To hold my tongue except when I try to pray...
Home. It was strange to think about Denocte being the place he called home. After he had left her behind, he had wanted to make her just a memory. There was something about the Night Court that he just couldn't shake no matter how much distance and bodies he put between him and the court. Caligo always calls him back. He wonders if the streets still remember the name Ezra. There is no doubt in his mind that he will be heavily reprimanded for his actions. Vogelsteins didn't just disappear from the world they lived in. Reinhart did. He vanished without so much as a crumb left behind. The gray bronc smiles at the thought. Although there is something different about him now. The silver tongue cannot readily read others as well as he used to.
It bothers him that he has to rely so heavily on muscle memory. As if he has somehow forgotten something very important. He does not know that the cause of this is the absence of his magic. Reinhart drifts toward the meeting that causes whispers to fill the streets about a new Sovereign. Isra was the Sovereign when he left. But the powers shifting never really surprised him. It always did. Power was something that would never belong to him, and he was content with that. There was a large gathering of bodies and a woman standing at the helm of the meeting. She looks like fire beneath a winter sun.
Israfel children whisper to him as they rush past. Ezra one of them adds. It is a soft welcome home for the child who loves the streets of Denocte so fondly. Reinhart does not join the growing throng of bodies, but instead, he stands and waits to see if their new leader has any wisdom she wishes to share. Wisdom, promises, power, and foolish mistakes. That was all that Sovereigns were made of to him.
It bothers him that he has to rely so heavily on muscle memory. As if he has somehow forgotten something very important. He does not know that the cause of this is the absence of his magic. Reinhart drifts toward the meeting that causes whispers to fill the streets about a new Sovereign. Isra was the Sovereign when he left. But the powers shifting never really surprised him. It always did. Power was something that would never belong to him, and he was content with that. There was a large gathering of bodies and a woman standing at the helm of the meeting. She looks like fire beneath a winter sun.
Israfel children whisper to him as they rush past. Ezra one of them adds. It is a soft welcome home for the child who loves the streets of Denocte so fondly. Reinhart does not join the growing throng of bodies, but instead, he stands and waits to see if their new leader has any wisdom she wishes to share. Wisdom, promises, power, and foolish mistakes. That was all that Sovereigns were made of to him.
... try to breathe words out, But I’ve got nothing to say
