiada, and several others, within the realm of the Ascended: friends, family, bonded armaments and filaments he didn’t want to lose. “I have no problem with the Ascended. It is the Voice that has earned my ire.”
It takes dying to know
How to live as ghosts
