FINN
the spyglass
it is only through mystery and madness
”In Halo?” Finn echoes, belatedly remembering that she would have needed to cross through the cold to get to the Climb. It makes more sense now, at least, and he flashes a glance at the hatchling again before letting the subject drop. With a lopsided smile, his hand moves from his aching forearm to the scruff on his chin, fingers running over it. ”That makes two of us,” he agrees. Finn can probably pull off a messy sort of brawl if he’s really, really forced to, but ultimately he’s not a fighter.
Dropping the subject of Dragoons in lieu of expansions, the Spyglass’s attention is drawn to the ways she flips to a new page on her notepad, to the books that join his own on the desk. ”Do you think you would be able to construct something entirely out of glass?” he asks. ”Where the walls can be written on, and wiped clean again?”
Dropping the subject of Dragoons in lieu of expansions, the Spyglass’s attention is drawn to the ways she flips to a new page on her notepad, to the books that join his own on the desk. ”Do you think you would be able to construct something entirely out of glass?” he asks. ”Where the walls can be written on, and wiped clean again?”
that the soul is revealed
