It's taken a lifetime to lose my way
All the wasted time on my hands turns to sand
The offer only seemed to encourage her, and for once the monolith would indulge. And likely only out of kinship and trust; otherwise it would’ve remained another furtive piece of his past, of his lives lived. The answer clipped across the ice, and he tilted his head, eyes still on the horizon, the foundations of another time, another world, crossing over his machinations. A nod was given, granted, short, and curt, while he mulled over how to best navigate one nuance of a lengthy journey. “I used to live in a kingdom called the World’s Edge.” One of many; fortuitous cycles of realms and revolutions, weeks into a newfound soldier for its ramparts. On wisps of incantations, on ethers of air, particles of the snow lifted, filtered, flickered into makeshift cliffs before her eyes – where the sea met a wall of rock, crashing and reeling, where the mist ebbed and flowed, where he could’ve imagined the Moonlit Tides down below, where he’d been reminded of childhood homes. “Not long after I made it my home, we were invaded.”
Thereafter, he curled the cascading powder into rivulets of soldiers, warriors once right after the other, marching, charging, demolition and disaster, a pummeling void of machinations and action. “Mostly due to God influences.” Mirage and her legions, her allies, moving forward with the intentions and backing of the Moon Goddess, favor falling to the draconic woman. “We fought, but were outnumbered.” And then the snow ceased, dropped back into its place, scattered into ice and rime. A shrug of his shoulders followed; she’d be able to surmise what came next. “We lost, and were forced out.”
The beginning of many failures – and his jaw clenched, waiting for a reaction, for a notion to continue onward, as they meandered closer and closer to the Citadel’s fortress.
Thereafter, he curled the cascading powder into rivulets of soldiers, warriors once right after the other, marching, charging, demolition and disaster, a pummeling void of machinations and action. “Mostly due to God influences.” Mirage and her legions, her allies, moving forward with the intentions and backing of the Moon Goddess, favor falling to the draconic woman. “We fought, but were outnumbered.” And then the snow ceased, dropped back into its place, scattered into ice and rime. A shrug of his shoulders followed; she’d be able to surmise what came next. “We lost, and were forced out.”
The beginning of many failures – and his jaw clenched, waiting for a reaction, for a notion to continue onward, as they meandered closer and closer to the Citadel’s fortress.
I'm fine in the fire
I feed on the friction
