He was stuck in a never ending reverie where his thoughts swirled between agitation and anger. When the girl—woman…though he had a hard time seeing any of them as anything other than children to allow this to happen to their home—touches her nose to his shoulder, he jolts, breaking out of his thunderous abyss and almost jumping back in surprise that she had been able to take him by such happenstance.
There had been a day when even the slightest one who crossed his path would not go off without his notice. He had been the calm one who had been able to discern friend from foe; family from madness, truth from lies, honor from distrust. And yet, the world was cast into such a spiral, that he was coming to understand that even his experience was of no use in this particular situation. He was not as he usually is; rather than the Lord, he was merely a man unsure of how his life was going to run its course. How many days did he have left? How long did he have to go? How much more was there for him to give?
Brought back to the present, the painted girl speaks to him in quiet dulcet tones that show Ashley that he does not have to be in a position of agitation, and yet, his blood pumping that he’d been snucked upon at all was enough for the countenance on his face to be anything but open. He shuttered his expressions and straightened his posture, the muscles under his pelt rippling with the power that he still held—even if he was, after all just a man.
“Honestly? I have lost my patience with this generation, to find why they have allowed our land to descend into madness like this. I have lost my home, and I have lost my magic. I have lost much, girl.” His chest heaved with all the anger and emotion that he usually kept pent up inside him. Despite his stoney expression, he had allowed himself to spill his thoughts to a perfect stranger—and yet, there was something familiar about this face. Something that almost looked back at him, each time he took a drink in the river. His eyes narrowed upon her features, and did not waste time in addressing her. “Tell me, who are you, child? And who are your parents? From where do you come? Or rather…” He coughed, his agitation clear. “…from where did you come?”
There had been a day when even the slightest one who crossed his path would not go off without his notice. He had been the calm one who had been able to discern friend from foe; family from madness, truth from lies, honor from distrust. And yet, the world was cast into such a spiral, that he was coming to understand that even his experience was of no use in this particular situation. He was not as he usually is; rather than the Lord, he was merely a man unsure of how his life was going to run its course. How many days did he have left? How long did he have to go? How much more was there for him to give?
Brought back to the present, the painted girl speaks to him in quiet dulcet tones that show Ashley that he does not have to be in a position of agitation, and yet, his blood pumping that he’d been snucked upon at all was enough for the countenance on his face to be anything but open. He shuttered his expressions and straightened his posture, the muscles under his pelt rippling with the power that he still held—even if he was, after all just a man.
“Honestly? I have lost my patience with this generation, to find why they have allowed our land to descend into madness like this. I have lost my home, and I have lost my magic. I have lost much, girl.” His chest heaved with all the anger and emotion that he usually kept pent up inside him. Despite his stoney expression, he had allowed himself to spill his thoughts to a perfect stranger—and yet, there was something familiar about this face. Something that almost looked back at him, each time he took a drink in the river. His eyes narrowed upon her features, and did not waste time in addressing her. “Tell me, who are you, child? And who are your parents? From where do you come? Or rather…” He coughed, his agitation clear. “…from where did you come?”
ashley
I walked the path, it led me to the end.