Wapun Meadow victorian writer 2 steps away from dying of brain fever

Blodreina, duh. His smile grew wider; he was happy, really, that she had found a friend in his niece. Furthermore, that someone was around to give Trig lessons to his kids, too. Little goufas. . .wouldn't do 'em much good not to know it, right? And so he felt they were on the right track. . .

Until she started to stall, saying his name again, and again, and then just. . .petering out. Alrighty.

Aure, he said, exhaling sharply through his nostrils in exaggerated patience. It seemed as if he'd have to launch into his explanation sooner than he thought. Verx looked away, lips tightening. His eyes flashed for a brief moment over the horizon, and then returned to her scarred visage, growing undoubtedly apologetic.

I went back to the coast, Aure, he began, in a voice much quieter than anything before. I'm part of Rusalka, now. My plan is to take over, kill Blackhead. Make it a place where our children can grow up and thrive. His ears swiveled back, as if expecting someone to be listening in. I didn't tell you, and I'm sorry. I guess I thought I might jinx it, if I tried to explain before.