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

Lorcan hummed, a low, quiet sound of acknowledgment as he moved to collect the pile Envy had unearthed. His steps were measured, deliberate, as he bent to take hold of the roots she'd discarded. His golden eyes flicked toward her, sharp and amused, as she flitted through the undergrowth like a restless spirit.

No, he replied plainly to her question, his voice even and smooth. I don’t keep anyone close. There was no bitterness to his tone, just a matter-of-fact quality that carried the weight of a truth he had long since accepted.

As she barked her playful orders, swiping his muzzle with her tail before disappearing again into the bracken, Lorcan shook his head faintly. A smirk pulled at his lips as he hefted the bundle she’d pointed to, the task no real burden to him.

Slacking? he echoed with mock indignation, his tone light despite the sharpness of his usual demeanor. I’m carrying your mess, aren’t I? He moved to follow her erratic path, his gaze lingering on the spots where she vanished and reappeared, his stride steady and unhurried.

And you—do you keep anyone close, Envy? The tease in his voice was faint, but it lingered in the air between them.