Overture Downs oh, i think you're standing on my left foot

He did not consider the appraising way her eyes roved him at times—a display of interest that was missed entirely upon him, and if honest, would have likely been as well had he not been so distraught. Not now—not after—

—his jaw grit—the flounce of her tone, likely something that encouraged retaliation in others, and he found the corners of his mouth try to lift, spare falling instead with a downward moue. “Akavir,” he returned, reluctant to speak in the moment of his worries—his concerns.

A death sentence wasn’t exactly trivial, and he found himself rolling his shoulders back, a harsh laugh escaping him in a chuff. “Wouldn’t know where to start—except my daughter apparently has an incurable disease that’s going to drive her mad, shuts her mind down and will eventually kill her.”

Fatal, Lilitu had said.

Weren’t parents supposed to outlive their children?

“You don’t happen to know a magic cure, do you, Iris?”