Hideaway Strath in the truly gruesome do we trust

When the other came closer, Charles' body stiffened. His tongue lapped out and tail tucked between hind legs as he expected a reprimand for his dumb confession. Punishment did not happen, which was both a relief — he didn't want the pain, his brain and his soul hated it — and a punishment on its own — his body ached for it, now more than ever.

Instead a gentle nudge that was eerie in its own way — Charles wasn't used to affection of any sort, let alone from a stranger — and then spoke words that held some soft quality, some caring. Charles blinked. Well, great, now he just felt worse about worrying because not only was it stressful on its own, it was apparently also totally pointless. Great.

He was asked if he wanted to learn about the Gods. Creators of all things? Charles blinked, wondering what a creator even was. He was not so sure he should say yes, but he nodded in the end, agreeing solemnly. Okay, he sighed, almost as if in defeat, but then he watched the man attentively, waiting for his first lesson.