Re: Downtown Repose: Alex/Kratos &c
Kratos' face loomed out of the dark into Alex's view. It was certainly the kind of face that accompanied arrows, clouded with black hair and flattened under thick dark eyebrows. His expression seemed impassive, but his eyes were very dark and very intent. His silence as he looked down into pain and looming death was probably unnecessarily protracted, but in reality lasted perhaps three seconds. He did not look happy. But he did not look angry either.
Another voice came from behind Kratos, higher and smaller. Kratos looked back at his son and said something sharp and deep in the tongue of the boy's mother, a Nordic tongue that only lives in scholars' books now. The boy chimed something back, sounding afraid and worried. Now his face appeared above Alex's head. Atreus was perhaps thirteen, red hair cropped close to his head. He held a bow slack in his free hand, a quiver on his back, and he stared down at Alex, face gray. Kratos snapped again at his son, who did not respond but stayed staring down into Alex's face.
Kratos' face suddenly appeared again, this time much closer, as he knelt over Alex's body. He took Alex's hip and pushed him onto his back to see the wound.