who we are and all that we're trying to be
“No, not necessarily.” The beast shrugged, his experience with volcanoes limited too – but knowing enough that some were constantly explosive and deadly, and some were rooted and dormant, resting and sleeping and unthreatening until they suddenly weren’t anymore; brooding, brewing forces. They weren’t unlike some individuals, foreign and unknown, lurking in the quiet before growing more and more potent, more and more powerful – he’d seen it time and time again, in the clutches of their very own mountains, and in the regard of hate and abhorrence, a festering wake.
But he was pulled away by those insinuations and memories by Remi’s information on the monsters of LongNight: might be failed experiments conspired by the Voice, or something else altogether, the first brambles and branches of her constituents, like trials, like practice for further precision. The notion that the Spire Demon was of the same ilk, and some Prince character lurking in the underground, was intriguing too – and while he listened, while he pondered, the clarity meandered and wandered, murkier depths to tread along. “So, the thought is that the old monsters could bear the same weaknesses as the Ascended?” Namely, fire? Wasn’t that why the Spark Bird scattered LongNight away – the brambles of the enchanted flames, the living, breathing inferno? “If worse comes to worse,” which he hoped didn’t happen, because it meant some other foolishness was afoot, that they’d put themselves into unnecessary risk, danger, and harm, again, “we can always try.” – fire, life drain, or whatever means they had available, no other options left in sight except survival.
It takes dying to know
How to live as ghosts
