K O A
and they will shake their heads
and wag their bony fingers
and wag their bony fingers
She leaves her hand there, so he does, too, terribly aware even in this moment of the human contact, the brush of her soft skin. Her smile is met with one of his own, softer than usual, sympathetic; he doesn't know what more to say. That it being a long time ago doesn't matter? That it gets easier? That he's sorry, again? Nothing seems adequate, and so he settles for rubbing his thumb over hers, another gentle squeeze before he draws his hand away.
Alas, his career path isn't necessarily a light topic, but Koa is content to leave the sordid details out. "I didn't decide, exactly," the boy answers with a rueful smile, rubbing at the back of his neck. "My Ma, she was a Dragoon, and her parents before, and so on, the story goes, right back to the first war." He rolls his hand through the air, gesticulating to represent the passage of time.
Then he shrugs, easy grin falling back in place, though it doesn't quite meet his eyes. "So of course I was always going to be one, too. Call it a family business. Us Carpenters, we're built for fighting," he adds with a wink, flexing his right arm to display quite impressive biceps.
Alas, his career path isn't necessarily a light topic, but Koa is content to leave the sordid details out. "I didn't decide, exactly," the boy answers with a rueful smile, rubbing at the back of his neck. "My Ma, she was a Dragoon, and her parents before, and so on, the story goes, right back to the first war." He rolls his hand through the air, gesticulating to represent the passage of time.
Then he shrugs, easy grin falling back in place, though it doesn't quite meet his eyes. "So of course I was always going to be one, too. Call it a family business. Us Carpenters, we're built for fighting," he adds with a wink, flexing his right arm to display quite impressive biceps.
in all the wrong directions—
and by daybreak we'll be gone
and by daybreak we'll be gone
