His voice sounds like the rumble of a summer storm, muted and far away across the sea – and from the depths of his armored head. He’s tilted that head, and she thinks it is in confusion but finds it difficult to read him with the shrug and wince that follows.
Painful?
Why is he suffering? Healers are not uncommon, and their magic has dangers of its own, but why hasn’t this stranger tried to seek one out? He could even have gone to Tephra, to find the waterfall. Instead, he’s standing here and wincing. Asena frowns, attempting to puzzle out his reasoning with what she knows of him. Precious little, she thinks, just his name and that his armor hurts him, and that his thunderstorm voice has a lilt to it she has never heard and does not recognize as coming from the Beyond.
“From the Meadow?” She asks, her amethyst eyes blinking at the audacity. “I might not have smoothed my mane in a few days but I don’t think I look homeless!.”
@[Grimjaw]
A S E N A
will I remember to put a quote here before i post?
probably not