❝how is your injury? you sustained a rather heavy blow on my behalf, if I recall.❞ his veneer of calm is paper-thin, brittle enough to crumble with a passing breath—a final bastion between this tenuous peace & an inconsolable ire. ‘tis a careless maneuver, one that would have added another scar to his collection, were it not for Ingrid getting in the way of him & his just desserts. a sullen cast of the lone blue eye, already stringing a guilt-knotted noose for himself ( guilt has a peculiar way of making one repent ) as recompense for nearly costing yet another life not his own.
sigh parts from his lips, sorrow imploring, ❝Ingrid—you needn’t sacrifice yourself for my sake; the last thing I want is to have the blood of my friends on my hands.❞
@daphnael // sad hours are now
