Desreal: Huyana; are the stars shining tonight?

“This city is afraid of me. I have seen its true face.
The streets are extended gutters and the gutters are full of blood and when the drains finally scab over, all the vermin will drown.:
The accumulated filth of all their sex and murder will foam up about their waists and all the whores and politicians will look up and shout 'Save Us!'...:

...and I'll look down, and whisper, 'No'"

He too was not a terribly prideful thing. Sure, he was proud of his home and family, but nothing too extreme like fire normally would be. Like Andraste perfectly displayed. He knew when to keep to himself, and humility was his normal self. It wasn’t him who heralded the title Knight, Hero, or whatever it was that others called him. It was what he was, a hero, but it wasn’t something he’d advertise of himself. No bravado came when he saved others. He honestly preferred to be alone. And he saved and was a hero simply because he knew it was the right thing to do.

Slowness was something he did for a reason. Nicodemus had never been what you could call a good speaker. His words often had a negative effect on others, even when he didn’t mean them too. He could never understand why others were so sensitive. Hah. Look who’s talking Mr. I’llkillyouifyoutouchmyfamily. Because of the shards, such a touchy subject, he was always cautious to give those answers. That and he had to decide her motives before he gave such dangerous answers. What if she desired a shard? Nicodemus really didn’t know Huyana, just as she couldn’t imagine him. He thought this darkly, his past and history always there to crowd him, and yet also to push him forwards. Andraste glares from his back, her intelligent eyes the very same that Nicodemus held, only far more intense. She always had such a knack for passing judgment. One that Nicodemus almost always found was right. But there was always a what if. There was always a chance that Nicodemus held.

“The shards hold a power in them….” he finds himself drifting, his voice so distant as though he were speaking to himself. “I’m sorry Huyana, I really don’t know a lot, but I can tell you only from my own….experiences.” He smiles uncertainly. “The power in them is evil. They yearn to destroy, to distort the mind so that those who carry them will only trust them.” He sighs. Her second question brings a look to his eyes of pain, knowing, and….yes….fear.

He steps forwards, his neck craning, light spilling over the hideous scar that lay just behind his cheek and over his jugular. “They…they can make slaves of anyone.” He smiles. “Even me.”

SEER
**NICODEMUS**

Existence is random. Has no pattern save what we imagine after staring at it for too long. No meaning save what we choose to impose. This rudderless world is not shaped by vague metaphysical forces. It is not God who kills the children. Not fate that butchers them or destiny that feeds them to the dogs. It's us. Only us.

FIRE III

Emissary of Andarin, Phoenixsong, Iriase, and Kaikua'ana

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