The young man's voice met the wind with a bittersweet tone from memory. But like his accomplice, it was there and yet not. He waited for Bodak on the sidewalk of another empty street. It was more damp than normal, no snow as the weather seemed to have been changing, yet the cold hadn't left. It seemed to have been apart of life, never quite leaving even when warm. A remnant could be guaranteed to remain deep in the bones, it had no home, and simply was everywhere and nowhere. A contradiction, an existence that had no name, truly familiar...
Tecka had kept an eye out for the woman, though he had known she probably wasn't in the best of shape since the night of the ritual, and neither of them could be really 'okay', then again what was okay? Who determined when someone could feel okay, who even determined what okay was defined as or by? Truly it was the person whom used it, but no one definition is exactly alike any other, as with most things. "Okay." he muttered, the steam of his breath leaving just as quickly as it appeared. Looking down at his palm, then firmly gripping tightly at the air between his fingers as it would leave, pushed out of his hand. He began to wonder, "Just how much is my servitude worth?"
Questions like this one, and many others hit him, now, only after the fact that he'd sworn it away at a promise of power. A promise to be a better person in the name of someone else. A promise to be someone else with a better name than the one his new god didn't have. Sometimes he would even think that maybe his god had a name, but simply had forsaken it for power. Just how much can one give for power?
"As much as is desired for power." He'd answer before finishing. "Well, you know what they say. You never know what you got till it's gone, or you didn't care for it in the first place...err one persons trash is another persons treasure?"
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