they linger with book in hand, skimmng pages of words written in a familiar hand ( their own, a methodical recollection of faded memories and half-lives ) in the relative silence of the castle. in another life waning patience would become irritation to shift waiting form but now they stand still. keep cobalt eyes on each turning page, measuring time with the passing of each page. reconnaissance hardly a difficult task yet superior placed them together. a wishful thought ---‘perhaps if he doesn’t arrive i can leave by myself.’
“ i hope it was worth being late. ” zexion keeps gaze on their book with the sound of feet approaching ( and the scent of darkness and fire --- they would think dragons if they didn’t already know this smile held far less teeth ) " a lack of heart shouldn't mean a loss of all urgency. are you ready? ” / @skygrasp