08-12-2020, 09:15 PM
YADIGAR
there’s a hole in my chest but it’s mine, baby, it’s all i got.
He smells the smog as it seeps from Dacian’s mouth. A part of him reflexively bristles at the scent and he thinks the worst, but he keeps control. He does not even stir on the outside. Yadigar has to continue playing this part a while longer before he can show his hand. So he gives a light nod instead when the other eastern resident points out they have not met. This one doesn’t seem to know who Gar is and it eases some of the tension from his muscles to hear realize it.
“Dacian. Always a pleasure to meet another member of the Cove” he offers with no sign of joy at the words. He tilts his scaled head at the pause that lasts a little longer. He doesn’t know the name off the top of his head, so he can only offer a light shrug of his shoulders. “As far as I know, I’m the only member of the east here.”
It is a lie, but Cirilla and Tarte are certainly not the one he’s looking for.
“Do you breathe fire, Dacian?” he asks, and the question hangs in the air, loaded between them. His blind eye remains trained on the other’s face despite the way it cannot see. Slowly, it awakens and foretells a hundred different ways this talk could go. Most of them end in fire, a few in the cold spray of the sea. Yadigar has learned to be still while the scrying eye shares its secrets.
He wonders which path they’ll walk down but he says nothing more.
“Dacian. Always a pleasure to meet another member of the Cove” he offers with no sign of joy at the words. He tilts his scaled head at the pause that lasts a little longer. He doesn’t know the name off the top of his head, so he can only offer a light shrug of his shoulders. “As far as I know, I’m the only member of the east here.”
It is a lie, but Cirilla and Tarte are certainly not the one he’s looking for.
“Do you breathe fire, Dacian?” he asks, and the question hangs in the air, loaded between them. His blind eye remains trained on the other’s face despite the way it cannot see. Slowly, it awakens and foretells a hundred different ways this talk could go. Most of them end in fire, a few in the cold spray of the sea. Yadigar has learned to be still while the scrying eye shares its secrets.
He wonders which path they’ll walk down but he says nothing more.