Board Thread:Roleplay/@comment-28358106-20160714040922/@comment-28358106-20160720045543

When the cigar is almost gone, Hound hears what he knows to be Ibrahim's footfalls approaching. They aren't his usual quick stride. He walks up beside Hound, but does not look at him. After a pause, he speaks, his voice low, but uneven.

"I couldn't feel it," he says. "I'm connected to the Glyph.  I should have felt it.  I should have known.   Instead,  I felt nothing.  I should have.   Something's wrong."

He still looks forward. Hound looks down and sees Ibrahim's gloved hands open and close several times. He feels the almost imperceptible hum, the pulsing. Sorcery, raw, waiting to be let loose. He can hear Ibrahim's blood begin to course through his body, how he tries to control the adrenaline that is now making his body shake. He asks the inevitable, his words like blades as his voice is hoarse with emotion.

"...Who did this?"

(Bedtime. Eta 9 hrs.   Let's dawdle and let Praetor catch up. 👍)