unburned and alive

DEIMOS And in your darkest hour, I hold secrets flame The inquiry had clearly shown his ineptitude towards plant life, though he tilted his head and grinned sheepishly as Ray sighed. Perhaps it was too difficult, and he hadn’t taken any regards into other organ systems shutting down – no way to pinpoint limb by limb, portion by portion. The Sword’s lives had been centered around warfare, and not preserving any individuals on the battlefield, save for his own comrades. But the herbalist continued to humor him. While she retrieved her books, he topped off the last poison cap, and turned his attention to the hemlock, and the instructions given, granted. Once more he drew out his own, wiling away at the notes – diluting until it was nearly nothing. In the back of his mind the beast understood this concoction would have to be a last ditch effort; if they could come up with naught else in schemes and moments. His hands took the offered vial and read it, his smile flattening into nothing at all – grim, perhaps, behind the stoicism. Then the rest too, ensuring they were lined neatly by him, with all the other labeled assortments. “All right,” he accepted – and again extended his palm until there was a gilded moment, and a matching hemlock plant within its calloused sanction. His eyes went from the flora and back to Ray – considering. “What do you use to grind it?” Those mortar and pestle things? master of nothing place; of recoil and grace