[ he makes no attempt to conceal his footsteps, or their pause outside the door; the creak as it swings on shifted hinge.
he picks up the mangle of the lock, looks it over — still heavy enough to brain him with, and it's funny, the things you reach for in those moments. a poker, instead of the poisonous hand of a spell. a learned response. education, not instinct. if someone hits you, you don't pull a blade. if someone pulls a blade,
metal drops back to the desk, a small clamour. isaac watches the bed, his shoulders. watches those, for lack of his hands, and waits.
no subject
he picks up the mangle of the lock, looks it over — still heavy enough to brain him with, and it's funny, the things you reach for in those moments. a poker, instead of the poisonous hand of a spell. a learned response. education, not instinct. if someone hits you, you don't pull a blade. if someone pulls a blade,
metal drops back to the desk, a small clamour. isaac watches the bed, his shoulders. watches those, for lack of his hands, and waits.
why are they here? ]