Lion Head Mesa [m] cut out my heart and you leave me bleeding

Charles did not see the same within himself that Ramesses spoke of. He enjoyed the luxury that he was given, but Charles had no idea what to do with it; point in case his current situation. He liked the berries too much and even though he had, against his own tastes, tried and done everything that was asked of him, he still failed. Just like always. It was no surprise to the coywolf. He was used to it. He really wanted to learn the culture of Akashingo and surpass himself like Ramesses wanted him to, but it felt as if he was trying to dig a hole without any tools to speak of, and that meant that the process was very slow, if at all.

As Ramesses described what he saw in Charles, the coywolf felt a swirl of fire in his stomach, but it diffused as soon as Ramesses said that he wished for Charles to leave — he'd sort of forgotten that detail — especially because Charles was unsure that he was good enough to do anything alone. He was more of a second violin kinda guy, really...

In the silence that followed, Charles tried to find words to say. Something like, I'll try harder or do you really think I could be your blade? or perhaps, what he felt the most, a determined then help me become that blade. But before Charles could utter those last words when he had finally found them in the tangles of his drunk mind, instead Ramesses uttered another sentence.

One that surprised Charles more than it should have. It took all of the air out of him; all of the determination from his mind and made him forget what he was going to say in the first place...

Instead, he felt the familiar sting of defeat and all he thought was, See? You ruin it again. Good work. Like when he had fled from the Glen or when he had been chased out of Redhawk Caldera. This whole time he had been silent, and only the craftiest of minds could have deciphered the storm of emotions within the coywolf for he tried to hide them as he went along.

Instead of answering the question, Charles said, somewhat indignant, Why would you do that if you think I can be blade? The last word rolled off his tongue awkwardly, because it was not a word that Charles had ever taken to his mouth before.