Ouroboros Spine You won't know your worth now, son, until you take a hit
Loner
seraphs sob at vermin fangs
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Ooc — Talamasca
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#7
The sickness came and went. The witch drew away from the mess she had produced and lay there, cheeks dirtying from the soil, and for a moment nuak thought of how easily he could strike at her; but he did not, still too overheated and too withered by the humidity.

She came to lay in the water next. Nuak almost lifted a lip, but he peered beyond her to where the sick puddle sat absorbing upon the stones, then back to her when she spoke.

Her voice was weak.

The tilt of his head spoke for his silence: so?

She did not care for it. He answered a moment later; thinking of how Avicus had looked upon the trinket, almost with disdain. Disinterest, more like. It is hidden now. Buried, where only the boy could find it.
Messages In This Thread
RE: You won't know your worth now, son, until you take a hit - by Glaukos - July 12, 2021, 07:25 PM