OH, TO BE HERE ON THE GROUND
The ground changes beneath him and it’s almost enough to send him spinning again on its own - magic - magic? What else - but he does not know magic as others in this world do; El Toro is utterly unfamiliar with any kind but telekinesis (and that was something to get used to) and there is not quite enough alcohol to cover it up.
Toro nods at her thanks; lolling his head in a tilt to get a better look at Fable. ”Nice to meet you...Fable...” How fitting, for the woman who told him stories as he died. How fitting, for a woman who told him stories as she kept him alive. But he does not think these things, really, and instead stares at the dragon for a while, even while Isra speaks. She always sounds like poetry.
”Thunder…birds? Funny. We had…snow…elk. Ice deer. Something. Got all ready for a battle and they ran away. No glory. Just a little valor, I guess…”
She asks him about the thing he is trying to avoid so he takes another drink.
”Better. Fine now, I think. Good. Mostly. They’re good.” Sometimes he can still feel them crinkling like parchment between his ribs. ”Thanks. For that.” He looks away and takes another drink, again. His cracked opal eyes fall to the floor and he says, ”What did the ground do there?”
@Isra
"What I say,"
What I think,
