All religion, my friend, is simply evolved out of fraud, fear, greed, imagination, and poetry.
~ Edgar Allen Poe

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Hollowpoint was more shrewd than he appeared. It was obvious the other boy could tell something was up, and that he was losing his patience for Midas’s intrusion. Very well, Midas meant no ill harm.

“Yes,” He said, his eyes cast downwards towards the grey slabs of rocks. “It’s always good to know your neighbors, isn’t it?” His crooked smile whisked over his face but it wasn’t necessarily friendly. It was a mixture of mocking and mystery, as if he knew something Hollowpoint did not. Midas did not see anything dishonorable about this man but time would tell whether he was worthy of meeting Aria again or not.

“I’m glad we had dis talk.” He spoke again and then he turned to leave, his heels twisted and pivoted his mighty golden frame and then Midas took off down the craggy landscape and into the jungle beyond. The clouds began to pour and release all of their rage just as he entered the canopy of leaves and his dry body continued towards home.

Midas’s mind was a rage of emotions, his eyes clouded by doubt. What would Aria think, what would she do? Midas’s moral compass might not always point north, and be it right or wrong, he had already decided not to tell her.

midas
speak in silent tongues

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