[SE] What ghost around, comes around

Like any great love, it keeps you guessing

Mention of the old healing springs piqued Soh's interest, and she drifted lower, surveying the land. Only rubble and ruin remained, and Soh sighed through the bond. The Family destroyed a lot, she said. It had been remnants of the Void that had destroyed Stormbreak, and Soh wasn't sure she'd ever forgive the Family for that. I'm glad you were able to rebuild. Unfortunately, her home region couldn't say the same.

Hotaru was something else entirely, and sympathy bled through the bond. I'm sorry to hear it. I hope it all ends well for her. She made a mental note to check in with Flora. Surely her best friend would know something about what had happened to her mother.

Talk shifted quickly to Stormbreak's fall when Soh had nothing more to add, and she hid her discomfort well when Koa was mentioned. Good. Thank you again for taking those who wanted to come. It had almost worked out better that those in charge of the region had ended up scattered; they'd been able to oversee their citizens as they settled into their new homes. Now it only seemed to remain where the three of them - Soh, Koa, and Zavien - would end up.

Like any real love, it's ever-changing

Sohalia

Time has stopped before us The sky cannot ignore us Used to be so we could cure the infected. As he nodded down towards the rubble again, perished; the notions of it thereafter good as gone too, because soon there had been other needs and means to an end. Ru and Sunjata had been wrangled within, and then it had been altered into nothing. He let the notions sit and rankle along his edges but go no further than a halting sigh, before he lifted upwards again, twisting back in another direction. Us too. We have a better location for it now anyhow. Something they could defend, rather than brazenly hope for amidst the Fangs. He didn’t know much more on the Valkyrie aspects; the stories all layered and lacquered within bound to be something either dramatic, horrific, or some combination thereof. Ru never did anything by halves. Of course, he admitted in the notions of taking in Stormbreak’s fleeing citizens. Have you gone back to see any of it? the Resurrected Sword No one can separate us For we are all that is left

Like any great love, it keeps you guessing

They glided above the ruins of the springs, and Soh eventually looked away to peer out across the Fangs, awed by the sheer scale of the range. Talk of the Family still made her uneasy, even after all this time, as though discussing them might summon them back from across the cosmos. Fortunately, talk shifted to other things, eventually settling on Stormbreak's remains.

The memory surfaced with a wave of sadness for all that had been lost. I went back with Zavien, after the fall, she said. Some pieces of the city survived, but they're grown over now. It's almost like Stormbreak has been gone for decades, not a matter of months. She paused, then added, The Celestine is largely untouched. Protected by divine intervention, the sanctuary had been saved through means that Soh didn't fully understand but would not complain about.

Like any real love, it's ever-changing

Sohalia

Time has stopped before us The sky cannot ignore us Stormbreak’s survival, in pieces and ruin, seemed to be apt; a remembrance for a world long since crafted to behold the gods, honored once more even as it had fallen. For the rest, he imagined they’d be beneath the swells and tides of the sea, lost to any save for those curious and venturous enough to go plunge and plunder. It is strange, how quickly some things become consumed. Gone in a flash, devoured as if they were nothing. But you still hold memories of it – so it will never be gone entirely. Not until those people had vanished and forgotten too. Maybe she’d kept maps or tomes or something else from it; ransacked and saved before it went crashing. Lowering to bank above a cluster of rock and rubble, he persisted, scouting and patrolling, eyes upon the ground, looking for any changes or alterations to his world. You could always write about it too, I suppose. That way others will not forget either. the Resurrected Sword No one can separate us For we are all that is left

Like any great love, it keeps you guessing

It was strange; that, Soh would freely admit. And while she was glad that some parts remained, albeit altered, it still ached deep in her heart, where she would always carry the floating city and all the memories she'd made there. She wondered if, someday, visiting wouldn't be quite so hard. After all, it was in the shattered remnants of the region that she had found Anani, and she wouldn't trade her companion for the world. But that, too, had been tainted by grief: Tarak's memory, cherished as he had been, lingered in the shadows, making it difficult for Soh to imagine caring for another companion the way she had for her first.

But Deimos was right. For better or worse, her memories - and the memories of others - would keep the city alive, and that had to count for something.

As for writing about it, Soh snorted. I'm more of an artist than a writer, she said drily. We did manage to save some relics and things, so... there's something to remember the region by. It was better than nothing, even if it did little, in her mind, to replace what had been lost.

