Luneshale Pass emotional torture

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You disgusting, disgraceful prick.
Her gaze traces down to his paws, and then to his feathered neck; up to the crown of his head. I see no crown upon your head, no? No jewel of marriage?
I will bathe in your blood.
Coy, tiny smile. Until there is one, I do not owe you shit.
Silence, after, until their return is made.