The rain falls, bitter and acidic, cutting through the sinking acrid air that hangs heavy over the Wall. Saint helps the last Hunter to his feet and sends him stumbling back towards the City with a nudge of Light, his Ghost blinking slowly at him in gratitude. Smoke and steam slink across the ground together, the rain coaxing the latter out, pushing the former away.
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Drifter’s laughing so hard, he might actually be crying. He’s bent double over the railing, laughter wrenched from deep in his gut echoing discordantly through the Derelict.
Shin fumes.
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The rain falls and rises and flows eastwest northsouth, and Jolyon feels each drop roll off the soft thick foliage and onto his skin, under his neckline, tracing veins that run down his wrist and under his glove. He shrinks away from the electric heat. Uldren tips his face up and lets it course over him.
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timeasmymeasure
