Hasn't — maybe because he started it. Maybe because stubbornness asserts, the way it sometimes does, that he was right.
(Maybe it's just embarrassing to know how much harder she punches.)
Whatever it is, this isn't helping. They've been uphill half an hour, slipping over ice-crusted dunes. Here and there, the surface breaks, plunges into endless sand. At the end of all this, there's a brazier to light. A torch to bear there. Just that,
"Fuck," Cedric blurts, as the Veilfire gusts out. Gloom drops like a shroud. By their feet something rustles, sand dribbling away into dark. "We gotta go back."
He turns. That's when the first hands reach up, and clamp onto her legs.
CLARISSE; necropolis busywork
He should've apologized by now.
Hasn't — maybe because he started it. Maybe because stubbornness asserts, the way it sometimes does, that he was right.
(Maybe it's just embarrassing to know how much harder she punches.)
Whatever it is, this isn't helping. They've been uphill half an hour, slipping over ice-crusted dunes. Here and there, the surface breaks, plunges into endless sand. At the end of all this, there's a brazier to light. A torch to bear there. Just that,
"Fuck," Cedric blurts, as the Veilfire gusts out. Gloom drops like a shroud. By their feet something rustles, sand dribbling away into dark. "We gotta go back."
He turns. That's when the first hands reach up, and clamp onto her legs.