There's space for Gwen to only stand there. He doesn't expect her to –
Even so, Isaac watches the slip of blade with more than idle attention; her methodical procession toward wound. A flicker of the woman in rubble, ripping strips of bandage. Some people need a task.
The boards creak. Above, below. An interplay of voices, something heavy scraping floor. Coughing. An infant's low cry. Nothing stirs, not yet; but it's a matter of time. Isaac steps in. Shuts the door. The path ahead stretches, wide and inexorable: The knife at his wrists, Bastien's insistence, a closed room. A way out.
Isaac lifts a hand, knuckles shimmering with the warp of heat. In another context, beside a friendlier face, it might be cute. Sparkle hands, the magic touch. Here and now, it looks what it is. A promise. The only thing the guard controls are his answers.
no subject
Even so, Isaac watches the slip of blade with more than idle attention; her methodical procession toward wound. A flicker of the woman in rubble, ripping strips of bandage. Some people need a task.
The boards creak. Above, below. An interplay of voices, something heavy scraping floor. Coughing. An infant's low cry. Nothing stirs, not yet; but it's a matter of time. Isaac steps in. Shuts the door. The path ahead stretches, wide and inexorable: The knife at his wrists, Bastien's insistence, a closed room. A way out.
Isaac lifts a hand, knuckles shimmering with the warp of heat. In another context, beside a friendlier face, it might be cute. Sparkle hands, the magic touch. Here and now, it looks what it is. A promise. The only thing the guard controls are his answers.