#sanctusbelli

[costruttore-blog]

e4g1e - r3b3ccacrane - sanctusbelli - disducibus

It would be a vast understatement to say that the stranger looks definitely out of place. Their clothes look, well, not up to par at all. Leonardo gives the other a two second look over before skulking over and tapping them on the shoulder. 

"Are you lost?"

[e4g1e]

sanctusbelli

After the details of her death came about, spread its influence like a conflagration of rampantly uncontrolled fire to torch the entire forest of rationality, he'd taken to wandering around the grounds during his break. Shaun, the perpetually insufferable voice of reason, was only a solace so far as his words didn't sting as much as they rebuked, clung with the vacuous nature of high-handed historical ideals and not extending to ad-lib complaints about his flimsy disposition. And Rebecca, while tolerable in most doses, became a literal introvert when it came to fixing up machines. 

And his father, well.

That was a whole can of worms he hadn't bothered popping the lid of. When they'd gathered another energy core to bring back to home base, he'd temporarily quit their company at a rest stop. A three-hour drive back to the airport wasn't something any of them were genuinely springing at the possibility of, and they'd more or less left him to his own devices.

It was only until he'd gone exploring makeshift dilapidation that passed for habitation that another light deliberately caught his attention. So there was Lucy, alive and breathing and real, and he might have almost hated her, just almost, because if she was here then it meant that she wasn't six feet underground like the rumors went. She was with the Templars, and those bastards had the upper hand. Desmond had trusted a traitor who once saved his life, and he doubted it'd be the last time, either. The handle of the lantern was wet with perspiration. "Hey, Lucy. How's death been treating you?"