Crimson Crusade

Avatar the Last Airbender fans?

roleplayerguild.com/topics/190189-the…

Looking for fans of the Avatar series to write with. This is a link to the first post. I am looking to tell the tale of basically a "Team Avatar" type dynamic. The 3rd Avatar just passed away and at present the 4th ever Avatar is just 8 years old and their identity and well as whereabouts is unknown. Finding the Avatar will not be the focus of the RP, though it will be the end game.

Few details that are important is it takes place about 300 ish years after the death of Avatar Wan, maybe 400? Please ask me about your character and ideas before posting. I would like 3-4 players max, an additional may be okay if they wanted to play antagonist.

I wanted to establish a few things in here in regards to culture.

Fire Nation culture:

There is no fire lord. The monarchy does not exist and doesn't exist for thousands of years. Fire bending is a trait that elevates bloodlines in the hierarchy of their society. The fire nation comprises of a ton of islands and each island governs themselves. They partake in tribal warfare as well, but that's beside the point. The familial hierarchy of the fire islands is tier based. If a bloodline possesses the ability to fire bend they are most likely to be nobles, governed by the strongest and most resilient of the families on each island. Nonbenders would be the "peasants" in this tier based culture. When a child is born with fire bending abilities they elevate the family's status, and they are trained from the youngest possible age to hone their bending skills, further elevating the family's status. Agne Kai can be utilized to challenge the ruler of the ruling family to reorganize the power structure on an island to island basis. Failing to meet family's expectations can lead to disgrace, not only for the individual, but for the family as a whole, because families as a whole are also held to certain standards and expectations as well depending on the tier they possess within their culture. Great deeds and achievements, feats of notable regard, etc. also elevate family.

Earth Dynasties:

The Earth Kingdom will not exist for thousands of years either. This giant landmass is divided into several dynasties, of which also partake in tribal warfare. These dynasties are ruled by those chosen by each territory's respective spirit. The divine right to rule is passed down via bloodline until either the bloodline is wiped out or the territory's spirit selects a new ruler. These rulers are worshiped as gods by their people and they demand unyielding loyalty from their subjects. How they choose to govern their dynasty is completely up to them, however, the spirits can intervene however they see fit, removing them from power. Nobody knows what reasons the spirits might have for doing this yet as spirits are immortal and humanity has only gone a few hundred years without the lion turtles protecting them.

Water Tribes:

The people of the water tribes are very community oriented, and unlike the fire islands and earth dynasties, the water tribes do not partake in tribal warfare. There are no rulers within the water tribes either, but instead, it is every water tribe citizen's duty to provide wisdom and conflict resolution as they become the tribe's elders. The elders of the water tribes are deeply respected and regarded as arguably the most important people in the water tribes. Regardless if someone can bend or not, every citizen is viewed with equal importance and treated with equal dignity, and are trained to do their part for their tribe to the best of their abilities, whatever that might look like on and individual to individual basis. However, those who do not pull their weight, or those who repeatedly burden the efficiency of community, are often exiled for a period of time and able to return once they are able to prove their worth after living in the wilderness of the tundra alone, if they survive. Despite their station or occupation, all water tribe men are trained as warriors and fishermen as it isn't uncommon for people of other nations to attack them, believing them to be weak. The Northern Water Tribe is the heart of both water tribe's spirituality and philosophy, whereas the Southern Water Tribe acts as the tribe's wisdom and worldliness, as it is far more common for southern water tribe to venture to the north pole than it is for anyone in the north to venture to the south. Every few years people from the southern water tribe trek to the northern water tribe and a festival to celebrate their travels and arrival takes place, where the two tribes will exchange knowledge and teachings, stories, wisdom, goods, etc.

Air Nomads:

I think this one is a given. They've basically been established to be peaceful, spiritual monks since before Wan's era, and this has never changed. Only thing that has changed is the establishment of the air temples which presently have not existed for very long. 200 years max. Maybe 100. Flying bison have not yet been discovered either. Most air benders at this time are primarily nomadic, using the temples as way points, educational hubs, and for reunions. It is where young monks are born and raised until old enough to live the nomadic lifestyle (in smaller doses at younger ages and more and more as they get older), something every monk strives for. No monk remains in any temple for too long unless they are too old to travel, in which case they'd end up serving their people from the chamber of elders. Air nomads are universally adored and respected by all people of the world as they are neutral and will provide help and wisdom to anyone despite their nature. For this reason, it is a normal occurrence that, when an air nomad makes their presence known somewhere, they are always given a place to rest and food to eat.

