Hideaway Strath drowning in calm waters

Kynareth’s eyes roam over her perfect face as she speaks again. Talks about how bad of a person she was and how her husband dug her out of that pit. How she could possibly have redemption and for a minute Kyn doesn’t understand her at all for a whole different reason. His face only vaguely shifts, eyes squinting and cheeks becoming firm with tension. It’s an expression of wonder and confusion all at once.

Then all of a sudden she’s leaning against him, her warmth sinking into his own pelt. He doesn’t move, thinking that if he does she’d pull away. Yet, he’s pulled from his reverie when she continues. Speaking of dying for him only to see his pups have a normal life and at that his brows furrow slightly.

Already he knows what he’s about to say will probably throw them into another argument. What’s the point of a conversation if one can’t say what they wish? Speak their opinion and the such. So he does.

Beginning with a sigh he starts from the beginning. “If you lived that life once before then why not accept it? It’s easier than continuously chasing redemption. Trying to please others to make up for what you’ve done in the past. It never works. You’ll never get redemption and you don’t need it. The way I live makes you stronger. Resilient. Immortal; until you’re not and your heart stops beating.” His voice hums against her, it’s a deep, low sounding and confident. He’s very sure of himself when he says it. He is quite literally the epitome of an evil, ruthless killer that cares not for what others think of him or his actions. 

“It’s easier to accept it as a part of yourself. Allow it to rule your entire being; your actions, your thoughts. That’s what I’ve done my entire life and it’s what I will continue to do until I die a bloody battle and rot into the earth.” 

His eyes look out into the horizon and his brows furrow thinking of his future children. They will be like him. They will be warriors, they will not hesitate to kill, they will be ruthless and confident. They must be. Or he’ll kill them once he figures out they can’t be. Whether it be when they’re six months old, or three years old, it doesn’t matter. They will tower over him with might and train to become better than even Kynareth himself. 

“As for my children, Leigh. I wouldn’t get involved in that.” He whispers easily. No warning in his voice. He says it just as soft as he spoke earlier. “They will be like me. They will kill without hesitation. They will train to become stronger than me one day. If they cannot carry on the Saint tradition; they will die. This is the way it must be.”