These were those same woods that Hoshikata meted out justice in, not so long ago. The same forest in which he and his entourage taught Hoshi her place in the world. One did not insult a god lightly. One did not threaten them and theirs without proper punishment coming down upon their heads. His golden eyes move from tree to tree, taking in the surroundings of the day that are around him. The forest was not very populated, this early in the morning, and so he felt comfortable in being here. Even as the dew collected on the leaves of those massive trees, Hoshikata finds himself a place to meditate.
He needed to figure out what he was doing here. Haruka threatened him, should he become a danger to her village. He instead protected it, twice, but still the memory of her words caused a sting. He was no fool, to think that their brief moment meant anything more than a mere connection. And yet that one small connection, that mere moment in time, showed him what he was. What his life led to him being. There were different voices inside of him now, the same old, and two new. First was the Deicide, the man who dared to challenge a god, the man who sacrificed kin for power and killed his betrothed in his wrath. Then there was the child who only wanted acceptance. A small voice, a weak one, and yet one he could not seem to kill.
But the third was the most dangerous to his plans. It was the voice of his heart, telling him that there was something to all this. Much like the child, it would not die. But it was not weak, it was not insignificant. It gained in strength each day. The golden skinned seer was at a loss for how to proceed.
And so he sat on the ground in his black robes, hood down and his white main free to blow with a slight breeze as he simply focused on his kinetic powers by lifting, and lowering, small to large items nearby. Rocks, limbs, his own staff. Anything he could to take his mind off of the issues that faced him once he decided to stop avoiding them.
He needed to figure out what he was doing here. Haruka threatened him, should he become a danger to her village. He instead protected it, twice, but still the memory of her words caused a sting. He was no fool, to think that their brief moment meant anything more than a mere connection. And yet that one small connection, that mere moment in time, showed him what he was. What his life led to him being. There were different voices inside of him now, the same old, and two new. First was the Deicide, the man who dared to challenge a god, the man who sacrificed kin for power and killed his betrothed in his wrath. Then there was the child who only wanted acceptance. A small voice, a weak one, and yet one he could not seem to kill.
But the third was the most dangerous to his plans. It was the voice of his heart, telling him that there was something to all this. Much like the child, it would not die. But it was not weak, it was not insignificant. It gained in strength each day. The golden skinned seer was at a loss for how to proceed.
And so he sat on the ground in his black robes, hood down and his white main free to blow with a slight breeze as he simply focused on his kinetic powers by lifting, and lowering, small to large items nearby. Rocks, limbs, his own staff. Anything he could to take his mind off of the issues that faced him once he decided to stop avoiding them.