NATE
Back again. Not only in the Grounds, but in the Labyrinth. Joy. If it wasn't for a certain someone's stupid decision to throw a sword at a monster, Nate wouldn't even be here, but as it is, he needs to find something borrowed. If Flametongue had been his, he'd simply take the loss and forget about it, let the thing rust and crumble away into dust.
It's not though, so here he is.
It had been dusk when he'd first ventured out, wandering along the paths and ignoring the squirrels that tried to call him this way and that. Pemota drifts low to the ground before him, her eyes poor but her light supremely helpful in finding things that glint and glitter.
The moon is high in the sky when he rounds a bend and finds himself back at the mouth of the labyrinth, a realization that takes a moment to really sink in, ugly rage welling up in his chest. A string of curses so dark they should stain his tongue leave him, and he kicks childishly at the nearest hedge, intent on leaving some damage to it. Maybe that's the real strategy, leaving behind enough damage that he'll know when he loops.
It's not though, so here he is.
It had been dusk when he'd first ventured out, wandering along the paths and ignoring the squirrels that tried to call him this way and that. Pemota drifts low to the ground before him, her eyes poor but her light supremely helpful in finding things that glint and glitter.
The moon is high in the sky when he rounds a bend and finds himself back at the mouth of the labyrinth, a realization that takes a moment to really sink in, ugly rage welling up in his chest. A string of curses so dark they should stain his tongue leave him, and he kicks childishly at the nearest hedge, intent on leaving some damage to it. Maybe that's the real strategy, leaving behind enough damage that he'll know when he loops.
i love those quiet moments in the dark
where you can stop pretending
where you can stop pretending
