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Rhadamanthus · 9/19/2025, 5:26 PM

The further they depart from her bed of snow, the lighter his heart began to feel. An odd sensation, and one he hadn't experienced since his life lived as a man. There were many names he could give it; hope, affection, awe. But he simply leaves it be, so he may feel it in full. He keeps his strides slow and measured, so that she may keep company at his side.

He feels as if it's where she belongs now that she'd arrived to Mythris. To what god or deity he is to thank for her return — even if he scarcely remembers their passions — he isn't sure, but he feels grateful regardless. Relieved, even...as if a part of himself he hadn't known was missing had returned.

With a gentle smile, Rhadamamthus kept his chin ducked so he may look to her as they walked. Patiently, he listened as she spoke of her family with a quiet pride only a daughter could hold. You are religious folk then? He inquired with a deep hum. There are many gods worshipped here on Mythris. And many gods that walk among wolves, it seemed.

They sound like honest people. They must miss you, back home. He commented, careful and open-ended. He isn't sure of what tragedy she must've fallen into, to be reborn here, as it seems to be the common theme. He is afraid to ask, afraid to dim the light she cradles in her palms.

I cannot say my family were very pious folk. Perhaps my father was, before his deathbed, if only to search for his place in the afterlife. I pray to whomever will listen, I suppose.

Welcome Back!

Greetings Stranger!

Shiverwood

the diplomat