i don't rise from the ashes, i make them.
That is the best way to sum it up. They all cared in their own way, but they did care. It was all she could ask of a herd. One that had all but replaced the family she’d left behind. She’s hardly the sentimental type, but she chose to protect the members of the Basin with her own life (which is not nearly as selfless as it sounds, when you are Weaver). More importantly, she finds she doesn’t mind the possibility of dying for the idiots either,
They switch to the topic of Gods and Weaver listens, curious. Her faeries had controlled their land, yes, but they were largely uninvolved in lives of the residents. They were forces from the land itself, probably. Here, the Gods were not very different from the mortals that they ruled. These wild Gods of Eve sound like something else entirely. Interesting, in a horrid sort of way. “If you stick around long enough, you’ll meet our Gods soon enough. They are very mortal, in a figurative sense of the word. Not so different from us.” Just more powerful, but it seemed they were flawed.
“Do you want to come check out the Basin? You don’t have to stay, if it’s not to your liking.” She asks, switching the topic back, figuring this mare doesn’t want to spend all day making small talk with two random strangers. She’s got a life to start, it would seem.
I'm the whole fucking fire.
- weaver -
@Eve
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