“That won’t happen. I see you all when you get back.”
TALONS — DUG INTO A WAR-WORN LAPEL and sunk like teeth; how long has it been since they’ve come off? corded and tensed arms that shake the man in front of him as if sense could be imparted by TOUCH alone. teeth bared in a snarl much like his damned namesake, and though full of RAGE, it contains a modicum of fear — the engenderment of loneliness.
❝ I’ve studied you, year after year and with each cycle of the hour, Hawke. you are a BRUTAL and SELFISH thing, too scared and ashamed by your own folly that you’d rather stand on your own flimsy legs than be girded by another’s.❞ it is indeed SPAT, a testimony to one too many letters sent from far away places and through proxy, the lack of an embrace after so long. they’ve been worlds away before and yet this time they’ve let themselves grow DISTANT, one with feet dirtied by blood dug into scorching sands, the other with sanguine wrists and arms and elbows — boots turned wet and cold by the snow. and for what? to PROTECT one another? to become as lost in their own minds as they used to be in ONE ANOTHER? no, the warrior thinks not. loss and sacrifice, BUT NOT THIS TIME.
❝ I REFUSE to be some bandolier at your hip, for you to put on and DISCARD whenever you see it fit. there is nothing that would make me an accessory again, and I will never be shrouded in that darkness as some sort of VILE PROTECTION. we do this together, like that state we USED to exist in, or I will carry this favor of yours no longer.❞
