He's thought about taking one up before. A Nail, that is. He thought about it when he moved in, and again when the Nailsmith... moved out. I'm mean enough without one, he's always maintained, half-joking, never meaning quite that. Well.
"Knight," he tries, again. His head is pounding.
There was a pile of written attestations on his desk, most of which now lie strewn about his empty shop. He found them perfectly trustworthy back then, because a little wanderer wrote them. He is looking at the Lord of Shades.
Lemm holds the two tightly in his head and, finally, forces himself to see both.
As the vast dark volume of the Lord of Shades presses in, Lemm's hand reaches blindly for the nearest Nail handle.
...And he leans on it, heavily, and presses a hand to his forehead as he stares up at the vast darkness and at those eyes daring him to say something.
"Grubby little wanderer," he dares. "I haven't been very responsible."
no subject
"Knight," he tries, again. His head is pounding.
There was a pile of written attestations on his desk, most of which now lie strewn about his empty shop. He found them perfectly trustworthy back then, because a little wanderer wrote them. He is looking at the Lord of Shades.
Lemm holds the two tightly in his head and, finally, forces himself to see both.
As the vast dark volume of the Lord of Shades presses in, Lemm's hand reaches blindly for the nearest Nail handle.
...And he leans on it, heavily, and presses a hand to his forehead as he stares up at the vast darkness and at those eyes daring him to say something.
"Grubby little wanderer," he dares. "I haven't been very responsible."