Northstar Vale the patron saint of disconnection

”I need a new life,” he responded grumpily to the disconnected voice of an omnipresent form. He wasn’t even bothered with trying to find out who the soul was who tried to inquire of his health; he was better off pretending it was just a voice in his head. “not that it matters, seeing how I can’t just give mine up, or trade it for a new one. Or even start over, since it’s just too much to fucking ask.“

Turning an emberous ruby gaze lowly over his thick forelimb, he bitterly responded to the space between this voice’s silence and his own ending. “For family, peace, and a bunch of other useless shit they try to mold you into before they get in your ass for being different. For standing up for yourself. What even are ranks, anymore? What the fuck happened to tradition? Or like, clarity? Is understanding too much to ask for? Why is there no fucking list for this petty shit somewhere in my head already?“ Getting worked up as usual, his passion was misplaced. And he coughed, his ribs sore and hurting as he headed forward more questions, accusations at entities he thought he originally wasn’t mad at.