Home
~~~
"Is it possible for home to be a person and not a place?" ― Stephanie Perkins, Anna and the French Kiss
~~~
Rhydin Prime.
A Postpriori.
Responsibility.
How many reach a point at there lives, there at the end, when nothing lies ahead but the final breath, that they are gifted with the insight to realize that all the things that have befallen them, are ultimately, their own doing. And, how many accept that fact' The Lord of Autumn stood quietly, and hesitated. He was near the Coven that he'd called home, Bristle Crios. And as was typical, which at least that had not changed, he was...brooding. That in turn made him nervous, something which he was unaccustomed to.
The Time he'd spent in the Vacuole had changed him, in subtle ways. "Hopefully....for the better," he mused to himself, words not heard in the material plane, but absorbed by the silvery mists of the Nightlands. He bowed his head, and made a conscious effort not to touch his sixth chakra, the focal point of his Myriad, Justicar. Was that the reason he acted thusly' Or was the fact that he lived as he did serve to be the reason that Justicar had chosen him' He didn't know, and really wasn't sure if he cared. It was just one of the thoughts that spun through his head as he tried to ....focus. It was what held him back from just....going to her.
Issues would often catch his eye, and he would leap upon them, usually metaphorically but let it be said that historical precedent records it as being literal as well. His Lost Brother had been one such issue, one passion. A brother who by all accounts had never done right by him. But a brother just the same. It had been hours now, since he'd discovered how long his absence had been, when he'd returned the body of the Dead Boy to the Company. How many lives ruined now, by his ill gotten pursuit?
~~~
"Is it possible for home to be a person and not a place?" ― Stephanie Perkins, Anna and the French Kiss
~~~
Rhydin Prime.
A Postpriori.
Responsibility.
How many reach a point at there lives, there at the end, when nothing lies ahead but the final breath, that they are gifted with the insight to realize that all the things that have befallen them, are ultimately, their own doing. And, how many accept that fact' The Lord of Autumn stood quietly, and hesitated. He was near the Coven that he'd called home, Bristle Crios. And as was typical, which at least that had not changed, he was...brooding. That in turn made him nervous, something which he was unaccustomed to.
The Time he'd spent in the Vacuole had changed him, in subtle ways. "Hopefully....for the better," he mused to himself, words not heard in the material plane, but absorbed by the silvery mists of the Nightlands. He bowed his head, and made a conscious effort not to touch his sixth chakra, the focal point of his Myriad, Justicar. Was that the reason he acted thusly' Or was the fact that he lived as he did serve to be the reason that Justicar had chosen him' He didn't know, and really wasn't sure if he cared. It was just one of the thoughts that spun through his head as he tried to ....focus. It was what held him back from just....going to her.
Issues would often catch his eye, and he would leap upon them, usually metaphorically but let it be said that historical precedent records it as being literal as well. His Lost Brother had been one such issue, one passion. A brother who by all accounts had never done right by him. But a brother just the same. It had been hours now, since he'd discovered how long his absence had been, when he'd returned the body of the Dead Boy to the Company. How many lives ruined now, by his ill gotten pursuit?