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Midas' weariness was felt within the stones of the rocky precipice. Indeed, his silent prayer, his troubled heart-song, seemed to resonate deep within, to where the Earthen God was contemplating the state of affairs. Much had happened since he and his siblings had returned, and yet at the same time, not enough had. They had mended the rift that threatened to overturn Helovia - and given themselves and all they had to protect its inhabitants and yet...it seemed the return of magic, and indeed the light of day, was all they cared about. It drained the God's loving soul to be reminded once again, of how short sighted mortals could be. But then again, their lives were so fleeting, who could blame them?
And so, as Midas' presence was felt above, the God heartily rose to the surface to greet and soothe if he could, a familiar face. Stones rumbled with a gentle ferocity, as the ground itself opened to yield the God. Nay - to form the God, because seemingly the stone and dust that was displaced, seemed to convalesce into his great hooves, shoulders and wings. Kind eyes smiled down upon Midas as the earth closed upon around the God's feathered hooves. "Midas. It pleases me to see you, and yet not in this state. You seem troubled, my son..." The God refrained from peering into Midas' thoughts, knowing the paint was typically open and honest with him about his desires and needs. There was no need to pry in this instance; not with Midas.
The God's large wings folded neatly against his muscled sides, and yet even as he stood, appearing to be relatively relaxed, a weariness was draped over his shoulders, almost like a thick robe. It was good that Midas had come - it would take the God's mind away from the nagging itch of worry that seemed to follow him, ever since the state of Helovia had returned to normal.
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[O] Armored soul
