Damien
Damien followed the others into the hush of the cathedral, boots sinking against the cool stone. Candles guttered and shadows stretched high above; the organ loomed like a ribcage waiting to breathe. He took in the scratches along the floor, the ragged holes chewed into the stone, the faintest sound of nails dragging beneath. The kind of signs you didn’t need a page to explain.
Theea peeled off toward the worshippers, light on her feet in a place where even whispers felt like they pressed too loud. His eyes tracked her for a beat longer than they should have, catching the way her voice dropped soft to fit the quiet. Then Thorn split north with his usual charm, tossing Damien that grin like he’d expected to meet him here all along. Damien just shook his head faintly, lips twitching against a smile. Thorn could make a rat’s nest seem like a social call.
“I’ll take the south side,” he said, voice pitched low but carrying across to Deimos. Adjusting the crossbow strap on his other shoulder, he started along the aisle toward the far wall, footsteps careful not to echo. His gaze moved between the floor and the shadows overhead, searching for fresher claw-marks, droppings, or food trails the pests might’ve dragged this way. Every few steps, he glanced back—first to Thorn, then to Theea—keeping both in the corner of his sightline. Rats weren’t the only things that hunted in packs.
Damien investigates the south side, keeping watch for signs of fresher tracks or holes while also keeping an eye on Thorn and Theea.
Theea peeled off toward the worshippers, light on her feet in a place where even whispers felt like they pressed too loud. His eyes tracked her for a beat longer than they should have, catching the way her voice dropped soft to fit the quiet. Then Thorn split north with his usual charm, tossing Damien that grin like he’d expected to meet him here all along. Damien just shook his head faintly, lips twitching against a smile. Thorn could make a rat’s nest seem like a social call.
“I’ll take the south side,” he said, voice pitched low but carrying across to Deimos. Adjusting the crossbow strap on his other shoulder, he started along the aisle toward the far wall, footsteps careful not to echo. His gaze moved between the floor and the shadows overhead, searching for fresher claw-marks, droppings, or food trails the pests might’ve dragged this way. Every few steps, he glanced back—first to Thorn, then to Theea—keeping both in the corner of his sightline. Rats weren’t the only things that hunted in packs.
Damien investigates the south side, keeping watch for signs of fresher tracks or holes while also keeping an eye on Thorn and Theea.
i speak for the trees
and they hate you bro
and they hate you bro
