Friends in High Places
An amused smile not dissimilar to Haera's was Laurevere's only response to that for the time being. As for Aicanar, "Despite the losses we suffered in lifespan and record, our people do seem to have an almost empathic racial memory. The birth of Humanity with Arsoren's sacrifice, along with his followers', felt like a a wound. A loss. No doubt people reacted in a variety of ways, but for whatever reasons, we diverged. We cannot know for certain why he made that choice. Perhaps he needed time and would have gone to her were his life not cut short."
He answered a question for Sivan before Tyrann asked another.
"Ah, Aranel. Indeed, he was said to be quite the fashion plate. That was his parade armor, of which only the vambraces remain. They were runeforged to be effective, but had the added ability to alter at the wearer's desire to be more impressive. So, presumably, that style was de mode for the time. We have his diaries, but they do not speak specifically to this portrait."
"So many stories," Sivan murmured to himself, "and all we can do is fill in the blanks as best we are able. Make guesses and suppositions..."
"Indeed," Laurevere replied. To Tyrann, "If we still had Aranel's helm, I might need little else to be comfortable in your realm. It produced fresh air to protect the wearer from environmental threats, and the more creative and terrible weapons that once were used in warfare. He saw other worlds, by his own accounts. Worlds where the air was poisonous or acidic..."
