He shrugged his shoulders, relieved at the sight as well; far too used to the ghosts never quite yielding away from their heartache, woe, grief, anguish, or deepest portions of abhorrence. “Nor did I, but Caido has some strange ways,” different, juxtapositioned to the way Helovia or Isilme had done. Perhaps, even after all these years, he simply presumed barbarity would be the first and foremost semblances. But now, if everything rendered correctly, their souls would flicker and depart, back to Mort’s grounds, and all the sentiments they’d ever been told would foster and glimmer.
At the sentiments of food, the Sword wouldn’t waver either. Turning back from the way they’d wandered, he jutted his jawline in the direction of the Grounds in the distance. “Of course. Lead the way.”
At the sentiments of food, the Sword wouldn’t waver either. Turning back from the way they’d wandered, he jutted his jawline in the direction of the Grounds in the distance. “Of course. Lead the way.”
deimos
Never let them drain the river of your soul
