it's an all or nothin' play, though, ashes settle when i say so
His arm is blatantly Ascended and he adores it for that fact too – something that the two of them have in agreement. So much so that a smile does break through the somberness of the conversation, something to tuck away for later. How much of himself could he change yet stay the same? Likely everything, given all the time in the world. But would he want that? Well, for now the arm was good enough.
Her question of the Spire has him pausing a fraction, unsure when he goes to pick up his knife and return to her side. “No, not quite. The Spire’s… A thing unlike anything else I’ve seen. Except Stormbreak, maybe. The Spire wasn’t around when I was.” He flashes her an apologetic smile as she explains about her own family and sends her arrow flying.
He watches as it slips through the armpit and a whistle of impressiveness leaves him as he palms the knife and pinpoints the armpit too – sure he can sink the knife into it as well. The hilt of it is a bit too big for it to slide clean through, but he thinks he can mirror her, even if he is a smidge rusty. “It was more acceptable, then.” He hums, flipping the knife before rising it to throw it, watching as it sinks into the crevice of the armpit. A smirk crosses his face as he turns to look at Wessex. “Was friends with a few Theskyra’s back in the day. You definitely have the looks and the spirits of them.” A casual shrug as he retrieves that knife.
Her question of the Spire has him pausing a fraction, unsure when he goes to pick up his knife and return to her side. “No, not quite. The Spire’s… A thing unlike anything else I’ve seen. Except Stormbreak, maybe. The Spire wasn’t around when I was.” He flashes her an apologetic smile as she explains about her own family and sends her arrow flying.
He watches as it slips through the armpit and a whistle of impressiveness leaves him as he palms the knife and pinpoints the armpit too – sure he can sink the knife into it as well. The hilt of it is a bit too big for it to slide clean through, but he thinks he can mirror her, even if he is a smidge rusty. “It was more acceptable, then.” He hums, flipping the knife before rising it to throw it, watching as it sinks into the crevice of the armpit. A smirk crosses his face as he turns to look at Wessex. “Was friends with a few Theskyra’s back in the day. You definitely have the looks and the spirits of them.” A casual shrug as he retrieves that knife.
VARUS
