Amber Snow Falls

Cyrus knew that Ulv was likely right. And, even if she weren't, he knew that refusal to learn from his predecessor simply on the grounds that he did not like her was, in a word, absurd. At the same time, however, he did still genuinely believe that it would be a rough time for him. But was that due to Sofia? Or was it simply his own pride? The thought made him very angry, but not at anyone in particular. And, perhaps, that in turn only made the whole situation that much more bitter in his mouth.

“I have no doubts pursuing this on my own would be of little assistance. I have, after all, trained myself entirely for centuries.”

There was an admission of his own failings there, as blatant of one as he would realistically be willing to make. It stung to say it, but it was also true. There was no sense in lying.

“If such a pursuit is my best course of action, then I will find her and request this training. I think it is quite clear to the both of us that I do not particularly care for that idea. But I also do not care to be tossed around with all the difficulty of swatting a fly. I am better than that, and I do not believe that it is merely unwarranted pride to say such a thing.”

“The more suggestions you make, the more I am reminded that the state of our people is something truly more lamentable than words could ever describe.”

There didn't seem to be a hint of humor in his voice, or even the faintest trace of exaggeration. That was, quite decidedly, his most earnest belief on the matter. Was this the fate of the Quincy? To follow in the paths of...those three? That did not sit well with Cyrus in the slightest. In fact, it made him just the faintest bit more angry, something he once again needed to take a calm moment and rein back in.

“But very well. I will do what I must. I certainly would not wish to pester the Elect with such a matter, though I would assuredly trust her far more than these alternatives. You are correct, I was not born alone. But those who were born alongside me are no longer here, nor the ones who birthed me. Only I remain, the singular product of decades of training. What does that say about them? About me?”

It was obvious that was not a rhetorical question. It normally may have been, but that was very much something that Cyrus considered often. He still did not know the answer, but he sought one often. Even now, in all his divine wisdom, he did not understand how such a thing had occurred.

“We have, yes. I often wonder if it will happen again. Something about it seems so very likely.”

Ulv was right, he didn't like that answer. But he also knew it was the right answer. There wasn't anything in particular that he could have done. It was neither his failing nor theirs. It was the way that life went. Another of those many moments of humanity that reminded him his divinity meant very little when it came to how his life went.

“I suppose that is ultimately the way things are. I do wonder if such a thing could be changed. Perhaps that would be for the best.”

Of course, Cyrus spoke mostly to himself. He didn't want to hold Ulv up any further, and he had waited until she was already gone to actually make that response. The words were aimed at her, yet he did not want her to hear them.