It's taken a lifetime to lose my way
All the wasted time on my hands turns to sand
Familiarity strung along in the juvenile mayhem; the Cheshire grin still there, still aloft, along his mouth. Another exuberant laugh caused a few ningos nearby to take flight, with Belial in meticulous pursuit, while Kiada began to irritated airs and exasperated pretenses. He’d prefer these moments, hold them high and aloft over the damning, treacherous ones, where the wakes didn’t hurt and the feelings weren’t crushed. No tired bones. No exhausted lines. No haunted figments – just wandering souls chuckling their way to the Citadel, paying heed to yesteryears of mountains and ice.
If Zuriel indicated anything, it was only a light snort. Her loyalties had been solidified long before, and she’d give no other manifestation. Perhaps the slightest tilt of her head in mock confusion.
The Sword’s mischief remained supreme and wild, even if the Harpy strived to get away. His strides increased, long limbs chiseling their way through the snow, digging into its ramparts with little resistance. He consumed the distance and expanse quickly, coming to a pace beside her again, eyes narrowing in specious, furtive degrees, shifting slightly to goad and gauge a reaction. “Some could bear repeating.” And then a shrug of his shoulders, as if the next suggestion wasn’t beneath his prowess, methods, or motives. “Besides, we could always make others up.”
If Zuriel indicated anything, it was only a light snort. Her loyalties had been solidified long before, and she’d give no other manifestation. Perhaps the slightest tilt of her head in mock confusion.
The Sword’s mischief remained supreme and wild, even if the Harpy strived to get away. His strides increased, long limbs chiseling their way through the snow, digging into its ramparts with little resistance. He consumed the distance and expanse quickly, coming to a pace beside her again, eyes narrowing in specious, furtive degrees, shifting slightly to goad and gauge a reaction. “Some could bear repeating.” And then a shrug of his shoulders, as if the next suggestion wasn’t beneath his prowess, methods, or motives. “Besides, we could always make others up.”
I'm fine in the fire
I feed on the friction
