i'm on the wrong side of heaven, and the righteous side of hell
He was drawn to the broken ones like a moth to a flame. It was a pull as strong as the moon on the ocean tides, and he was helpless to stop it. Perhaps because of his own battered self, or something else. He had an uncanny ability to find those needing fixed…but he was no artesian. He was simply a master in the art of faking it. The stallion had never been able to fix himself, let alone someone else. The best he could do was apply mortar to the cracks and hope that the patch would hold. But rebuilding? He’d long since given up on such impossibilities, and had instead learned to live with the imperfections and do what he could. Maybe that was his ability- to find broken, albeit kindred, spirits.
She bristles and he returns her glare, his own eyes narrowing at her as his ears flickered back to his skull. Her tension is palpable, and he’s momentarily surprised that it isn’t visible in the air between him. The soldier in him feeds off of her sudden hostility, and he rolls his jaw in an effort to calm himself. He does not answer her immediately, instead mulling her words over in his mind. He’s not surprised that she seems to have had past transgressions with Gryffen- for as valuable as he was to the Chamber, he was also a vile bastard with no conscience. Warship tolerated him, and valued him as a member of the Chamber, but he couldn’t help but be uneasy with some of his actions. “I serve the Chamber, not Gryffen.” he retorts, his voice a low rumble. This isn’t the first time he’s covered a Chamber mess, and not one that he caused. He takes a step forward, his shoulders still squared but his face softening slightly. “Whatever your issues with Gryffen, know this. They don’t reflect all Chamber members. We’re not all cut from the same cloth. Take that for what its worth.” he said, shrugging slightly. He expected her to turn tail and leave, not believe him, or both. Either way, he wasn’t sure he cared.
warship
