#revlutions

𝘢 𝘩𝘺𝘱𝘰𝘤𝘳𝘪𝘵𝘦 𝘪𝘴 𝘸𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘩𝘦 𝘪𝘴.   yes, surely---if one had to pick a singular word with which they were to describe desver, it would be hypocrite.  expression faux indiffetent, he stares at the lives that have forsaken all for his cause and thinks protect.   moves his gaze to atlas, this bleeding wound of a city spreading itself across his vision, rotting at his very feet, and thinks save.   yet the thought of the general’s men makes his gums itch.   bite.   there is a world by their feet, a hive buzzing with shackled bees, and he watches it with a heart split in two, weighing sacrifices.   “   you are a most excellent teacher,   ”   he begins at last, returning his eyes’ weight to faizah’s own.   predator steps.   preyless.   “   but i don’t think half of them are ready for what’s to come.   they’re weak; their hands clean of blood, bites defanged.   to send them into the battle would be a fool’s gamble---are you ready to be the one-man army standing in their place?   ”

QUENTIN LIFTS HIS ARM AND RESTS HIS ELBOW on  the  frame  of  the  open  door,  leaning  his  weight  into  it.  his  hand  flattens  against  the  surface  of  the  door,  feeling  its  coolness.  in  his  other  hand,  he  carries  a  simple,  black  briefcase.