who we are and all that we're trying to be
She could have her hope. It would be nice to be proven wrong on this subject. He snorted once more, then stepped back to look at his handiwork. The figure was lopsided, fattened in all sorts of different, weird parts, and the proportions were clearly off. Permitting a boyish smile at the ridiculous effigy, he fully intended to leave it that way – allow someone else to cleave it in two.
But at her statement, he nodded. “I will do the same.” And for as long as he could; with every intention of striving to boot the Voice’s grasp out of the mountains, the summits, and the Citadel – away from the people who would suffer the most. He couldn’t imagine the range of sickness all over again – how costly and damaging it had been twice over. What else could she come up with? A sobering thought inclined through his ribs and along the course of inward scars – dread and apprehension, if he were to give them names.
Pushing the target back to where it was needed, and grabbing hold of the rest of his belongings and weaponry, he paused at her insinuation. Could almost hear Hotaru and scores of others telling him not to breathe those words – but it was for the good of the people, and he was a stubborn fiend. One wheelchair didn’t maul the boundaries he’d set for himself – and she certainly wasn’t Nate. “I can make it. And ramps too, if they are needed.” But the way she said cost insinuated this wouldn’t be a gift; and the Sword’s brows furrowed in thought, unaware of her trail of sentiments and ruminations. Information, perhaps; given he could no longer curtail much from council discussions. “What do you know of the Fangs and their tunnels?”
It takes dying to know
How to live as ghosts
