Thunderblade (Wyll xRolan)
A bit of appreciation for an under-appreciated pairing.
These Upper City galas are miserable, hideous affairs - full of idle chit chat, of the relentless barrage of tedious questions, of conversational traps so easily fallen into without deft enough feet.
Rolan's new responsibilities ask much of him - and most challenges he faces now with determination - he has rejected the legacy that has been handed to him, and forges a new one; he will not be Lorroakan. He will be a new sort of Master of the Tower.
But this? This is not a challenge he relishes, he finds his way to another glass, takes a quick sip - knowing he's drinking too quickly, but it might temper his irritation a little.
A hand finds his; fingers quickly lacing with his own.
Another legacy rejected; Wyll Ravengard has turned from his legacy too. The Blade is forging a new path; but he knows this world, its twists, it's perils - and knows how to dance between them, with deft steps. A waltz much less terrifying, with the right partner.
He squeezes his hand, raises his glass, a small smile shared.
'Ready to take to the floor?'