Any questions please feel free to ask.

The Petals of Destiny

The year is roughly 9500 BG.

Dorje (DOR-jeh) sat cross legged in silence, meditating in a solitary field of lupine and lilacs, all different shades of purples and deep blues, atop one of the many mountains in the vicinity of the Eastern Air Temple.

Lupines:

Lilacs:

Eastern Air Temple:


Appearing as though it were a mighty pillar erected from the earth, smooth cliff sides wrapped almost entirely around the circumference, it was nigh impossible for anyone who wasn't an airbender to scale. The top of which a small plateau lie, embellished by this secret garden the young monk visited often. He intentionally kept its existence to himself, figuring if the others came upon it then okay, but so long as he found isolation he would do nothing to compromise that.

The monk inhaled the sweet fragrance deeply, exhaling slowly, and emptied his mind, focusing solely on his breaths and their relationship with the scent of his personal sanctuary. Then he was standing in another field far removed from his meditating body. The world he saw when he opened his eyes didn't resemble his home in any way. The sky was a myriad of different colors, the field was alive and he could feel it breathing in unison with himself. There were mushrooms the size of trees, and the spores that they spewed seemed to change the very fabric of this reality. Some coalesced into intelligent beings while some painted the sky as a brush running through paint might. Clouds created impossible shapes, and waterfalls seemed to pour from nowhere creating whirlpools that distorted the surrounding features as they spun. Dorje had been to the spirit world many times before but this time was different, because this time he had a purpose. Dorje sought insight regarding an ominous dream that had befallen him recently, and then again, and again, and every night since its first appearance over a week prior. Every night his dream became more fractured and confusing and at this point he just wanted it to stop.

Spirit World:

Tree of Time:


The world zoomed past him until the Tree of Time stood before him. Dorje had never been to this part of the spirit world before, as he had never come with any specific goal in mind until now, but his people visited the location often. Whether it was to seek wisdom or clarity of reflection, the Tree of Time always seemed to offer the monks who meditated near it whatever it was they sought. The sight of its prisoner sent chills through his incorporeal body, but he was wise enough to block himself from its influence. Dorje began meditating beside the tree hoping to find some clarity in regards to his dreams, but what the tree showed him only confused him that much more. He saw people he didn't recognize, people who were not air nomads or monks, and an older version of himself with hair. He couldn't see his airbending tattoos beyond the dot on his forehead. There was an enormous storm, lightning arcing throughout until the lightning formed the image of the flowers that surrounded his physical form. Those flowers became clearer until they filled the entirety of the tree's inside. The last images the tree gave him were of the flowers in vases, then nothing. Dorje could not accept that this was all there was, especially since the tree told him nothing of his dreams, but there were other options.

Original Airbending tattoos:

Koh the Face Stealer:

Koh's domain:


He focused on a name well known to his people, a name that was used to scare young air nomads from ever getting too curious about the spirit world; a name that reminded them the spirits were benevolent and demanded respect. The spirit world brought him to yet another tree, however, this tree was far more foreboding. It protruded from the depths of a bog, twisted and skeletal, and grew larger as the world brought it closer and closer to the monk until Dorje stood at its base, an opening inviting him forward with a sinister glee. Show no emotion, he reminded himself, and after steadying himself and debating whether the reward was worth the risk, the monk began his descent.

"Thorns puncture deep..." A low voice whispered from the darkness. "They puncture pure and true..." It laughed menacingly. Dorje closed his eyes and repeated the mantra in his head over and over, show no emotion. "I'm here about the dreams I've been having." He explained. "I can't sleep. I need to know what it means."

"Ah yes," the voice a little louder now, "the passing of the last brings forth the next...curious timing, but why you?" The final word was loud, clearly from right behind the monk, but reverberated from all around. Just as Dorje was about to turn to face him, Koh emerged from above, hanging upside down, the limbs protruding from its round bulbous head tracing the outline of the monk's face. "I don't understand." Dorje said calmly. "Please Koh, what do you mean by that?" The spirit twisted and coiled around the young monk until there was no escape for the young man. Dorje felt his heart begin to beat faster, but had prepared for this and quickly calmed himself. He knew Koh would not harm him if he played by the spirit's rules. "Your selfish desire will pass, liberation will be dealt; a new era will begin and the thorns will puncture deep." Koh nearly giggled as he spoke for he could feel the rise bubbling within Dorje.

