Neverwinter Forest he wanted love, i taste of blood

Family.
It is that proposal again, in a way that suits him better he finds than that of brotherhood or otherwise—Kratos seeks attention himself, a confession he’d deny unless asked directly, and by extension he sympathizes with Ghost who sought everyone.
Black ears twitch at the whine, eyes dropping down to the brutalized limb until they lift back to silver eyes—ones that reflect the illumination of the moon they rest under.
Two the greedy bastard had wanted, and it fits so much that Kratos wants to bark a laugh yet he holds it within. The implication is that Kratos is worth two wives—or mates, however the fuck Ghost swings.
You have strange taste, he blurts out.
He’s nervous. Fuck.
I’d like that. He concludes.