Dorian inclined his head, the gesture subtle, gracious—like a disappointed dinner host receiving word that a guest would not be staying for dessert. "A shame," he said lightly, as if Deimos had simply passed on an hors d'oeuvre. "Decisions like that is why there will be so many casualties to come."
He turned toward the door, not with frustration, nor haste, but with the languid precision of someone who’d already anticipated this outcome. One hand emerged from behind his back to trace lazily along the edge of a map pinned beside the doorframe, the other unhurried as it reached for the handle. "But do try to remember when we next see one another—" he glanced sidelong, voice dropping just enough to become silk stretched over steel "—that you were offered the carrot, before the stick."
The door creaked open under his hand, light spilling into the room. But Dorian lingered a moment more in the threshold, just long enough to turn his head over his shoulder. That same genteel smile played at his lips—charming, almost apologetic.
"I imagine it’s difficult," he mused, as if to himself. "Balancing so many responsibilities. A region. A war. A family." His eyes met Deimos’ then—blue, glacial, and terribly sincere. "Yours is lovely, by the way. Hopefully they don't get caught up in this awful mess."
And with a parting smile so warm it left frost in its wake, Dorian stepped through the door and disappeared down the hall, humming a quiet, thoughtful tune.
~FIN
He turned toward the door, not with frustration, nor haste, but with the languid precision of someone who’d already anticipated this outcome. One hand emerged from behind his back to trace lazily along the edge of a map pinned beside the doorframe, the other unhurried as it reached for the handle. "But do try to remember when we next see one another—" he glanced sidelong, voice dropping just enough to become silk stretched over steel "—that you were offered the carrot, before the stick."
The door creaked open under his hand, light spilling into the room. But Dorian lingered a moment more in the threshold, just long enough to turn his head over his shoulder. That same genteel smile played at his lips—charming, almost apologetic.
"I imagine it’s difficult," he mused, as if to himself. "Balancing so many responsibilities. A region. A war. A family." His eyes met Deimos’ then—blue, glacial, and terribly sincere. "Yours is lovely, by the way. Hopefully they don't get caught up in this awful mess."
And with a parting smile so warm it left frost in its wake, Dorian stepped through the door and disappeared down the hall, humming a quiet, thoughtful tune.
~FIN
He'll rekindle all the dreams
it took you a lifetime to destroy
it took you a lifetime to destroy
