it doesn't amaze me that we're livin' out of phase

Anatole Aston · 09-11-2012, 08:38 PM

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War had never laid its cruel hand upon him. Anatole had known what it was to fight to live—to kill or be killed, to steal, to dominate—but he had never known the nature of war. He did not know what it might have done to him. Claudius it had changed; he saw that in his cousin more than any other. Vaguely, he thought of the other boy, with the spear, and of the children that had been born after. Would they feel as he did? Disconnected in a peculiar sort of way so that only sympathy and pity grew instead of true understanding. It felt, quite suddenly, very cheap and very fake to him.

A rank he did not understand was offered, and Anatole decided it was likely meant for a low warrior, or a trainee. He smiled, recognizing that there was spitfire within the boy, and hoped that his good-nature remained. It did not suit a warrior, but it was needed. Those who fought without love would be like the ones that had come to AniWaya; at least, he surmised this in a dim sort of way.

“In my Tribe, I think you would be called Ayastigi,” he supplemented, a pleased look coming to his face. It turned, suddenly, as if a cloud had crossed the sun. “Though we do not have Warriors now.”

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