Penumbra’s satisfaction is palpable, and he feels the atmosphere in the den relax. “Don’t shy away from me, Mora,” she hums. “Let me see your eyes.”
He turns back to her now, though it is still difficult to look her in the face. But he pushes past his discomfort and obliges, if only to appease her. She sighs, visibly pleased.
“Such beautiful eyes,” she murmurs. “More so than even others from your birthflight.. Did you steal them, perhaps?” and though the notion is ridiculous, Mordred finds himself unable to answer.
excerpt from marionette












