Weaver
Time is the substance from which I am made.
Time is a river which carries me along,
but I am the river;
Time is a river which carries me along,
but I am the river;
She chuckles at his laugh, though she has little to add to the conversation. They could only dream of worlds that did not try to kill them, and in the end, she isn’t sure she’d want that. She loved Caido, for all its many faults. She loved her home, despite its deathly climate and ravenous carnivores. Even when Loren asked what she would change, if she could, she’d said she’d change very little. A little warmer, perhaps. A little friendlier to humans as a whole. But otherwise, there wasn’t anything she would change about her home. She loved it, through and through.
His own dragons cease to battle, as if the war has been waged and won. It has certainly been waged, will continue to be waged, though it would never truly be won. They won one war to move onto the next. Perhaps really, they won one battle to move on to the next, in a war that would never cease.
His ‘perhaps’ brings a slightly devilish grin to her face, waiting for him to give her more. At the name, she smiles broader, remembering the baker and how Deimos had been in the shop. Though she did not know Amalia well, she seemed nice enough. Something about the two of them certainly made sense. ”Ah, you did look rather comfortable in the bakery,” she says, as if putting it together now. There hadn’t been enough to guess at the time, but in hindsight, things are often made clear. ”I'd love to attend. Just tell me when and where, and if there's anything I can bring.”
His own dragons cease to battle, as if the war has been waged and won. It has certainly been waged, will continue to be waged, though it would never truly be won. They won one war to move onto the next. Perhaps really, they won one battle to move on to the next, in a war that would never cease.
His ‘perhaps’ brings a slightly devilish grin to her face, waiting for him to give her more. At the name, she smiles broader, remembering the baker and how Deimos had been in the shop. Though she did not know Amalia well, she seemed nice enough. Something about the two of them certainly made sense. ”Ah, you did look rather comfortable in the bakery,” she says, as if putting it together now. There hadn’t been enough to guess at the time, but in hindsight, things are often made clear. ”I'd love to attend. Just tell me when and where, and if there's anything I can bring.”
it is a tiger that devours me, but I am the tiger;
it is a fire that consumes me, but I am the fire.
it is a fire that consumes me, but I am the fire.
