Andarin: The Mountains: Albatross;

“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'"

The air that pulls through his mane would have once been familiar. He remembers the time when it was air tugging about his ankles, though then it had been a burden and nothing more. Now it was strange, foreign despite the fact that his own daughter held it. He returns her smile, though his was….darker. It would always be darker. He had gone through too much for it to be lighter. His smile was pure, however. Because he was happy to see his friend.

He doesn’t know of her troubles. What he does know is that he can relate to her statement. Nicodemus had not been well for a while as well. The feeling of the dead scar around his jugular pulled for only a moment. It was only a combination of his daughter and Fenrisulfr’s good wills to free him from the evil of the shard that consumed him. He remembers death. He remembers smoldering in Andraste’s flames, being dragged by her talons from death’s dark cave. Thus, he sympathizes. A sage nod, a heightened smile. But Nicodemus does not want to forget. His memories make him what he is.

“I….I’ve not been anywhere special.” He wasn’t…really lying. In all honesty he preferred not to talk about it. “I went to the desert. For a moment or so.” His voice is distant, as though his mind were somewhere else entirely. “I missed you.” His tone changes entirely. Eyes suddenly flash to the morning’s rising sun. “What do you think of the sky?” Random. Totally random. He had to change the subject somehow.

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.