Ah yes, the Grand Design. His expression grew dour and his jaw tensed, over and over, a visible movement. The Grand Design that had forbidden him from warning the others of the impending war, the losses, the fall. Anger rose from deep within him, an old and ancient anger, unwanted but never forgotten. He clearly wanted to scream and yell but he said nothing. No signed words were offered to Michael, just a few escaped tears of rage tampered down in a fight within Duma.