King Elk Forest don't pretend

rasalas’ ears perk as she tells him that she has three kids, that they were about his age and that she promised they weren’t as annoying as her. he studies her quietly, favoring silence in lieu of speaking. he’s weary of kids his own age, a want to dislike them automatically because of caerus, despite that his brother was older than him. it wasn’t fair to think that niamh’s kids would be like his brother but rasalas can’t help but worry all the same. his own flesh and blood called him all sort of horrible and insulting things, though so low of him and a different searing sting drives thru his heart. thinking about caerus causes his mouth to twist again — only to visibly wince as the action pulls at the wounds. again.

it encourages rasalas to adopt a stone-faced expression: to work on not displaying his emotions upon his face. if only to ward off the pain.

you like deer meat, right?

he focuses back upon niamh’s words, and though the question is rhetoric he doesn’t quite grasp it as such. yes. he croaks, wincing again. in truth, though, he liked any kind of meat she could get him. rotten even, if he had to. he was so hungry, like the living personification of gluttony in that moment. anything would suffice as long as it could silence the greed, and soothe the pains of of his deprived belly.