[ She bristles. In the grand scheme of a day of toil, trouble and misunderstandings, he must be as salt on her wounds, sooner than salve. And yet, the air that surrounds them never thaws for it, the dragon beyond doesn't cease the metronome rhythm of its brutality.
He does not improve their odds for the diplomacy she accuses lost in his hands, dispersed between his fingertips. ]
Hear me. [ Quiet every instinct of cantankerous hysteria. ] We must know what we face.
[ They cannot return to horde and bloodshed, not without shield or strategy, without rite or prayer. They cannot go blind for a stick. ]
no subject
He does not improve their odds for the diplomacy she accuses lost in his hands, dispersed between his fingertips. ]
Hear me. [ Quiet every instinct of cantankerous hysteria. ] We must know what we face.
[ They cannot return to horde and bloodshed, not without shield or strategy, without rite or prayer. They cannot go blind for a stick. ]