You are the night-time fear
He shouldn't be surprised someone wants to test his mettle and improve his arsenal, but there he is: vaguely surprised, vaguely flattered, mostly focused. He's gleaned enough to figure out the Grounds has bad and lethal problems with monsters during LongNight, but until the meeting he hadn't truly grasped the scope of it.And now that he has, well... Let's just say he absolutely understands what they are doing, and why.
Since they'd agreed to practice hand-to-hand combat Aamu normally wouldn't have brought his newly made (and not very fancy) sword, but the threat of The Order hangs heavy on his shoulders. He's not keen on being more defenseless than he needs to.
Nate is already waiting for him when he shows up, and Aamu takes the hand with ease. "Aamu," he corrects in the gentle and absent-minded fashion of one used to having their name mauled, peering up at Nate with bright eyes. His proportions are even more imposing this close. "And you are Nate."
He turns to gaze away from the Grounds. "Works for me," he says with a slight shrug, following the tall Ascended into a snowy landscape gradually shifting from thin and bleak to something slightly more healthy-looking beneath all that white.
He wonders how startling the difference will be in summer and spring.
The question draws a thoughtful sigh from him. "Hmm," he hums noncommittally at first, remembering Henry's reaction to the revelation Aamu had been unconscious for quite some time. He glances away. Truth be told, he'd rather not have shut down at all, gotten to live out his life, watched Oheň grow, maybe survived and been here anyway.
He sighs, again. Settles for a middle ground. "Consciousness is always nice, though I never died." Glances back to Nate. "I recognize you from the Festival. Some friends of—well, of yours, or Sunjata's, came back, right?"
You are the morning when it's clear
AAMU
