@xdeimosx location: Kossith-Occupied Aventia notes: Post Progress Day
"I hear nothing from the South." Diarmad commented, "Even the trees go quiet at the border of Itzcoatal." The genath'asir had always been curious, it'd get him killed someday, fortunately today was not that day.
A weathered breath fell from Diarmad's frame, a rattling sound that persisted even after the healing. Again and again he saw her face, in the waking hours, in his dreams, he felt her threads slipping under his skin, heard the question repeated on a loop.
Do you want to be Gray, Diarmad?
Now and then her face would change, while he slept she'd trade places with Belladonna, Deimos, or Njal. Sometimes Agnes or even Prospero, but the pain was always the same, the memories beyond the faces unchanging. He'd tried draughts, meditating, rituals, but the dreams always returned. The Dark One had turned his gaze upon him since his return, and as the genath'asir watched the Kossith mill about within their fortifications, he looked for the connection between that night.
