Date: 2024-03-13 08:04 pm (UTC)
clutterbitch: (Default)
From: [personal profile] clutterbitch
Viktor reads the regret in G'raha's eyes and tries not to let it reflect in his own expression. You'd think by now he would remember that heads of state and their ilk all carry the sort of burdens antithetical to the lives of adventurers. It makes him itch, thinking of all the allies and friends, duty bound to lonely offices and great half-empty halls. How often do his doggish invitations to freedom cause pain and worry, instead of joy? His gaze dips, taking in the marble tiles beneath their feet.

A chance to actually rest. Hadn't the Exarch always urged the same? It's just coincidence, he tells himself, as that itching feeling grows into a more pressing urge to move his body.

He stretches his arms up and over the back of his head. When the knot in his back doesn't immediately work itself out, he slings his greataxe across his shoulders, then drapes his arms over the hilt. It makes him look like he's been yoked, a beast who would never stop moving if not pulled to heel -- but at least his shoulder finally pops.

"Rest?" he asks, still grinning, one eye squinting shut. "Never heard of it." There is never enough time, but maybe he can scrounge a few seconds to follow a friend's advice. "You'll have to show me."
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G'raha Tia

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