Peter was gleefully delivering judgement to the few goblins that came down, and it was the kind of gleeful that only showed up when someone finally felt useful. Not happy, not brave, just relieved. Relief wore a nasty grin in the Tower. It made people loud. It made them careless.
He wasn't even clean about it. Every kill came with some shaky exhale like he'd been holding his breath all day and only now remembered he had lungs.
His swings were decent at first, then a little too eager, then sloppy again when his arms started to feel like they were filled with wet sand.
He kept stepping too far into the corner after each hit, like he wanted to peek up the stairwell and prove he wasn't afraid, and Kael had to stop himself from grabbing him by the collar again and yanking him back.
