Originally Posted by
grampagen
After Ochazuke laid the fallen wizard down and let Nevanlinna set to work, a silent moment passed there between them. Set between the Princess' mirror-image on either end, between the ash and wounds on his upper body there was a heaviness in the air as the two of them awaited the Guardian's arrival to the chamber. Though united in purpose, he found himself standing apart.
Once more did a proclamation come from the sky above, speaking of honour while laying claim to a world under the pretext of a higher purpose. Yet never was it a purpose to serve any higher calling, to the pursuit of greater reason or compassion, only acts of supplication to bring the Earth to heel. He exhaled slowly. Against his racing mind, the fatigue that had crept into his bones stretched the lingering pain from Luop's invocation earlier, and the scar upon his heart burned raw.
Yet in the midst of this Threshling plot, the morning's invader had indeed bound himself to his word. For all the harrowing acts of violence and the fanatic's prayer that drove the youth, he had let them make his choice for him: victory or exile.
The slavish devotion had allowed the Knight to find his answer. Yet even as Nevanlinna worked silently to preserve this Namekian, this third party of invaders, the spirit of their last exchange a year ago still remained about them.
"Why did you come back," he asked. "Are you here of your own will, or were you otherwise compelled to return to Earth?"
If memory of the Threshlings was bitter to Ochazuke, the Arcosians were about even in his view. Yet the GP Lieutenant had a different bearing from the few he had the displeasure of knowing, and his deeds today spoke to a different tune.
Funny how dangerous times render men honest.
Still, Blizzar's recollection of what happened below was an occasion for some alarm.
"Why wouldn't he? He is, after all the world's enemy as much as he is ours," he said. "What troubles me, however, is just how he knew he would be able to have words at all under the circumstances."
Chuan's needles held fast the thread of the Wizard's life, and the tether for Nevanlinna to support him. Two esoteric pinpricks, countered by a mysterious Heterodoxy style on the cusp of existence.
"I understand that he is not the only one to be salvaged. There is another, and Ishtar spoke of a Doctor," he replied.