[hope. that's a laugh, but not for the reasons one might expect from him. is he so jaded that he's forgotten what hope feels like? no, never. hope, though clouded, is something that's rooted within him so deeply and so irrevocably that he's not sure he could lose it. hope is what carried him through the murders. hope is what kept him going forward and still keeps him moving even when everything around him is falling apart. if he didn't have hope, he wouldn't have even given Fabletown a chance; he'd still be in somewhere in Europe, hunting in some dark, cold place better left for creatures like him.
hope is a gift. it's also a weapon, and it doesn't have a bias for what side wields it. Bigby has seen people broken by it before, by the false promises it breeds, and he's not too keen on seeing more of it here in a world ruled over by a hungry god who literally thrives off it. it's like expecting an addict looking for a fix to be honest and hold up their end up the bargain (things will work out, guys, really!) when they get it.
he follows Tink's gesture to a fork in the left of the road ahead of them. there's a hollow rattle of metal followed by a clang as a trash can's lid rolls off the top of the bin and clatters somewhere on the street — cute. Bigby's eyes narrow.
tilting his head over in Tink's direction, he beckons her to follow him to his right as he moves in the opposite direction, ducking into an alley. seems logical, right?]
Do you think they can smell us? [it comes at length, and quietly, because he's not sure what these things are capable of and that's what bothers him. they used to be human, right? mundies. but now...] Feels like they're everywhere.
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hope is a gift. it's also a weapon, and it doesn't have a bias for what side wields it. Bigby has seen people broken by it before, by the false promises it breeds, and he's not too keen on seeing more of it here in a world ruled over by a hungry god who literally thrives off it. it's like expecting an addict looking for a fix to be honest and hold up their end up the bargain (things will work out, guys, really!) when they get it.
he follows Tink's gesture to a fork in the left of the road ahead of them. there's a hollow rattle of metal followed by a clang as a trash can's lid rolls off the top of the bin and clatters somewhere on the street — cute. Bigby's eyes narrow.
tilting his head over in Tink's direction, he beckons her to follow him to his right as he moves in the opposite direction, ducking into an alley. seems logical, right?]
Do you think they can smell us? [it comes at length, and quietly, because he's not sure what these things are capable of and that's what bothers him. they used to be human, right? mundies. but now...] Feels like they're everywhere.