Swiftcurrent Creek The shade

oh I love that....Daddy Vader is choice content

Simran sat and listened, that quiet anger stored back where it belonged, behind the locked door of their mind. Kynareth exchanges his own story, bitter a betrayal as their own.

Except it gets worse. Simran’s ears wilt to their skull at the reveal that it was the brindled man’s ex wife who brought down the hammer on his home. The silver coated beroya swallows thickly around a tongue that suddenly felt too large for their mouth, lilac eyes shying away, before rising again to find canary yellow, dark tipped ears rising again.

I...could not imagine a riduur betraying their loved one in such a way. Ni ceta, Kynareth. I’m sorry. They allow a quiet to fall, before speaking again, changing the subject. Tragic backstories could wait until...never.

You mentioned a “Saints” earlier. Is that your tribe? Simran chews at their cheek. Was this purpose, the want they’d felt so keenly to have another home? Had they found it after a year as nothing but a wandering shell marked by ghosts?