[P] We are just dust and bones

[Raum]

 
The call of the gods was a powerful one. It dragged sinners from their sickbeds and had them dirtying their knees before altars.
 
In silence he weaves between the penitent and faithful, rubbing his shoulders against the blasphemers and non-believers. They had all gathered here, in might, in curiosity. Shadows crawl like ants along the bare stone of the high temple gates. They were closed, not open yet, it reminds him of Denocte, though there is less fire now.
 
With Caligo’s darkness upon his wings, the Crow weaves his way through the masses. He draws short as a flash of orange captures his gaze. Acton is a spark, a tongue of flame licking against the dark of passing bodies.
 
In silence Raum begins the pursuit. With electric eyes set upon volcanic skin, he hunts the Magician. It is as he watches, as he studies the way his brother moves, that he catches the glances.
 
There is a flash of gold, not that of the Crow King’s old lover, but a glimmer of Solterran light. The Ghost knows that colour, that fire. It is where his brother’s bright gaze is fixed.
 
Raum’s gaze is stone, it does not twitch or flicker at such revealing behavior. Not even at how it feels so familiar deep within him. He is not the only Crow to be ensnared by the fire of a Solterran girl (even one born under Caligo’s watchful eye).
 
The Ghost appears beside the Magician, eyes set upon the gold of Bexley. “Be careful brother,” he murmurs like sin in the black of a temple. “A girl like that will burn you to the ground.” A knife glints malevolent and bright between the Crows. “But I think you already knew that.”
 
And it is the ash of their souls that Raum can smell, acrid and strong, upon the air.


@Acton @Reichenbach