JONAH
And the laying of hands, and the speaking in tongues
Torchline had been, as always, lovely, but it’s glittering lights and never ending heartbeat were only distractions for so long before they started to press in too much. He’d headed east, travelling through jungle and lingering on the edge of Stormbreak for a few days too long before moving on. He doesn’t mean to be heading towards the Grounds, but... well, it was one of only a handful of places he hadn’t been yet, only Halo and the Draig sitting alongside the Grounds on that list. And maybe he was feeling a touch spiteful. Family brought it out in him.
Snow is falling by the time he makes it into the Grounds, stepping over the scarred earth and holding his breath a moment, like he’s expecting all of Gideon’s worst fears to come true. They don’t, obviously, and it’s with a giddy kind of excitement Jonah tears off across the Grounds, weaving a dizzying path around snowy fields and sickly copses of trees.
It’s less than what he’d expected, somehow. Not in a bad way, but it would be a lie to say he wasn’t disappointed. The ruins are a touch better than the wasteland, though the snow seems to have driven most people inside. But not everyone. Jonah passes by a less than empty street and pauses, watching the man he’d accidentally snuck up on stab at slapdash targets. He’s not quite able to suppress his chuckle at the fierce battle cry though, knowing he’s giving himself away.
All invading properties, excising all of you out of me
