I refuse to let her legacy die...

Already he was disappointed. It was clear the guy wasn’t a Guardian. Probably should’ve guessed since he was showing way too much bare head to be considered one. And while he looked capable…he wasn’t going to say he looked that capable. To be fair, a lot of Guardians probably had a few centuries of experience on him so…wasn’t his fault.

“Hey, if you don’t know what I mean by that, then ya don’t know it. No shame in saying it, pal. Where I come from ‘floating god ball’ would be pretty obvious. It’s a little thing called The Traveler. Should look it up sometime.” Not that he’d find anything if this place wasn’t connected to his…dimension? World? Whatever.

“Just the one, then?” Imagine having a single god-figure. A single being to accomplish everything the Twelve represent, and then some (but really, in the end, wasn’t that Hydaelyn, in all her primal glory?). Thancred’s guard doesn’t slip (an impossibility in a place like this) but his shoulders do fall and he almost seems to react.

Thancred’s never been one to stand still.

How many times, now, has he found himself flung through places he never chose to explore? How many times, now, has he ended up lost and alone and so far from his friends? How many times, now, has he had to figure out if he’s coming or going or standing still? Once is already too much, but more than once means he already knows how to keep himself from losing his grip on reality and his sanity and his hopeful drive to get home.

Usually he’s pretty good at getting himself around. Usually he has no trouble getting from point A to point B and back again with an intentional side trip past points C, D and E on the way. He’d be no use as a recon agent if he couldn’t get back out with his information.

But sometimes, Thancred just has those days - the kind where he feels like he’s in Il Mheg trapped under the influence of the pixies; where he feels like he’s in the Dravanian Hinterlands, again, freshly released from Hydaelyn’s aetherflow. It makes him feel old and weak and useless.

He swallows his pride and waves down a passerby.