03-14-2019, 08:51 PM
He was accustomed to being treated like a child. His smile disarmed her of fear for any offense. She had seemed to grow nervous a few moments before, pink kissing her cheeks. In the stale air of the north, she was lovely as a wildflower and he wondered at the identity of her True Name.
She spoke words he did not quite comprehend, but the story shaped enough of an image to form ideas. "You were imprisoned by your parents?" he asked. A sense of abject horror gripped the seat of his spine. He touched her on the arm to halt their steps, as though he might try to rip the chains then and there. "There is no worse fate. I am very sorry you had to endure that," he said, searching her eyes for wounds sure to be veiled. "Where are they now?" a should share in their daughter's plight.
His gaze was inevitably drawn toward the west, but not by the words of their four-legged friends, but by the shrill voice of his uncle haunting his memory. "I imprisoned someone too, though it was not my intention. His fate was pre-destined, I believe." The image of a black, twisted column stuck in his mind like an onyx shard, but one that rippled and moved, watching and wary. Fury and hate trapped were caged within. Would Sierra and Never recognize the fingerprint of a Trollstone?
She spoke words he did not quite comprehend, but the story shaped enough of an image to form ideas. "You were imprisoned by your parents?" he asked. A sense of abject horror gripped the seat of his spine. He touched her on the arm to halt their steps, as though he might try to rip the chains then and there. "There is no worse fate. I am very sorry you had to endure that," he said, searching her eyes for wounds sure to be veiled. "Where are they now?" a should share in their daughter's plight.
His gaze was inevitably drawn toward the west, but not by the words of their four-legged friends, but by the shrill voice of his uncle haunting his memory. "I imprisoned someone too, though it was not my intention. His fate was pre-destined, I believe." The image of a black, twisted column stuck in his mind like an onyx shard, but one that rippled and moved, watching and wary. Fury and hate trapped were caged within. Would Sierra and Never recognize the fingerprint of a Trollstone?