shotgun aimed at my heart

Had it been anyone else but Sitri that spoke those words to Ira he would have taken it as a direct threat to his life, however, he garnered that the ugly brute had no indications of killing him — even if he did he could try but Ira had no intentions of dying any time soon. It was obvious to the pallid Princeling that Sitri had not understood that Ira had meant in the place of sympathy and apologizes he would much rather have Jinx ...even though he was pretty sure that Jinx hated him. That didn't deter Ira. She had been the only mother he had ever known, the only mother that he had loved and love didn't just turn off because they had a falling out.

Silver eyes narrowed sharply, cutting in their direction towards Sitri, teeth baring when the scarred man told him that she had been drowned by some woman whose name Ira wasn't even going to try to pronounce. “Then she will pay. I will do to her what she did to my mother. Not now, no, when everyone has forgotten and I am older.” Ira vowed. He would strengthen himself, train himself all for that moment. The moment in which he would seek to avenge his mother's death. “I don't care! She was your Queen! She...she was my mother.” But Ira doubted that Sitri truly understood the grief that was tearing him apart inside. He understood was Sitri was trying to tell him — that Ptarmigan had done her a “kindness” by ending her life before the rabies could waste her away to nothing, before she could truly suffer but that did not lessen Ira's pain. That did not offer a cushion to the continuous blows that he suffered. That would not heal the bruises of his aching heart.

Sitri's words offered no comfort to Ira. Plotting revenge did offer some sort of tourniquet. Right now, he was simply a child grieving. He could kill, yes, but he was not physically strong enough or trained enough to take a fully grown adult, if his failed attempt to save Bones had been of any true indication. He knew poisons. He knew how to kill slowly, quietly, without a trace, but he needed to hone his body to be a double edged sword, first. “What of Lecter?” Ira asked next, unable to believe that he was willingly asking for the Shaman but if Lecter was still alive then he was all that Ira would have left of Jinx and Ira was so desperate in that moment that he would have sufficed with the rancid old man for that purpose alone.