who we are and all that we're trying to be
“What about some sort of mobile cage?” Tilting his head, considering, most of the suggestions fine as well – brainstorming, the schemes contorting, normalcy, to analyze, plot, and surmise. But her other sentiments gave him pause in the ideas. Not the means, but the consequences – his mind returning to Roana’s quest from Ludo, being asked to kill an Ascended, and being incapable of doing so. Too many others told, too many motions rendered, and she’d been locked away, the damage done thereafter. Were they willing to exploit the use of such chains or coils? To take the vitriol, the vehemence, of another’s contempt? Whatever was to follow? “True. I cannot fathom anyone taking it well.” The Reaper wouldn’t have stopped at anything; feral and savage, indifferent towards someone’s loathing, coated and layered in abhorrence of his own. The Sword was a bit more cautious – too many other semblances already blown apart.
Her raised brow and impending sagacity slid over him, his jaw firmly clenching shut on a rebuttal. A glint of a challenge in his eye pierced and punctured, but his voice didn’t. The ruminations of his thoughts spiraled and coiled, contorting in various aspects, stemming and outlining on Outlander faults once more. Except some Naturals had wandered out into the midst year after year, Samuel came to mind quickly on that failed expedition, when they should’ve known better. Perhaps they were all guilty. Perhaps curiosity and challenges from Outlander sources orchestrated the means and measures of LongNight depravities. Perhaps they’d moved the blame from the Voice, and to those who’d had no choice in coming here. So he simply nodded, and took the brunt of the speculation.
It takes dying to know
How to live as ghosts
