A joy hard-learned in winter was the warming of the bed
You'd shake for minutes there and move your legs
You'd shake for minutes there and move your legs
It's good work, work that Koa can get behind with his usual enthusiasm and aplomb, the sight of parcels stacked neatly on front porches and stoops filling the lad with purpose. Even the chill of the snow feels lesser, alleviated by the simple warmth of good work. Pipsqueak helps, hauling bundles by their strings - though her motivations may have more to do with the jerky in Koa's pockets than Samaritan good will.
But alas, the ease is not to last. Where Deimos has too much experience, Koa has too little, his ideas fueled by naïve ideals. There is none of the jagged, overlapping histories that jade the Resurrected Sword, and nothing to protect Koa from the weight of its suspicion. Any excitement fades and reforms, eagerness morphing into anxiety as protests are lobbed like stones against his glass house. Eyes widen, eyebrows raise and furrow; "What? No!" is the immediate, visceral protest, underlined by an incredulous laugh.
Koa raises his gloved hands, waving them as though to clear the air of misunderstanding and suspicion. "No, of course- the Shields are renowned." Clearly something has gone quite wrong in the explanation of the plan. "It's not- the idea isn't to make Stormbreak stronger, but to make everyone safer." He presses his fist into his open hand for emphasis, jaw jutting stubbornly as he soldiers on.
"To my knowledge, Stormbreak and Halo are the only areas with dedicated soldiers. But what if something happens in Torchline? Or the Grounds? Or even the Wilds? People should be able to find protection no matter where they live." Like Jude and Edmund, attacked in the Wilds. Perhaps if they'd had better training, seven men wouldn't have had to die.
But alas, the ease is not to last. Where Deimos has too much experience, Koa has too little, his ideas fueled by naïve ideals. There is none of the jagged, overlapping histories that jade the Resurrected Sword, and nothing to protect Koa from the weight of its suspicion. Any excitement fades and reforms, eagerness morphing into anxiety as protests are lobbed like stones against his glass house. Eyes widen, eyebrows raise and furrow; "What? No!" is the immediate, visceral protest, underlined by an incredulous laugh.
Koa raises his gloved hands, waving them as though to clear the air of misunderstanding and suspicion. "No, of course- the Shields are renowned." Clearly something has gone quite wrong in the explanation of the plan. "It's not- the idea isn't to make Stormbreak stronger, but to make everyone safer." He presses his fist into his open hand for emphasis, jaw jutting stubbornly as he soldiers on.
"To my knowledge, Stormbreak and Halo are the only areas with dedicated soldiers. But what if something happens in Torchline? Or the Grounds? Or even the Wilds? People should be able to find protection no matter where they live." Like Jude and Edmund, attacked in the Wilds. Perhaps if they'd had better training, seven men wouldn't have had to die.
Koa Carpenter
Wrap the blanket over you and keep your head within
Let your breath heat the air until you'd feel it getting thin
Let your breath heat the air until you'd feel it getting thin
