"Had you followed a different path in life, I've no doubt you'd have been our emissary to Kalzasi..." Phocion mused. He didn't elaborate upon why, but to him it was obvious. It was the same reason they'd sent Sentinel Kenofer to lead an all human diplomatic party to Zaichaer- There was comfort in what was familiar. While elves were certainly not unfamiliar in Kalzasi, they were, as far as he could tell, amongst the second class citizens below the Avialae elite. Raithen would have had access to which Phocion could not hope to aspire. He seemed to do his duty to their mother's satisfaction, but it wasn't enthusiastic. It was never enthusiastic...
"Well, mercenaries certainly lead interesting lives, if they survive long enough... I'm sure you can find opportunities to travel, if you seek them out and, well... Your wings are built in. You lend yourself to travel." There was a blandness to his delivery, but it didn't sound altogether like resentment or jealousy. Just like ground that had very oft been trod over the years.
Phocion actually sniggered at the allusion to drying up away from the desert.
"No, it doesn't," He conceded, "But I understand nevertheless... Especially now that I've been abroad." He knitted his brow and pursed his lips as he thought back to the day he stood at the site of the Rending. There was an energy in the air... in the very dirt that he couldn't explain, but neither could he deny its existence or potency. The sands of Atraxia had some such power. Hallowed ground that spread across hundreds of miles. There was magic in these sands potent enough to stave off the advance of the Ecithian primals and many other threats that might have been their undoing in the centuries since their divine protectors had disappeared into the depths of another continent.
Raithen's next thought drew him out of the memory and he tilted his head, taking a moment to process, before waving a pale hand and shaking his head.
"Yes, yes. Of course. Mother told me." Commanded him more like, "I shall attend that as well." He made no effort to feign enthusiasm, when he'd been made by their mother to feel as though it was a duty. She hadn't even given him the opportunity to regard the invitation as an invitation, rather than an order from his superior sentinel.
"Well, mercenaries certainly lead interesting lives, if they survive long enough... I'm sure you can find opportunities to travel, if you seek them out and, well... Your wings are built in. You lend yourself to travel." There was a blandness to his delivery, but it didn't sound altogether like resentment or jealousy. Just like ground that had very oft been trod over the years.
Phocion actually sniggered at the allusion to drying up away from the desert.
"No, it doesn't," He conceded, "But I understand nevertheless... Especially now that I've been abroad." He knitted his brow and pursed his lips as he thought back to the day he stood at the site of the Rending. There was an energy in the air... in the very dirt that he couldn't explain, but neither could he deny its existence or potency. The sands of Atraxia had some such power. Hallowed ground that spread across hundreds of miles. There was magic in these sands potent enough to stave off the advance of the Ecithian primals and many other threats that might have been their undoing in the centuries since their divine protectors had disappeared into the depths of another continent.
Raithen's next thought drew him out of the memory and he tilted his head, taking a moment to process, before waving a pale hand and shaking his head.
"Yes, yes. Of course. Mother told me." Commanded him more like, "I shall attend that as well." He made no effort to feign enthusiasm, when he'd been made by their mother to feel as though it was a duty. She hadn't even given him the opportunity to regard the invitation as an invitation, rather than an order from his superior sentinel.
