You are the night-time fear
"Don't worry about it," he replies with a wry little smile. In some ways he almost feels bad for correcting Nate's pronunciation (it was a reflex, honest), wants to convey it's nothing personal: it's not uncommon for people to misremember it, or find it alien as it rolls off their tongues. "I'm not sure what my parents thought when they named me that."Or what his sister thought when she named her daughter Oheň.
He's not keen to linger on that subject.
Aamu chuckles slightly at Nate's response, responds to his grin with a slight one of his own. "I'm glad you got them back," he comments, honest, watching the barrow hills of King's End roll into view. He opens his mouth, fills his faux lungs with cold air, but before he has the time to comment on it (ask about him) Nate picks up on what he said before.
He stops with him. Lets the heated air out in a white sigh. "I was merely the guide. I am from—before. From before the barrier." He turns to watch the dark horizon. His voice matches the mournful quiet of the night. "I was dead in every sense but the literal. Shut down for three hundred years until the Voice dug me up on some mountainside and told me to lead them back to life. A very confusing end to a very long and confusing sleep."
He throws his arms out and spins around, not keen on letting Nate ask further questions about it. It's difficult, painful, distracting. "Where are you from?"
You are the morning when it's clear
AAMU
