Sylvia pov
…
"Precise, how so?"
Half burnt eyes turned to the interloper. Her voice… It was a symphony of discordant notes that seemed to tune themselves into a coherent song. She drew gaze after gaze until her question was answered.
The knight's gaze was scared; It was angry; It was resigned. His voice carried a lilt of each. Whether that be a combination of the three, or an interchanging mechanism that brought each emotion out in full force. Among them all… there was a certain pressure, an unknowable power that graced the beings in his gaze.
Such that when the knight spoke, his was the tone of a death row prisoner. Who knew their death would occur on any day. Today… tomorrow… a week. A year. It mattered not, they knew their death was inevitable.
