The needs are becoming dire. He needs to contact the Warriors of Light. They must be made aware of what is to come and how to forestall it. He must make them see -- make them hear him. He desperately tries again to call into the void of time and space. However, it is not an exact science, and what might be for him is certainly not when for them. However, the Calling must be a last resort.
A resort he very well may need to turn to as things continue to spiral further downwards.
For now, he relies on the method of projection. It taxes him greatly and demands a stress on the Tower's systems itself. No matter. Somethings are worth the price, even if the younger of the Warriors disagrees.
He finds himself amongst the celebration and cheer. A few turns of his head and he realizes exactly what the celebration is. The Starlight Celebration. How many years has it been since he's gazed upon it? How many celebrations had he wasted away in books and studies only to realize that one day it would no longer matter? The urgency of his quest has simmered if only long enough for him to stand there -- neigh a shade -- and watch those that mingle in Isghard.
When exactly has his projection arrived?
A familiar sense falls upon him then. It takes a moment for him to realize what it is. Cold. Not the bitter biting kind. Merely, the sort that nips at ones fingers and toes to remind one that the sun has gone away. His head tilts up to stare at the sky and a hand extends out to catch what he will certainly not be able to catch.
Snow.
How ...long has it been since he has seen snow, or, felt it for that matter? So very, very long now. A younger man in another time and another place. One rushing off to be a hero as he had read in the stories of eld. Now, he is an old man, reaching desperately for those heroes to perform their miracles at his behest. ]
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The needs are becoming dire. He needs to contact the Warriors of Light. They must be made aware of what is to come and how to forestall it. He must make them see -- make them hear him. He desperately tries again to call into the void of time and space. However, it is not an exact science, and what might be for him is certainly not when for them. However, the Calling must be a last resort.
A resort he very well may need to turn to as things continue to spiral further downwards.
For now, he relies on the method of projection. It taxes him greatly and demands a stress on the Tower's systems itself. No matter. Somethings are worth the price, even if the younger of the Warriors disagrees.
He finds himself amongst the celebration and cheer. A few turns of his head and he realizes exactly what the celebration is. The Starlight Celebration. How many years has it been since he's gazed upon it? How many celebrations had he wasted away in books and studies only to realize that one day it would no longer matter? The urgency of his quest has simmered if only long enough for him to stand there -- neigh a shade -- and watch those that mingle in Isghard.
When exactly has his projection arrived?
A familiar sense falls upon him then. It takes a moment for him to realize what it is. Cold. Not the bitter biting kind. Merely, the sort that nips at ones fingers and toes to remind one that the sun has gone away. His head tilts up to stare at the sky and a hand extends out to catch what he will certainly not be able to catch.
Snow.
How ...long has it been since he has seen snow, or, felt it for that matter? So very, very long now. A younger man in another time and another place. One rushing off to be a hero as he had read in the stories of eld. Now, he is an old man, reaching desperately for those heroes to perform their miracles at his behest. ]