Argenti

He swam to the surface "At least it wasn't the rock this time!" He tred water.

"Bastard!" He doesn't struggle "Could you put me down?" "Gently!"

Its that damn snake again!

"You know theyre leaving right?" Jakob says

Argoyle holds his breath.

Eh, Not really. Aristotle is kinda wrong for that anyway, there are plenty of illogical laws. I expect Reason to be kinda Machiavellian; who cares about oaths or emotions? Only results matter.

Yes, I 100% agree. I was completely guessstimating, but I knew it was way longer than some people made it out to be. Thanks for a real estimate.

This isn't medieval earth. It's Roshar. Society is different, hands are taboo. Why is a gay romance being normal the thing that strikes you as odd and takes you from the story, not the crab-people, crab-dogs, flight, or the actual god of hatred? Two characters being gay isn't an agenda or suddenly unrealistic. I get not liking a romantic subplot, I've rolled my eyes at enough myself, but you seem hung up on the "politics" of it. Were Waxillium and Marsi political because they dated? Ultimately, It's people being in love; Assuming you're talking about RlainxRenarin sure, it's a bit odd they fell in love what feels like overnight, (there were early hints if you knew what to look for.) but you've gotta remember that we don't get to see literally everything. They had known each other for months. People have fallen in love over shorter times. Heck, Adolin and Shallan have gotten married already.

Well, there's also nothing that holds him to keeping up his side of the bargain for anything. But he does anyway, cus honor.

Nightmares flash in front of your eyes, of cities being boiled, thrown through a storm, then frozen solid.

"So what do you do if Felicity falls through?" Jakob asks.

You feel a growing sense of dread at the back of your head, like a vision is about to come on.

"I would say so too."

Fenir walks through the cold sand, running his blood-red hand across the ruins, feeling the weight of ages under his fingers. He feels beneath him the thrum of the force, in an amount he's only felt a few times before. A Vergence. He thinks. It was good, that he fled the Sith empire to come here. A place far away from the Sith, the dark side, and the waves of pain and nausea it brought to him every time he felt those innocents die. So many lives, lost for power. He places his hand on the sand, inhaling as he coaxes the dormant seeds beneath him into bloom, flowers releasing a heady scent; like Honeysuckle and Clover, so unlike the scent of blood. The soft petals fall off, drifting to the floor, violet fruits taking their place. He draws his sword, the same one that was forged by his father with sorcery and alchemy, the same blade that killed his mother, that very blade that once drew in the light like a starving man, but now... now glows a soft green-blue, the light side of the force flowing through its metal. He cuts loose a fruit and bites into it. It's tangy, sweet, and soft. He waves his blade, drawing the force in through the Once-Sith-Blade, and the tiny plant grows into a tree, its roots stretching through the sand. Finally, peace. He waits for them to come.

Theres no response

"Mh. Tough luck."

He shuts up.

"Badly."

"Not again!" Argoyle sighs.

"Bastard." He says to intellect

Jakob swings for intellect, knowing he won't succeed, but tries anyway.