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02-22-2017, 11:53 AM
How does he never fail me? Part of me expects him to be somehow ashamed that I am still lost, that, through all my wandering, and leaving him to himself, and the whims of time, I have not found a path worthy of following, and that he isn’t means more to me than I think I can find words for. Like all those soft, emotional things, however, I am unused to sharing them, and so they remain tucked within, revealed only in the faintest glimmer of thanks which flickers across by abysmal features. That’ll be enough, he says, as if I myself were enough. Though, in my youth, I had been certain of my authority in this world, the way of life has dwindled that bravado into a brittle veneer of arrogance, swathed thickly over a broiling sea of self doubt, rage, and loss. Very little of the boy I was remains inside this shell that looks and walks like the lost Prince of this land, but what remnants there are will hopefully be enough, as Erebos says. I cast a last, long look to the bronze sentinels, before I follow the gesture of his crown into the valley with my body, my nervous (but excited) companion following along with me. Hoping he can spare time from his duties for the evening, eager to share stories and tales; of Mordecai, and how she had taught me words of Dothraki, though I would certainly avoid talking about what else she had given me first knowledge of, and of the dragon woman who’d attacked me, only to apologize some weeks later. Regardless, I walk into the valley hoping some part of this horrible, depressing sadness behind me.  |
