I'm — ( A living thing, carving the meat of dead men. A surgeon of calamities. A man, his smile unctuous, placidly servile. Like an inn keeper who will buy and sell his patrons for a glance, a wave, a treat.
He is nothing, except: ) In need of a weapon.
( One that he would likely fail to use, illiterate in all learnings that matter. Curse the man who becomes a scholar, sooner than a swordsman. All the same, he... takes a good, long look at the pendant in his hand and commits its weight — evenly balanced — to memory.
Stones to the head work. Why not this? ) I don't suppose you have one.
no subject
I'm — ( A living thing, carving the meat of dead men. A surgeon of calamities. A man, his smile unctuous, placidly servile. Like an inn keeper who will buy and sell his patrons for a glance, a wave, a treat.
He is nothing, except: ) In need of a weapon.
( One that he would likely fail to use, illiterate in all learnings that matter. Curse the man who becomes a scholar, sooner than a swordsman. All the same, he... takes a good, long look at the pendant in his hand and commits its weight — evenly balanced — to memory.
Stones to the head work. Why not this? ) I don't suppose you have one.