Obeisance Barrow (
thereneverwas) wrote in
faderift2024-11-25 12:08 pm
Entry tags:
open + closed | mistakes have been made
WHO: Barrow + you
WHAT: catch-all
WHEN: the general Firstfall/Haring vicinity
WHERE: around the Gallows
NOTES: lots of Templar-relevant navelgazing. starters in comments, holler if you'd like one
WHAT: catch-all
WHEN: the general Firstfall/Haring vicinity
WHERE: around the Gallows
NOTES: lots of Templar-relevant navelgazing. starters in comments, holler if you'd like one

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"No," he grumbles, "where the fuck would I even go." He presses a finger against his ear to loose some of the water from it,
"besides, I like it. Most purpose I ever felt, truth be told. I give a toss, I want it to work out, that means something."
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Hair's too dark to dye, but could shave it in a pinch. The rest of what he's saying is,
Well. There's a few languages even Lazar doesn't speak.
"Fuck's it mean if they haul you in?"
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"I think we both know what it means," he says quietly, darkly, staring at the surface of the water. He lifts his to push his hair back, leaves his fingers tangled in it,
"Already died once. Maybe I won't remember it the second time."
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He doesn't. Squints, instead, and sure; he's read the reports on Granitefell. Weird magic, what else is it ever.
"Don't be an idiot."
Lazar's strangled enough people to know it hurts.
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"You think someone wants to catch me out is gonna be thrown by a beard?" he mutters, "I'm fucking old, Lazar. I'm slow. I was shit at hiding even when I tried, it would be insulting to everyone involved if I thought I could get away with it now. And I just,"
he sinks down again, just enough to rest the back of his head on the pool's edge, "I don't want to. I'd... maybe I'm daft for it, but I like to think I've done something here. Don't want to be remembered as a stain on the company, some yellow-bellied son of a bitch who arrived when it was convenient and left when he got scared. Not again."
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This is not self-examination. He scoops some water in his mits, lets it fall,
"Well, if anyone shows, I never met a Barrow wasn't on wheels."
Lets it fall — specifically — over Barrow's head.
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"Thanks," he mumbles.
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"Could be mine but not yours," he decides, "...maybe twenty years ago." He'll need a prosthetic nose.
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