That wall goes deeper into the ground than you could ever claw and higher in the skies than you could ever leap. You throw yourself against it and expect a different outcome each time only to come away bloodied, leaving a piece of yourself stuck to it that you never get back. [It's what he did, the person that isn't a person now, the one who rises as she snaps her fingers so he follows her as she leaves, the rune shaking only slightly. Do you remember making the journey the same as he did? Do you realise how fortunate you are to be the mess you are currently? Undoubtedly not, there's something so ungrateful about any sort of warrior, always some part all puffed up like a toad filled with self-important bluster, she's killed enough hunters to know the signs.] Oh it's always embrace the light - the light at the end of the tunnel is death and the road to it, how many people 'repent' and then find themselves torn asunder, given up to some 'higher cause' as though there's any such thing as absolution. I've looked into the eyes of an angel to see only fire, the same fire I see in the eyes of demons. We are what we are, some of us are further along and know there comes a time to to stop fighting.
[The rune is set down, at her kitchen table and angled in such a way to show her victim as he sways, the sound of her footsteps enough to show that he leans towards her, a flower seeking the sun. Do you know your Shakespeare, revenant? His eyes are curiously empty until she reappears with tea, her hand petting the side of his face like a cat until he shudders, eyes rolling back and closed before he drops to his knees. The rune reclaimed, she settles herself, eyeing him over the brim of her cup, amused as she so often is with him because what must it feel like, to be so very deep in denial that you're drowning without knowing?]
But if energy is power, and the dragons needed you to fight their battle, how much came back? Are you even you? If we think of it as I do then you could be anything in there, some other life force shoved inside, harvested from where Druaga keeps them because I tell you this - I felt nothing when you came to me a Shade. My magic sensed nothing and I should have felt a pulse, a buzz, a spark.
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[The rune is set down, at her kitchen table and angled in such a way to show her victim as he sways, the sound of her footsteps enough to show that he leans towards her, a flower seeking the sun. Do you know your Shakespeare, revenant? His eyes are curiously empty until she reappears with tea, her hand petting the side of his face like a cat until he shudders, eyes rolling back and closed before he drops to his knees. The rune reclaimed, she settles herself, eyeing him over the brim of her cup, amused as she so often is with him because what must it feel like, to be so very deep in denial that you're drowning without knowing?]
But if energy is power, and the dragons needed you to fight their battle, how much came back? Are you even you? If we think of it as I do then you could be anything in there, some other life force shoved inside, harvested from where Druaga keeps them because I tell you this - I felt nothing when you came to me a Shade. My magic sensed nothing and I should have felt a pulse, a buzz, a spark.