Bearclaw Valley the masque of the red death

another long moment, another inhale. "indra was my mother." the words felt sullen to him, poisoned by some weakness, as if admitting there was one before him would somehow lessen his esteem. but avicus knew better, he felt. "the woman you met was her sister. aunt laurel." a bitter, faraway look in the single eye now that pierced through his crimsonal child but saw nothing.
"one day, aunt laurel, who was shit at keeping her children together, told my mother that they were leaving. decided for the both of them. and indra, because she was fucking weak," he hissed, "left me. she never came back." tonguetip to ripped lip. 
"i was born to her in this valley. where she left me was not far. where i found here was that meadow of ours," teeth gleaming in a glasgow grin. "she'd never come back for me. just resumed living her life."
a shaking breath,
his gaze fixated upon avicus — 
"so i took it."
a soft mummified laugh. 
"i killed indra."