atlas,
i hope you know where you're going, but you're just as lost as me
you walk with such conviction and I'm eyes-closed following
He knows he can be overbearing and stick his nose in places it is not entirely wanted; it has been a tendency of his, this need to care, ever since Nashira opened his eyes and sliced his hair. Seeing the ill and undervalued dying in the pit of the city he himself looked down upon; crimes against humanity from which he had blindly prospered. No more, ever again. Still, he appreciated Willoughby’s acknowledgment of his good intentions, and it warmed him slightly to know a soul such as him was not entirely lost amongst a world seemingly crafted of apathy.
She speaks of places with no names and Atlas is moored somewhere between lost and confused. In his mind there is a vast desert filled with bones. It has a name-- the Sagudal-- but it has no name at all. Somewhere there are sixteen graves once laid in the sand, though surely it’s temperamental nature has shifted them all by now. “You have traveled much, then?” he asked, unable to quash his innate curiosity and desire to learn. Perhaps they had this in common; maybe they could fill the night with stories of her travels.
His were ghosts he’d rather leave buried.
He guesses her parents had kept secrets for what they thought was her own good. He chuckles lightly. “Perhaps you some stolen princess, whisked away in the night for your own safety. What a tale that would make.” His tone is warm and full of jest. “Still, I’ve been around the bend a time or two. If you’ve questions on Novus, do not hesitate to ask.”
Ahead, a field of moonflowers in bloom bob their white heads in a gentle breeze. It was a breathtaking sight.
She speaks of places with no names and Atlas is moored somewhere between lost and confused. In his mind there is a vast desert filled with bones. It has a name-- the Sagudal-- but it has no name at all. Somewhere there are sixteen graves once laid in the sand, though surely it’s temperamental nature has shifted them all by now. “You have traveled much, then?” he asked, unable to quash his innate curiosity and desire to learn. Perhaps they had this in common; maybe they could fill the night with stories of her travels.
His were ghosts he’d rather leave buried.
He guesses her parents had kept secrets for what they thought was her own good. He chuckles lightly. “Perhaps you some stolen princess, whisked away in the night for your own safety. What a tale that would make.” His tone is warm and full of jest. “Still, I’ve been around the bend a time or two. If you’ve questions on Novus, do not hesitate to ask.”
Ahead, a field of moonflowers in bloom bob their white heads in a gentle breeze. It was a breathtaking sight.
@Willoughby | "Speech."
