The Sunspire The sound of their tongues being bitten is all I hear.

he was not of the saints. but he hovered too close and in too much knowingness.

and so germanicus advanced again, his teeth flashing in the misted air. it was an interrogation and a goading.

he waited for the backlash of that heavy muzzle, clawed feet finding purchase on the dampening stones.

the eagle did not wish for blood. but he would take it when given so freely.