[ Of course he doesn't care what Godfrey thinks of him. Had he ever? What reason had the kindred to care what their cattle thought of them?
But this was the way of this undead scourge. The aesthetics of caring without commitment. Not even he had it in his cold heart to be moved by one beneath him; even if they could muster up such feelings, certainly their pride would not allow kine to be its source.
Which really only made this conversation a more thorough waste of everybody's time. It mattered very little what words he found. He would never find the magical combination that would make Gale care. He hadn't any left in him.
He feels his blood boil as he watches him, retracting that hollow aesthetic he'd extended in a fit as soon as Godfrey disbelieves him for it. The artifice in him, the mockery he makes as he tries to emulate what he once has - it's almost saddening. It may have been, were he looking at anybody else.
Not from him, though. Godfrey's head hangs low, his eyes bright and furious behind golden strands. ]
I can see your predicament. You had no problem leashing and collaring me when I was soft and pliable. You even taught me tricks.
[ The disgust on that word, tricks, is palpable. He hopes he knows just what he means. All that closeness, all the unguarded skinship Gale had been perfectly comfortable with, back when he had the promise of a good dog.
Godfrey leans forward again, straining against the groaning back of his chair, and pitches his voice low; ]
You'll have a harder time now that I know the power I have held.
no subject
[ Of course he doesn't care what Godfrey thinks of him. Had he ever? What reason had the kindred to care what their cattle thought of them?
But this was the way of this undead scourge. The aesthetics of caring without commitment. Not even he had it in his cold heart to be moved by one beneath him; even if they could muster up such feelings, certainly their pride would not allow kine to be its source.
Which really only made this conversation a more thorough waste of everybody's time. It mattered very little what words he found. He would never find the magical combination that would make Gale care. He hadn't any left in him.
He feels his blood boil as he watches him, retracting that hollow aesthetic he'd extended in a fit as soon as Godfrey disbelieves him for it. The artifice in him, the mockery he makes as he tries to emulate what he once has - it's almost saddening. It may have been, were he looking at anybody else.
Not from him, though. Godfrey's head hangs low, his eyes bright and furious behind golden strands. ]
I can see your predicament. You had no problem leashing and collaring me when I was soft and pliable. You even taught me tricks.
[ The disgust on that word, tricks, is palpable. He hopes he knows just what he means. All that closeness, all the unguarded skinship Gale had been perfectly comfortable with, back when he had the promise of a good dog.
Godfrey leans forward again, straining against the groaning back of his chair, and pitches his voice low; ]
You'll have a harder time now that I know the power I have held.