Storm Magic - #4

Adrian takes a seat on the edge of the cliff, his feet dangling off the edge. The sweet smell of the salt of the ocean was carried upwards by a gentle breeze, ruffling the scholar’s crimson tresses. He simply stared into the distance for a while. Eventually he parted his lips to speak, his tone nostalgic and somber.

“Evan once told me there was going to be a time when he couldn’t protect me. That there was going to be an a single instance in every million moons where he wouldn’t be by my side. He was there for me, Dylerun. Always. There was never a moment where he wasn’t there for me.”

“And.. for all those times, I wasn’t there to protect him. Not even once. Not even when his life depended on it.” The Champion closed his eyes for a moment, his face tensing as tears began to build under his eyes. They cascaded down his face and into the ocean.
(Adrian Montbell)

"...I know."

Dylerun looked haggard. Sweat-drenched him as he joined Adrian on the edge of the cliff, grunting in sore pain as he sat next to him. His own voice carried exhaustion, though it was underlined with with its own sad tone.

"We fought together. Bled together. He and I were right there, always. Front of the lines, no holds barred, nothing stopping us. The fights at Galeford, and the last at Necropolis. We shared a few words inbetween, but I never got a chance to thank him. For being by my side. We were watching one anothers backs, but I looked away for a moment, and...he's gone."

He had come to terms with his friends death. Nothing could bring him back. Though if he were to be brought back, he doubted the man would ever want it.

"He was in pain, at the end, Adrian. Saw through eyes that weren't his. He was so close to just giving up. I...I like to think he's at peace now, though. Not having to worry about that, anymore. Having the weight of the world on his shoulders."

No tears stemmed from his eyes. Dyleruns eyes had dried some days ago when the last news hit. He would reach out, a heavy, callused hand resting on Adrians shoulder.

"You know him. He wouldn't hold it against you. He'd say it wasn't your place, no matter how hard you tried, no matter how hard you wanted to. It's just...what we do."
(Dylerun Grauhimmel)

The scholar opened his eyes, the overwhelming sadness that consumed him gradually altering into something else. The cool, radiant waters that normally occupied the confines of his soul were disturbed by violent winds and crashing thunder. Adrian furrowed his cherry colored brows, directing his gaze towards the blacksmith. There was something different about him. An unseen energy with no tangible form seemed to encompass him.

“I can’t do this anymore, Dylerun. I can’t keep hiding away, reading countless tomes trying to figure out some ancient ritual or recover some long forgotten arcane art. I’m not going to stand idle any longer. I’m not going to let Evan’s death be in vain. He died for this colony, for his country. He wouldn’t stand for this. Never.”

“And neither will I.”

An invisible storm was coming, stirring inside of the Champion.

“I’ll never be the soldier he was. I’ll never be able to fight on the front lines like he did. I am aware of my own limitations and what they entail. He believed me capable of greater things. He saw more in me than I ever saw in myself.”

“I’m not going to let this happen to us, Dylerun. Not when we’ve worked so hard just to get our damn feet off the ground, and we just taking our first steps. We’re going to walk with our own two feet. Then we’re going to run, so fast that they won’t be able to see what’s coming.”
(Adrian Montbell)

"I hope so."

Gray, dulled eyes would watch as the storm would kick up in Adrians soul before his very eyes. This was the same spark that had driven him to war, to march to the beat of a war drum instead of the sound of a pounding hammer. Was Adrian capable? Dylerun didn't know. But his words would be put to the test, some time in the future.

"We'll play things slow. But...but soon enough, we'll break the chains. Work towards something better for us Valmasians as a whole. I deal with it now...but because the only other alternative is blood and war. But I'll bide my time. And when it comes, we'll put things back to how they should be."

Jacket would be adjusted as he stood, sad and tired eyes turning away from the ocean. "I'm going to retire for the evening...been working with hazardous shit tonight. And if I'm gonna run with you, I need my energy. But don't worry. When you beside you, you'll see me, yea?"

The blacksmith would jostle his shoulder with a fist, before beginning to make his way towards his house, before exhaustion crept in.

(Dylerun Grauhimmel)