This light... [ His free hand ghosts over the railing, then, as he leads her ever-higher, their final destination nearly in sight! ] ...is oftentimes used for marksman, so that they might be able to have a clear view of their targets from on high.
It makes for a fine shield, as well, standing as a bulwark against the dark. [ But mentioning as much reminds him of the war which awaits him in Roland: Gastark amasses power in the North, the country's sights set on his Empire and claiming his head. And Gastark is not wrong for it, but Sion must defend his people (and so too the world), regardless of consequence (and what evils he might commit). ] I've merely altered the equations the magic is comprised of, for perhaps I am weak, and wanted only to see beauty tonight.
[ And at long last, they've made it there: the seat at the height of the stairwell, a chair which sits at the edge of the world. With a gentleman's touch, he guides Flora to take her seat, before joining her as well as though this were normalcy, reclining with the whole of the night sky before them, legs dangling below as though they were perched atop some great cliff in the wilderness, weathered by eons of time come and gone. ]
But if you are something else, will you at the very least humor me with a clue? [ With a shake of his head, he laughs, for certainly he's never felt (or met) anyone like Flora before. ] Tell me of your wings, perhaps?
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It makes for a fine shield, as well, standing as a bulwark against the dark. [ But mentioning as much reminds him of the war which awaits him in Roland: Gastark amasses power in the North, the country's sights set on his Empire and claiming his head. And Gastark is not wrong for it, but Sion must defend his people (and so too the world), regardless of consequence (and what evils he might commit). ] I've merely altered the equations the magic is comprised of, for perhaps I am weak, and wanted only to see beauty tonight.
[ And at long last, they've made it there: the seat at the height of the stairwell, a chair which sits at the edge of the world. With a gentleman's touch, he guides Flora to take her seat, before joining her as well as though this were normalcy, reclining with the whole of the night sky before them, legs dangling below as though they were perched atop some great cliff in the wilderness, weathered by eons of time come and gone. ]
But if you are something else, will you at the very least humor me with a clue? [ With a shake of his head, he laughs, for certainly he's never felt (or met) anyone like Flora before. ] Tell me of your wings, perhaps?