tell me Atlas what is heavier?
the world or its peoples hearts?
the world or its peoples hearts?
He hadn’t arrived until after the barrier had already fallen, but the sentiment isn’t one far from mental reach. It’s not the first time he has seen this behavior unfold, like a tapestry doomed to repeat itself, threads woven in different colors but alway, always the same pattern. “Those who haven’t seen war before are doomed to try and hide from any notion of it. The experienced see the ripples long before the waves - but they will become experienced enough in eight seasons or less, hm?” And Harper doubts this will be the only war in Caido. Perhaps The Voice is defeated - but there are still many lands, resources, races. In their lifetime perhaps they’d only see the one, but wherever humans existed, so too did war. Harper was all too aware of that particular curse.
There’s a sharpness normally concealed and blunted that she has revealed by pulling away the cloth that hides the blade, and it shines in his smirk. “So you come back, only to be a ghost with no Ludo to guide you. What was the point then? You have lost everything once and only now are too afraid to stir the waters?” Needles and barbs that seek to hook into flesh that cannot feel. His eyes fall to where her pale fingers fiddle with his shirt, and the man gives some mix of a scoff and a laugh. “I never took you for the cowardly type, but what would I know about the effects of returning from the dead?” As a pawn no less. Maybe this wasn’t the Maea he knew at all - gutted and replaced with machinery that could never emulate the spirit he’d once seen in her.
There’s a sharpness normally concealed and blunted that she has revealed by pulling away the cloth that hides the blade, and it shines in his smirk. “So you come back, only to be a ghost with no Ludo to guide you. What was the point then? You have lost everything once and only now are too afraid to stir the waters?” Needles and barbs that seek to hook into flesh that cannot feel. His eyes fall to where her pale fingers fiddle with his shirt, and the man gives some mix of a scoff and a laugh. “I never took you for the cowardly type, but what would I know about the effects of returning from the dead?” As a pawn no less. Maybe this wasn’t the Maea he knew at all - gutted and replaced with machinery that could never emulate the spirit he’d once seen in her.
Harper
