Porcupine Ridge I'll worship like a dog at the shrine of your lies

Lorcan’s dark eyes glinted with amusement as Envy spoke, her words carrying that curious blend of loyalty and mischief he found so enticing. She was a peculiar creature, twisted and fascinating, her devotion simmering beneath the surface in a way that felt both endearing and dangerous. He loved to play with fire, and she was every spark.

His brow arched at the names she murmured with conspiratorial flair—Muskrat and Nutu-yikruk. Little squeakers, huh? Intriguing and bizarre, like everything about her. His grin widened, sharp and wicked, leaning just a fraction closer to her.

Little squeakers watching from above, he mused, his voice a low hum of amusement. I’ll keep my eyes open. Wouldn’t want them tattling on me, now would we? The thought of being watched didn’t seem to bother him; if anything, it amused him.

He let the silence linger for a moment, his gaze holding hers with deliberate intensity. And you, he murmured, his tone slipping into something velvety and teasing. You’d dig me up, huh? Piece me back together? That’s devotion, darling.

His tail flicked lazily behind him, a gesture as nonchalant as his tone, though the sharp glint in his eye betrayed his endless appetite for games. I think I’ll keep you around, Envy. Someone who doesn’t fail... that’s someone worth having close.

The way he spoke, smooth and honeyed, always seemed to leave room for ambiguity, leaving others to wonder just how much he truly meant. But there was a flicker in his gaze—something genuine, buried deep beneath the jest and the charm. For now, he’d follow her lead, heed her advice, and keep an eye on the skies for her mysterious little spies.