( Cloth and hope. Two elements of an imprecise equation, each less likely to balm an endlessly flowing wound. He watches the Doctor scale the tree, then the creature retreat up, flinching, and the quiet, feverish rattling of the trunk —
And suppose there's a purpose in this for him, when he assists by throw-thrusting Bichen's blade in the tree, to serve as step for the Doctor's next step, then calmly calls her back to hand, before propelling himself at the tree. A crafty, breezy jump, and perhaps it is cheating to possess the natural talents radiating from a wealth of qi.
But then, they serve both — and, as the creature howls and snarls it warnings, its blood drip-dripping down in beads, he finds his purpose here clear: sustain this man before him alive. )
Hope that you survive the escalation. ( ...the creature, after all, is starting to kick down. )
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And suppose there's a purpose in this for him, when he assists by throw-thrusting Bichen's blade in the tree, to serve as step for the Doctor's next step, then calmly calls her back to hand, before propelling himself at the tree. A crafty, breezy jump, and perhaps it is cheating to possess the natural talents radiating from a wealth of qi.
But then, they serve both — and, as the creature howls and snarls it warnings, its blood drip-dripping down in beads, he finds his purpose here clear: sustain this man before him alive. )
Hope that you survive the escalation. ( ...the creature, after all, is starting to kick down. )