Following along their set points, hardly bothering the deviate from the path they see.

Shall they see it in such a way, I wonder.

[His head tilted, long nails drumming along the top of that grave marker.] They'll have their sights set on hating you for this. Feel betrayed in some way, perhaps.

Why? How could you? [Keeping an 'eye' on that fire.] Is there a need other than an end for something that stood stagnant for so long?