Redsand Canyon but the room is so quiet

and so there it was, thrown between them with all the subtlety of a charging bear. the careful push and pull of their previous interactions was gone, the bones strewn at their feet; renard examined them with a clinical gaze, all rotting flesh and splintered fragments. there was no warmth in their smile when it, at last, returned.

the truth of it? it wasn’t a stupid move. anyone could see donovan driving them into the ground. the intrigue, the fun, lay in the way each saint handled it. derg sat beneath a waterfall and submitted to renard’s fury; auriel absorbed herself in clawing for their grandmaster’s affections. they had seen nothing interesting yet; in a way, finley’s solution was the most fascinating, the least predictable.

that wasn’t enough. there was no shame in running, in living to fight another day – renard had thrown aside all misguided notions of fair play and nobility long ago, if they’d ever acknowledged them at all, and the odds were they'd do it many more times before they were through – but only as long as you had no other option.

they were not short of options, here with the saints.

“thought you might have the guts to take this from him. but i see i was wrong.” no. someone whose solution, faced with their current situation, was leaving – where was the fun in that? they were, first and foremost, here to be entertained.

“indulge me,” renard said, very aware that neither of them was at all inclined to indulging a question and curious enough to ask nonetheless. “what did it for you? the court, or the execution?”