There hummed a fierceness in the air, a clashing of wills that echoed silently throughout Calligo's dark, an understanding that was forcibly given to The Night King as Maxence's clear voice sounded. He knew, Calligo-damn it, he knew Maxence was not bad in character - that had he been the one to snatch Rostislav it would have been a clean theft. There were many questions left in the air - many choices that could have been made differently. And as the sweep of Maxence's vast wings blew the ebony curls back from Reichenbach's silver eyes, there lay the steely glint of understanding. Perhaps not forgiveness - but not hatred either, not blind fury. They had each placed pieces upon the chess board, but not all players in their game could be controlled. Their's seemed to be an ancient clashing, the endless thrash of Night against Day, Day against Night. Reichenbach pondered this coolly as he watched Calligo stroke moon-spun lips along the tip of Maxence's wing, kissing the militant leader as he left her boundaries. @Maxence bloop |
