11-29-2020, 06:32 PM
YADIGAR
there’s a hole in my chest but it’s mine, baby, it’s all i got.
Yadigar cares little for control or order - these things are unheard of in Pangea, where chaos alone reigns supreme. The only certainty they have ever been dealt is their unspoken bond with one another. Their confidence in their family gives them confidence in themselves, makes them certain even when they are alone or stolen away to another kingdom. He cannot explain the strength that the desert heat and the merciless upbringing have forged in him.
When Tarian says that it’s always the wrong place at the wrong time, he gives no answer. Ghaul died precisely where he was meant to, no matter how much it destroyed his children. There was nothing left for him outside the fire. It was the final lesson he gave his eldest son and he will not forgive him for it, even if his heart finds a way to break itself free of its frozen prison.
He turns his scaled head when Tarian asks about Pangea. What is there to say? What words could ever describe his home?
“Pangea was born of spite and murdered in spite. She sank beneath the ocean waves for decades and returned with a cancer festering in her heart,” he answers, citing the old stories passed along from Anaxarete to Ghaul, from Ghaul to Yadigar. “There is something unnamed in these canyons but it has called us all here. It takes whatever weakness it finds and breaks it, rebuilds it into something that can withstand the world outside these borders.”
Yadigar watches him as he speaks once more, offering his assistance to the lawless territory. A silence settles in as the monster thinks on it for a moment. He shifts his great weight and turns the opportunity over in his hands before answering.
“Pangea wants for nothing. The only help you can provide is to lay down and die so that the youngest of our numbers don’t waste energy hunting,” he says at last. There is nothing unkind to his tone, despite the harsh words he chooses. He shares only a grim truth.
When Tarian says that it’s always the wrong place at the wrong time, he gives no answer. Ghaul died precisely where he was meant to, no matter how much it destroyed his children. There was nothing left for him outside the fire. It was the final lesson he gave his eldest son and he will not forgive him for it, even if his heart finds a way to break itself free of its frozen prison.
He turns his scaled head when Tarian asks about Pangea. What is there to say? What words could ever describe his home?
“Pangea was born of spite and murdered in spite. She sank beneath the ocean waves for decades and returned with a cancer festering in her heart,” he answers, citing the old stories passed along from Anaxarete to Ghaul, from Ghaul to Yadigar. “There is something unnamed in these canyons but it has called us all here. It takes whatever weakness it finds and breaks it, rebuilds it into something that can withstand the world outside these borders.”
Yadigar watches him as he speaks once more, offering his assistance to the lawless territory. A silence settles in as the monster thinks on it for a moment. He shifts his great weight and turns the opportunity over in his hands before answering.
“Pangea wants for nothing. The only help you can provide is to lay down and die so that the youngest of our numbers don’t waste energy hunting,” he says at last. There is nothing unkind to his tone, despite the harsh words he chooses. He shares only a grim truth.
@[Tarian]