"I don't understand." Dorje said as calmly as he could, but with every word he spoke Koh's face changed and got so close to his that their noses nearly touched. "You believe it to be your own." Koh said. "Does this not contradict who you are monk?" As he asked the question Koh's eyes were rolling and his new face was tilted upward at an angle. Realization flashed across Dorje's face, then confusion, both in the span of a heartbeat before the mantra he'd been repeating over and over in his head took control of his features. "The flowers? What does anything have to do with them?"

Koh's face showed disappointment and he knew if he were to steal this monk's face he'd have to give the man some space, and so he crawled along the tunnel's walls, back into the darkness. "Nothing. And everything. You are intricately connected to them, and yet they are not for you alone. Just as the Avatar is intricately connected to the spirit world, it doesn't belong to them alone...clearly." Koh said with annoyance and sighed. "The dreams will stop when the truth is liberated." Dorje wasn't going to get anything else from the spirit he knew and began backing away. He bowed, "thank you spirit." As the monk approached the opening in the tree he could hear Koh's voice in the distance. "A new era will begin...."

Dorje's eyes opened and the scent of the flowers dominated his senses. The beautiful lush garden had been his own little secret hideaway, and he had purposefully not plucked any, ever, in order to keep it that way. He sighed heavily knowing what must be done. Perhaps, by keeping this field a secret he was inadvertently preventing a medicine from saving lives, and in this sense, he was being selfish. With a heavy heart the young monk gathered some of each flower that had been thriving in the harsh conditions of their altitude. As he glided toward the temple he noticed something far below on the ground and decided to investigate before presenting his findings to the elders.

In the valley at the base of the mountain ranges that stretched as far as the eye can see was a new settlement. It wasn't very large by any stretch of the imagination, but this was the first Dorje had noticed. He landed quite gracefully, and as eyes focused on the monk that had just fallen in the middle of their town, people began gawking at him, and in turn looking toward the heavens. Dorje couldn't understand the language they spoke, but the people greeted him with reverence. Some even fell to their knees and began praying...the monk knew better than to let any of it go to his head and so he began helping people back to their feet, smiling, and passing out the flowers until there were none left. He promised them that he'd return, wished them good fortune and took to the skies once more. After returning to his secret field and gathering more of the flowers, Darje returned to the Eastern Air Temple and made his way to the chamber of the elders. Each in turn praised him for his discovery, accepted the plants for research, and sent him on his way. No dreams assaulted him that night.

-----------

A few more days passed free of the haunting dreams. He had made it a point to return to the settlement but hadn't had the chance thus far. He had been put to work and was too exhausted by sundown. One evening, as he lied down to rest, he was summoned to the chamber of the elders. When he arrived he bowed and awaited to be addressed. "Monk Dorje," the central elder said, "your discovery is appreciated. Your contribution to our understanding of the world we inhabit is no small feat." Another elder spoke up then. "The flower you brought us..." He held up the lilac. "Its pleasant fragrance is potent and has assisted in guiding several students into the spirit world, and we have been able to produce a residue from its petals that can be used in various forms of artistry." Yet another elder's turn to speak. "The colors are quite wonderful and vivid, and have already been put to use in the temple." The elders gently tapped the palms of their left hands with the fingers of their right hands, a formal gesture of praise and appreciation. The central elder spoke up once more. "The other flower..." They held up the lupine. An ominous silence seemed to stretch on a little bit too long for Dorje's liking. "It is very toxic. It is good you...."

The words faded from Dorje's ears. He could see their mouths moving, but he could no longer hear their words. All he heard was the sound of his heart beating in his ears, which were growing hot. Sweat began running down his face and the young monk fell to his knees. "What have I done....?" He asked himself, interrupting the elders. Tears welled up in his eyes and he clenched them shut hoping this was all a terrible dream.

"What is the problem young Dorje?" An elder asked. Dorje stared blankly at the cultural leaders of his people, full of wisdom and compassion, and it broke his heart to even look them in the eyes. He turned and sprinted from the chamber. The wind rushed past him as he used it to hasten his movements until he reached his room where the few belongings of his were. Ignoring the looks and questions of everyone he knew and cared about, he just ran. One of his friends tried to speak to him as he moved through the temple's innards, "Dorje! Did you hear?" They called. "Raava's Avatar pa...." But Dorje was gone.

