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Aug. 5th, 2005 09:44 pmRoland lets go of Mal's hand and steps forward, moving with tight, hair-trigger grace, as though he could snap at any minute but for steel discipline and control wrought by years of experience. The way he moves, he's not conscious of the weight of the iron at his hip. It's an extension. This is his natural state.
It's terrifying.
He gathers each one of them with his eyes. "Ninety-six minutes. That's what we've got. We don't have time for heroics. Get in, do what you must, and get out."
There's a kind of cold serenity to Roland Deschain. Always has been.
"If there are questions -- if you're not certain what you're supposed to do -- any questions at all -- now's the time."
Complete silence.
His eyes glitter with something akin to
(no prisoners)
malice.
"Then stand, and be true."
He turns to the door.
"You heard Mal. Let's go."
It's terrifying.
He gathers each one of them with his eyes. "Ninety-six minutes. That's what we've got. We don't have time for heroics. Get in, do what you must, and get out."
There's a kind of cold serenity to Roland Deschain. Always has been.
"If there are questions -- if you're not certain what you're supposed to do -- any questions at all -- now's the time."
Complete silence.
His eyes glitter with something akin to
(no prisoners)
malice.
"Then stand, and be true."
He turns to the door.
"You heard Mal. Let's go."
