[Quiet Man Cometh]

Tarja barely felt the hands wrapped around her arm, though she resisted on instinct, and would have snapped at the blind man with no small amount of venom if her mind was turned in that direction. Instead, she just stared at the angel as though mesmerized by its lilting voice, before it breaks in erratic curses.

The sword held in her quivering grasp, Tarja gaped, stuttering with indecision. “I…It still speaks.”

Slowly, she lowered the sword, its tip pointing towards the ground, and she looked to Diogenes, though she spoke to no one in particular. “What do we do with it?”

She wrung her hands around the grip of the sword, having not quite abandoned her intentions, and completely unaware -for the time being- of the drama unfolding near a hole in the wall.