The Forgotten

If Soren had suspected that some cosmic being had it out for them earlier he was certain of it now. Valhalla once more torn from his grip, his home once more rendered asunder and this time with no hope of a return. Soren had vowed that he would stick close to his family however, they were as close a home as he had and he was not eager to lose them once again.

Not that it hadn't occurred to him that he may be forced to pick, Kismet clearly was still attached to his friend and Azalea was stubborn to say the least, that the two might end up splitting ways had plagued his mind. How could he pick? Certainly he had felt closer to Kismet than his mother, but he was just beginning to patch things up with her and he would be remiss to possibly destroy what he had managed to rebuild.

These worries ran rampant through his mind as he walked, his younger brother hanging from his maw. His mother's voice broke through his thoughts and he like Kismet gently dropped the child upon the ground. He did not speak, his brother having already asked his question, instead fixing a curious hazel gaze upon the woman.