The Heartwood and i pray to god you dont come back here anymore

the welcome in the woman's voice was almost too great for him to bear; her voice rustled over him, wet silk upon stone, rasped with age.
and yet within the tones spiraled the sound he had most wished from anyone in the world, something indra had never provided, something astara's mute throat could not.
merrick was hopelessly smitten, lured — he wished with a sudden desperation that he too had sprung from her decrepit loins and been birthed into the role he now assumed: hunter of his own kind. would he then suffer so?
a brief flicker of unadulterated lust shone in his gaze; merrick nodded. "yes. broke his bones, threw him over a cliff." breathless, wanting, teeth flashing in a timid smile.
vercingetorix. merrick nodded, committing the title to name
i killed indra
i killed my mother
not now not now soft soft soft
"a shame you weren't there to see him die so badly," merrick purled flirtatiously. "next time. he has a daughter, too."