(SE) you got a question or two

// we stood, steady as the stars in the woods, so happy-hearted
and the warmth rang true inside these bones, as the old pine fell we sang //

Aamu’s admission has a softer smile crossing their face as they regard their sketch again. The charcoal lowers, lines drawn and filled in, smudged with a finger to blend it out. “I think it might be a bit overwhelming.” They admit with a soft laugh, lifting their head, their smile and laughter reflected in their eyes. “But… I’ve also never bit anyone before. It would all be overwhelming, probably.” They can’t even imagine what it would be like. Any thoughts of their attempts come up empty, as if they can’t quite wrap their mind around just how intense the feeling would be.

Luckily for them, the conversation of the maze has their attention now – the drawing forgotten once more to focus on the pale man beside them. “Really?” They ask, their voice taking on quite a bit of intrigue, their eyes widening in surprise and wonder. If the Labyrinth was made from a plant from here, then what was Queen’s Gambit capable of in its full glory?

“The Eye of Fire… Are the Acquired what the Abandoned used to be called?” They ask, watching Aamu’s face with the entire idea that they’d certainly absorb everything Aamu had to tell them. “I try to stay as far away from fire as possible.” They say softly, a gentle laugh running through them again.

Azrael

Aamu

Overwhelming is one way to put it, Aamu figures, leaning over for a moment to spy on Azrael's sketching. And it's something he hadn't thought of, honestly. Living a life as human before Ascension prepared you for much of it—senses, pleasurable physical sensations, heady things that, in some ways, prepare you for the bite. Not that anything organic comes close to biting another Ascended, but... "You might be a bit young for that yet," Aamu says with a faint smile. "Considering the reaction it triggers in us. It takes some practice to, ah, ignore that when it's not wanted. I suggest taking your first bites with someone you trust, who can sort of, guide you through it."

(And it pricks his heart, the future he had stolen from him all those years ago, all the difficult, embarrassing, awkward conversation he never got to have with Oheň—)

"Really." Rumors are rumors, myths are myths, but it wouldn't surprise him if it was true.

Abandoned. Oh, how Aamu hates the word, hates the history he didn't witness—how they were all cast out, had the Gods turn their backs on them. "Mmh," he hums, looking back at his stolen flower. "They were Acquired, and the Gods were proud of them, celebrated them like they did the Attuned and Accepted. Not something you'd believe now. Abandoned. Tch. It's all there in the name, and yet people follow the Old Gods, call them merciful, benevolent, loving." His lip curls with distaste. "Cowards. They threw down two entire races out of fear, and still the world remains blind to what they are."

// we stood, steady as the stars in the woods, so happy-hearted
and the warmth rang true inside these bones, as the old pine fell we sang //

They do manage a childish grin as Aamu mentions that they’re a bit young for that. Their head nods, taking the advice to heart as they settle with the charcoal, before they’re packing up their little drawing package of drawing utensils to focus on Aamu and his stories. “I’ll keep that in mind.” They offer Aamu with a brighter smile – unsure who that might be, but when it came down to it they’d likely need to figure it out quickly.

There was still some time.

The talk of Labyrinths and races fully distract them further and they flash a bright smile at Aamu – one that fades as the story grows a bit darker, brows pinching a fraction as they change their attention to the sprawling expanse of the fields. “Why do they dislike us so much?” They ask quietly, their head tilting back toward Aamu with a small frown.

Azrael