Desolation comes upon the sky // Woolf/Heartfire

[woolf]

bitterness is thick like blood and cold as a wind sea breeze
if you must drink of me, take of me what you please

They are each unique, in their own way, and although he’s not a particularly sentimental man, he finds that he is interested by what they all have to say. Throughout it all, he remains quiet, his brain quietly clicking along as he contemplates their words, turning them over in his mind, rethinking the truths that he had once thought so easy. He had, initially, come here as a courtesy more than anything, although he has never been accused of being polite. It was mostly because he found Scorch intriguing and he has never done a good job of keeping away from the things that he wants to unpack more.

But now—

Now, he’s not so sure.

He frowns slightly, saying nothing, even after all of their words fade. He tips his head back, looking at the sky, wondering where Bright was, annoyed at the way that she kept siphoning off his own magic as if he couldn’t feel her sticky fingers. Finally, he brings his heavy head back down to consider them all, a grin growing wolfish around the corners of his mouth, the mulberry stained dark there.

“I’m not a huge fan of grunt work.”

His lips press together, thinking about his interaction with Wolfbane and Lepis and the offer for him laid out on the table. With a shrug, he lets it ripple away from him. “You’ve caught my interest. I think I would like to stay.” He doesn’t promise them forever because souls such as him don’t stay tethered to one place for forever, but he does give them his now. He can give them his talents and his presence and they, in return, can give him something to sink his teeth into, something worth his time and energy.

He can only hope that it’s a worthwhile trade.

woolf

I am loathed to say it's the devil's taste

@[Heartfire] @[Breckin] @[Scorch]