[ koltira's eyes narrow, his expression distant; thassarian has this way about him, this ability to kick up old memories and painful feelings that koltira would rather ignore than directly face.
all elves.. it was another lifetime ago that he truly knew elves. koltira thinks of the slain king, and the prince driven mad by the destruction of his homeland. he thinks of the windrunner sisters, how different they all were, how further different they have become. he thinks of innkeepers and mages, of elven priests and merry wanderers and surly tavern goers.
and he thinks, of course, of faltora. his sweeter, gentler brother who, in life, had always been kinder than koltira had been. it's .. good that he is dead, in some ways. it is a mercy, and better, he thinks, than having to live to see these days - quel'thalas ravaged, their prince destroyed, and koltira... this.
koltira shifts, his arms crossing loosely over his chest. ]
.. Many of them. [ them. not us. ] Even moreso, now. But not all.
no subject
all elves.. it was another lifetime ago that he truly knew elves. koltira thinks of the slain king, and the prince driven mad by the destruction of his homeland. he thinks of the windrunner sisters, how different they all were, how further different they have become. he thinks of innkeepers and mages, of elven priests and merry wanderers and surly tavern goers.
and he thinks, of course, of faltora. his sweeter, gentler brother who, in life, had always been kinder than koltira had been. it's .. good that he is dead, in some ways. it is a mercy, and better, he thinks, than having to live to see these days - quel'thalas ravaged, their prince destroyed, and koltira... this.
koltira shifts, his arms crossing loosely over his chest. ]
.. Many of them. [ them. not us. ] Even moreso, now. But not all.