// 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 //
and the warmth rang true inside these bones, as the old pine fell we sang //
So they were correct in their assumptions. Caido, the god of gods. And it’s with a hint of eagerness that they focus on the Ascended, listening to the story that’s aired, awe struck and inspired. They see the smile that tugs on Aamu’s face and it reflects a fraction on their own, lifting the corner of their lip with a small ghost of a smile. “Don’t go looking for it. Got it.” They say with a quiet laugh.
Their gaze leaves Aamu to look around the meadow again, pulling their sketch a little bit higher to continue working on it – even if they make a paraphrased note of Aamu’s story, if only so they might recollect it to tell Bastien later. “Do you want to sit with me?” They ask, drawing a broad stroke with their charcoal, filling in a shadow from a few of the wildflowers, before they let their gaze lift to Aamu. “And do you have any more stories?” They would love to hear all of them.
Aamu was a wonderful storyteller, Azrael decides. And they’d be content to spend the entire night here under the moonlight talking with him about life and everything else that went with it if Aamu wished to.
Their gaze leaves Aamu to look around the meadow again, pulling their sketch a little bit higher to continue working on it – even if they make a paraphrased note of Aamu’s story, if only so they might recollect it to tell Bastien later. “Do you want to sit with me?” They ask, drawing a broad stroke with their charcoal, filling in a shadow from a few of the wildflowers, before they let their gaze lift to Aamu. “And do you have any more stories?” They would love to hear all of them.
Aamu was a wonderful storyteller, Azrael decides. And they’d be content to spend the entire night here under the moonlight talking with him about life and everything else that went with it if Aamu wished to.
Azrael
