Ghost Lion Crag If you face the fear that keeps you frozen

She turned on him. It was unexpected, but Artaax didn't flinch. He simply froze and satred at her, his frown softening into curiousity and confusion as she raged at him. Only then did he realize that the odd sense of familiarity he'd had towards her had actually come from somewhere. She knew him. And he knew her. But that realization was quick to pale against the rising black that her words moved in him.

"How awful it's been lately?" he questioned, his voice dark and stormy as his temper rose, "How awful it's been? Did your mother abandon you, stealing your sisters away with her? Did your mother, your commander, fling herself from a cliff to drown in the waves below of her own free will? Do not speak to me about awful. You don't know what awful is. Do not speak to me of awful unless you've felt what it is to love with all your heart and have those you loved choose to take themselves from you."

He didn't know why he was so honest with her then. Maybe because he wanted to shut her the hell up and drive her out with the power of his devastation. Maybe it was just his anger trying to make someone else feel as terrible as he did. Or maybe he just needed to let the ugliness of his life out. He needed someone else to know, so maybe he wouldn't feel entirely alone in this burden.

He could also just be an asshole. I never really can tell.