It had been a long time since Dexter had had to unbuckle armour this fast. He was glad that he still could, because part of him was kind of afraid of what would happen if he hadn't been able to keep up with Bliss tearing off his armour. Dex was acutely aware how close he was to the man, that at any moment one of his hands could come down and split his head like a melon.
Neither of them did, and finally the armour was unbuckled, and Dexter took a slightly breathless step back. Bliss ripped off the last piece and then leaned against the wall on one arm, clad only in the thick woollen tunic and breeches he'd worn under the armour. He wasn't moving, in a way that Skulduggery didn't move, but after a moment he raised his hand and looked at it, curling and uncurling his fingers.
He raised his head at the sound of Erskine's voice, and Dexter felt a chill at the look in his eyes. Bliss, before, had had cold eyes. Peaceful eyes, like peace in death. Now they were hollow with a kind of horror made all the more so because it was Bliss.
His gaze focussed on Erskine. "Ravel," he said. "I suppose it did." He straightened and his gaze travelled further, dismissing John, huddled into the wall as he was, and resting on Raphael. He frowned. Dexter tensed. "Who are you?"
"Name's Rafe," he said. "Just a friend of Sol's, here." He jerked his head at the ex-Necromancer still turned away. Bliss's eyes followed the motion.
"You were at Aranmore Farm," he observed. "The man leading the Necromancers. Solomon Wreath."
Wreath turned with that slow sort of caution of someone unsure if they could keep their feet. "Not a Necromancer anymore. How much do you remember?"
"I remember seeing you," Bliss said. "The clearest thing I do, since I was trapped in there. Otherwise, just the bits and pieces I managed to snatch from through the Cleavers' eyes. How long has it been?"
"A year," Solomon said. "Guild's no longer Grand Mage."
"Good. Guild was a fool. Hello, sister." His eyes snapped abruptly toward China. "I'm surprised to see you here."
no subject
Neither of them did, and finally the armour was unbuckled, and Dexter took a slightly breathless step back. Bliss ripped off the last piece and then leaned against the wall on one arm, clad only in the thick woollen tunic and breeches he'd worn under the armour. He wasn't moving, in a way that Skulduggery didn't move, but after a moment he raised his hand and looked at it, curling and uncurling his fingers.
He raised his head at the sound of Erskine's voice, and Dexter felt a chill at the look in his eyes. Bliss, before, had had cold eyes. Peaceful eyes, like peace in death. Now they were hollow with a kind of horror made all the more so because it was Bliss.
His gaze focussed on Erskine. "Ravel," he said. "I suppose it did." He straightened and his gaze travelled further, dismissing John, huddled into the wall as he was, and resting on Raphael. He frowned. Dexter tensed. "Who are you?"
"Name's Rafe," he said. "Just a friend of Sol's, here." He jerked his head at the ex-Necromancer still turned away. Bliss's eyes followed the motion.
"You were at Aranmore Farm," he observed. "The man leading the Necromancers. Solomon Wreath."
Wreath turned with that slow sort of caution of someone unsure if they could keep their feet. "Not a Necromancer anymore. How much do you remember?"
"I remember seeing you," Bliss said. "The clearest thing I do, since I was trapped in there. Otherwise, just the bits and pieces I managed to snatch from through the Cleavers' eyes. How long has it been?"
"A year," Solomon said. "Guild's no longer Grand Mage."
"Good. Guild was a fool. Hello, sister." His eyes snapped abruptly toward China. "I'm surprised to see you here."