Stone Circle vittorio

what sort of filthy secrets could a sister hold for another sister? merrick wondered silently to himself as he waited for laurel to speak. his aunt had seemed to pale even further, features filling with a pain the boy had not expected.
what price had his innocent horrible slut mother exacted from her sibling when she had fallen beneath merrick's teeth?
i know, the young coywolf almost breathed in automatic, smug response to what laurel had said, and his face slowly contorted into a tight death-mask of expertly feigned grief, shock curling his mouth, single eye welling with the sudden sting of salt.
— all to veil the sudden eager smile that choked to death in his throat.
"she's dead?" merrick cried in a low voice, the very picture of a confused and scared boy, one that seemed so young. "she's dead? i didn't ... she never c-came back for me. i —"
well, indra had not. he had waited and waited and waited, hunting with nunataq, learning about the stars from gannet; merrick had created an entirely new life and still indra had not come back.
he lowered his face toward the snowy ground, inhaling a ragged breath, exhaling a sob. merrick, the actor. merrick, who could only ever fake normalcy. merrick, and having to be alone in his own cold skin.