intrepid-Inkweaver

 The guy shouldn't have been able to sneak up on him the way he did—not with the acoustics in this building. Every tiny sound seems to be magnified ten-fold. He manages it, though, and Harvey gets smashed upside the head with what feels like a fucking brick. He goes out like a light without even seeing the culprit.    When he comes to, he feels like a crate of dynamite just went off in his skull and it takes a couple minutes for the ringing in his ears to subside and his vision to clear enough to notice that someone is hovering over him, talking. It takes longer to realize that it's his partner. When he focuses in on what Gordon is sa

    Ten thousand years is a long time to be alone, and it’s been even longer for you. You've only just managed to endure it, but by no means have you managed it gracefully. If you were broken before, now you are shattered, staring through the pieces of yourself as they break smaller and smaller. The only thing that keeps those pieces from falling through the cracks—the one thing you've held onto over the long millennia—is the rage burning inside of you that feels like the only thing left of the being you once were. Those flames are the rock in this sea of madness you've fallen into—they never lower, never go out. Not

There's a chill in the air today Calling from a distance Calling all the Time Fantastic in its voice And the separate chimes it has Call it what you will There isn't a name I never told you what I never meant to say. There isn't a lot to say about these chimes that call us home And there's never anything to sing about when we come home from war There's never any victories only ever defeat on our hearts The bullets and the blades The blood and the gore The tears with no laughter We sing now but they didn't How could we understand what we didn't live We killed and we died And no story could ever do us justice. We are strong and weak