[There is a chill in the air. The whistling of the wind, a sky which is black fading to blue, with clouds far, far below. There are three people at Hythlodaeus' side. One woman, attired in a cloak of the purest while. One man, in a cloak of the deepest black. And one other, one that appears entirely alien. A woman, most certainly. But one less than half of their size, bearing scales and horns.
All, including Hythlodaeus, stare onward, at a man in a dark cloak as he gathers himself upon the floor of this platform, clutching his right arm close as if injured. The wind's whistle is loud. Yet his words rise above them. His tone is broken, weak- it appears he is most severely winded. Yet the determination, the resolve, of his speech transcends even the elements and his physical injury.]
Meteion... I'm so sorry. Would that I could have listened to your report in full...
[Meteion? A girl is on the end of the platform. She bears the lower half of a bird, yet the rest of her is human. Save the wings on her head, of course. She is clad in different fashion to everyone else in attendance. A cloak, blue, the same colour as her hair and her feathers, lovingly rendered and accented with a large broach.
She gazes, expressionlessly, toward the stricken man as he lurches forward.]
Reflected upon its meaning and conveyed it to others- that they might reconsider their chosen course... But I have failed, and that wish will never be realized. However...
[She says nothing. She merely waits.]
Ere our fates become the province of others, I bid you tell me... just one thing. Was there happiness... in those distant stars? Was there a reason for living?
Dreamwalk | Meteion's report | for Fandaniel.
[There is a chill in the air. The whistling of the wind, a sky which is black fading to blue, with clouds far, far below. There are three people at Hythlodaeus' side. One woman, attired in a cloak of the purest while. One man, in a cloak of the deepest black. And one other, one that appears entirely alien. A woman, most certainly. But one less than half of their size, bearing scales and horns.
All, including Hythlodaeus, stare onward, at a man in a dark cloak as he gathers himself upon the floor of this platform, clutching his right arm close as if injured. The wind's whistle is loud. Yet his words rise above them. His tone is broken, weak- it appears he is most severely winded. Yet the determination, the resolve, of his speech transcends even the elements and his physical injury.]
Meteion... I'm so sorry. Would that I could have listened to your report in full...
[Meteion?
A girl is on the end of the platform. She bears the lower half of a bird, yet the rest of her is human. Save the wings on her head, of course. She is clad in different fashion to everyone else in attendance. A cloak, blue, the same colour as her hair and her feathers, lovingly rendered and accented with a large broach.
She gazes, expressionlessly, toward the stricken man as he lurches forward.]
Reflected upon its meaning and conveyed it to others- that they might reconsider their chosen course... But I have failed, and that wish will never be realized. However...
[She says nothing. She merely waits.]
Ere our fates become the province of others, I bid you tell me... just one thing. Was there happiness... in those distant stars? Was there a reason for living?