What kind of fucked up game of caring uncle is he playing? Lizzie knows he is up to no good, the way her stomach clenches and throat feels tight almost as if she was going to vomit right there. A shiver down her spine as blood-red lips turn into a smile. ❝Yeah, and you care because??❞ Gasps, oh wait! He doesn’t! If he did give a shit about the twins, she would pass out and see pigs fly, that she is sure of. ❝because monsters don’t get to not be monsters because they hold babies and love puppies. I am not ever going to be redeemed for this.❞ For the amount of blood, she spilled while in pain over a choice being made for her, of becoming a heretic instead of growing old and having children. (That was never gonna happen though right? According to the lore, Gemini twins must merge. Maybe it isn’t JUST the leaders that have to merge but every set of twins)
♊ — She had the chance to fall for it. The way his voice came out soft, almost delicate and songbird; the calm expression he wore. All the stops. But she wasn’t having it. Was seeing right through. ❝Who, me?❞ the tormentor replied to the tormentee. His grin had mirrored hers, sly and cold, as he let her stew in the reveal of his lesser than genuine intent... ❝You don’t have the luxury of being a monster, Bethy. You still have people who believe in you — who want to save you from yourself. So, every bad decision, every step you take toward darkness.. you’ll just be letting them down.❞ He relayed this information coolly, like the topic itself was second nature to him. ❝The best part? I get to sit back and just enjoy the show.❞