#maybe there during the wardens very last stance in weisshaupt
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recitedemise · 2 months ago
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He would say that life isn't fair; however, were he to do that, he may as well go for the whole nine yards. See, life isn't fair, dear Warden, and the sky up above them shivers endless and blue -- except! Well, it isn't blue, is it?, trembling as it is with the blustering of a storm? He looks. It's ugly and throbbing and monochromatic. Grey. Summer's warm, he would tell her, but that's clearly wrong, too.
Between them, their meager candle crackles near gutturally on its pathetic last fumes. It's unseasonably chilly, he grouses, nipping enough already to waltz, waltz, slither like some viper past his robes. Still, Gale figures that's the normal in this baffling wasteland, and as it were, novelty, he's realizing, only comes in droves. Together, they sit blighted, one sick for duty and another for a love. Before, perhaps these reasons would've struck them noble, but reckoning with his body as it aches to the bone? To be honest, there's a hardly a way to deal with it.
Nonetheless, Gale busies with his cup, his paltry, watered vintage that tiptoes on borderline swill. The mood should be somber, gussied like a widow at her late love's wake, but the smile he wears bears no hurt at all. He even laughs. From his chest, it rumbles like a river as he knits his brow. "This isn't exactly a game I've indulged in much since my more notorious youth, but I imagine," he jokes, "that there are fewer times better suited for rebellion than ours." The storeroom's so cold. "Right then. Perhaps we should get a little more serious. Beatrize." Will she sip? "Never have I ever regretted those choices that led here." / @viciousgrace, ♡ liked for a starter.
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