we're all killers
Amalia’s voice flickered through the surroundings, and the slightest ease relinquished through his shoulders. He was still irritated, still exasperated with the entire situation, but at least now it could be shared, instead of simply burning, boiling, and brewing in his mind. His eyes gestured back forth from the baker to the Queen, watching, waiting, brow only arching a minute amount in Amalia’s direction as he breathed, inhaled sharply, exhaled slowly, biting in whatever composure he managed to maintain. He maneuvered inward, along confines and the meager amount of familiarity; a long time had seemingly passed since the last time he’d lingered in these depths. And while the Shield’s silent inquiry lingered in his mind, he listened to Wessex’s announcement and proclamation, had all the more inclination to agree on the statement withering between sighs.
His information, however, could’ve been deigned from Rexanna or the latest, eventful meeting, either one an exasperating effort – the first because he’d known what was coming, and the second because at some point it could’ve been segmented and prevented. So while he meandered in quiet, hushed decibels, gaze roaming along stacks of books, their Attuned connection delve and dove into the prior proceedings and occurrences – uncertain of how much to expand or not, if Amalia had ventured elsewhere to access the same information. The Ascended attacked the Mathair, and apparently killed some Fae in the process. Due to this, Delah announced no one from the Hollowed Grounds could enter the Greatwood. Another notice about imminent failures, about severed lines and tethers. His gaze roamed back to the table, to each individual, looking for all the world like he was waiting for some other opportunity or line to cross. Delah proclaimed if Wessex yearned to free her people, then she should abdicate. Why Wessex might have been going out of her way to fix her mistakes, why the blunders felt deeper, seared far more; why there were constantly consequences. She did not.
His information, however, could’ve been deigned from Rexanna or the latest, eventful meeting, either one an exasperating effort – the first because he’d known what was coming, and the second because at some point it could’ve been segmented and prevented. So while he meandered in quiet, hushed decibels, gaze roaming along stacks of books, their Attuned connection delve and dove into the prior proceedings and occurrences – uncertain of how much to expand or not, if Amalia had ventured elsewhere to access the same information. The Ascended attacked the Mathair, and apparently killed some Fae in the process. Due to this, Delah announced no one from the Hollowed Grounds could enter the Greatwood. Another notice about imminent failures, about severed lines and tethers. His gaze roamed back to the table, to each individual, looking for all the world like he was waiting for some other opportunity or line to cross. Delah proclaimed if Wessex yearned to free her people, then she should abdicate. Why Wessex might have been going out of her way to fix her mistakes, why the blunders felt deeper, seared far more; why there were constantly consequences. She did not.
DEIMOS
