Are
Words burned his throat and tongue, like holding down hard liquor as the Dane told a long and winding story. A test of one's patience and the reward; answers to so many questions he'd barely had the time to put into words. To listen, hear, and understand. Not just waiting for one's turn to speak. Doing the memory of his father proud.
"A hero's path is a winding one, that few finds the end of. It runs through blood, fire, and war, and leads to a hero's tomb. By the falling oak leaves victory crowned, written in blood; the deeds in life shall call the final dooming of the soul." he almost whispered the poem, allowing it to flow unhindered from memory to tongue. It didn't sound right, not in the rounder language nor spoken with his voice. No, the inflection made it sound far more ominous and grand that he remembered it.
"You are not the one that gets to decide that Roana." he said, finally breaking his silence after taking in all she gave. His mind still hung up on the first four words she's let slip.
"You speak of doing what's right, no matter the cost, of seeing a war through even though it's not your own." his voice rose in power and conviction, mimicking Roana's own feelings. "You speak of waging war on a god, I am talking to either a hero or a fool, and one of those I know far too well from personal experience. You're no such thing." his words echoed with an air of finality, his stubborn mind was made up and had already moved on.
"I am just a cobbler, but it sounds to me like there's a plan brewing. So do tell, what is it you think might lead to the people-crafter's demise?"
"A hero's path is a winding one, that few finds the end of. It runs through blood, fire, and war, and leads to a hero's tomb. By the falling oak leaves victory crowned, written in blood; the deeds in life shall call the final dooming of the soul." he almost whispered the poem, allowing it to flow unhindered from memory to tongue. It didn't sound right, not in the rounder language nor spoken with his voice. No, the inflection made it sound far more ominous and grand that he remembered it.
"You are not the one that gets to decide that Roana." he said, finally breaking his silence after taking in all she gave. His mind still hung up on the first four words she's let slip.
"You speak of doing what's right, no matter the cost, of seeing a war through even though it's not your own." his voice rose in power and conviction, mimicking Roana's own feelings. "You speak of waging war on a god, I am talking to either a hero or a fool, and one of those I know far too well from personal experience. You're no such thing." his words echoed with an air of finality, his stubborn mind was made up and had already moved on.
"I am just a cobbler, but it sounds to me like there's a plan brewing. So do tell, what is it you think might lead to the people-crafter's demise?"
