THE LION ISN'T SACRED WHEN NOT SLEEPING NEAR THE LAMB
He is a child again — or what a child should be — laughing careless of everything else in the world. Thinking, for the first time in so long, of nothing except the moment and the breathless exhilaration of sharing adventure with another soul. No concern about what she thinks, about what anyone thinks. No concern about the future, about his tenuous grasp on it. No concern at all. When his laughter runs out, Brecken braces his hands behind him and sits, legs dangling out toward the emptiness beyond the walkway, and catches his breath. A fierce, sly sort of grin answers Amaris' retort. "I think it has a nice ring to it," he jokes, the laughter dancing still in his blue eyes.
With a sigh, Brecken quiets. Watches the dragon fuss. Thinks almost, in this hazy state of normalcy, that dragons seem a pleasant thing. A benevolent thing. He is looking sideways at another version of himself, a version in a different universe, who came out of youth unscathed and hearty. A version of him who laughs freely, whose smiles are never forced. But in an instant that illusion is gone, and Brecken is only himself, the adrenaline cooling in his veins.
His posture closes in — subtly — arms coming forward now to rest on his knees, eyes scanning the emptiness below. There was a part of him, he thinks, that would not have cared if he had fallen. He doesn't want to know what that means. "You know," he says, and the words are at odds with the color of his thoughts. "I never would have guessed the resident assassin would be so much fun. We should do this again sometime." He is not sure what he means by it, if he means anything at all. It is a hollow offer, an expression of friendship given because he has seen other people do it. Because he read about such things in books when he was younger. Now he's calmed, he doesn't know if he actually does want to be alone with her again. That sliver of honesty, that moment where he was unguarded, that was dangerous, wasn't it? Were he someone else, where he somewhere else, it could be lethal.
With a sigh, Brecken quiets. Watches the dragon fuss. Thinks almost, in this hazy state of normalcy, that dragons seem a pleasant thing. A benevolent thing. He is looking sideways at another version of himself, a version in a different universe, who came out of youth unscathed and hearty. A version of him who laughs freely, whose smiles are never forced. But in an instant that illusion is gone, and Brecken is only himself, the adrenaline cooling in his veins.
His posture closes in — subtly — arms coming forward now to rest on his knees, eyes scanning the emptiness below. There was a part of him, he thinks, that would not have cared if he had fallen. He doesn't want to know what that means. "You know," he says, and the words are at odds with the color of his thoughts. "I never would have guessed the resident assassin would be so much fun. We should do this again sometime." He is not sure what he means by it, if he means anything at all. It is a hollow offer, an expression of friendship given because he has seen other people do it. Because he read about such things in books when he was younger. Now he's calmed, he doesn't know if he actually does want to be alone with her again. That sliver of honesty, that moment where he was unguarded, that was dangerous, wasn't it? Were he someone else, where he somewhere else, it could be lethal.
IT IS EVIL WHEN IT EATS UNLESS IT'S FEEDING FROM THE DAMNED.
