Duskfire Glacier demeter

all women? faust echoed, his brow lifting as he regarded her. curiosity flickered in his eyes, though it was tempered by something else—something unreadable. maybe envy— how he would've liked to be somewhere with all women!
he watched her, the way she stopped eating, the way her voice quieted when she spoke of her family. there was a loneliness in it, in her, one he recognized too well.
but he did not dwell on it. he was not one for sympathy, nor for sentimentality.
i know, he said finally, gaze shifting away. i know i do not want to be him.
he did not speak his father’s name. did not let it pass his lips. the man had given him nothing but blood, and faust had taken it and built himself into something else entirely.
something better.