who we are and all that we're trying to be
The reaction immersed amidst shock and bewilderment had been about the same as his – though not so outwardly emoted – the time he believed himself to be unwound simply in a dream. Wandering amidst woods and pathways, carving his carnivorous reach through twilight expanses and reeling beneath outstretched boughs, listening to another speak to him, had ensured the predilections were a reality instead. Not long he answered, uncertain of when the alterations and shift had occurred, when it’d been gained amongst the footholds of all the others. Much like his magic, the incantations sometimes appeared or grew without warning, no matter how often he practiced; enigmatic rapiers in the pressing of time, and the unknown.
His eyes upon the dragon, still much bigger than himself, he tilted his head, pondering over the nature of the inquiry, of the suggestions the Sage hoped to embody and snag. It is a careful balance between instinct and logic. Unless, of course, the bard was like himself, and easily gave way to the more avaricious, inherent reaches of his soul – sometimes methodical, sometimes lethal, sometimes intertwined in their immense, overwhelming, cold rage. You have to keep a part of yourself. Not give totally in to the beast, no matter how tempting, how inveigling.
A pause then, in his thoughts, at keeping the carnage at bay when the world turned and revolved in different seditious efforts too; as if the sentiments were mere figments of imagination, and could only go so far. Situations called and harked and boomed and beckoned, until one day a soul simply gave in.
He clenched his jaw, felt the long fangs and ivories embedded within his mouth. How are we to train? Did the Lorekeeper have any suggestions? The size differential would make it difficult enough.
It takes dying to know
How to live as ghosts
