sirensong1995

beneath a tree growing at the side of the road and closed his eyes. Meditation, it seemed to be the best method of restoring his mana without falling asleep or the use of potions, and Noah was closing in on the breathing pattern that would rejuvenate him the most. The sun had fully risen and the birds were making their presence known, each one screaming in their desperation to have sex. It reminded Noah of high school. His stamina was slowly replenishing, like a glass under a dripping faucet, and his altered breathing no longer required his focus, allowing his mind to wander. His thoughts drifted to that dinner at the farm, and the words of the bandit he had interrogated, how they spoke of gods. In every reality he lived in, Noah had searched for a hint of the divine