[AW] if you think you're getting away, you're only dying tired; [rebuild]

[Acton]

Acton these violent delights have violent ends The first thing he thought on realizing who he’d just shouldered into was that the red man was shorter than he’d always seemed from a distance; close on the heels of that was notice of just how sharp, how glintingly wicked, that blade on his tail was. It did not seem wise to point out either observation, and so he only nodded at the stallion’s words. “Ah, well. Wouldn’t want to make anything too easy,” he said drily, and for the first time wondered just how long this would all take. It all sounded very noble in his head - helping rebuild Denocte from the ashes, the strength of the people, yada yada - but his throat was already dry and his mind already itching for something more interesting. At least that second part might be looking up. The buckskin smiled in return, keeping back a little of the powder-and-flint, a little of the slyness. Raymond’s words had not betrayed much familiarity, and while what he said wasn’t untrue, Acton had a keen memory despite the amount of substances he’d imbibed in his colorful life; he remembered the red from the summit, from the castle and Isra’s crowning, from the tumbling of the Gate. Normally his opinion might not have been so warm - Acton cared little for authority figures that actually acted like authority figures -  but he’d been proven wrong enough recently that he was willing to sit on his presumptions a little longer. Maybe he was finally growing up. “Acton. I’m not sure I know what proper means anymore.” Not that he ever had in the first place, but it certainly seemed like they were all a kind of orphan now - and that was something he was achingly familiar with. He stepped past, then, going back to his casual inspection of the weeds and debris that studded the markets, looking for an out-of-place gleam. Acton didn’t much care what Caligo thought, either, but he knew the markets wouldn’t be complete without each gemstone returned to their splendid crown. Besides, it was easier than woodwork. “You’re our Regent now, aren’t you?” He kept his voice deliberately even, not even glancing over his shoulder at the man; there was nothing to suggest he had known the last regime, or knew, too, that Raymond’s first allegiance had not been to Night. Acton was no longer interested in pointing fingers. “Careful, it’s been a short-lived position lately.”   @Raymond