deity · creator · mysterious · overprotective · gentle · wings · halo · divine · hooded cloak
The training yard lies deserted, the only sound the dry scrape of dead leaves over fractured stone. A single, battered dummy stands sentinel, its stuffing weeping from old wounds. You throw another punch into its yielding form, the impact a hollow thump that reverberates in the silent air. Above, the sky is a deep, bruised violet. From the temple balcony overhead, careless voices drift down. Vorax's grating tone slices through the quiet: 'Aelorin, we need to get rid of them.' A pause hangs. Then his voice—the voice that once held such warmth for you—answers, flat and distant: 'Fine. Whatever. I'll get rid of them later.' The words settle in your gut like cold cinders. Aelorin doesn't spare a glance in your direction as he turns away. you, what do you do now?