you were in the fallout and you lost some friends //
He certainly hopes there isn’t a next time, but he isn’t about to admit it to the stranger – especially not when the man appears quite strong and full of feathers and wings and Varus idly wonders how soft those feathers are or if they cut like a razors edge. He can’t tell which he’d prefer more. “Helps your balance, duh.” He retorts, growing more and more boyish and playful as the water soaks through him. “All I’ve got is myself.” Gesturing to himself, he hums a laugh before shaking his head.
And then it’s just these two men standing in a very large and deep puddle, soaked to the bone – at least Varus can’t feel it – when another resounding bark of laughter leaves the Ascended. He gets the feeling that there’s little trust there, but Varus doesn’t blame Remi. He’s a stranger, after all, and Caido had its ways of making people second guess things. “Long-con, huh?” He grins, moving to fold his arms across his chest. “How long is a long-con? ‘Cause if so, I’ve been in the game a long fucking time and it’s the first I’ve seen of you.” He’s never been close with Ludo, nor any of the old gods, to know exactly just what this might look like to someone burned.
“Let me guess, though, it’d be something brilliantly poetic and fitting for my end?” Instead of the cliché from Taken. Not that Varus knows what that is. Still, it beats going offline under a shrub in Queen's Gambit.
And then it’s just these two men standing in a very large and deep puddle, soaked to the bone – at least Varus can’t feel it – when another resounding bark of laughter leaves the Ascended. He gets the feeling that there’s little trust there, but Varus doesn’t blame Remi. He’s a stranger, after all, and Caido had its ways of making people second guess things. “Long-con, huh?” He grins, moving to fold his arms across his chest. “How long is a long-con? ‘Cause if so, I’ve been in the game a long fucking time and it’s the first I’ve seen of you.” He’s never been close with Ludo, nor any of the old gods, to know exactly just what this might look like to someone burned.
“Let me guess, though, it’d be something brilliantly poetic and fitting for my end?” Instead of the cliché from Taken. Not that Varus knows what that is. Still, it beats going offline under a shrub in Queen's Gambit.
VARUS