On his way to the settlement, Dorje plucked some more of the flowers from his not-so-secret garden, a way to communicate with the settlers below. When he arrived there was nobody left. A dozen or so graves were all that was left of the settlement. They had buried their loved ones and fled. He dropped to his knees, the flowers dropped to the ground beside him, and he wept in his tear soaked hands. "I'm so sorry!" He choked on his words. "I didn't know..." The sound of grunts and screams broke him from his self-pity, and when he turned he saw a large man charging him with a giant club. Dorje rolled out of the way as the club smashed into the ground where he had just been kneeling, and gasped with wide eyes at the enraged man. "I'm so, so sorry..." The monk lifted his hands in surrender knowing he deserved whatever this man had in store for him...but as the club came swinging toward his face, Dorje felt the rush of air from the weapon and without thinking, used the momentum of the man's swing and pulled that rush of air aside. The adrenaline-induced move sent the man crashing head first into the base of the mountain, breaking every bone in the man's face. His body crumbled to the ground, blood leaking from every orifice: eyes, ears, nostrils, mouth, as well as the open wounds Dorje had accidentally made in his sudden change of heart. The monk just looked on in horror....

-----------

8 years later...

"Another drink!" The man demanded of his patron. "I haven't lost yet..." He curled his fingers a few times until the cup slid across the bar to him. He wore a burgundy robe beneath a brown leather suit, tight fitting, light weight and breathable, black metallic buckles holding the straps tight, black fingerless gloves and wore nothing but dried earth on his feet. Long dirty-blonde, almost brown, dreadlocks fell past his shoulders, and an unkempt grizzled beard protruded from his face. His almond shaped chestnut colored eyes glared at the barkeep who put his hands up in defeat. "C'mon man..." He said. "You're bleeding me dry..." A large burly man, well dressed and groomed, stepped out from a back room then. "He is the mighty Hurricane!" The man boomed, drawing screams and whistles of praise and glory from everyone in the tavern. "As long as he fights and business is good," the man said lower now as he stared at the barkeep, "he can drink as much as he wants! Is that a problem?" The barkeep shook his head, and scurried away to see to other customers.

The owner laughed and patted the Hurricane on the shoulder. "One of these days," he said, "you're gonna have to enlighten me..." Dorje emptied his glass in a single swig and slammed it onto the countertop between him and the owner, Jekaar. "Who's next?"

Character Database

Corbin Eldritch



Aliases: The Ghost of Eldritch Forest.

Age: Unknown - over 200 years.

Race/Clan: Pure Vampyre

Appearance:



- The telltale golden eyes of pure vampyres.
- The blood diamond crest of the Eldritch bloodline: An artifact capable of housing the essence of an entity. Depending on the essence within the crest, Corbin is granted certain abilities directly influenced by the trapped essence. These can be swapped out for another essence if he chose to do so. Currently, his crest houses the essence of a powerful winged infernal creature and grants him the use of its mighty feathered wings. (Any other abilities pending.)

Personality: Corbin is resentful of lesser races for the near extinction of his kind, as far as he knows anyway. He lacks empathy for the lesser races. He was of noble blood among his kind and still carries that entitlement to present day. He feels much pride over his ancestral home and his bloodline. He's protective over his ancestral lands and home, of his species, and is very egotistical.

Battle Proficiency: Corbin primarily uses his sword, Greyscale: Greyscale feeds on the flesh of his victims, restoring his stamina and endurance the more he uses it to kill. His need to feed is lessened by feeding Greyscale as well. Greyscale's edges glows with the absence of light as it feeds, as it empowers Corbin, and while glowing is sharp enough to slice through stone. As a vampyre Corbin naturally has enhanced senses, strength and speed.

Talents:

- Spectral Phasing: The innate ability to access the Abyss, another plane of existence. He can phase in and out appearing to teleport across distances. This ability is weakened in daylight as well as when he needs to feed

- Shadow Vortex: His connection to the abyss grants him the ability to occasionally summon globes of swirling darkness that possess their own gravitational pull and sends those unlucky enough to be caught in it to the Abyss

- Memory Sap: Temporarily gains access to the memories and experiences of those he feeds upon.

