The Heartwood Call me Mr. Rattlebone

For a moment there was only silence and then, at last, the baritone voice of the victim broke through. Her brows furrowed, the slightest bit of a frown beginning to take place on her darkened lips. The more he spoke the more she began to believe that he was telling her what happened but, in this state, he could be just be saying things that had no meaning at all. She also knew that she needed to keep him talking. Her father had been a healer and the brother to one of the best, thus, she had picked up on a few things just by speaking with him. But he was a long forgotten memory; Rhaenys was glad she held onto this one.

“I drowned him in the ocean and watched his body float to sea,”

 As he stared at her, she too did not pull her gaze away, instead, Rhaenys intensified it by narrowing her titian eyes at him. Yet, she found herself admiring the complexity despite the dire moment; one eye as dark as the rest of him, the other as light as the external and internal skeleton that had been forced upon him by relentless genetics. Perhaps once upon a time he would have been something to admire up close, but now he was nothing more than flesh reanimated; the countless scars upon his body told stories that his fumbled mind could not stir up.

Strangely enough, the northern girl found herself intrigued by him. A feat accomplished by so little of individuals that she had to squint and make sure that he wasn't doing anything other than tossing out meaningless phrases and staring at her. Finally, she moved, the air being forced out of her nose as she took a few steps closer. "Can you stand?"