Ye can nae live in fear.
He's sitting on the roof of the Inn, barechested and barefoot. The frigid wind blowing powdery, icy fragmented leftovers from the previous days snows to swirl around him in the air, bouncing against his skin.
He doesn't notice. Cold, heat - it's never been something that affected him, at least as far back as he can remember. He sits there, looking up at the sky, the clouds moving effortlessly where the wind blows them. Sharp blue eyes - sober, sharp and clear - spot the silhouette of a dragon riding the air currents overhead, far and away to the south, mere moments before it tucks its wings and dives for the earth, presumably on the hunt.
He remembers when he had walked the sky with just that kind of ease...that kind of freedom.
He still can - no matter how long it's been, some things you never truly lose - but there is a part of him that is...afraid.
Not of the skies - gods, no, never. He's always loved that the best - soaring through the skies, slow to drift with the wind, or else so fast he was little more than a streak, a blur that was there and gone before you even had the chance to blink.
No...he loves the sky.
But to take up that power again...what would it mean?
He had left the sky behind. The other gifts...those things could never be abandoned, only managed as best they can be. Things had improved over the years, until the destruction of things around him when he got drunk had been brought under control.
He has never lived as a man. Not truly. He has known love, and loss, and pleasure, and pain. More of all than any man has the right to have, or bear.
It's been ten years since he walked away from the world and hid himself away, deaf to their cries. Too many had died because he could not get there in time, each failure taking its toll, one after another after another.
It all came crashing down the day that it had hit closest to his heart.
He had said he would never take to the sky again. That he would live, not as the god so many had thought him to be, but as much like a man as he could manage.
That was then. Another life, another world.
He has been in this world for four days. Has met interesting people. Kind people, some of whom it seems are not too dissimilar to himself. Even a girl or two that didn't freak out when he broke a table just by leaning on it a little too hard or left a palm print in solid stone when he forgot and slapped it a bit too roughly.
He chuckles softly to himself, remembering the night previous and Quinn's expression when he had pulled a stone that had been set solidly amongst its fellows free with little more effort than she might've used to snap a twig.
In his previous life, in that other world, another girl might have decided it was time to go. Quickly.
The smile fades as he looks upwards again, towards the sky, with it's fluffy white clouds skimming along, showing hints of blue sky and sunlight from time to time.
To take the sky again...he knows what it could mean.
It could mean little more than the freedom of not being bound to earth.
Or it could mean more.
To take up that mantle again. To embrace the power, rather than deny it or curb it.
To save, as he had been meant to do. Been made to do.
And, possibly...to fail. Again.
To see those he can't get to in time to save, perish.
There is a part of him - buried deep, under the pain still so fresh even after a decade - that wants it. Needs it.
He can feel it down there. A heat, an itch, like a glowing ember waiting for the barest breath of wind to fan it into a blaze.
But over that, crushing it, is the pain. The fear.
With a sigh, he stands, making his way over to the dragon hatch and pulling it open.
Taking a long, last look at the sky, he drops into the warmth of the Inn below.
I am nae ready.
He's sitting on the roof of the Inn, barechested and barefoot. The frigid wind blowing powdery, icy fragmented leftovers from the previous days snows to swirl around him in the air, bouncing against his skin.
He doesn't notice. Cold, heat - it's never been something that affected him, at least as far back as he can remember. He sits there, looking up at the sky, the clouds moving effortlessly where the wind blows them. Sharp blue eyes - sober, sharp and clear - spot the silhouette of a dragon riding the air currents overhead, far and away to the south, mere moments before it tucks its wings and dives for the earth, presumably on the hunt.
He remembers when he had walked the sky with just that kind of ease...that kind of freedom.
He still can - no matter how long it's been, some things you never truly lose - but there is a part of him that is...afraid.
Not of the skies - gods, no, never. He's always loved that the best - soaring through the skies, slow to drift with the wind, or else so fast he was little more than a streak, a blur that was there and gone before you even had the chance to blink.
No...he loves the sky.
But to take up that power again...what would it mean?
He had left the sky behind. The other gifts...those things could never be abandoned, only managed as best they can be. Things had improved over the years, until the destruction of things around him when he got drunk had been brought under control.
He has never lived as a man. Not truly. He has known love, and loss, and pleasure, and pain. More of all than any man has the right to have, or bear.
It's been ten years since he walked away from the world and hid himself away, deaf to their cries. Too many had died because he could not get there in time, each failure taking its toll, one after another after another.
It all came crashing down the day that it had hit closest to his heart.
He had said he would never take to the sky again. That he would live, not as the god so many had thought him to be, but as much like a man as he could manage.
That was then. Another life, another world.
He has been in this world for four days. Has met interesting people. Kind people, some of whom it seems are not too dissimilar to himself. Even a girl or two that didn't freak out when he broke a table just by leaning on it a little too hard or left a palm print in solid stone when he forgot and slapped it a bit too roughly.
He chuckles softly to himself, remembering the night previous and Quinn's expression when he had pulled a stone that had been set solidly amongst its fellows free with little more effort than she might've used to snap a twig.
In his previous life, in that other world, another girl might have decided it was time to go. Quickly.
The smile fades as he looks upwards again, towards the sky, with it's fluffy white clouds skimming along, showing hints of blue sky and sunlight from time to time.
To take the sky again...he knows what it could mean.
It could mean little more than the freedom of not being bound to earth.
Or it could mean more.
To take up that mantle again. To embrace the power, rather than deny it or curb it.
To save, as he had been meant to do. Been made to do.
And, possibly...to fail. Again.
To see those he can't get to in time to save, perish.
There is a part of him - buried deep, under the pain still so fresh even after a decade - that wants it. Needs it.
He can feel it down there. A heat, an itch, like a glowing ember waiting for the barest breath of wind to fan it into a blaze.
But over that, crushing it, is the pain. The fear.
With a sigh, he stands, making his way over to the dragon hatch and pulling it open.
Taking a long, last look at the sky, he drops into the warmth of the Inn below.
I am nae ready.