( And he, but to raise the dead now would seem the lesser task. The temple's eye has barely open. There is, in the thick wet of it, a strain, as if whatever magic sleeps here will not linger long dormant.
He intends to be well rid of the ground, like a visiting headache. Turns, and stare long, eyes owlish-sweet — )
A needle among grains. ( The dissatisfying conclusion, with his compliments. The night is still young, new in her fetters. If his hand did not twitch on the silvered tear of his sword, perhaps he could hope to encounter what they seek.
If he were given to softer arts, to diplomacy — )
We may splinter paths. ( Divide, conquer. And yet, in the dark... ) Or inquire with the dead.
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He intends to be well rid of the ground, like a visiting headache. Turns, and stare long, eyes owlish-sweet — )
A needle among grains. ( The dissatisfying conclusion, with his compliments. The night is still young, new in her fetters. If his hand did not twitch on the silvered tear of his sword, perhaps he could hope to encounter what they seek.
If he were given to softer arts, to diplomacy — )
We may splinter paths. ( Divide, conquer. And yet, in the dark... ) Or inquire with the dead.