Ankyra Sound lieder und gesänge

Kierkegaard could not hear the thoughts that fluttered through the music-maker’s mind, but he would have disagreed with them if he could. It had not been strength that had pulled him from the ocean swell, but the calling of a spindly hawkish woman. This was a truth that he would never share with another soul, but one that he thought on with grave attention. The determination to return to Caiaphas had been all that it took for the ghost to live again, and to walk back to the sound with only a battered frame. The wounds would heal, and he would not need to provide explanation for his stiff-limbed gait or the large gashes against his shoulders from the jagged rocks below.

The response from Mahler left Kierkegaard with a small gaping mouth and raised brows. Wylla had been what had convinced the brute to join their brood. While this was only moderately shocking, he could not account for the desires of others. If the stranger had been drawn to their fiery leader, there must have been sound reason behind it. Nodding his head solemnly, the ghost offered a shriveled smile. “Good enough reason, I suppose,” he remarked in a casual tone – as casual as he could.

“You hungry?”