Morningside Cuesta the music's too loud

it was a vain attempt to get arbiter to let them to go; period. vex knew this and her refusal rings hot like the strike of an anvil in his ears. no. he was tired of being met with ‘no’. he was tired of being told what to do, in true teenager fashion. in his mind, his conversation with warlock plays in his mind: ‘do what she says’. why? he wants to scream it, feeling like a cornered animal, impatient and tired of bidding his time. when, exactly, would they be old enough in her book? they were almost five months. they were nearly adult-looking enough to pass for adults ( at least from afar ). they weren’t babes suckling at her breast anymore.

but the way he and haunt were refused and corralled into doing what they were told would suggest otherwise.

vex is quiet thru it, knowing that even if he asked how old was ‘old enough’ for her he wouldn’t like her answer, until she brought up royal. his annoyance peaks higher now. what about her? vex snaps. he didn’t much care what royal thought or had to say. she was barely more than a ghost to him these days. if she was around, he saw brief flashes of her at most. vex couldn’t even remember the last time he’d spoke to her.