Whoa, you let your feet run wild
Time has come as we all go down
So she had; not that he hadn’t believed her. The opportunity to wield fire hadn’t been immersed in their quiet, somber lantern-making, and Amalia wouldn’t have enjoyed the flares or threats of burning down her bakery. He watched the shape of it again, hovering over its elemental adversary, no palms necessary or required. Mind over matter; similar to the ways he orchestrated the pulses of life drain through his soul, capable of pervading areas within just a breath. But it was also his most familiar, oldest, been with him since the moment he’d been born – everything else thereafter new, foreign, until conducting and coaxing them properly.
Before he could attempt on his own though, not imploring his hands to guide the boundaries of infernal properties, hers vanished. Gaze followed her movements, as predators often did, but only to listen, not to siege. A snarl nearly appeared on his features at the notion of Zariah and her questionable methods; he could hazard a series of guesses on what those might be. “What is she having you do?” So he’d know not to attempt it during his own trainings; no need for an academy in the grounds when he could easily extend the notions over their training arena. The admittance alone caused a brief shrug through his shoulders, as if all of the woman’s previous antics still couldn’t be written off, the grudges, the catacombs, the actions too deep.
The mention of Maea only earned an arch in his otherwise stoic brows. He’d assisted her with stamina, endurance, and fortitude, and she’d come for their own brand of instruction, guidance, and tutoring. “How is the Academy overall?” To anyone’s liking? An exact, accurate depiction of everything the Merciless had claimed to be?
Because he wanted his militia to be better – his people to be better. The General would cast it as a personal affront if Zariah’s methods, manipulations, and machinations somehow managed to heighten everyone in her vicinity.
On another notion, his stare maneuvered away from Weaver, back towards the oasis, the shimmering glade, the etched light. From his mind, he cast an ember, concentrated, focused on it, without the need for raised hands and guiding convections – watching as it rapidly began to swell, kindled, invoked, and seething.
Before he could attempt on his own though, not imploring his hands to guide the boundaries of infernal properties, hers vanished. Gaze followed her movements, as predators often did, but only to listen, not to siege. A snarl nearly appeared on his features at the notion of Zariah and her questionable methods; he could hazard a series of guesses on what those might be. “What is she having you do?” So he’d know not to attempt it during his own trainings; no need for an academy in the grounds when he could easily extend the notions over their training arena. The admittance alone caused a brief shrug through his shoulders, as if all of the woman’s previous antics still couldn’t be written off, the grudges, the catacombs, the actions too deep.
The mention of Maea only earned an arch in his otherwise stoic brows. He’d assisted her with stamina, endurance, and fortitude, and she’d come for their own brand of instruction, guidance, and tutoring. “How is the Academy overall?” To anyone’s liking? An exact, accurate depiction of everything the Merciless had claimed to be?
Because he wanted his militia to be better – his people to be better. The General would cast it as a personal affront if Zariah’s methods, manipulations, and machinations somehow managed to heighten everyone in her vicinity.
On another notion, his stare maneuvered away from Weaver, back towards the oasis, the shimmering glade, the etched light. From his mind, he cast an ember, concentrated, focused on it, without the need for raised hands and guiding convections – watching as it rapidly began to swell, kindled, invoked, and seething.
Yeah but for the fall—oh, my—
Do you dare to look them right in the eyes?
DEIMOS
