Serpent Lake go for the throat

it doesn't occur to scarab that he's being rude — disrespectful to whatever faith the woman follows as he scoffs and turns a cold shoulder to her beliefs and offer of blessing. he may not have believed in any deity aside from, perhaps, whatever god ruled over the domain of the dead, but it gives him no right to be so flippant regardless of how unwell he felt. regardless, that doesn't occur to him either. he focuses only himself. what he feels, what he believes.

fortunately ( for him, perhaps ) he was too weak to retaliate as she spits at him. he turns around sharply, too fast, and is overcome with a wave of dizziness. his lips curl back from his teeth as she turns her back on him. i better never see you again, indignant and insufferably rude golden prince that he was says, hot from fever and anger ( even though he deserves it ), at her retreating form: if i do i'll eat you. dead or alive. he snarls hotly, choosing the most threatening thing he could think of.

for what was more terrifying then the thought of being eaten by a monster ...dead or alive? it was an excessive punishment for a minor transgression but he burning with fever and acting like the petulant child he was. it was awful. an awful thing to say, an awful thing to imagine. yet, he did; and once more scarab is torn between knowing that he should feel shame and instead standing face to face with the realization that he wasn't ashamed.

nanowrimo: 264