Moonspear fulthark

When all was said and done, Larus would not even remember this conversation. It would stab at him in the dark on some nights; the timbre of the other man's voice, the swarthy completion of his coat, or those eyes - each would haunt him until so fragmented that they were useless.

His immediate response was oddly focused. His posture sagged further, his head hanging pathetically, but with a resigned expression. He nodded glumly and remarked, That's a fair assessment. Almost clinical, but deeply wounded by the refusal, accepting in the end that there was no place for him here.

He began to tawdle off after that.