“Oh, there is no endless devotion, that is free from the force of erosion.”
He looked down at the boy lazily. Demir’s voice was even and lacked any bitterness, as if he were merely stating that the sky was blue rather than admitting something that could be construed, at worse, as treason.
Chaucer glanced up with a gaze like a glass bowl, full to the brim with candied curiosity, sugar coated and tantalising. It felt like he was talking to a walking riddle, a cat of a person; all he wanted to know was if there was something he could do to help. A small smile graced his lips, and the teen repeated his question.
❝ Is there anything you need help with ... ?"