Elide
Aisha believes she is ready, and Elide nods in agreement. It would seem so. Only time will tell whether that is really true. People can speak with a silver tongue, can plot and plan and strategize, but it is still possible to fall short of the mark. It's human. Failure is always possible, it's what one does after that matters. Elide shifts back in her seat, feeling put on the spot when Aisha says she hopes that she approves. Her head tilts upward, but she has something else to ask, and she'll hold her thoughts for after she receives an answer.
Elide is able to sense the surprise Aisha feels from being asked about her past, even just from the raise of her brows. She wonders if this is a sensitive subject, if the wound is still... fresh, for Aisha. She's read and heard accounts from many Outlanders, or those that knew them, and she can only try to understand what it must be like. She has always lived in Halo, in the same house, hunting the same animals. It is... a mold, of sorts, and breaking from it is painful - but, undoubtedly, necessary. In the same way that a snake must shed its old skin because it has outgrown it, or that caterpillars must endure metamorphosis in order to grow.
Her head tilts to the other side as she regards Aisha's experiences, the things she was taught. It rings familiar in her own ears, these sentiments. Except, of course, that of casualties, which catches her by surprise. Her brows flinch upward and she offers an understanding half-smile. "A guild is not an army," Elide points out, because of course it isn't, "it will be much smaller scale, more specialized in dealing with certain issues over others. The hunters you recruit will and do matter, each in their own right. Every sword, arrow, shield..." she pauses meaningfully, to let the words sink in, "just one strike or blocked hit can mean the difference between success or failure. It will be much different, than being a general, but I have no doubt that those experiences will lend themselves in your favor," Elide leans forward, sinking her elbow into the arm of the chair, "and I do... approve, but why would that matter? If this is something you want to do, that you believe needs doing, then that is all the approval you need." At this, she shrugs slightly and leans back, lifting her hand to rest her chin on her knuckles.
Elide is able to sense the surprise Aisha feels from being asked about her past, even just from the raise of her brows. She wonders if this is a sensitive subject, if the wound is still... fresh, for Aisha. She's read and heard accounts from many Outlanders, or those that knew them, and she can only try to understand what it must be like. She has always lived in Halo, in the same house, hunting the same animals. It is... a mold, of sorts, and breaking from it is painful - but, undoubtedly, necessary. In the same way that a snake must shed its old skin because it has outgrown it, or that caterpillars must endure metamorphosis in order to grow.
Her head tilts to the other side as she regards Aisha's experiences, the things she was taught. It rings familiar in her own ears, these sentiments. Except, of course, that of casualties, which catches her by surprise. Her brows flinch upward and she offers an understanding half-smile. "A guild is not an army," Elide points out, because of course it isn't, "it will be much smaller scale, more specialized in dealing with certain issues over others. The hunters you recruit will and do matter, each in their own right. Every sword, arrow, shield..." she pauses meaningfully, to let the words sink in, "just one strike or blocked hit can mean the difference between success or failure. It will be much different, than being a general, but I have no doubt that those experiences will lend themselves in your favor," Elide leans forward, sinking her elbow into the arm of the chair, "and I do... approve, but why would that matter? If this is something you want to do, that you believe needs doing, then that is all the approval you need." At this, she shrugs slightly and leans back, lifting her hand to rest her chin on her knuckles.
never before had the song of war
been the song of hope ascending
been the song of hope ascending
