"Make me…"
Altharion certainly was not pleased with the response he got. And my defiant stance before him.
He stood in the silence for a long time.
Then he took a step.
And another step.
And another…
He was walking towards me, casually flipping both axes in his hand.
"You see there's a kind of person in this world," he began, his voice carrying across the cold night like it owned it, "who mistakes the fact that they are still breathing… for the fact that they are strong."
He stopped spinning the axes.
"I find them fascinating."
Then he set them down.
Both axes touched the snow at the same time, planted deliberately upright, like markers. He straightened up and looked at me with that small, patient smile of his, and rolled the bones of his neck from one side to the other.
The sound it made was grotesque.
"Let's have a conversation then."
I summoned my sword on instincts and immediately, sparks flew around and formed the delicate Frostfang but when it came… it was broken.
