Arrow Lake when all the things under the sky go free of time

the night was bitterly cold and yet no snow fell. the wind whistled, but did not screech; the clouds thickened but did not assemble. stigmata took this time, unimpeded by storm or stray, to visit the area of his preference: the place he had once thought to claim for the sake of another's name.

he did not expect to ever find that namesake here; and as many times as he had thought he had come across indra in the past, even at this distance - from an impossible angle - he knew it was her.

her.

stigmata felt several things at once, but most prominently he felt unsure. it was a feeling so foreign to him that he couldn't have named it in himself if asked to. he had to work on compulsion alone, and what drove the ironwraith forward in a warhound's march was obligation rather than want to. if this was not to be his kingdom he might have avoided her altogether, and yet, he came slowly upon her lakeside, and breathed a heavy-aired: "indra."