That venom is still burning in the back of Derrica's throat.
The Fade is a far off prickle at the very tips of her fingers. Out of reach, but the distance is closing. She might grasp the hem of the Veil, but that does no good.
Yet.
The templar in front of her barely manages to lay her sword down before Derrica kicks it hard enough to send it skidding out of her reach. It is not comparable. But it is something. Repayment, of a kind.
But Derrica too, is looking at Flint as she says, "We should separate them, away from the carriage."
There is a question at the end of that, space for Flint to overrule or refine or substitute, however he sees fit.
no subject
The Fade is a far off prickle at the very tips of her fingers. Out of reach, but the distance is closing. She might grasp the hem of the Veil, but that does no good.
Yet.
The templar in front of her barely manages to lay her sword down before Derrica kicks it hard enough to send it skidding out of her reach. It is not comparable. But it is something. Repayment, of a kind.
But Derrica too, is looking at Flint as she says, "We should separate them, away from the carriage."
There is a question at the end of that, space for Flint to overrule or refine or substitute, however he sees fit.