[ Like Fane, Drizzt views Knowhere in a way that is nothing short of marvelous — beautiful and true. It is a place as complex and complicated as any world ought to be, hypocritical and supportive of all types. It is a fantastic place, rife with good and evil, as all worlds ought to be — there can be no "better world", he thinks. It's an impossible dream that Zenith harbors, to make something better than what came before; that will drive people mad, because what constitutes as "better" to one is oppressive to another. All they they can do, is make the best choices available and accept imperfection.
He dreams of that next world, sometimes. Maybe, if he had to give it a shape - it'd be a lot more like Knowhere. Articulate and rich with a variety of peoples and cultures, their experiences shaping a mutable environment. Because why does the world have to be solidified the moment that Zenith wins? Why can they not lay out a foundation, and encourage the generations to come to build upon it, as generations are wont to do. One day, the descendants of Zenith's victory will only speak of their Shard-Bearers' labors as myth and legend, he prays.
What he wants, is for Fane to be okay with that. He worries for him. If Zenith wins, will he survive it? ]
Seeing it now is still a blessing, don't you think? To be alive, to be experiencing this...
[ He draws even with Fane's shoulder, pressing himself in alongside the Sourcerer without hesitation. They're enemies right now, fighting for opposing ends, but he feels no hostility towards the rough-spoken man. Only respect, and gentle fondness for his faith and desires. ]
I used to look up at the stars from atop the Spine of the World and wonder what more was out there. And then, I would look down the mountain to the burning fires of the Ten-Towns, and know — it's all someone else's life. Someone else was alive and maybe experiencing the same thing I was, wherever I turned.
[ Softly, he reaches down for Fane's bony hand. For the one clutching at his journal, as he gives it a gentle touch. ]
I know we're meant to be fighting, but I cannot help but feel so very happy that it's you I can look at these stars with.
iv.
He dreams of that next world, sometimes. Maybe, if he had to give it a shape - it'd be a lot more like Knowhere. Articulate and rich with a variety of peoples and cultures, their experiences shaping a mutable environment. Because why does the world have to be solidified the moment that Zenith wins? Why can they not lay out a foundation, and encourage the generations to come to build upon it, as generations are wont to do. One day, the descendants of Zenith's victory will only speak of their Shard-Bearers' labors as myth and legend, he prays.
What he wants, is for Fane to be okay with that. He worries for him. If Zenith wins, will he survive it? ]
Seeing it now is still a blessing, don't you think? To be alive, to be experiencing this...
[ He draws even with Fane's shoulder, pressing himself in alongside the Sourcerer without hesitation. They're enemies right now, fighting for opposing ends, but he feels no hostility towards the rough-spoken man. Only respect, and gentle fondness for his faith and desires. ]
I used to look up at the stars from atop the Spine of the World and wonder what more was out there. And then, I would look down the mountain to the burning fires of the Ten-Towns, and know — it's all someone else's life. Someone else was alive and maybe experiencing the same thing I was, wherever I turned.
[ Softly, he reaches down for Fane's bony hand. For the one clutching at his journal, as he gives it a gentle touch. ]
I know we're meant to be fighting, but I cannot help but feel so very happy that it's you I can look at these stars with.