It still grates at him, like splintered wood against bare skin. When Fenris speaks, it is like worrying a healing scab, and he knows it's not the same any more, yet he had been nothing but frustrated (frightened) so far.]
Magic is like a disease. Sooner or later it grows into a need for more power, and those that seek it will step over graves to get to it. It corrupts, and it twists.
I only know one mage that had the strength to stay true to himself even through the most hopeless times. All other sooner or later grew into monsters or lost their control.
no subject
[Some things were different. Just some.
It still grates at him, like splintered wood against bare skin. When Fenris speaks, it is like worrying a healing scab, and he knows it's not the same any more, yet he had been nothing but frustrated (frightened) so far.]
Magic is like a disease. Sooner or later it grows into a need for more power, and those that seek it will step over graves to get to it. It corrupts, and it twists.
I only know one mage that had the strength to stay true to himself even through the most hopeless times. All other sooner or later grew into monsters or lost their control.