[It is this last turn to the dungeons which plucks the string of anxiety he has, until this very moment, kept easily silent. The chaos of the execution yard hadn't done it; not even the hour of confinement had managed it (it is hard, he thinks, to be very alarmed in a well appointed room), but the descent into that dreadful place raises the small hairs at the back of Ralston's neck.
He had slowed by just a fraction at the top of the stairs—not slow enough to encourage his escort to take measures to hasten him along, but slow enough for his own mind to mark the hesitation. He can feel it still now as he sits across from Miss Sybell: a slowly unspooling kind of fear. Anywhere but here.
Does it show in the uneasy flicker of Ralston's dark eyes? Possibly. He certainly seems to find it difficult to make himself comfortable in the chair even after he's hooked his borrowed cane over one of the arms. Yet, the tenor of his reply is all languid indifference—]
Tell me, are you most concerned with the parts before or after those two came along to paint the High Mage in a fool's colors and encourage the majority of his work to slip their leashes? —Or noose, as the case may be.
no subject
He had slowed by just a fraction at the top of the stairs—not slow enough to encourage his escort to take measures to hasten him along, but slow enough for his own mind to mark the hesitation. He can feel it still now as he sits across from Miss Sybell: a slowly unspooling kind of fear. Anywhere but here.
Does it show in the uneasy flicker of Ralston's dark eyes? Possibly. He certainly seems to find it difficult to make himself comfortable in the chair even after he's hooked his borrowed cane over one of the arms. Yet, the tenor of his reply is all languid indifference—]
Tell me, are you most concerned with the parts before or after those two came along to paint the High Mage in a fool's colors and encourage the majority of his work to slip their leashes? —Or noose, as the case may be.