[ Short, and sharp. No, he's not thinking this through. He's showing more remorse at her face than he would if he were alone. He doesn't know what he's faking and what's real anymore. Or what he deserves, if he deserves anything at all. ]
She wrote a story, you know. My mundane. Unfinished, as with so many others. In it, I did fall to Jotunnheim. A killer, a misguided hatchling blown too far from the nest, a terror, a -- a monster.
But a young one, and a fertile one.
The first child I've ever truly wanted to love, and she was taken from my arms. And I ... deserved it.
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[ Short, and sharp. No, he's not thinking this through. He's showing more remorse at her face than he would if he were alone. He doesn't know what he's faking and what's real anymore. Or what he deserves, if he deserves anything at all. ]
She wrote a story, you know. My mundane. Unfinished, as with so many others. In it, I did fall to Jotunnheim. A killer, a misguided hatchling blown too far from the nest, a terror, a -- a monster.
But a young one, and a fertile one.
The first child I've ever truly wanted to love, and she was taken from my arms. And I ... deserved it.