Noah did not like the feeling of not having control.
It was a simple truth for him…not about domination or absolute authority over others, but about maintaining sufficient influence over the immediate space around him, the moments that unfolded breath by breath.
He moved through existence with careful deliberation, ensuring that in the domains he touched, he held enough sway to react when circumstances shifted beneath his feet like sand in a tide.
Control meant that when conflict came, and it always came, he could at least oppose it. Could bear the weight!
Could dance along the edge of catastrophe without plummeting into its depths.
This was what he preferred: a measure of control, however small, regardless of what struggles pressed against him.
At this moment, he felt its absolute absence.
The air itself had changed.
It was thicker, heavier, as if existence had become viscous fluid that resisted all movement.
