[ It would be nice, if he could pull off letting Kaevyn out of the jar, coaxing him along, and passing him over to Qetzi'ah in the guise of the friend and protector he has always played for the faerie. Brandon is a pragmatist, however. That situation is unlikely and it could all too easily get out of hand. Instead, the messsenger's mass of dark wings furl about the glass, further darkening the view from within.
When the hand insinuates itself among the swirl of feathers, it's like a veil being drawn away: the jar is lifted, and there finally is Brandon, and beyond him the crooked imposition of the Morrison house. ]
Hello, Kaevyn.
[ His voice is a whisper, some tender and uneasy emotion threaded through it, too difficult to pick out of the low volume. ]
no subject
When the hand insinuates itself among the swirl of feathers, it's like a veil being drawn away: the jar is lifted, and there finally is Brandon, and beyond him the crooked imposition of the Morrison house. ]
Hello, Kaevyn.
[ His voice is a whisper, some tender and uneasy emotion threaded through it, too difficult to pick out of the low volume. ]
Let's get you somewhere safe.