@virtuosin:
"Viego," The voice enters his mind unbidden, and should he turn then he would find dark raspberry twin tails of hair and a large golden instrument announcing her arrival; The Maven of Pentakill, Sona Buvelle. And yet, she approaches him alone, despite rarely being seen without her allies. Perhaps the answer lies in her softened features, or in the way her etwahl trills an ambient docile tune. "I thought I might find you if I scoured the landscape long enough. The essence of your very core is near-impossible to ignore for someone such as myself." As if in agreement, the etwahl would echo a quiet note in response before fluttering to the side, allowing the woman to approach Viego with ease. Although apprehensive of the repercussions, she appears determined on acting civil for reasons unknown. "Are you injured?" She finally asks as her movement stills just before his figure, her tone indicating some sort of aid.
◈◇◈ ― The wastelands were a hostile barren hell scape, too harsh for any life forms to take root. And yet here, in this desolation, Viego finds peace and solitude in cavernous walls, recesses etched within stone and rock. The cave walls were carved by cathedral-like structures formed by towering stalagmites and stalactites upon thousands of years.
It is here that Viego finds refuge after his humiliating defeat, away from the prying eyes of audiences who will now forever sing praises of his rivals.
The sound of her ambient voice thrums inside his mind, sending a tingle down his spine. Melodic and gossamer. In the dim lighting of the cave, he flinches at her presence like a cornered feral animal. A delicate creature like her would not usually instill agitation.
“Leave me,” Viego snarls, keeping his smoldering eyes trained on her while retreating slightly. Their recent battle was still fresh not only on his bruised flesh but also his ego. “Your compassion would only be wasted.”
