Poor Chisels for Peaceful Tomorrows (Part 2)
Part 1
“Can we relax and try not to tempt fate for a second,” the laugh that escaped was slightly strained as a slender hand made to grab Milae’s hoof and pull him back to safety. It was insincere, however. Juro was every much as curious and high tensioned as the half breed. He watched as the construct struggled and screamed, smile on his cheek and furrow in his brow. He wasn’t aware, but he had defaulted to that defensive face before he knew it, his other hand trembling slightly around his unused pen as Pooka and demon conversed.
“She doesn’t have enough,” he murmured, one amber eye following the jerking motions very carefully, turning its attention towards its new battleground as Jari tried to talk her down. He leaned forward, as if trying to see better, but also like he needed, or wanted to be nearer. “Milae, maybe I could he--” The word was caught in his throat.
