Crivus at Forty-Six

Arrowyy has returned to the business of ruinous fire with the cheer of a man finding an old coat that still smells faintly of smoke. His former warlock, Crivus, made it only to forty-six, which is apparently enough history to make the resurrection ceremonial.

Blaedy was briefly astonished that he had owned such a fellow at all, then immediately turned her attention to a warrior’s new relationship with rage. She took particular pleasure in learning that protective bubbles no longer starve it. Somewhere, a shield-bearer is now allowed both safety and indignation. Blaedy considers this a reform worth celebrating.

The whole exchange had the look of men and women discovering that their old grievances have been entered into law. Arrowyy gets his fire; Blaedy gets her anger, properly provisioned. Civilization limps onward.