Whoa, you let your feet run wild
Time has come as we all go down
Her sharp laughter caused a fractional, minute tilt to his head, as if surveying and scrutinizing the reasoning for the harsh reel. He, a warrior in all definitions of the word, had no fault or issues with libraries whatsoever. But then again, he also favored acquiring knowledge, wisdom, and sagacity in whatever shape or form available. Perhaps it was how he’d been raised, applying battlefield tactics with scholarly pursuits, lending to capabilities of plots, schemes, and strategy. Merely aligning oneself with the blunt edge of a weapon was all well and good, but rushing headlong into things didn’t guarantee success. So he snorted, and allowed the comment to pass without a response.
“I suppose.” It didn’t really – he likely could’ve gained those notions for himself, had he thought about it when they’d been granted their limited access. History about the Greatwood and the Fae might’ve benefitted the Grounds somehow, but prying it out of a winged one might not be worth the hassle. There were always other means and measures.
Then it was his turn, and the Sword wasn’t one to back away from a debt or a mutual exchange, even if the temptation was there. His eyes glanced out towards the sea again, rolling against rocky outcrops, waves curling back upon themselves. “Cloud manta,” and he nodded in the direction of the sea, indicating a few stretching and flapping above the current, and then splashing back down, “can fly and swim, and apparently have a jewel in their forehead that could allow someone to breathe underwater.” Pertinent information, for someone yearning to dive into depths without the speculation of drowning in the midst of it.
“I suppose.” It didn’t really – he likely could’ve gained those notions for himself, had he thought about it when they’d been granted their limited access. History about the Greatwood and the Fae might’ve benefitted the Grounds somehow, but prying it out of a winged one might not be worth the hassle. There were always other means and measures.
Then it was his turn, and the Sword wasn’t one to back away from a debt or a mutual exchange, even if the temptation was there. His eyes glanced out towards the sea again, rolling against rocky outcrops, waves curling back upon themselves. “Cloud manta,” and he nodded in the direction of the sea, indicating a few stretching and flapping above the current, and then splashing back down, “can fly and swim, and apparently have a jewel in their forehead that could allow someone to breathe underwater.” Pertinent information, for someone yearning to dive into depths without the speculation of drowning in the midst of it.
Yeah but for the fall—oh, my—
Do you dare to look them right in the eyes?
DEIMOS
