#|| ' take thy beak from out my heart ... ! ' / quoth the raven : ' nevermore . ' || { medivh // guardianfallen }

[neveraguardian]

"There you are, Young Trust. So long since you have visited me here; I thought you would not return, this time." Perhaps the old Tower still has a haunting to give him, after all. // @guardianfallen

Surely, it cannot be yet another terrible trick, can it? Not another attempt by some fiend or aggressor to prey upon his ever-wounded and ever-grieving heart.

There is no oppressiveness to the air beyond that same sadness that lingers always within these neglected stones and empty halls.

There is no foul feeling of fell magicks. [ Or, at least, no more than that radiated by some of the artifacts kept in this place to be safe. ]

He should be able to sense if either were the case... shouldn't he?

And yet, he can summon forth no reasonable explanation for this... this spectre who stands before him.

His grip tightens on Atiesh as he squares his stance, ready to fight if fight he must, but his eyes... his eyes betray him, as does the quiet brokenness of his voice when at last he speaks.

"... Medivh?"