Titor glanced up at the soldier above him from behind his cowl. He heard more soldiers approaching. If this man were lying, and they were not actually from the Flames, he had no chance at resistance anyway. If they were from the Flames, his loyalty lie with them, and he would willingly follow them. Either way, this was a heavily one-sided fight, and he was not entirely sure if his assailant's motives were pure and lawful, in the end, they could be enemy double-agents with the nerve to try to take out the elite spy force of the Flames. Titor would comply for now, but not speak more or reveal any further information until he knew exactly whether these soldiers were in the wrong, or if it were indeed the Red Wings.
Titor rolled over in the sand, dissipating his geometry without ever fully constructing the barrier. He was careful to try to not get sand in his wound, but in the middle of the desert and on the ground that was futile.Â
Sand was everywhere at this point from wallowing around on the ground. In his eyes, in his mouth, nose, in his wound. He placed his hands on the ground and remains silent.
Titor rolled over in the sand, dissipating his geometry without ever fully constructing the barrier. He was careful to try to not get sand in his wound, but in the middle of the desert and on the ground that was futile.Â
Sand was everywhere at this point from wallowing around on the ground. In his eyes, in his mouth, nose, in his wound. He placed his hands on the ground and remains silent.
