12-07-2008, 09:38 PM
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indent Gabriel kept silent, and mostly still. He listened, as he did to all those strangers. He could remember the faces of men, begging for their lives, spinning wild stories of their families and their children. That had never caused him to avert his hand, nor stay God’s blade. War, even if it was not called that, took away the mercy that belonged to lesser, weaker men.
indent Twin flames burned in their eyes, trapped in gold and cobalt. The story could have been a metaphor—if it was, Gabriel missed this. What he did not miss was the surname, one that cut through the smoke and fog of memory like a knife. “Gabriel,” he offered, then paused to consider his words. “You would probably recognize Lykoi over my father’s name,” he continued. “Phasma’s son, I take it.” Not a question; he wondered now how he had forgotten that woman’s eyes after the way they had looked at him.
indent Twin flames burned in their eyes, trapped in gold and cobalt. The story could have been a metaphor—if it was, Gabriel missed this. What he did not miss was the surname, one that cut through the smoke and fog of memory like a knife. “Gabriel,” he offered, then paused to consider his words. “You would probably recognize Lykoi over my father’s name,” he continued. “Phasma’s son, I take it.” Not a question; he wondered now how he had forgotten that woman’s eyes after the way they had looked at him.