who we are and all that we're trying to be
He listened in silence, ever the stronghold of quiet platitudes, taking everything in before rendering anything else. He did manage to pierce the shell of his otherwise nonchalant gaze with an arch to his brow, a devilish accord and amusement sent via attuned bond, towards Amalia – who’d apparently garnered for a higher position.
The other things in place made sense. He wasn’t certain of the Fae willing to lend a hand, especially with their inclinations towards absolute hatred of the Ascended, tilting his head for a moment in thought. “Perhaps we should offer the Fae something in exchange as well.” Maybe they’d refuse outright, but it would be more of a deal, trade, instead of asking them with no intention of returning the favor. It would only fuel animosity, entangle further hostilities already there.
Which led into the next vision and Delah’s thoughts; understandable, given everything that happened, occurred, along the Mathair. He nodded, already jotting down several notes. “We could ask Delah too.” The Sword would rather hold them all to the same accountable degrees, than risk their Outlander tendencies in stepping into wards and wires they had no place within. His first machination was towards fire; a known weakness of the Ascended, but other things would have to be in place. The prison was always available too, as a resort, for those who failed to recognize the statutes.
It takes dying to know
How to live as ghosts
