[color=ec008c]“Agreed, Cesar.”[/color]

The dance between the wardens of the light and Birbin, the Absent, eddied into tango of equivocating on whether to salvage the vicious wildlife entombed within stones, evolving into a window flung wide open and gnomish demands of discarding the entities as debris outwards to reunite once more with its midnight. 

[color=ec008c]“Sleep is, unfortunately, in order; a natural edict suffered in this new corpus.”[/color]

We slumber, to only arise anew. Death seemed likewise as an outdated concept to the forgetful wizard, despite his claim of imminent rebirth at dawn, with only a ghost town as ironic evidence. A demise led to Wick’s new life, yet not in a recurrent tessellation, stripped of frenzy and mourning, nor captivity with gravel. 

[color=ec008c]“In regards to our fowl, I trust my Beloved.”[/color]

She uttered plainly so that everyone including the frantic mage would heed Katia’s future plan. The Warlock nonetheless ceremoniously persisted unabatedly with her conjuration; the circular cordon was only minutes away. 

[color=ec008c]“My vote funds her decision.”[/color]