THE LION ISN'T SACRED WHEN NOT SLEEPING NEAR THE LAMB
Certain things Brecken knew to be immutable truths about himself. Among these things, of course, the need for more. To know more, to see more, to drink the world until his body burst open. Despite his silence during the meeting, Brecken was alive with possibility in the wake of it. The illness, the focal point of it all, was almost forgotten. Here was a mystery in need of solving, a matter to grab in his teeth and shake until it broke. He needed to get out — he needed to see if for himself. Enough of sitting in a room and planning — he had permission to find himself outside the city walls again.
Not yet, though. No.
Dorian's voice was the jerk of a leash — just as sudden and unforgiving. Though it was friendly — of course, given the voice's owner — Brecken for a moment in his most primal being resented the intrusion. He was thinking, damn it. Thinking, planning, making strategies up in his own way, even if those strategies mostly consisted of get ready very quickly and get the hell out of Stormbreak. By the time Dorian reached him, of course, Brecken had managed to compose himself. This was no enemy of his, and no target for misplaced aggression. This was a colleague with more in his head than Brecken would ever have, someone at once to be respected and regarded with caution.
A knife-edged smile slashed up one side of Brecken's face. "Quite," he agreed. "I thought I would mull things over on my way to the Climb." He said it as if it were a joke, too absurd to be taken seriously. And yet — wasn't he planning to do just that? More or less? He wanted to get the hell out and get his bearings; he wanted to sink his teeth in the outside world. And yet, he knew Dorian had caught him for a reason. Knew he was very likely about to be asked something, something relating to the matter at hand, so obediently he called his impetuosity to heel and put on his best, most polite face. "But something tells me you have a better idea."
Not yet, though. No.
Dorian's voice was the jerk of a leash — just as sudden and unforgiving. Though it was friendly — of course, given the voice's owner — Brecken for a moment in his most primal being resented the intrusion. He was thinking, damn it. Thinking, planning, making strategies up in his own way, even if those strategies mostly consisted of get ready very quickly and get the hell out of Stormbreak. By the time Dorian reached him, of course, Brecken had managed to compose himself. This was no enemy of his, and no target for misplaced aggression. This was a colleague with more in his head than Brecken would ever have, someone at once to be respected and regarded with caution.
A knife-edged smile slashed up one side of Brecken's face. "Quite," he agreed. "I thought I would mull things over on my way to the Climb." He said it as if it were a joke, too absurd to be taken seriously. And yet — wasn't he planning to do just that? More or less? He wanted to get the hell out and get his bearings; he wanted to sink his teeth in the outside world. And yet, he knew Dorian had caught him for a reason. Knew he was very likely about to be asked something, something relating to the matter at hand, so obediently he called his impetuosity to heel and put on his best, most polite face. "But something tells me you have a better idea."
IT IS EVIL WHEN IT EATS UNLESS IT'S FEEDING FROM THE DAMNED.