Affiliation: TBD

Residency: His ancestral home of Eldritch Manor and its surrounding territory.



Backstory: Corbin Eldritch was once the prince of the primary bloodline among several bloodlines who resided in Eldritch Manor. The Eldritch Clan was the most powerful of the bloodlines, and the vampyres of Eldritch Manor were respected and held with great esteem among the people of many races across the land. They served as protectors as well as rulers, and collected tribute and sacrifices from the people who depended on them. The clans were fair and just but were eventually overthrown and murdered as they slept leaving Corbin the sole survivor. Though he had avenged the deaths of his clan, as well as the others, his hatred for lesser races only grew, and it did nothing to satiate his appetite for vengeance. He systematically eradicated the people over decades until Eldritch Manor's existence was forgotten and became a legend...then a fairy tale people told their children but no longer believed. Presently, few have ever even heard of Eldritch Manor. It's become a faded myth over the past century as Corbin spent his time throughout the decades casting judgement upon the lesser races from the shadows, a ghost. He has become the ghost of Eldritch Forest to those who've heard of his attacks on anyone who ventures to near Eldritch Manor, thus leading people to believe the forest is haunted. Corbin has gone on several pilgrimages to the Abyss in search of purpose. One of these pilgrimages is where he captured the essence he carries within his family crest. He has also taken several lengthy hibernation hiatuses, but is always ready to defend his home. Other than the ghost of Eldritch Forest, he has sparked several legends in other regions of the world of one ghost or another who appears throughout generations. None of these have been connected to one another, but his ego swells with the growth of each legend and has become one of his favorite pass times.

Crimson Crusade here

Hey there. I have been roleplaying on and off for the better part of the last 15 years. I took a rather extensive hiatus but came back a few months ago and ready to roll with you guys. Always give praise to the muse. Here's an example of my writing style, one of my favorite poems of mine, and I think it's pretty accurate:

When I look back
Into the innocence of the past
I see the child I once was
Surrounded by people I could trust
That all changed one unfair night
By an evil consumed with blood lust
I thought I could possibly fight
That fateful moment revealed the hunger of my subconscious's true colors
I saw it in its eyes
It would not kill me
But give me power
I knew the creature's offer to be sour
An evil mercy of the dusk
Gave me unworthy fangs tougher than a mighty elephant's tusk
I sit here watching that family I lost those many years ago
Concentrating on their faces
Feeding off those memories
Now, within the next few moments, comes the ending of their lives stories

Story and character development are incredibly important to me. I love smutt as much as the next person, but if you want the best of me in that regard it has to serve the story and characters well and make sense or I become disconnected from the overall experience. The stronger the connection to the story and characters, the greater the escape for me, and the greater the escape is for me the better the chances are that I will hang around and write with you until you take a hiatus, or creative differences emerge pulling us out of the experience. I have so many ideas swirling in my head that I cannot wait to write about, and if our writing styles mesh well and we click in regards to roleplaying together, I will always come back to write more with you hands down, guaranteed. Roleplaying partners are important to me.

Looking to start something new, and find some awesome people to write with.

TNT - The Nameless Tavern. (Always Open)

@blesses blight

Enter Corbin Eldritch (roleplayerguild.com/topics/190187-cha… - see Corbin Eldritch)


The battle raged far below in a massive clearing of Eldritch Forest. Dusk had settled upon the land an hour or so prior and a thick blanket of fog had rolled down the slopes of the Rook Range, through the valley and into the woods. It was a ghostly scene painted with crimson shadows, smeared by cloudy ink. The sounds of death echoed off the edge of the clearing and pierced the veil of the low hanging sky. A smile crept over Corbin's pale face as he relished the spectacle. The vampyre basked in the irony of humans slaughtering one another at his doorstep, so close to Eldritch Manor, the home that had once housed several major bloodlines. Eldritch Manor was once full of life and was deeply respected. Now it sat dormant, having slipped through its benevolent standing into legend, and has long since been forgotten. Whispers of its existence still sprouted here and there across the land however, and few had attempted to rediscover the ancient stronghold only to find themselves an early grave. Corbin would never allow his ancestral home to be tainted by the vile ignorance of men, so as much as he enjoyed the sound of them slaughtering themselves, they were too close for comfort.

