It's taken a lifetime to lose my way
All the wasted time on my hands turns to sand
Deimos’ impressions of the Launceleyn family, save for perhaps Loren, had been they were all a bit bizarre. Zariah had fed off of power, earning her Merciless title with such iron wrought preambles and ridiculous folds, that he shouldn’t have been surprised that any child of hers would come along with some other strange factions. Perhaps Morgan would have to keep watch on that one too – shaking his head, arching a brow, incapable of understanding some complexities of the local bloodlines. “Is he like his mother?” Or was that something to be seen, a terror for the future?
A nod indicated comprehension of the hands; as if this was a normal part of Caido, an everyday occurrence to be sent proportions of others. Morgan didn’t seem too overwhelmed, or confused by it, indifferent perhaps. He wasn’t certain how he should’ve felt about it either – giving and granting information where he could.
The finishing touches warped and contorted around the ends of his fingers, the solid wood now defining and sharp against ivory; a polished sanction, a small pat delivered to the catapult beneath his hands. The beast should’ve known the inquiry would register after he’d granted the only sagacity he had, briefly clenching his fingers back into his palm, before sliding the hand entirely away, stepping back from the machine. “I have not.” He’d only learned of Amalia’s possible involvement after she’d…left, another secret, another rift, another thing locked and corded away.
A nod indicated comprehension of the hands; as if this was a normal part of Caido, an everyday occurrence to be sent proportions of others. Morgan didn’t seem too overwhelmed, or confused by it, indifferent perhaps. He wasn’t certain how he should’ve felt about it either – giving and granting information where he could.
The finishing touches warped and contorted around the ends of his fingers, the solid wood now defining and sharp against ivory; a polished sanction, a small pat delivered to the catapult beneath his hands. The beast should’ve known the inquiry would register after he’d granted the only sagacity he had, briefly clenching his fingers back into his palm, before sliding the hand entirely away, stepping back from the machine. “I have not.” He’d only learned of Amalia’s possible involvement after she’d…left, another secret, another rift, another thing locked and corded away.
I'm fine in the fire
I feed on the friction
