Rising Sun Valley skwila

He's dead. Well that was a bummer. Moreso for her than him. Anselm might have felt a shred of remorse for thumbing so clumsily over what was so clearly a wound, if he was not so busy thinking of himself.

After all, he owed this stranger nothing -- least of all his kindness.

Heda's breaths came in ragged. She deserved none of this vitriol, yet Anselm thrust the blade all the same. Vhat, your god could not save him?