Mighty feathered wings of ebony retracted and the vampyre dived toward the battlefield. Only when he reached the ceiling of the impenetrable fog did he spread them wide once more and glide over the massacre. His golden eyes easily piercing through the thick white blanket, he spotted the makeshift tents that humans used for their highest ranking officers and leaders and dropped through the cloud amidst the battle nearby. Corbin landed gracefully, his wings folding in on themselves and melding into his back, as soldiers gasped with surprise and fear. Enemies became allies as they all turned their attention to the newcomer. Screams erupted as they all began attacking the vampyre, but one by one they fell to Corbin's deadly blade, Greyscale.

Corbin lurched Greyscale through one soldier, his body sliding apart moments later as the man watched others meet similar fates. The blade's edges glowing with the absence of light as it fed on the flesh of its prey. Very quickly more than two dozen men were rushing Corbin. His laughs echoed, bouncing from one place to the next as he phased from the material plane into the Abyss, and back in another location, feeding the confused men to his blade. One man pointed and shrieked, "It's the Ghost of Eldritch Forest!" More screams followed, but despite the trembling fear in their voices and their cries, they all fought bravely. And they all died horrifically. The vampyre stalked toward the tent. He could see the heat of the blood pumping through the frightened officer's body as he crouched in a corner awaiting his fate.

"What do you want?!" The man cried as Corbin entered. Smiling, the vampyre shrugged nonchalantly as he continued his approach toward the man. He sheathed his blade and leaned down to the man's level to look him in the eye. "What's your interest in these lands?" He asked. Nothing, not a peep. "Very well. Signal the retreat and you may go free." Corbin stood up and backed into the center of the tent awaiting the man to follow as instructed. It took a moment but the man did as he was told. Corbin stepped aside and gestured for him to leave the tent. The man reluctantly accepted the offer and walked past the vampyre, but Corbin grabbed a hold of the man's head and twisted it around so he could see his bulging eyes. He pulled the head from the man's body with ease and held it over his face and drank his fill.

Upon searching through the various documents, and studying the maps that were in the officer's possessions, the vampyre learned what he needed. He placed a hand over the blood diamond crest on his chest, invoking the ability of the entity he had trapped within, and the crest became as black as the clear sky on a moonless night. Wings sprouted from his back and he took off into the night. As he flew over the dispersing battlefield he swooped down low taking out as many retreating soldiers as he could on his way out. The major force that had invaded his land had come from a city just a couple hours away by flight, and he intended to deliver the officer's head as a warning, but as he flew over the city a sensation he hadn't felt in a very long time came over him. Could it be? How? All thoughts of the soldiers, the battle, the officer's head and their reasoning for marching toward his ancestral home were no longer important to him as he honed in on the source of the familiar feeling.

Corbin let the head go high above the streets of the city, his thoughts focused only on this strange familiar feeling, yet unlike any he had ever felt. There was no way to know for sure but he couldn't ignore it. There was another vampyre somewhere in this city, and he hadn't seen or felt the presence of another of his kind in over a century.... Eventually he found himself on the rooftop of a tavern, the sensation inviting him to investigate, but he was soaked in blood. That is no way to make a first impression so he flew through a window on the third floor of an apartment building across the street for a change of clothes, and to wash up. Corbin looked himself over in the mirror and made his way back to the street when satisfied. The vampyre walked through the entrance of the bustling tavern, alive with conversation and laughter. He immediately recognized the vampyress; the golden eyes were a dead giveaway. She emanated a sort of power and authority, but masked it in a way that confused him. Why would a creature such as themselves do such a thing, he wondered. She was serving drinks from behind the bar, another mind boggling revelation as the consumption of alcohol had no appeal to them.

Corbin ignored the disgust he felt for the many patrons of the tavern, feigning comfort and belonging in such an establishment, and casually approached the bar where the other vampyre was working. There was no point in acting as though he weren't bee lining straight for her since he knew she likely felt his presence as well. As he approached her and placed his hands upon the bar she stood behind, he offered her a courteous smile that subtly flashed his fangs and looked her in the eyes. He was conscious enough not to linger too long and make it weird, but it was such a surreal feeling seeing one of his own after so long, especially one so beautiful.

"What's the strongest thing you got?" The words felt empty to him for he couldn't care less about his question, or her answer, but he needed to blend in, and hoped she'd understand his dilemma.