He had followed the river for some time before he came upon the creek. It branched off from the main body, turning flow into a trickle and moving from a roar to a rumble, its crystal clear waters like a vein of diamond in the sunlight that broke through the trees. A soon as Kaladin shifted his course, he felt an odd change come upon him - a scent, carried on the wind, one he had never felt before. He could not describe the sensation that came over him. It was not a pleasant feeling - it almost felt as if he were intruding on something private. It was not a mortal emotion he sought to understand, and he promptly decided not to delve further into self-discovery this day.
The trees were thinner hear, and he moved with greater ease between the towering pines, glad for the thin streams of warm light that managed to break through the crowns. These were younger lands, he realized - younger then him and much more purposeful. Things were done here, things he'd seen mortals do but had always found repulsive himself. Lands of love? He glanced around himself with surprise, then shrugged. They need to continue their legacies somehow. After all, not everyone lives forever.
Kaladin had not been the product of these natural acts. It was the benefit of being created as an amorphous cloud of raw power. Even then, eight hundred years ago, he'd sought to conform to father's world - he'd taken on an equine shape, trying to learn the mannerisms and behaviors that came so naturally to mortals. They'd seemed meaningless to him - they still did. But, he realized, I am mortal now. I do not have a choice but to learn. He sighed an exasperated breath, ambling along the lush forest path. If I were still a god, he thought bitterly, I would have hidden my relic as far from this damned spot as possible.
Speech sounded off to his left, and Kaladin flicked his ear in the direction, attempting to discern the low tones. However, his body refused to capture the words, and his mortal ears were only able to make out the familiarity of the words, but not their content. He moved in the direction of the noise, relieved to have company with which to share his discomfort. Sure enough, it was only a moment before he was met with a familiar shape tucked behind a pair of spruce trees - the crimson-and-earth brawler with a gaze like fire. As he drew closer, he began to make out the man's whispers. "I don't want to get laid you idiot, get us out of here." Kaldin grinned. He was beginning to like this man more and more.
"Neither do I," he called out, unsure whether their familiarity still required the courtesy of mundane greeting. Either way, he found himself amused by their horrifying situation, and he grinned icily at their shared desperation. "If I am to guess, the only reason we are here is to find Tempus' relic. So let us find this damned relic or get the hell out of here."
The trees were thinner hear, and he moved with greater ease between the towering pines, glad for the thin streams of warm light that managed to break through the crowns. These were younger lands, he realized - younger then him and much more purposeful. Things were done here, things he'd seen mortals do but had always found repulsive himself. Lands of love? He glanced around himself with surprise, then shrugged. They need to continue their legacies somehow. After all, not everyone lives forever.
Kaladin had not been the product of these natural acts. It was the benefit of being created as an amorphous cloud of raw power. Even then, eight hundred years ago, he'd sought to conform to father's world - he'd taken on an equine shape, trying to learn the mannerisms and behaviors that came so naturally to mortals. They'd seemed meaningless to him - they still did. But, he realized, I am mortal now. I do not have a choice but to learn. He sighed an exasperated breath, ambling along the lush forest path. If I were still a god, he thought bitterly, I would have hidden my relic as far from this damned spot as possible.
Speech sounded off to his left, and Kaladin flicked his ear in the direction, attempting to discern the low tones. However, his body refused to capture the words, and his mortal ears were only able to make out the familiarity of the words, but not their content. He moved in the direction of the noise, relieved to have company with which to share his discomfort. Sure enough, it was only a moment before he was met with a familiar shape tucked behind a pair of spruce trees - the crimson-and-earth brawler with a gaze like fire. As he drew closer, he began to make out the man's whispers. "I don't want to get laid you idiot, get us out of here." Kaldin grinned. He was beginning to like this man more and more.
"Neither do I," he called out, unsure whether their familiarity still required the courtesy of mundane greeting. Either way, he found himself amused by their horrifying situation, and he grinned icily at their shared desperation. "If I am to guess, the only reason we are here is to find Tempus' relic. So let us find this damned relic or get the hell out of here."
