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Relief flooded Aemon at Ezekiel's words; so Gabriel had spoken of Scintilla here. It was comforting, and he wondered if others knew of the place he had so recently called home. He walked comfortably beside his golden half-brother, crimson eyes wandering the landscape as they moved through the grounds. Aemon's head filled with questions as they walked, but the swiftly approaching night and the biting cold kept him from speaking them now.
They came to the peak of a small hill, and below it lay the land his father had so recently reigned. The valleys below were peppered with boulders and sharp rocks, tall grasses swaying in the cool evening breeze. It was a prime piece of land, and he recognized it's potential; easy to navigate, with plenty of available cover. At Ezekiel's introduction, he stared in awe at the land, the setting sun casting a heavenly glow about the place. The Spirit had guided him here, and now he was certain that he was meant to be here. With a deep breath of the crisp air, he steadied himself against the wooden stick. "Father chose well," was all that he said.
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