Unfurling Life’s Greener Pastures

This man was like many in his life; there was no unfamiliarity to that contentious attitude. ‘Me against the world,’ that kind of thing. Though, the question in his conscience was whether such notions were pervasive. 

Fhawn didn’t hide those complicated feelings. They etched his features, stern, slightly ajar with a fixation at purveying the Xaela’s appearance; the musculature, the tattoos, the markings of war. All the vanity reminded him of past affiliates he argued and clashed with. He strode forward with the slag of hesitation encumbering his feet. “I see glory wins you many wounds.”

“...that’s perfectly alright, if so.

Their existence was never really the point. It’s the idea they give an answer to an imperfect world for those lost without sense or purpose. A mental placeholder of sorts, you know?”

His fingers traced along a few tender leaves of foliage like a brush to canvas; he seemed... preoccupied, not all there yet he listened scrupulously, nonetheless. The reaction left wont for more energy Fhawn did not care to give. There was no force, no restraint, no attitude. This stranger’s unorthodoxy merely made him simper with some resolved apathy.

“It’s not the fool’s belief but the fool’s hope.”