The most amusing thing was that Zantara hadn't moved from holding Nightmares seemingly secondary body for quite a many hours.... or had it been days? He'd been laying there with her head on his thigh the entire time, sitting up only to repack his pipe and go back to smoking....always smoking and thinking his deep thoughts.
Of Home.
Of the Primera.
Of Nightmare.
Alright, truthfully, the third really wasn't bothering him. Topaz made one right observation that might cause troubles sometime down the line. Zantara may be a cleric but to all who know him, he is known by a misnomer that is spoken when they don't want to speak his name...for he has a way of hearing such things.
They call him the Deceiver.
Oddly enough, he never lied to a single deity, so the name didn't quite make so much sense. But Zantara always worked within the letter of the agreement, nothing more, nothing less. And the Gods always got their noses into a bent when someone uses their ideas against them as such.
True, he'd grown into the name when he took over from the last Lord Mask and actually did become the Deceiver for quite a few years.... but that was all in the past and another Primera.
So who was to say what would happen to him or not? It seemed to be up to the Fates to decide what was so perfect about him and if he was worthy. But even if he had known about such, he wouldn't have cared any more than he did now. Fate....had a way of working out, he'd always found.
It would have been interesting if he had a pair of eyes within the Dreaming and listened in on what Topaz had to say as well as Nightmares reply.
Alas he didn't.
And his violet eyes closed once more as he rested his pipe against his chest, resting for another time.