Lone Star Mountain skittering goblets of bile

and merrick stared back haggardly, incensed that the one who answered his call was not avicus, but a scarfaced brush of soft ashrose over a hard frame. the prettiness of the stranger only hardened his one-lantern stare. 
"my child."
a father's failure uttered aloud; the iniquity of allowing his family to crumble and his sense of bearkissed structure to fade.
"are you searching too"
blackhoney burble; dangerous; dangerous, i'll eat your heart