04-13-2019, 07:33 PM
Which beginning? “For an ending certainly comes…” he murmured. Nimeda’s motions were subtle, her modesty less so, but Tristan forced himself to stare into the fire, except for the fleeting moment when her palm pressed to his heart, and he was sure she would feel it pounding within.
“I don’t know, Nimeda,” he said just as reverently. He was slowly coming to accept the connection to wolf, but he was not sure if the Trolls were the ultimate, dire enemy that his nose told him they were. He thought back to the buzzing hive of noise in the Nordic forests in the Solid World, where something wandering the trees disturbed the wolves greatly.
Nimeda’s forlorn voice wrapped his chest like uncomfortable chains. “Nobody will help us except ourselves,” he said more certain than he was sure to sound. “Your friend Grimnir. My uncle. Thorn Paw is wolf, but he can only show me the trails, but I must trod the paths.” He shook his head.
He wasn’t barbaric despite his appearance. He watched the internet, he knew what Moscow was. He knew who Ascendancy was, and supposedly the Icelandic flag remained autonomous from the Custody, which was why it was so difficult for him to gain entrance to the eastern continent. The sprawl, the congestion, the exhaust and claustrophobia made his skin crawl, but could he really deny a plea for help for such feeble reasons as fear?
A low growl rumbled his throat, one of irritation at his own decisiveness and one that knew the future would be painful, yet he would walk those paths anyway. “Can you show me? I don't know how I can help. In the Solid World, I am far away from Moscow, but I will try. I swear I will try.” He stood, offering a hand to help her rise, and trying not to look at the creamy skin hidden beneath the blanket as he did. “Love and fear are tied together. I understand your hesitation. I will stay with you, but you must stay with me too.”
“I don’t know, Nimeda,” he said just as reverently. He was slowly coming to accept the connection to wolf, but he was not sure if the Trolls were the ultimate, dire enemy that his nose told him they were. He thought back to the buzzing hive of noise in the Nordic forests in the Solid World, where something wandering the trees disturbed the wolves greatly.
Nimeda’s forlorn voice wrapped his chest like uncomfortable chains. “Nobody will help us except ourselves,” he said more certain than he was sure to sound. “Your friend Grimnir. My uncle. Thorn Paw is wolf, but he can only show me the trails, but I must trod the paths.” He shook his head.
He wasn’t barbaric despite his appearance. He watched the internet, he knew what Moscow was. He knew who Ascendancy was, and supposedly the Icelandic flag remained autonomous from the Custody, which was why it was so difficult for him to gain entrance to the eastern continent. The sprawl, the congestion, the exhaust and claustrophobia made his skin crawl, but could he really deny a plea for help for such feeble reasons as fear?
A low growl rumbled his throat, one of irritation at his own decisiveness and one that knew the future would be painful, yet he would walk those paths anyway. “Can you show me? I don't know how I can help. In the Solid World, I am far away from Moscow, but I will try. I swear I will try.” He stood, offering a hand to help her rise, and trying not to look at the creamy skin hidden beneath the blanket as he did. “Love and fear are tied together. I understand your hesitation. I will stay with you, but you must stay with me too.”