09-01-2015, 08:37 AM
no matter what they say, I am still the king
It is often easy to forget that children are so young. Especially those in Beqanna. It was a rare occurrence that a child maintained such young, easy going mannerisms in this world wrought with strife. And you, Thorunn, are no different. The world had aged you in such a brief moment in time – the death of your parents, the death of your home, and ultimately the death of your own personality. You strove to be like Covet – the representation of a man so far known. It was easy to forget that once, he too was young and sprite – a soul that had known no loss, no trials, no errors in his life. So quick you were to imitate the cold and stoic man that he was now. But little did you know that once, he too, was a clean slate.
Your emotions read like a paperback, whirring across the lines of your face, the pools of your eyes - no, Eight didn’t even need to pry (as if he could). It was easy for him to forget that were so young, your pensive and resigned nature showed otherwise. And yet, it was as if light went on in the attic – a reading of determination (perhaps?) spread across your features – a resignation to finally stepping into your own.
“Perhaps it is.” He agrees with a slow nod. “And your first decision – is to stay, I hope?” He looks down towards you once again. True, the Valley was the only place you had known as home, the only safe harbor in shipwrecked seas. But you had the chance, the option to go – to forge a new path, one that your mother and father had not.
But there was that invisible red thread – that tie that bound you two, the feeling of easiness around you – that had Eight beckon you to stay home.
Your emotions read like a paperback, whirring across the lines of your face, the pools of your eyes - no, Eight didn’t even need to pry (as if he could). It was easy for him to forget that were so young, your pensive and resigned nature showed otherwise. And yet, it was as if light went on in the attic – a reading of determination (perhaps?) spread across your features – a resignation to finally stepping into your own.
“Perhaps it is.” He agrees with a slow nod. “And your first decision – is to stay, I hope?” He looks down towards you once again. True, the Valley was the only place you had known as home, the only safe harbor in shipwrecked seas. But you had the chance, the option to go – to forge a new path, one that your mother and father had not.
But there was that invisible red thread – that tie that bound you two, the feeling of easiness around you – that had Eight beckon you to stay home.
∞
and now the storm is coming, the storm is coming in