User blog comment:MockingJester/Hushed land: Q&A afar/@comment-27550231-20190820233147/@comment-30014014-20190823041643

Clutched in refusal, he sought to yield the stranger's armored throat. Only...a fleeting sensation, even before his final denial. A banquest of ash where the man who walks in one's shadow, replaced by something. An invisible something, familiar to the feeling that previously denied his strike.

Something else had taken to the gray man's spot, the latter, drenched in darkness save for his irises, still clutching the A.G. in his grasp "So close. Yet, you cannot even properly make an attempt to kill one of your own. Truly, your amalgam has fallen from grace. You place the woes of our kin beneath the boot your grovel to as no more than a dog seeking a bone from its master. Return to your mistress, shackled one. There is nothing for you to gain here. I will bear the weight of our dead..."

He turns away, walking back to the edge. To observe. To witness the silence. A silence...tumulted by the wails of the dead surrounding him, hidden to all...