06-21-2016, 06:40 PM
The boy's brow furrows, studying the statue of his ancestor. I can hear every little movement he makes, from the tilting of his head to the blinking of his iron eyes. “You're young yet. Who you are is often something you discover over time. Perhaps, Knock,” and isn't it funny how life works sometimes? I loved a Noct, bore a Noctem who his twin called Noc, and now there is Knock, though there is no saying he will be mine in any way at this point. Or at least I try convince myself of that fact as I look around the Cove that would be his home. “Perhaps a more important question is who would you like to be?”
If he stays here, among the Ironborn, I have little doubt he will become just like them. Darkness lingers over this land, and clusters around hearts here. Though frankly, who am I to judge a little darkness? Just because Khaos was an evil bastard who earned his slow, agonizing death several times over doesn't mean everyone here is the same. Nor, I suspect, would any of them truly be able to stand against my family. Still, something tells me this one has a choice to make. He could, if he so chose, follow his blood into the dark, and perhaps come out newly forged as a weapon to harm innocents – or more importantly, to seek vengeance upon my line for the corpse I made of their progenitor.
But for one so new, so young, maybe there is another path, if it is one he wants. He has not asked who I am, and to be honest I wouldn't quite know how to answer the question anyhow. Certainly not with my name. I will wait, I suppose, until he answers other questions. I have not posed an easy one, especially not for the newly born. If he wants the path before him, I will go, calling out to someone here to come find him, watching from a distance to make sure he is cared for. But if he would rather...I will not say walk in light. I am a shade of grey at best, sometimes far darker than the middle. Still, with mine, there is a love that binds us together and gives us a way through the darkness when we are strong enough to take it.
If his mother were here, or anyone to care for him at all, I would walk away and leave them to their own devices. But such a young boy, all alone in the shadow of a dead man...I don't have it in me to just leave. “And where are your parents, then? Your mother, your father? Any family to speak of?” Anyone to call your own? A boy, no matter how grown, needs connection. I briefly wonder if that's where Drow comes in, but the thought is fleeting. For now, there are more immediate concerns. “Are you hungry?”
If he stays here, among the Ironborn, I have little doubt he will become just like them. Darkness lingers over this land, and clusters around hearts here. Though frankly, who am I to judge a little darkness? Just because Khaos was an evil bastard who earned his slow, agonizing death several times over doesn't mean everyone here is the same. Nor, I suspect, would any of them truly be able to stand against my family. Still, something tells me this one has a choice to make. He could, if he so chose, follow his blood into the dark, and perhaps come out newly forged as a weapon to harm innocents – or more importantly, to seek vengeance upon my line for the corpse I made of their progenitor.
But for one so new, so young, maybe there is another path, if it is one he wants. He has not asked who I am, and to be honest I wouldn't quite know how to answer the question anyhow. Certainly not with my name. I will wait, I suppose, until he answers other questions. I have not posed an easy one, especially not for the newly born. If he wants the path before him, I will go, calling out to someone here to come find him, watching from a distance to make sure he is cared for. But if he would rather...I will not say walk in light. I am a shade of grey at best, sometimes far darker than the middle. Still, with mine, there is a love that binds us together and gives us a way through the darkness when we are strong enough to take it.
If his mother were here, or anyone to care for him at all, I would walk away and leave them to their own devices. But such a young boy, all alone in the shadow of a dead man...I don't have it in me to just leave. “And where are your parents, then? Your mother, your father? Any family to speak of?” Anyone to call your own? A boy, no matter how grown, needs connection. I briefly wonder if that's where Drow comes in, but the thought is fleeting. For now, there are more immediate concerns. “Are you hungry?”