' in some ways, i envy you . ' hey diva
it's barely noticable at first : the small twinge of shock that lifts at his brows, bends at his lips. shae raises a gaze from his stoking of the fire and looks at riel- skepticle- and there's a moment where he tries to process this confession. there's a raw honesty in riel's words that churns- heavy and unrelenting- in his stomach, but he isn't quite sure what it means ... in his deliberation, shae can do nothing but shift uncomfortably in his spot before lowering his eyes again. silent.
he's never had anyone say anything like this to him before, it caught him entirely off guard. almost unpleasantly so ... in all his life, shae's never met a single person that's bothered to know him well enough to want what he had. they look at him, they see the charms and they make their judgements—all they can see is the DEATH that looms over his shoulder, that bleeds from his veins. not once have they ever seen him.
these are the people that would sooner toss a coin to keep him away than to keep him in their company; how many times he's forced himself to swear off the lingering hope of ever forming friendships. comradery. love ... he's long lost count.
each day, shae grows colder beneath the frigidity of their gazes than by the consequence of his own magic.
“ i promise, there's ... nothing ... about me to envy. ”
words are a soft breath above the crackling of campfire. shae doesn't lift his eyes then, letting riel's shadow rest in his periphory. the heat of the fire does nothing to quell the shivers wracking algid body as finally shae tosses the last stick into the open, dancing flame. envy ... the word leaves an almost acrid taste in his mouth. but still, he lets himself laugh. soft, humorless.
“ hah ... can't imagine the life of a necromancer would sound enticing at all, to anyone really. ”