Jade Fern Grove sturdied up boulders and loosened the river

caligula was, of course, aware of none of arbiter’s internal debate. what he was aware of was that where there was one person like his father, there were always more. perhaps there was no place he would actually be free of a threat poised like opened jaws above his head, but there was yet nothing to stop him from trying.

there would always be new ground left to walk. this, at least, he was certain of; he had walked new ground every day since he fled, nothing left to show for two years of his life besides the bleeding wound on his chest and the less visible mess he had shredded his mind into.

“that is…good,” caligula offered, lamely. it felt inadequate the second it left his mouth. it was difficult to recall the last time he’d felt anything he said to be adequate, so at least the awkwardness was familiar.

at least his limbs had stopped shaking. it left his body feeling strangely still, a perfect mirror to the aftermath of a fight, even though he had done nothing but raise his voice.

he felt, suddenly, unspeakably exhausted. there were so many other questions he should ask, that he was aware were important; they all melted away in the face of the anxiety that crawled right back through him, requiring only the absence of terrified adrenaline to return as though it had never left.

caligula had never read a single person well. she was no different. and that anxiety coiled tight in the core of him, part of him, told him that she could not be doing anything other than humoring him, now, the nervous, erratic mess he had made of himself.

he licked his lips, eyes lingering on her as he took a delicate step to the side. “i – i have taken up enough of your time, i think. thank you for the warning.” the words, this once, did not stumble over each other, every inch of his body knowing them for the exit they offered. “i wish your legion luck.”