vi
"You cannot," Vi confirms mildly, letting steady fingers touch the carvings on the ursur tusk hilt. He waits, mercurial and silent and yet somehow still present as the Sentinel slowly allows himself to say all that which tightens around his heart - this, too, is something that Vi already knows very well. "You did," he agrees, of Noah's participation in the war. "And your actions were commendable." What is he supposed to be, though? With a flick of his wrist the roses on the dagger's hilt seem to bloom and burst with colour, before Vi tucks it away in the folds of his clothes.
"I thought that would have been obvious," he admits, turning at last towards his chosen. "You are supposed to be Noah Olson, Sentinel of the North, father to twins, husband to Cordelia. You are meant to be as devoted to this peace as you were to the war."
