in tenebris est veritas.
“The world is not for comfort. At least, the gods and their hypocrisy are not. It is as you said-- one must be wary, not content. We may be at the whims of fickle powers, but I will not compromise myself for them.” Their gaze has wandered toward the pouring falls once more, perhaps unable to speak those words directly to the scrutinizing eyes of the Ascended nearby. They reflect on the Roar’s primal power for a passing moment, which is just as indifferent, just as fickle, and occasionally just as fatal as a god’s. Then their attention drops briefly to their own hands and the potential for power they hold. “Perhaps mine will be a short life, but it will not be a supplicating one.”
They do not keep their prudent eyes from Amun for long, looking at him now as if in a different light. “Poor saps,” they echo his old words, their tone finding the pitch of curiosity rather than pity. “What are you, then, that you would envy the power given to the Abandoned? That you would call us blessed?”
They do not keep their prudent eyes from Amun for long, looking at him now as if in a different light. “Poor saps,” they echo his old words, their tone finding the pitch of curiosity rather than pity. “What are you, then, that you would envy the power given to the Abandoned? That you would call us blessed?”
