Moonspear i’m on the dark side of a hollow hill

arcturus' gaze smoldered, and he looked away -- for he had seen the simplest trace of amusement on dirge's countenance, and it set his heart aflame. throughout his burning sense of shame, arcturus was still invested in the answer. he grappled with the response, a slight o forming on his dark lips.

if hydra had not been dirge's first, was he not dishonored? arcturus' woeful outlook on sexual propriety was, well, terrible -- he had about the same grasp and understanding of sex and love as he had an understanding of the infinite cosmos. in summation, like other parts of him, it was pitifully small.

"is that not a bad thing?" arcturus mumbled, shaking his head in response to dirge's following query. it was not that the season had him bothered -- ok, it was that the season had him bothered. it was that he did not understand how to handle it. how to handle what had been done, and what had yet to come.