Swell,” said Alistair. “Blade or sun?”
“He’s human, Alistair,” said Matheus.
“Blade it is, then.”
The wind blew in through the crumbled walls and shattered windows. Clouds covered the sky, the moonlight giving them a silvery tumescence. Matheus shivered, drawing his shoulders up, arms in tight. A brittle edge hung in the air, promising snow in the near future.
“We’re not stabbing him,” he said, a little disturbed by the gleeful light in Alistair’s expression.
“Oh!” Alistair sat up suddenly. “Let’s drain him!”
“I―what? No!”
“Come on, we can do it together. He’s just going to waste otherwise,” said Alistair.
Matheus gaped at him. His hands waved aimlessly as he searched for a response.
“Relax.” Alistair smiled, nudging Matheus’ shoulder. “I’m kidding.” He paused. “Mostly.”
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