You know the queen of hearts is always your best bet
"Almost always." The wrangler agrees with a grin. "Anytime one of the herd don't take a liking to someone that's almost always a reason to think somethin's off about 'em."
Going left as she does, Morgen fishes about in his pocket for one of his poorly-rolled cigarettes frowns at it, and then apparently decides it's better than nothing as he goes searching for his matches. Focusing on his hands he doesn't see or notice the hitch in Kiada's steps, though her words do coax his gaze away from his fingers. "Is'at so." He mumbles under his breath, and if this was meant to be taken as a bombshell, Morgen doesn't seem to realize. "Fire makes sense then." Is all he says, offering Kiada a quiet shrug.
Sure, the ascended had lost the war and though they perhaps lost it harder, in the end, no one had won. Not from his perspective anyway. The world was fucked, and knowing humanity, they'd find something new to be bastards about and the fighting would start all over again.
"Mmm, smart. My mare's got superspeed and I've got a bit of healin'." He offers with another shrug as he places the cigarette between his lips and lights it. "Are there many left?" Morgen asks through an exhale of sweet-smelling tobacco smoke. "Of the ascended, I mean."
Going left as she does, Morgen fishes about in his pocket for one of his poorly-rolled cigarettes frowns at it, and then apparently decides it's better than nothing as he goes searching for his matches. Focusing on his hands he doesn't see or notice the hitch in Kiada's steps, though her words do coax his gaze away from his fingers. "Is'at so." He mumbles under his breath, and if this was meant to be taken as a bombshell, Morgen doesn't seem to realize. "Fire makes sense then." Is all he says, offering Kiada a quiet shrug.
Sure, the ascended had lost the war and though they perhaps lost it harder, in the end, no one had won. Not from his perspective anyway. The world was fucked, and knowing humanity, they'd find something new to be bastards about and the fighting would start all over again.
"Mmm, smart. My mare's got superspeed and I've got a bit of healin'." He offers with another shrug as he places the cigarette between his lips and lights it. "Are there many left?" Morgen asks through an exhale of sweet-smelling tobacco smoke. "Of the ascended, I mean."
