[se] when another is gone

NOAH

An epidemic of the mannequins
Contaminating everything
We thought came from the heart

Once the warlord was steadied, as best as he could be in this state, Noah took a step back but crouched to be back to eye-level with him. He took the bowl and seemed to savor the taste of the burning liquor. Noah nodded in regards to Deimos displaying his thankfulness. Meanwhile, he rocked back on his heels some and rested his forearms on his knees. He listened well, taking everything to memory that the Sword shared. It didn't entirely make sense to the hunter, but it seemed that above all else the patients of this infirmary, overcome by this sickness, were delirious and delusional. Therefor, Noah simply nodded and listened.

He lifted his eyebrows as Deimos extended his hand, turning it over as flames lifted. He knew the look in the eyes. His brother, Zeke, often looked at him in that same way. When they were children, doing something that their parents should not know about--for, surely, they would forbid it--Zeke would lift a brow, smirk, and carry on. Noah usually kept his lips sealed, and joined in. Even now, as the Sword let the flames dance over his palm but said the Warden and the Agriculture chief told him no fire, Noah let him have his moment.

Then, standing back up, Noah lifted his palm towards Deimos as if to indicate to let the fire die. The hunter had no magic to display for him, nothing to match that prowess (at least, he thought), but he could show him what he did have. His human form shifted and curled, bones moving and changing and morphing. Then, at the Sword's bedside, stood a lynx where the hunter once stood.

It never did right from the start
Just listen to the noises