[ He can't help smiling when Ivor grants him what nobody else in this place will — the use of that title, sans malice, mockery, or machination. (None that Brandon can detect, anyway, and he is perhaps oversensitive to such matters.) It's one more of those outsider markers that Ivor and Hekate seem to carry around.
Those seem all the more striking when he and Ivor are alone together in unplanned circumstances. In fact, Brandon glances beyond the strange hyena as if expecting Hekate at any moment. His wards don't indicate her presence, but he doesn't hold any arrogant certainty that things to work the way they always have here, to say nothing of any talents Hekate herself might have, as a hyena or otherwise.
Then again, he doesn't plan on comporting himself much differently toward Ivor as he would if Hekate were here, so what does it matter? Brandon extends his arms, showing him the bundle of black feathers he's holding, the way his hands are steady and his thumbs are parting a hidden slit in the messenger. It's difficult to see anything in detail unless one is practically peering inside. Just a glint of metal, dull dark red, the yellowing ivory of old bone. The smell of mineral oil, preserved flesh, and metal. ]
Maintenance. They wear down when used often.
[ Why he's doing such a thing out here is another question. ]
no subject
Those seem all the more striking when he and Ivor are alone together in unplanned circumstances. In fact, Brandon glances beyond the strange hyena as if expecting Hekate at any moment. His wards don't indicate her presence, but he doesn't hold any arrogant certainty that things to work the way they always have here, to say nothing of any talents Hekate herself might have, as a hyena or otherwise.
Then again, he doesn't plan on comporting himself much differently toward Ivor as he would if Hekate were here, so what does it matter? Brandon extends his arms, showing him the bundle of black feathers he's holding, the way his hands are steady and his thumbs are parting a hidden slit in the messenger. It's difficult to see anything in detail unless one is practically peering inside. Just a glint of metal, dull dark red, the yellowing ivory of old bone. The smell of mineral oil, preserved flesh, and metal. ]
Maintenance. They wear down when used often.
[ Why he's doing such a thing out here is another question. ]
How does yours fare.