Associate Producer Gard released a breath he hadn't even known he held.
A flicker ran through his eyes and he pressed a few fingers to his forehead, pulling them back and running his thumb across them.
A moist texture was fed through his veins, causing the black veins of the exposed strip of his brain to writhe.
He was sweating? Impossible.
The Monelay had stamped out such emotion and useless sentiment from young. He would not fear for his death, such a thing was simply impossible. He would face it like a man. A true man.
So why was it that he felt like this? What was this fear running through him as he watched a member of an unranked Race slay two that should be above him in such quick succession?
And why did he only exhale after Grey was swiftly crushed by the Volthari?
'Potential.'
Gard already knew the answer to the question before he asked himself it.
