my ears can hear my mouth can speak my spirit talks my soul believes
“How generous.” Their throat tightens through the attempt at sarcasm, revealing a thread of honesty in the assessment. If Chaele had heard of such mercies before, they had conveniently forgotten them. It occurs to them how little they know of the gods, old or new, and how close this task might bring them to actually interacting with one. Despite the Breath’s warmth, the Abandoned shivers.
The long antlers above their head turn toward Sunjata then, as blind as their eyes to him. Chaele does not know of his brushes with death, his shifting allegiances, his various notorieties. They know him only as one who would protect the weak and stand for his loved ones. “Yours is a better reason than fear to take refuge. Though I cannot imagine Safrin is pleased.”
It is as much a question as an observation, a prying assumption into the nuances of this great war. Unwittingly they mirror him at the water’s edge, dipping in a pair of grateful feet. The ripples cast by his wing greet those that sprout from their touch, almost like a shaking of hands.
The long antlers above their head turn toward Sunjata then, as blind as their eyes to him. Chaele does not know of his brushes with death, his shifting allegiances, his various notorieties. They know him only as one who would protect the weak and stand for his loved ones. “Yours is a better reason than fear to take refuge. Though I cannot imagine Safrin is pleased.”
It is as much a question as an observation, a prying assumption into the nuances of this great war. Unwittingly they mirror him at the water’s edge, dipping in a pair of grateful feet. The ripples cast by his wing greet those that sprout from their touch, almost like a shaking of hands.
Base code by Odd • Art by Krakenkatz
