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( private - sealed heart )
[ While good news carries on the wind, so does bad news. It isn't often that he receives something like this. Barbatos does not have spies, does not send sprites or wisps to spy on his neighbors... but - the wind whispers songs that carry over the centuries to those willing to listen.
Barbatos was always willing to listen to affairs with Morax. It was a week since word spread, easily, if not another. Morax may be a buffoon at times with his feelings, but Barbatos does not encroach.
He doesn't come to Morax immediately when word gets over to him of the fractured foundation that Morax was trying to build.
However, Azhdaha was more than a fissure.
The Anemo Archon is wise in how he approaches Morax.
Geo and Anemo do not resonate with one another. He can't sense Geo like a finder, but he knows where he was. Alone, in the cliffs of Mt. Hulao overlooking the golden sunset - that is where he knows he'll find him. He dives fast, swirling clouds with the expanse of his wings as he slows down, a small sack around his waist at his hip. Two aged wines he's buried for special occasions lay bundled away and he doesn't presume Morax would be in the mood to even receive company.
He knows what loss can do to someone, he's seen his people suffer from it -- he's felt it in his own heart. A pleasant breeze kisses against the end of his hair, brushes up to his hood... and finally, the air tastes all the more lighter. ]
Yahoo, Morax! I bring you a gift.
Barbatos was always willing to listen to affairs with Morax. It was a week since word spread, easily, if not another. Morax may be a buffoon at times with his feelings, but Barbatos does not encroach.
He doesn't come to Morax immediately when word gets over to him of the fractured foundation that Morax was trying to build.
However, Azhdaha was more than a fissure.
The Anemo Archon is wise in how he approaches Morax.
Geo and Anemo do not resonate with one another. He can't sense Geo like a finder, but he knows where he was. Alone, in the cliffs of Mt. Hulao overlooking the golden sunset - that is where he knows he'll find him. He dives fast, swirling clouds with the expanse of his wings as he slows down, a small sack around his waist at his hip. Two aged wines he's buried for special occasions lay bundled away and he doesn't presume Morax would be in the mood to even receive company.
He knows what loss can do to someone, he's seen his people suffer from it -- he's felt it in his own heart. A pleasant breeze kisses against the end of his hair, brushes up to his hood... and finally, the air tastes all the more lighter. ]
Yahoo, Morax! I bring you a gift.