a long cold walk after midnight

aúsi, nos paramas // & still we stand

Beneath the weight of Amalia's words, the alchemist could only bristle guiltily. If only that were true. He thought towards her with a detached sadness, even as Roana's hand clamped around his throat. Rather than struggling, the alchemist merely grinned for a horrifying second, before his face and upper body contorted. Strong as she might be, Roana's hands were simply not big enough to throttle a lion. Roaring loudly in her face before shifting back, whatever disorientation she likely experienced hopefully giving the alchemist a chance to capture her hand anew and pin it against the wall, the alchemist merely shook his head with a snarl.

Without context (or, a large billboard sign with the message in large illuminated letters), the alchemist could only narrow his eyes with a brief puzzled stare. "What are you talking about?" He snapped, hands tightening hopefully around her wrist. "Ronin died and I had Aoife to take care of."

The pieces were right there, but his hands were more worried about where Roana's were, than fitting them together.

THE

ALCHEMIST

Table coding by Sky