𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐮𝐧 𝐛𝐮𝐫𝐧𝐬 𝐚 𝐬𝐰𝐚𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐫𝐞𝐝 𝐚𝐜𝐫𝐨𝐬𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐡𝐨𝐫𝐢𝐳𝐨𝐧, reminiscent in a way of how the skies bled in the crisis of the Final Days. Yet now is it absent the raining fire, absent the blasphemies born amidst despair. There is only a peace that settles far more comfortably across Thavnair than it does across his shoulders. He’s still unused to peace, still unsure of what to do with himself without a lance in hand and the weight of his armor wrapped tight and protective about him. For in the oppressive heat of these lands has he eschewed Iceheart for something more loose and comfortable and well does he feel too exposed. Even in the dimming light of sunset are his scales too noticeable.
His footsteps are light when he approaches, though no doubt has she heard him when he’s made no attempts to conceal his presence. ‘Twas too easy to find her, thus leading him to believe she might very well have been waiting for him. “Hiding again, are we.” He settles on a stone beside her, the chill of her presence a relief against the heat. Does she feel it as he does, does it affect her worse? He’s always wanted to ask since stepping foot here. “The others had thought you fled already.” / @akhafah
