"Is it rude for me to ask how old you are, Lliev?..."
"I am older than one hundred and fifty yet younger than three hundred."
The fur-coated woman's words were innocent, yet sunk rather deep in the heart of the Wolond. The duo continued to converse a little more about the lives they live until the Varran had departed. Upon leaving, Lliev rose from his chair, drifting out from the little shop & down the water stained road. The cool breeze was gentle upon his exposed skin, his open coat flickering in reaction to nature's push. As he walked, he pondered his life.
"I once had a beautiful wife... No... I've had multiple wives. Three?... No.. Four?... Yes... Four."
As if it had lost its mind, the mutated creature continued to speak to himself, its stern, calm nature slowly falling into an unstable tone.
"Children... Real ones... I had those as well... There was Fllori... Or was there no I?... I..."
Blood seeped from the creature's palm as his digits closed, raven claws sinking into the surface of his skin. He decided to try a name that had not yet spoken for the past century.
"I am... Lliev of Alemaïn.. No.. I am Flör...Flör régâ-aladã lliev vácïï... Or... Was it Vacia... Or was it régorlada?... I..."
The Wolond eventually reached an abandoned home in one of the far corners of Old Town. Staring up at the Void Scripted wall, his eyes half sunk in an unfamiliar, salty liquid yet he failed to weep in fear that one of his advisors may hear him. The creature settled himself in his chair, failing to react to the thin stream of tears slithering along his cheeks.
"I... I've forgotten..."
"I am older than one hundred and fifty yet younger than three hundred."
The fur-coated woman's words were innocent, yet sunk rather deep in the heart of the Wolond. The duo continued to converse a little more about the lives they live until the Varran had departed. Upon leaving, Lliev rose from his chair, drifting out from the little shop & down the water stained road. The cool breeze was gentle upon his exposed skin, his open coat flickering in reaction to nature's push. As he walked, he pondered his life.
"I once had a beautiful wife... No... I've had multiple wives. Three?... No.. Four?... Yes... Four."
As if it had lost its mind, the mutated creature continued to speak to himself, its stern, calm nature slowly falling into an unstable tone.
"Children... Real ones... I had those as well... There was Fllori... Or was there no I?... I..."
Blood seeped from the creature's palm as his digits closed, raven claws sinking into the surface of his skin. He decided to try a name that had not yet spoken for the past century.
"I am... Lliev of Alemaïn.. No.. I am Flör...Flör régâ-aladã lliev vácïï... Or... Was it Vacia... Or was it régorlada?... I..."
The Wolond eventually reached an abandoned home in one of the far corners of Old Town. Staring up at the Void Scripted wall, his eyes half sunk in an unfamiliar, salty liquid yet he failed to weep in fear that one of his advisors may hear him. The creature settled himself in his chair, failing to react to the thin stream of tears slithering along his cheeks.
"I... I've forgotten..."
