❲ @darkesturges ❳
There are two paths he's seen- he's only lived one. Illithids existed beyond time, much like the githyanki, their domain was the Astral plane. Of course he recognized Isthari, even if the dragonborn chose ... well, not yet. He doesn't carry that burden yet; only one that he had no choice in. What a pity, to be born to serve another- What a hypocrite he was to criticise that when he had said so many times that he had willingly become an illithid.
He'd only chosen to be bound, to lose his free will. How had he convinced himself otherwise?
Now, the stars laughed at his plight, they'd changed him just like Ansur had wanted, and wasn't that why he'd thrown his fist into the mirror? Isn't that why he wept seeing the red blood? Not so long ago, he bled ichor like the gods did. Wasn't that proof that he was a god in that body? But he wore a body that he barely recognized, and it was the body Ansur loved, and now he stood face to face with the other dragonborn-
Gods, it hurt.
❝ Isthari, ❞
❝ So, you are here, too ... ❞ He's glad, even if he's confused. Isthari was, whether he knew it or not, the Dark Urge. Isthari had ... something with Gortash, and maybe it was petty, but Balduran had looked upon the ambitious noble who seemed to have tried to emulate a legend, and all he saw was something pitiful. Even if he knew somewhere deep in his heart that to follow Isthari would to be to die, he could at least indulge in being the dragonborn's dream guardian for a little longer.
❝ It is good to see you. Safe, I would hope? ❞