He shook his head ever so slightly and arched a brow. Captain Jacobs had come to visit, and the man was radiating tension. The amber hummed with it.

Outwardly the captain projected cold fury:  jerky movement, stony expression, repressed energy. But the man who presided in the amber was attuned to this captain, to the fine point of communication. Jacobs was not just mad; he was righteous.

The man on the outside purposefully lifted a clenched fist and pressed his white knuckles against the glass, locking eyes with the man inside. General, declared the fierce thought. We’re getting you out.


Previous – Sympathy for the Devil? Next – Fate

About azhwi

An editing student, graduated Feb 2012. An avid fan of video games, fanfiction, anime, writing, and the serial comma.
This entry was posted in Fiction, Man-Made Wings, Post-Trauma, Writing and tagged , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

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