Hoshor Plains [m] the tortured poets department

“Not in the same way as living on the mountain with them,” he rumbled, looking down to her. “I mean… they’re a very familial group.” He supposed one had to be when they wove such casual but intricate relations with one another.

“My father died before I grew up,” he noted then, but there wasn’t a sadness in his voice. Instead, his gaze drifted to the Sunspire now. “He had land in those mountains and deigned to rule over them all.” He smirked at that thought. “He was an ambitious man—a bit too much. I spent years feeling like I should try to be like him. For my mother. She loved him wholly—never took another mate after him.” He paused, and then looked down at his freckled companion. “But I think over the past year my wants have become more simple than that… I just want a mate and family. A home. A safe place.”