3/10/2025, 2:52 AM
"...I think we aren't where we were before, Rhydian... I think we won't find Varathen here. Nor anywhere."
Something inside him twisted, a pain unnoticed until now—sharp, writhing, as though a murder of ravens clawed at his ribs. His breath hitched. Crimson eyes, slick with worry, sought hers, but his vision wavered, blurring at the edges.
'We should rest'
"I don't need to rest," The words left him harsh, unbidden. They tasted foreign and bitter. Her sigh followed, gentle yet insistent.
'You look exhausted, dear, come here, let me take care of your coat.'
The warmth of her pliant tongue came unexpectedly, though it wasn't unwelcome. Rhydian's eyes closed steadfastly, swallowing his intransigence. His eyes shut against the instinct to pull away, swallowing his resistance. He wanted to argue, to insist he couldn’t stop, not now, not while his children were lost to the unknown.
But gods, it had been so long since he had felt something soft. The air was still, save for the hush of her breath and the distant howl of the storm winding through unfamiliar trees. The cold clung to his bones, but here, in this fleeting moment, there was warmth. He barely noticed when she tugged a twig from his shoulders, nor the way his body leaned into her touch—until he forced himself to move, pressing her away with a gentle forearm.
"Faeline, we've arrived in this... strange land, and your first thought is to rest?"
His sigh was deep, the furrow of his brow etched deep enough to leave shadows of wrinkles across his forehead. The weight of exhaustion dragged at him, but still, he resisted. Still, he held firm.
And yet… what good was searching in a storm?
"Fine. We can rest. But only until the storm clears," His voice was quieter now, though no less determined. He exhaled, slow and measured, before murmuring, "Then we look for Morriva and Aedric. Or… at least someone who can tell us where the hell we are."
Something inside him twisted, a pain unnoticed until now—sharp, writhing, as though a murder of ravens clawed at his ribs. His breath hitched. Crimson eyes, slick with worry, sought hers, but his vision wavered, blurring at the edges.
'We should rest'
"I don't need to rest," The words left him harsh, unbidden. They tasted foreign and bitter. Her sigh followed, gentle yet insistent.
'You look exhausted, dear, come here, let me take care of your coat.'
The warmth of her pliant tongue came unexpectedly, though it wasn't unwelcome. Rhydian's eyes closed steadfastly, swallowing his intransigence. His eyes shut against the instinct to pull away, swallowing his resistance. He wanted to argue, to insist he couldn’t stop, not now, not while his children were lost to the unknown.
But gods, it had been so long since he had felt something soft. The air was still, save for the hush of her breath and the distant howl of the storm winding through unfamiliar trees. The cold clung to his bones, but here, in this fleeting moment, there was warmth. He barely noticed when she tugged a twig from his shoulders, nor the way his body leaned into her touch—until he forced himself to move, pressing her away with a gentle forearm.
"Faeline, we've arrived in this... strange land, and your first thought is to rest?"
His sigh was deep, the furrow of his brow etched deep enough to leave shadows of wrinkles across his forehead. The weight of exhaustion dragged at him, but still, he resisted. Still, he held firm.
And yet… what good was searching in a storm?
"Fine. We can rest. But only until the storm clears," His voice was quieter now, though no less determined. He exhaled, slow and measured, before murmuring, "Then we look for Morriva and Aedric. Or… at least someone who can tell us where the hell we are."
