long and weary my road has been

Eurycrates · December 15, 2018, 01:53 AM

Smart has never been a word to describe Eurycrates. No, perhaps that's unfair--he is intelligent, but impatient, along with it. His hot-headed impulsiveness had gotten in the way of his brain more than once. Still, he absorbs her words with a nod; he knows he cannot take on the cliff wolves himself, no matter how much he wants to. He needs her. He needs both of them.
Eurycrates Lycurgus of. . . He trails off, gaze drifting around the sound in an almost aimless fashion. Well, what do you call this place? he asks, staring back at the pair. What do you call yourselves?
Lacedaemon is no longer his home; it never will be again. It feels more than wrong to attach it to his name, now. The sound is where he belongs, and the sound is where he will stay. Little by little, he begins to craft his new identity. A new life, a better life.