Like any real love, it's ever-changing

Sohalia

Time has stopped before us The sky cannot ignore us The years reflected a vast number of changes; he could recall times where Stormbreak had been naught more than a hostile environment for both Ascended and Abandoned alike; an interval layer of hatred and vitriol. By and by, some due to Sohalia’s influence, the land had changed its scope and scale, ranging from priests and legends, to a more inviting potential. While some of the landmarks carried the wake and weight of past indiscretions, he figured most now would hold the memories of shorter seasons and burdens of after the war; if not the plunge of the infected, of the Family. There are always new maps to make, he gestured with a snort rippling through; though he doubted the writing hand on the matter; she was probably plenty skilled. Maybe you could commission an author then. Combine the stories into illustrations and myths. Each land seemed to hold a bounty of thresholds though. Deimos wouldn’t be saving anything of Whitebrim, for instance, glad it had fallen apart. Could place them all in the Celestine he countered with a mere thought and another banking on a cold wind; going upright to loosen the frigidity in his plumage. I do not get many chances to visit there, but what I saw was nice. the Resurrected Sword No one can separate us For we are all that is left

Like any great love, it keeps you guessing

Deimos wasn't wrong; there were indeed new maps to make, and Soh was eager to do just that, to return to her cartography roots and find something for herself in and amongst all of the changes that life had brought to her doorstep. So she hummed agreement through the bond, considering all that they might do to preserve Stormbreak's legacy. Zavien and I had talked about a memorial, she mused. Now that things have settled, perhaps we should look into it. And place it in the Celestine, which seemed more protected from the elements than the remnants of the Tower.

Soh banked around a low-lying cloud, avoiding its damp reaches. The Celestine is lovely, she continued, somewhat dubious; she couldn't forget the fate of the late Caretaker, which made her question how safe the place would be for a museum of sorts. I was so relieved that it survived, with the help of the gods. Different now, to be sure, but there in a way that most of Stormbreak was not.

Like any real love, it's ever-changing

Sohalia

Time has stopped before us The sky cannot ignore us A memorial for the fallen, or perhaps Stormbreak itself, gave him pause. They probably could’ve done more in the past on similar ilks, like the Grounds after multiple LongNights, or anyone else felled by wartime horrors. Some had done their duty on individual basis notations, and there was always the lanterns, but a way to honor those gone, or a land, seemed fitting. That would probably be a good place to start. You could use some of Stormbreak’s old materials, and it could give people a place for many things. To cherish and remember, to leave some portions behind, to ensure legacies remained for as long as pieces were maintained. Unaware of other impacts the Celestine had in the past, after all, he wasn’t a frequent visitor, and with so many other things going on the news could’ve easily been bypassed, he nodded, sliding above another darkening cloud. Would there have been other parts you wished to see remain? While the Sword could be melancholic within an instant, there were certain lands, terrain, and footholds, that he’d never quite mourn. That likely wasn't the same for the Attuned, who'd led and strived and tried for so long. the Resurrected Sword No one can separate us For we are all that is left

Like any great love, it keeps you guessing

Thoughts of a memorial were good ones, things that she could bring up to Zavien at some point in the near future, or perhaps something she herself could take the lead on. I'll look into it further and keep you posted, she offered, wings flapping in the cold air as they continued to soar far above Halo's rough terrain.

Then there were thoughts of Stormbreak and the parts that she might have wished to survive, and she snorted a hollow laugh through the bond. All of it, she said, longing clear in her mental voice. Even the parts that I'd have changed... now I'll never have the opportunity to try, you know? Although that lack of opportunity did come with new potentials and possibilities, so she supposed she shouldn't complain.

But no - there's nothing specific that I would have liked to see over any other parts. I'm glad about the Celestine, but the Tower, I might have traded for Pacifist Plaza... Even though the Tower was an important landmark, it came with its own memories, some of which were not entirely pleasant for Breakers or others who had visited. Shaking her head, Soh added, But I suppose it doesn't really matter now. All we can do is move forward.

Like any real love, it's ever-changing

Sohalia

Time has stopped before us The sky cannot ignore us He nodded, eyes darting back down towards the scenery, still glancing around in all proportions to ensure nothing was out of the ordinary. To hear she would’ve wanted all of Stormbreak to remain would’ve granted an arch to his brow, if thunderbirds had them, because he could recall many a story of the harsh, layered undertones throughout the stony exterior – not just whispers, but words of those imprisoned or flayed. Which led him to wonder if everything was worth keeping – through the barbaric and the pure. If history served better as portions of cataclysms and change, as Sohalia had offered to do, or to go down, underneath those bellowing, billowing waves, to only be a notation in a book. Understandable, he granted instead, all those musing thoughts circulating through his mind, quiet considerations that likely wouldn’t leave his mind. He did give a snort at the semblance of the Tower still there, over the Plaza. That structure does have a remarkable way of returning, over and over again, despite the agonizing process of rebuilding, rejuvenating, renewing; only to either be destroyed, discarded, and devoutly brought back to life. A prominent landmark, yes, but of some leaders who’d likely be better off buried and forgotten. He had to wonder if they'd ever thought reigning from any other building. As for not mattering, his eyes narrowed. I think they still play a part. They shaped how you led, for instance, he granted with a tilt of his head, before his gaze went along the horizon and down towards mountainous outcroppings. Reminders of what we have lost and gained. You are moving forward, but the past will always have an impact. Couldn’t be construed into nothing; there’d been an influence, a carving, a sculpting. Those who ignored history seemed doomed to repeat it, after all. the Resurrected Sword No one can separate us For we are all that is left

