we're all killers
“My apologies,” he muttered as he sat beside the table, a gilded glow forming along his hands as he conjured two glasses into place. “I am sure you have better things to do.” Or enjoy, or commit to anything else besides listen to them meander and putter around; the endless concoctions and deviations from sovereigns, to replacement monarchists, to other bizarre intricacies surrounding fallen goddesses and the blight, segueing directly to Ronin and everything else. What did he do with the constant, consistent intrusions? “Congratulations, again.” His hands reached for the whiskey, pouring the liquid for the both of them, and when he’d filled the wares to a reasonable distinction, he raised his glass in a toast; before following suit with it to his mouth, drinking, swallowing down the burning distinction, reveling in the clarity for a few moments.
“Listening to Jigano for too long drives me to drink,” he shrugged, not something he’d regularly admit (but the exasperation was already fargone, one meeting to another, to another), as a way of explanation for the whiskey, as a way to regard the growls, rumbles, and thunder booming from his chest – the level of ire and frustration curling, coiling, into his mind. The machinations still revolved and twisted from within, indulgent, scrupulous little things delving into further exploits and persistence. He just required agreement. “What did he already tell you?” His stare scanned briefly over Remi, but he wasn’t sure what to do with the smug smile resting there; one of the Reaper’s brows arched in the slightest slant of curiosity.
“Listening to Jigano for too long drives me to drink,” he shrugged, not something he’d regularly admit (but the exasperation was already fargone, one meeting to another, to another), as a way of explanation for the whiskey, as a way to regard the growls, rumbles, and thunder booming from his chest – the level of ire and frustration curling, coiling, into his mind. The machinations still revolved and twisted from within, indulgent, scrupulous little things delving into further exploits and persistence. He just required agreement. “What did he already tell you?” His stare scanned briefly over Remi, but he wasn’t sure what to do with the smug smile resting there; one of the Reaper’s brows arched in the slightest slant of curiosity.
DEIMOS
