[ Whatever Carver was expecting, it wasn’t this. He’s seen a lot of shit over the years. The shape a city takes after it falls, when its people turn medieval on each other in a matter of weeks and even the rats won’t stick around to body the aftermath. He’s seen the face of God on the ground gone tacky with blood, walked over the groaning, hungry dead as they reached for him, tried to tear him down. But this?
This is new. And there is something to be said for novelty.
After a moment, Carver switches to video, too. The face that peers back is mostly blank, his dark hair pushed back out of his face. He’s shaved and showered—they have soap here—but he’s still wearing his ratty jacket from before, the iron pendant still hanging from the string around his neck.
Uniforms are important. Otherwise, people forget the shape they’re meant to take. ]
cw: cult shit
This is new. And there is something to be said for novelty.
After a moment, Carver switches to video, too. The face that peers back is mostly blank, his dark hair pushed back out of his face. He’s shaved and showered—they have soap here—but he’s still wearing his ratty jacket from before, the iron pendant still hanging from the string around his neck.
Uniforms are important. Otherwise, people forget the shape they’re meant to take. ]
Useful. What’s the range?