Re: [Capital: Misha & The Revenant]
All the ways in which this was wrong settled on his shoulders like a dark wing. That rage hadn't gone away, it had only been banked. When Misha told him where the woman was, where the bodyguard, where the boy, where he himself would be when he was, when the Revenant was out doing his work, he felt a helplessness that was unrecognizable. It was as if the emotion was written in a different language. He refused to read it, or slide into the yawning pit of despair beneath it, and rage bubbled up again instead.
"Who are you to bring back the dead?" he said. His voice had gone cold, and he did not blink, just inches from Misha and radiating hate. "And to raise the wicked and leave the good to rot?" Anger was immediate. It was present in the room, and he no longer seemed as if he might be having a conversation with someone elsewhere. "No one should ever come back. And not her. Not them. Who can you bring back?" The abrupt about-face came with a shift in tone, and he lifted his head. "Who? Are you here for them, for killers only? Are you their patron saint? Or does your grace extend to others? How far does it go? Why now? Who," he said, again, raising his voice, "Can you bring back?"