You learn to speak so calmly

DEIMOS And in your darkest hour, I hold secrets flame Abductions had been more like limited time-frames for their captives more than anything else; and he’d know, considering he’d been amongst the chained and tethered at one point. He held back the snort at the makeshift chastising, following Bastien’s movements towards the table that once held her ashes, the painting, and maintaining his semblance of calm. “Political prisoners. Usually when we were preparing for war.” When they were assembling incitement, stoking irreverence, bending through agent provocateur wakes, enacting vengeance. Or when someone was particularly irritating, needing to be plucked out of the ether and sent into a cave, to be ignored or discarded. He lifted his end of the table with ease, palms grasping, muscles lifting, intending to follow along towards the back wall. Rexanna’s successes had been numerous, saving him ample time and pain in not having to maim, lacerate, and tear the world apart solely on his own. “Yes. She was very good.” Their Thieves had been the best; and even if he wasn’t heavily biased, he’d always believe the same. He presumed Bastien would be able to imagine it; Rexanna's coaxing mannerisms, hidden machinations and maneuvers, the cloaks and daggers beneath the weight of her role. His brows furrowed, pressed together for a moment, considering. “The only moment I was ever disappointed in her was when she left.” master of nothing place; of recoil and grace