Voices
He didn't speak loudly or too often. He didn't have to.
As soon as he spoke, they all snapped to his way, all snapped to attention because what he said he wouldn't repeat, and what he said was what was happening, and what he said would make or break everything. They would all pay attention, because when he spoke you had to, even if you tried to or not.
His voice was laced with authority. An unwilling authority lingered, full of a subtle purpose and power that you didn't even need to speak loudly to achieve. His voice was low an reluctant, but it was clear and you listened not because it was beautiful or amazing in any way, just because it drew your ears in and trapped them like a fly in honey. His meaning was rarely if ever veiled, and it was the type of tone and voice that you didn't start talking immediately after, you didn't start on your old conversations because what that voice said was what mattered, and if you made fun of something it was what was said and if you asked a question it was on his words, and you said them to him. He had that effect on people.
His voice was down to earth, so contradictory to his name, his name that placed him up in the clouds but his voice that secured him to the ground. His voice was not soft like the ground, however, it was tough like rocks, but not hurtful to listen to, but it had an edge to it that said he was used to being hard, used to being tough, not willing to be hurt again. His voice was like a smooth slate of rock, because it seemed so tough but the right water could wear it down.
He would hate his voice if he realized what it was, and he would try to change it but never could, because it was what he was, reluctantly, unwillingly, it was what he was because his voice above all was not only the voice of a hero.
It was the voice of a leader.
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