there is a silence. an absence that ezra feels, creeping in like a plague that he cannot seem to run from. he tries not let it get to him, but he cannot ignore the fact that it's been over a week since he last saw solharr.
in all fairness, he tries to tell himself, it could've been as something as simple as he went hunting or out to cement diplomacy ... or any of other numerous things. and, ezra works to remind himself, it wasn't as if he was shadowing their leader's every move.
still, there is a nagging pessimistic part of ezra that refuses to be silenced. so, he does his best, patrolling the borders — reinforcing markings that have gone stale.
in all fairness, he tries to tell himself, it could've been as something as simple as he went hunting or out to cement diplomacy ... or any of other numerous things. and, ezra works to remind himself, it wasn't as if he was shadowing their leader's every move.
still, there is a nagging pessimistic part of ezra that refuses to be silenced. so, he does his best, patrolling the borders — reinforcing markings that have gone stale.
'cause dead men don't talk
buried under that hideaway
lone star brand i′m
burning it on my chest
buried under that hideaway
lone star brand i′m
burning it on my chest
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