[ Rust braces himself mentally before plunging in, heading off his grief, his anger. It's strange, covering ground he'd stood on not half an hour ago. Strange and chaotic—Sam's throat spilling blood, an animal in the background threatening to break loose, Elena's blood. ] (The fuck were they—explain it to me later.) [ There's nothing of Keya in there, just people scrabbling in dirt. Trying to salve wounds with more blood.
Gildor's assessment meets with Rust's approval, fits with the bead's relative newness. ] (Mmm, supposing you're right—it's a plant or it's the Enemy. Wish I knew the first fucking thing about these necklaces.) [ With barely a pause he amends: ] (Familial, probably. Keya's matched Casiria's.)
[ Finally, he takes notice of Gildor's unsteadiness. ] (You need a hand?)
no subject
Gildor's assessment meets with Rust's approval, fits with the bead's relative newness. ] ( Mmm, supposing you're right—it's a plant or it's the Enemy. Wish I knew the first fucking thing about these necklaces. ) [ With barely a pause he amends: ] ( Familial, probably. Keya's matched Casiria's. )
[ Finally, he takes notice of Gildor's unsteadiness. ] ( You need a hand? )