WoA Drabble

Shrael could barely hear Tenn asking questions, thin strands of noise slipping through the old walls. (or was it through the door? Jaz had been rather rough with it) If the others knew half of what he did, this Bast would be taking his fool's errand elsewhere. Hunting a secalk, for 'personal reasons'? Just another corpse to-be, chasing fame like a moth after fire. (and taking his companions along)

It felt like the whole world was crawling along, too terrified to look back and see their mistakes. Just blindly following the path of the last generation, and paying far too much for nothing but the taste of ash. (or was that just him?) It just felt like... faces and places were drifting away, nothing but sand carried on the wind. (Just impressions in the dunes, outlines of what once was) There was always more sand to take its place, but...

But how many had already been forgotten by the Wastes? (by himself?) Was he just as blind as everyone else?


[Shrael, while he was like 'nah y'all can go fight that giant death lion w/o me']



Tenn stood outside, waiting in the noonday sun. (why was he even doing this?) Times like these reminded him of the past... Or at least, the better parts of it. Back when Jaz and him would spend guard duty laughing. (and not running, or hiding, or killing) Sometimes he wondered what would have happened if the commander had listened, or if he had been more forceful... Could they have avoided that entire massacre?

He sighed, and scratched at the sand and grit trapped under his scales. This was why he tried to leave the past to Shrael. (it never helped) If you wanted to do something, you had to be in the now. Even if that something was punching a secalk.


[Tenn, waiting outside before the fight with the secalk]