❛ Does it scorn you——what's been done? Does it leave you aching with un-fulfillment, ravaged by animosity? Does it challenge your natural place in this world? ❟
His questions were as quick as arrowfire, no pause for reflection left on purpose. Whatever malice had corrupted him upon his first death had not dissipated by the third; he was egging the other. Creatures of kin, whether they acknowledged it or not, they were. It was his duty then, a Prince still, to weave his way beneath the other's flesh, like an eager needle, and stitch up whatever remnants he could find. Had this one been loyal? He couldn't remember the face. Was it he who had been scrambled then? Or was this one truly a deserter? Too many questions. He was going to seem suspicious.
@frostveiled ( @pitiflame ) / starter call
