[Something in him loathes the idea of spilling blade's blood here, aches at the thought. The sound of that sword being drawn almost makes him wince, and he bites back the don't that nearly escapes his lips.
Memories of who he once was are vague and hard to decipher, much in the way dreams tend to be, lifetimes lost in the fog of sleep. But feelings? Impressions? He had so many he could never place the meaning of like worn down etchings in stone, indecipherable. And this place...]
...It feels like... a place of peace. Contentment.
[There's no hiding the ache in his voice. A wistful sadness, a longing. Such places are so painfully rare, for Dan Heng.
This place of memories didn't belong to him, but a part of him wishes it did.]
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Memories of who he once was are vague and hard to decipher, much in the way dreams tend to be, lifetimes lost in the fog of sleep. But feelings? Impressions? He had so many he could never place the meaning of like worn down etchings in stone, indecipherable. And this place...]
...It feels like... a place of peace. Contentment.
[There's no hiding the ache in his voice. A wistful sadness, a longing. Such places are so painfully rare, for Dan Heng.
This place of memories didn't belong to him, but a part of him wishes it did.]
...I don't want to fight you. Not here.