OOM: In Pendaran Wood
Galadan is, though he might often protest it, a creature of the forest, child of the Forest Lord himself. And so it is that when things shift in the Wood, he can feel it--something that is almost intuition, but not quite.
He has such a feeling now, itchy enough in his wolf-shape, but far clearer and stronger when he wears the form of a man.
His first thought, perhaps, is of his father, Cernan. Surely the movement of one of the gods would cause a disturbance, a ripple in the normal workings of the woodland.
And for all that he and his father have not spoken since the Bael Rangat, since Galadan did what he would do and allied himself with Rakoth Maugrim, since he broke with the Light--
This current strangeness is so rich with old shadings of emotion, laden with the feel of memory, that he almost believes, for a fraction of a moment, that--
But no.
It is not Cernan who walks in the wood today.
It is not Cernan that makes Galadan's freeze, expression twisted into something no one living had ever been able to see.
It is Lisen.
Or rather the fact that her room in the Anor, the room she had leapt from to her death, all those long years ago--someone is there.
Now.
A quick gesture over his heart sets him to his wolf shape, and then Galadan is running westward, swift and sleek and (un)sure. This travesty, this intrusion on her memory and his pain, will be ended.
It will.
He has such a feeling now, itchy enough in his wolf-shape, but far clearer and stronger when he wears the form of a man.
His first thought, perhaps, is of his father, Cernan. Surely the movement of one of the gods would cause a disturbance, a ripple in the normal workings of the woodland.
And for all that he and his father have not spoken since the Bael Rangat, since Galadan did what he would do and allied himself with Rakoth Maugrim, since he broke with the Light--
This current strangeness is so rich with old shadings of emotion, laden with the feel of memory, that he almost believes, for a fraction of a moment, that--
But no.
It is not Cernan who walks in the wood today.
It is not Cernan that makes Galadan's freeze, expression twisted into something no one living had ever been able to see.
It is Lisen.
Or rather the fact that her room in the Anor, the room she had leapt from to her death, all those long years ago--someone is there.
Now.
A quick gesture over his heart sets him to his wolf shape, and then Galadan is running westward, swift and sleek and (un)sure. This travesty, this intrusion on her memory and his pain, will be ended.
It will.