Ankyra Sound imma toss my hat in, floss when the track spin

uhhhhg ;-;

Svalinn – ever self-absorbed, ever of a single mind – did not notice the reckoning that was happening upon Val’s face. Maybe if he had he would have stopped. Stopped before risking the scandalous words that would come tumbling out of the male’s mouth to ravage Svalinn like the waters of a great flood.

The aurous guard felt the inside of his mouth turn to ash at the first punch.

Raleska was my mother.

He frowned, trying to find a crumb of deceit upon Val’s mouth or a sliver of familiarity in his face. The tense of the sentence did not even reach him. For the very concept of her having been a mother at all brought forth a revolution of sordid emotions, the chief of which was inexplicable jealousy.

He had never understood the depth of his feelings for Raleska; never known that the haunting of her memory was what prevented him from expressing love for anyone, even his own mate, in the way that they deserved. And he would never understand such a thing, it seemed, as he suddenly felt a bottomless pit of agony open up before him at the next punch.

She’s dead.

His entire body went numb.

There was no thought. Only a clawing of despondency at the corners of his eyes as his paused expression grew from a mask of confusion.

He could hear nothing but the sound of static crackling in his ears.

Dead? Not just dead. Killed. Murdered by the bear.

A sickening eddy of bile twisted in his throat. Svalinn’s lips contorted into ugly sadness, and his head bowed to shield the utter misery on his face from view. He felt a torrent of regrets pour out of him, falling into that colossal pit at his feet. It poured and poured and poured, until he felt empty and hollow, destitute and resigned.

When he looked up again, his features were forcibly smoothed. Ironed out of all emotion. When? he asked. Where? His voice shuddered, daring to eek out what his countenance sought to protect.