They did not attack. They didn't fight each other, for a second the two looked at each other, with something almost akin to acknowledgement. Something that Ludwig himself believe to be a disgusting fleeting thought.
They didn't immediately fight not because they feared one another. Sloth simply hated action, and Ludwig had no desire to draw first blood before he understood what sort of death this thing required. Pride burned in him, Wrath coiled around him, Envy watched through his visor, and the Lantern waited in his soul with the newly marked Death Point behind him.
"You shall not pass," Ludwig said.
Sloth blinked once, slowly. "Why resist us so?"
His voice was quiet enough that it should not have carried across the field, yet it did. It seeped through the dead air and into every living ear. "Let go. Why cling to hope?"
Ludwig's lips curled beneath the helm. "Hope? Don't speak of things you know too little of. You're already without a shred of it."
