[Gather yourself. It's such a simple statement, and for a brief moment it feels like an impossible ask. How can he compose himself in the face of such anguish? How can he stare down visions and memories that aren't his own but still resonate so deeply?
(Centuries of sleep and one hundred years of waiting, planning, preparing to die for the sake of the man who could save the world from its destruction. So little of his life has been spent as G'raha Tia, and so little of G'raha Tia's life was under his own control with the legacy that hung around his neck.)
G'raha takes one last, shuddering breath and grabs his staff, using it to brace himself upright.]
Do not worry. It'll take a lot more than this to kill me—
[He hisses, feeling, reaching, chasing that instinct. A circle. A summoning? He's not sure, but if a tragedy can be undone then shouldn't he undo it?
(That's why he was woken, after all, that's the only reason he had to exist for so, so long. Sometimes you must needs turn back the clock and do the impossible...)
Slowly, the sky gets bleached with a bright, endless light, harshly illuminating the devastation.]
no subject
(Centuries of sleep and one hundred years of waiting, planning, preparing to die for the sake of the man who could save the world from its destruction. So little of his life has been spent as G'raha Tia, and so little of G'raha Tia's life was under his own control with the legacy that hung around his neck.)
G'raha takes one last, shuddering breath and grabs his staff, using it to brace himself upright.]
Do not worry. It'll take a lot more than this to kill me—
[He hisses, feeling, reaching, chasing that instinct. A circle. A summoning? He's not sure, but if a tragedy can be undone then shouldn't he undo it?
(That's why he was woken, after all, that's the only reason he had to exist for so, so long. Sometimes you must needs turn back the clock and do the impossible...)
Slowly, the sky gets bleached with a bright, endless light, harshly illuminating the devastation.]