She feels no call to war, not really. Weaver enjoys a good fight, but she’s the sort of fighter you’d find in underground brawls. She’s the anti-hero, the one who sets out for herself and ends up saving a few others along the way. If it came to it, she would stand with a Halovian army and defend her home, her life. She’d charge headlong into battle to save whom and what loved and whom and what they loved, but she wasn’t sure she was volunteering for it either. Though who knows, because she often tends to surprise even herself.
He gives her an age, and she nods, letting the moment be sober because she does understand what it like to kill, though she has never needed to kill another human. Still, she does not take life for fun, but for necessity. She knows the weight of killing even the plentiful, stupid ningos, and she can imagine that it does not even compare to the weight of what has been asked of him in his lifetime. She does not envy him, not really.
She is surprised at the notion of a Deimos who thought he would grate against orders, and she wonders what he was like as a younger man. Not who he is now, certainly, and she thinks she would have liked that version of him as well. It’s his question that catches her attention the most, remembering the warning Wessex had offered about Zariah. They had met, Weaver doing work to finish the Academy while Zariah did gods knows what other than parade around in those completely ridiculous shoes. ”Tell me what you know about Zariah. Please.” Because she really wants to know. It seems Neron may not be the one to be concerned about.
He gives her an age, and she nods, letting the moment be sober because she does understand what it like to kill, though she has never needed to kill another human. Still, she does not take life for fun, but for necessity. She knows the weight of killing even the plentiful, stupid ningos, and she can imagine that it does not even compare to the weight of what has been asked of him in his lifetime. She does not envy him, not really.
She is surprised at the notion of a Deimos who thought he would grate against orders, and she wonders what he was like as a younger man. Not who he is now, certainly, and she thinks she would have liked that version of him as well. It’s his question that catches her attention the most, remembering the warning Wessex had offered about Zariah. They had met, Weaver doing work to finish the Academy while Zariah did gods knows what other than parade around in those completely ridiculous shoes. ”Tell me what you know about Zariah. Please.” Because she really wants to know. It seems Neron may not be the one to be concerned about.
weaver
-- ask no questions, and you'll be told no lies --
Quote by Charles Dickens
