Everything this person said sounded worse by the minute. The words hung at the back of his mind, an anxious drop of promise in the: We put the dead to rest and make sure the dead stay dead.
What a Terminus thing to say.
“You must be rather helpful against a …what is it called, ‘zombie invasion’ then?” There was a laugh, repeatedly reminding himself underneath that he was not dead, would not die, he just needed a little longer. It didn’t matter what Jon and Martin said, what blood they had arrived him, claiming it was his own.
He was not dead.
He was not dead.
“Ah, so a family business?” And there was a fond memory of generations of fog, of Lukas’ and their cold detachment. “At least you know where they go when they end.”
no subject
What a Terminus thing to say.
“You must be rather helpful against a …what is it called, ‘zombie invasion’ then?” There was a laugh, repeatedly reminding himself underneath that he was not dead, would not die, he just needed a little longer. It didn’t matter what Jon and Martin said, what blood they had arrived him, claiming it was his own.
He was not dead.
He was not dead.
“Ah, so a family business?” And there was a fond memory of generations of fog, of Lukas’ and their cold detachment. “At least you know where they go when they end.”