i thought i'd find you here. // also thancred
Ishagard is a far cry from any other location that she has been before. Despite the extend period of time that she has been within the realm of snow, dragons and war it does not make the thought any less true. It is a far cry from the lush forest of the Black Shroud, from the salt spray perfume of Limsa Lominsa.
Different from the Waking Sands-
Clawed gauntlets dig into her palm.
'No.' Beneath white gold helm an unseen expression sours. Lilac eyes narrow yet hold onto nothing, no location nor object in the distance at the numbing thought continues without preamble. 'Tis not at all different from the waking sands.'
Both were stained in blood of companions and foe alike. A friend possessed with will and at its centre the Garlean Empire, the Ascians and a leader betwixt it all. And yet The Dragonsong has settled into a quiet lull, the people of Ishgard have come together as they had times in eons pass. For all that was lost, of Haurchefant, of Ysalye and many countless more the future finally seems to shine dimly upon the horizon.
Glaive should find peace in that, perhaps find happiness and for Ishgard, she does.For Aymeric, welcomes her back like one of Ishgards own dragoons, for Estinein who's continues to live, for Alphinaud that has finally begone to find means to smile despite the continous onslaught of DEVASTATION the scions have endure.
Yet for herself, she does not.
There were no bodies for her to prepare, no time to learn the Ishgardian customs for the dead and she pays dearly for it. She has no peace in their deaths. At least, they are treated with dignity.
Aymeric is nearly joined their fellow compatriots for peace and it is a truly bile inducing thought.
It too is further kindling for it. The disillusionment and anger.
There is fine line between understanding and hypocrisy and the warrior of light finds herself standing upon its apex. This war has shown the downward spiral that come with seeking blood for vengeance, shown it in all it's merciless gore through dragovan teeth and claws of steel. The Dragoon is aware it is a mindset that leads to self destruction, has SEEN what it does within the realms of men and the what the sudden absence does.
Estinein is gone. Estinien is gone and she bares the mantle alone because if it. That should be proof enough. He should have been proof enough.
Yet it rumbles beneath the scales of armour and mocking. The craving for blood between her teeth from the jugular of those faces long gone is not sated. In this time of fragile momentary peace such kindling continues to burn quietly, undaunted by reason or proof. What has been is not enough for what has been lost, not nearly enough.
Will it ever be? When did the desire for power twist into revenge so readily? Between the thoughts the Warrior of Light almost misses the sound of feet. Almost. The delibrately loud crunches within the snow are the only things that keep her hand from leap like a taught spring. Yet the voice is not cause for easing. Silence greets the other Scion, white tipped ears twitching ever so slightly. Listening as he draws closer before stopping a non too short distance away.
"There is....naught for me to say. Naught that.." Glaive says finally, barely a wisp as she struggles to find the words. Words that might not give away more than she has already to the man. "That you have not heard before."
It's a fruitless venture and the both know it. The Dragoon's shoulders slump with a sigh,
"Tis cold...Go inside, Thancred."
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