The grating sound of mending metal echoed, sparks flying through the smoky air. It was morning, and everyone had gotten to work constructing their graves.
Alistair, with sleepy eyes, explored the warehouse with calm steps, observing around.
He wished he had some drink to sip to cure his headache because the control attempts drained his reserves. Plus it was a volatile power—it was bound to take more then standard.
"You're up," Rami said while wielding a welder. "Tired too."
"How the Nêther are you working," he noticed a lack of bandages on Rami, healed. "The heck?"
"We had a healer onboard, didn't you know? Arrived in the morning with her pompous ass!"
"What's the time?"
"11:35."
"… Repeat… that."
"I am sure you heard me the first time," Rana answered with rolled eyes. "Up late? That's stupid."
"Training."
"The hell would training so late help you in?"
