Andarin: The Mountains: Micah & Oceantree;

“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'"

He watches them in silence, his mind open, his ears open. It was clear from the robotic way that he moved that at the moment, he was all duty. The passion that were his flames were not absent, only dormant for now. Now the fury that was in his eyes was still, watching, waiting. He didn’t know why he was supposed to be doing this, but when it came to duty for his home, he didn’t ask questions. And perhaps that was his own fatal flaw. Only time would be able to tell. My duty to protect them was strong, sometimes so that it would interfere with what some would call a lack of better judgement. And yet, to him, he was doing all that was right. If only others could understand him more. If only he could learn to interact with others better so that he wouldn’t come off so…..well….much as a jerk. His intentions were only the best, and he thought darkly of his misread visit to Ni’Srilan.

Micah was the first to speak, tearing him away from a suddenly wondering mind and back to the robotic way in which his mind stayed open for them. He listens, body still as ever, only responding to the Oracle with a simple nod once and again. He hears the call of his phoenix so high above. This is the calm before the storm. Nicodemus nods gravely, though subtly in a way that only Andraste would note it. He knows. He can feel it…and he didn’t need an Oracle to tell him that. His flames swept backwards as a sudden chill ran through his spine.

“I wonder, then, why?”

He calls in nearly a whisper, as if talking to himself.

The passion that suddenly took the words of Oceantree startled him. His eyes were suddenly a turbulent, and he snapped his head to her, raptor-like in speed. The stallion wasn’t sure what to make of it, because he really didn’t know Oceantree that well. Nicodemus laughs to himself. You don’t know much of anybody, Nicodemus. How funny that Fenrisulfr would give you a role of coordinating them when you can barely speak right with them! He shook off the chastising voice. Tentatively, he felt the mind of young Oceantree, so filled with feelings of malice for the ocean, and he wonders why. But he recoils, because he knows how sacred thoughts were. He could only intervene on occasions that needed it. “I think that all of us know little of what Fenrisulfr wanted ultimately for us to discover. But this is our home, and we must serve her.”

He pans out his gaze to both of them. “Well, what do you propose we do, Emissaries?” He knows the choice is not to him alone. He knows that they must convene.

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.