Knowing that he may destroy you.
Lysander smiles at that, a little fish-hook tug of a grin like a pike might give on the line. He remembers that almost-ending, and the memory of floating in a summer sea with sunlight in splinters through the surface. Maybe, when life was so full of worlds so close that shadows from one sometimes fell across another, death was only another kind of homecoming.
“I do,” he says at last, and his glinting green gaze meets the beetle-black of the soldier’s, and then looks away again. “But I doubt I will be the first to reach him with such intent.” There is almost a sigh in the words.
“I am sure you will hear of it, whatever happens.” And then with a brief nod, little more than a dip of antlers, he steps around the black behemoth and on down the moonlit road.
you fester in the daytime hours
boy, you never sleep at night
@