Like any great love, it keeps you guessing

Snorting in response, Soh had to wonder if the Tower had been worth saving in place of something like the Plaza. Even during her reign, she had seen the Tower as imposing and unwelcoming; she'd often considered moving her office elsewhere, deciding against it, in the end, out of respect for tradition. Now she wondered if that had been a mistake. After so many times being destroyed and rebuilt, perhaps they should have let it stay buried.

But that was neither here nor there. I suppose that's true, she conceded. Indeed, did not her past rule her present, perhaps more so than it should? How many times had she allowed something that had happened years prior to dictate how she acted in the here and now? But that wasn't what Deimos was talking about, so she let it go. I'm glad that it was only Stormbreak that seemed to be affected. I wish it hadn't fallen, obviously, but... the other regions seem to have been untouched.

Like any real love, it's ever-changing

Sohalia

Time has stopped before us The sky cannot ignore us The Sword was glad to have never taken hold of a throne within the Palace – that had been for Neron and Morgan, and neither he nor Evie were of such ilk. Instead of reigning high and mighty from an icy threshold, they’d given it back to the Halovian community, utilizing it for skyport transportation, an emergency shelter, and anything else vital, necessary. Tradition only went so far as the people who gave it power; the Sword could rule just as easily from his council halls, his barracks, or his home; it was the people, not always the place that granted those distinctions. Another flap of his wings and he was further upwards again, taking another long trajectory around the settled crag, peering downwards as they continued discussions. While Sohalia conceded the admission, that seemed to be the end of the conversation; so he drifted, listened, took another long, deep breath. The others probably had not been held for so long in the Family’s grasp, going solely on theory, his mind calculating the efforts. She had more time to sink her claws into it - to poison the very substance of the stone and the earth. Other lands didn’t have the roots lingering within their threshold for such a passing of time; and likely because they could be healed, mended, and Dahlia had guarded Stormbreak like a viper. Still, it does not make it any less tragic. For all the logic, reasonings, and thresholds to be found, it had still fallen, and the rest hadn’t. Caido has a way of changing things though. There were massive alterations after the war with the Ascended. Perhaps to show that the old, legendary fixtures hadn’t been the only ones in the past – one had to wonder just how many times things had fallen apart only to right themselves once more, hundreds of years later. the Resurrected Sword No one can separate us For we are all that is left

Like any great love, it keeps you guessing

Memories of the Family circled Soh's mind, ranging from the day she'd been kidnapped to the day she'd been released, her panicked flight to the Greatwood, and all the way to the end of their reign of terror. A shudder passed through her as she banked around a low-hanging cloud. That's true, she said. Safrin told Zavien that the fall had to do with the Family poisoning the region. It makes sense - but you're right, it's no less tragic just because there's some logic to it. Indeed, it almost made it worse for Soh, who had been the reason that Stormbreak had been captured in the first place.

Shaking off her guilt, Soh flapped her wings a few times to gain altitude. I was still in the Grounds during that war, she admitted. I didn't see any of the rest of Caido until much later. As a result, she had no frame of reference for the changes of which Deimos spoke. Still, it didn't come as a surprise; Caido was nothing if not ever-changing.

Like any real love, it's ever-changing

Sohalia

Time has stopped before us The sky cannot ignore us The Grounds must’ve been a horrifying place to be within during the war time regardless; the shape of the Ascended plunged back into something else entirely, the echoes of screams still vibrant years later upon sharks’ wayward outcries. The Fangs, as he pointed downward into their open pathways. Used to be much higher-rising mountains. Connected to the Draig, and enclosed. As Sohalia would notice, they no longer were; great rifts and tides of ocean had severed the two. While it meant the threat of other dragons were lost, the white ones remained. We had no forest, nor large bay. The Greenwing, the woods, hadn’t existed, and the Sea of Glass had been the stopping point for relics and land before opening up to the sea. The Grounds did not have all those isles either. Mostly flattened and old farmland, no longer sharpened to points and fixtures of years behind the barrier; humans extending as far as they could. Snorting, mostly to himself, he shook his head again, eyes still glancing downward. You would have had to make multiple maps of the same region. Might be interesting to find some of them though, to see how much has changed. the Resurrected Sword No one can separate us For we are all that is left