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

[Acton]

Acton these violent delights have violent ends Acton himself had never been much of a fighter. At least not in the good soldier, useful in a war sense. His brawls had always been back-alley affairs, chipped teeth and black eyes, the kind of scuffles that began over honor or territory or just a pocketful of signos. Although there had been that tournament he’d won - but Rostislav had been imbibing at an impressive rate and that was just as the tower of the Night Court had begun to teeter and fall, so it had hardly been a typical situation. But who the hell cared if a fight was fair, as long as you came out on top? Not that he had any intention of sharing of that with Raymond. He could guess how he’d end up if he ever faced a man like this. Getting beat to hell was a lot less sexy when it wasn’t Bexley doing it. “Wise man,” he answered genially, nodding at the man’s chuckle even as his amber eyes flashed to watch the lazy movement of the blade. With a weapon like that, Acton didn’t think he would be careful. He didn’t think he’d have to be. Only a fool would fuck with a man who’d been born with a knife attached to his ass. He did not offer anything else as they walked, instead only went with his gaze shifting constantly and curiously between the rubble and the red man. When Raymond spoke, Acton lifted his head and drew alongside him. “Nope,” he said, “looks more like - shit.” He’d been about to conjure an image of one of the stones, but the sudden tumble-and-dust had startled him from his concentration, and now he skipped back a step. His nostrils flared at the cloud like a gasp from a grave-mouth that rose up toward them and was gone, and he blinked away a grain of dirt from his eye and stepped alongside the Regent. Acton peered into that dark throat, where the light from the day puddled in and revealed a dusty stone floor. Carved marks were faintly evident, though he couldn’t see enough to make out what they depicted. “Huh,” he echoed, and with a glance at Raymond stepped smoothly inside, to be swallowed by black.     @Raymond