The Sentinels on letting go

she sought his opinion, and he was lost on what to say. altars were not what he constructed, and so he could only offer the wisdom he knew of. "i am not sure. my people do not build altars." he spoke of the truth, and then of his knowledge. "we inscribe runes upon the earth, sing hymns and weave dances." his people were connected to fibers of creation, and altars seemed so distance from the intimacy of reverent labour.

he thought for a moment before parting his lips to offer a suggestion. "perhaps you might sing when you construct your altar. let the words be of your heart and the sea will surely listen." a look to her then, curious if she had ever sung before.