Not just the Archangel, then. Apparently, Erskine was the last to know about everything.
His last scrap of good humour faded for a brief moment, but he quickly snatched it back. This was not the time for petty jealousy, righteous though it might have been. That could come later. Right now, the most important thing was to make sure Anton didn't lose control of his Gist again. Erskine tensed, putting a slight bit more pressure onto the hand across Anton's shoulder, but he needn't have worried. Anton himself eventually relaxed.
How much more was going to happen? How much more would Erskine have to absorb and accept on the fly? Friends as serial killers, selfsame friends dating Archangels, Necromancers becoming ex-Necromancers and possibly converting to Christianity, losing friends to the darkness inside them because of a long and bitter war that shouldn't have happened in the first place? What was next? The Devil breaking free from hell?
All in all, Erskine was beginning to feel quietly wistful for when things were simpler. The Dead Men, all together on a mission. Half the time, it barely mattered what their goal was; it was just that they all had the same goal, the same priorities, the exact same amount to lose if they failed. It forged bonds between them. Simple, strong, and everlasting bonds.
Bonds they knew would withstand the test of time, and so - true to form - the ever-cruel universe decided to throw different tests at them. And Erskine had no idea if these tests would break those bonds.
He wanted to ask, since Valkyrie knew, just how many people did. But his fear overruled it, and instead Erskine sighed. "How much further?"
no subject
His last scrap of good humour faded for a brief moment, but he quickly snatched it back. This was not the time for petty jealousy, righteous though it might have been. That could come later. Right now, the most important thing was to make sure Anton didn't lose control of his Gist again. Erskine tensed, putting a slight bit more pressure onto the hand across Anton's shoulder, but he needn't have worried. Anton himself eventually relaxed.
How much more was going to happen? How much more would Erskine have to absorb and accept on the fly? Friends as serial killers, selfsame friends dating Archangels, Necromancers becoming ex-Necromancers and possibly converting to Christianity, losing friends to the darkness inside them because of a long and bitter war that shouldn't have happened in the first place? What was next? The Devil breaking free from hell?
All in all, Erskine was beginning to feel quietly wistful for when things were simpler. The Dead Men, all together on a mission. Half the time, it barely mattered what their goal was; it was just that they all had the same goal, the same priorities, the exact same amount to lose if they failed. It forged bonds between them. Simple, strong, and everlasting bonds.
Bonds they knew would withstand the test of time, and so - true to form - the ever-cruel universe decided to throw different tests at them. And Erskine had no idea if these tests would break those bonds.
He wanted to ask, since Valkyrie knew, just how many people did. But his fear overruled it, and instead Erskine sighed. "How much further?"