Andarin: The Mountains: You will burn in hell, yeah you’ll burn in hell.

“This city is afraid of me. I have seen its true face.
The streets are extended gutters and the gutters are full of blood and when the drains finally scab over, all the vermin will drown.:
The accumulated filth of all their sex and murder will foam up about their waists and all the whores and politicians will look up and shout 'Save Us!'...:
...and I'll look down, and whisper, 'No'"

Andraste sensed the silent admiration in Artaxxas and that was all it took. Unfortunately such beauty came with a lack of humility. She was vain, and despite being over a hundred years old, she knew no bounds when it came to ego. She could pick up on admiration even if it was faint. With that knowledge, she swoops in, circling the girl and performing an array of aerial maneuvers that only a bird could manage. Her song came then, and with it a circle of fire formed around Nicodemus and the girl, high and impenetrable.

With her sharp exhale, Nicodemus lowered his head, turning at an angle so that the scar was no longer visible. Perhaps he had frightened her. He let out a small flame just before his hooves, flickering like a lighter. Andraste circled back to him, twisting in tight swirls until she had come to land upon his withers once more, the wall still around the them, burning intensely against the night. He waited for her to finish, speaking then in his handsome baritone. “Yes, then your parents had one element, and then when you were born you were given the opportunity to dual wield.” He smiles. “I wasn’t born from two here, so I had to earn it.” He ponders, checking that his information was indeed correct. “In fact, I was the first to hold fire here in the element.”

Then she asks the question he sensed was already coming. He paused, his eyes searching nowhere in particular. He seemed distant then. Patience was something that had always blessed him. In his mind, why rush? We all ultimately came to the same end, so why rush when you could relish and take your sweet time? Life was short. Thus he had decided to answer her, not really minding her curiosity.

“Yes.” He breathed, and to stand testament to it, a small vortex of air surrounded her. “And so is that.”

SEER

**NICODEMUS**

Existence is random. Has no pattern save what we imagine after staring at it for too long. No meaning save what we choose to impose. This rudderless world is not shaped by vague metaphysical forces. It is not God who kills the children. Not fate that butchers them or destiny that feeds them to the dogs. It's us. Only us.

Picture Copyright to Artwithapulse at Deviantart