Are
Gods, no, he couldn't even call for them, not even in vain. His understanding grew exponentially, it felt like his mind could barely contain the sheer weight of it all, and finally he could understand the silver haired mans curses. What had happened was so much more than a quarrel between ways of old and new, it was what the cobbler feared beyond all else. The preface to an all encompassing war, Ragnarök would be upon his new world as it would every other world.
Are shook his head, not in defiance of it all, but in pure disbelief. He would never be strong enough, wise enough or honorable enough to be ready. Ever. What was left of his world and what little he had made of the new would all be swept away, and he would again be thrown into the great void, this time to never surface again.
He swallowed hard and took a deep breath to compose himself, to settle the raging seas in his mind and heart. He dug for a speck of sense in it all, if this was a preamble to the twilight of gods, why was it pushed towards the edge by good folk? Why those that opposed it did so was apparent, but why good people strove for it he couldn't make heads or tails of.
"Why?" he asked without frills or further explanations, at first. "No, wait." the cobbler held a hand up, motioning for a moments respite. Just a second to make order in among the thoughts and get the words in line. The image of a woman, dressed in crackling bolts of lightning, offering honeyed words and blackened promises. A craftsman with good people as her material.
"I trust it to be worth it. The price of freedom is paid in blood and safety it seems." he said and looked Roana straight in the eyes, and as the realization set in he offered a wry smile. "A price a hero is willing to pay I take it." smiled the fool as it all became clear in his head.
Are caught himself before he slipped further into the morass of pride, remembering the call of greater men and how they beckoned. "So it is us and the Ascended against all those people?" he asked, his face losing some of its cocksure sheen.
Are shook his head, not in defiance of it all, but in pure disbelief. He would never be strong enough, wise enough or honorable enough to be ready. Ever. What was left of his world and what little he had made of the new would all be swept away, and he would again be thrown into the great void, this time to never surface again.
He swallowed hard and took a deep breath to compose himself, to settle the raging seas in his mind and heart. He dug for a speck of sense in it all, if this was a preamble to the twilight of gods, why was it pushed towards the edge by good folk? Why those that opposed it did so was apparent, but why good people strove for it he couldn't make heads or tails of.
"Why?" he asked without frills or further explanations, at first. "No, wait." the cobbler held a hand up, motioning for a moments respite. Just a second to make order in among the thoughts and get the words in line. The image of a woman, dressed in crackling bolts of lightning, offering honeyed words and blackened promises. A craftsman with good people as her material.
"I trust it to be worth it. The price of freedom is paid in blood and safety it seems." he said and looked Roana straight in the eyes, and as the realization set in he offered a wry smile. "A price a hero is willing to pay I take it." smiled the fool as it all became clear in his head.
Are caught himself before he slipped further into the morass of pride, remembering the call of greater men and how they beckoned. "So it is us and the Ascended against all those people?" he asked, his face losing some of its cocksure sheen.
