Fragments

[Sören]

War was inevitable. An inescapable facet of human nature, but not necessarily a darkness. It could not be stopped, only manipulated to the most advantageous outcome. Seeds planted beneath ashes. New life sprung from death. Sören was not a warrior, not naturally so anyway. Nor did he view himself as beholden to the law. Or the rule of the Ascendancy. Not that he was an advocate of chaos either, just devoted his own sense of order. As such he did not take the cool threat in Sarkozy's tone personally, but he did contemplate the answer with the interest of a scholar. Detached. Watching the horizon adjust in light of new facts.

He did not like Sarkozy, not his attitude or his clear frustration at Sören's apathy. But neither did he dislike him. And when words of release finally issued forth, the irritation unravelled with it. "Likewise."
The words were curt, but not false. Impatient, perhaps. Sören stood, wrapping his coat over his arm. He did not ask after further information on the girl. Or her attackers. Or the ring. The flicker of a frown tugged down his lips, but was quickly dismissed. He left through the offered door.