06-25-2020, 06:59 AM
l e p i s
I never thought it was a question of whether
The last time I had rested my blue-grey eyes on Izora Lethia was when she’d shaken her head in disgust at my decision to appoint my son as my heir rather than her husband. That had been nearly four years ago, I recall, and to this day is not a decision I regret. Pteron had been the best choice, for all his personal troubles, and I had never trusted Aten. Pteron had, and when he had chosen to leave the forest to the champagne Champion I had not objected. (Not that I could, miles away in Loess). That Aten had disappeared under the weight of responsibility had come as no surprise to me. If anything, there was a sense of satisfaction and perhaps a small dose of vindication.
Rumor has it that he is still missing, and while I do not wish ill on him, nor do I wish for his return.
The buckskin mare below me is noticeable mostly by her glow, visible from where I soar overhead. I land directly in front of her, a rather impressive feat, and one that had been honed for the better half of two decades. It effectively blocks any further ingress into Loess, and the flat expression on my face is a chilly accompaniment.
If Izora Lethia has come here looking for our friendship, she would find it buried beneath the Taigan soil, her knife in its back.
The peace that emanates from me and seeps into the land and residents I rule is heavy, but there is no sign that I feel its effects when I ask coldly:
“Can I help you, Matriarch?” I know of her ascension – and of Lilliana’s – and of my red son’s attempt to wrest control of the place from them. His methods were perhaps not the best, but such an admission will never be spoken aloud. There is weight to things said aloud, after all, and they grow heavier when they are repeated. Does Izora Lethia know that I am aware what she has said of me? That I and my family are fickle? That Elio would be unfit to rule if I were his only teacher? That my morals and ideals are not the sort a leader should have?
Well, she is a leader now, I reason. She will soon learn that morals are little more than a shield, and a shield that buckles easily under pressure. I have never claimed to have any, and it is clear from the stony set of my blue mouth that I do not intend to soften.
@[Izora Lethia]
Rumor has it that he is still missing, and while I do not wish ill on him, nor do I wish for his return.
The buckskin mare below me is noticeable mostly by her glow, visible from where I soar overhead. I land directly in front of her, a rather impressive feat, and one that had been honed for the better half of two decades. It effectively blocks any further ingress into Loess, and the flat expression on my face is a chilly accompaniment.
If Izora Lethia has come here looking for our friendship, she would find it buried beneath the Taigan soil, her knife in its back.
The peace that emanates from me and seeps into the land and residents I rule is heavy, but there is no sign that I feel its effects when I ask coldly:
“Can I help you, Matriarch?” I know of her ascension – and of Lilliana’s – and of my red son’s attempt to wrest control of the place from them. His methods were perhaps not the best, but such an admission will never be spoken aloud. There is weight to things said aloud, after all, and they grow heavier when they are repeated. Does Izora Lethia know that I am aware what she has said of me? That I and my family are fickle? That Elio would be unfit to rule if I were his only teacher? That my morals and ideals are not the sort a leader should have?
Well, she is a leader now, I reason. She will soon learn that morals are little more than a shield, and a shield that buckles easily under pressure. I have never claimed to have any, and it is clear from the stony set of my blue mouth that I do not intend to soften.
