...And my axe!

Astraios didn’t immediately react as she began to speak of them telling a story, but his blows were slower, more distracted as he listened. He didn’t even mind that she was propping the handle, as if he was too weak to do it alone. His attention was on her as she spoke. She spoke of monsters that took people, and stories that outlived them. It sounded fanciful, but he wondered what it would be like to be a part of such a thing. Where your story mattered, where you could paint a tale and be applauded for it.

Loss did not hold much power over him. His own mother had taken the lives of his siblings. They are weak, they will slow us down. He had learned early the importance of strength. He had helped his mother take lives, as well. He wondered if his family would be akin to the monsters she spoke of.

“What were these monsters like? How did they take you?” She did not seem to care that he was interested in her story, so he let himself ask. Let himself be bold, and curious.


"Speech"