"I'm supposed to follow my destiny." // from baby vidar
“Is it destiny? Or is it desire? Is destiny what is placed before you? Demanded of you from family? Or is it desires, known and unknown, that shove you towards an unknown ending? Why, then, if it is either, would you place any weight in the concept of ‘destiny’; the very thing that curses you and strips you of personal identity?”
They who are not the hatchling’s caretakers approach, body draped in silk and skin adorned with black stains, a face that bore similarities to the Azran, but was just as untrue. They, the Oracle, move like mist, bare feet settling on chilled marble as silks drag across neatly swept floors. They speak, and though they are a stranger, their voice is kind and soft. Welcoming. Familiar.
“You, the Seer.
You, the Dragon.
You, Vidar.
Which do you want more? To be remembered as? There is no right or wrong answer, only fulfillment or lack thereof.”
The Oracle smiles, frostbitten fingers running gentle strokes down the young hatchling’s neck and back. They continue speaking, voice laden with pride and a solemn understanding, as they trace small circles through fine feathers.
“Then go - go and grace the world with love and ice, with sinew and metal - you who sees and can touch and can hear and can speak. The world may be unkind, but it is not something that is closed forever from you; you must simply peer through the fog that obscures and teach the truth.”
