[ You can hear the bitter smile in his voice; his faith, the desiccated joke that it is. His faith, that venomous viper, all stinging teeth and spraying toxin. That hearth he'd turned into an inferno, an all-consuming blaze in his gut.
His shoulders slump against the back of his seat with a derisive snort, his chest trembling with low, amused chuckling. The smile feels foreign on him now.
He betrays himself again. Naturally would Gale think such a foul thing worth preserving; it had always been nothing but a blade that would be turned against him. If ever he'd had any concept of its power to heal and protect, he had been expecting too much to think that it would return to him now.
Godfrey still does not turn his head up to see him. Instead, his eyes roll upward, glaring to him through his eyelashes, his smile stretching to vicious excess. Silence roars in the room, penned in by Gale's charm.
Until Godfrey begins to speak. ]
I bound myself to perdition for you.
[ The words are seething from him through tightly-clenched teeth. Rage flashes just below the surface of his voice. His nose wrinkles like the muzzle of a wolf. ]
You disassembled me for your foul brood. I complied in my own destruction to please you. And still--
[ Godfrey's head twists to catch his eyes, like a serpent, flashing and dangerous. His tongue begins to move too quickly in his mouth, his heart pounding in his ears. ]
--still, you would presume to lecture me. You would tell me of love.You, a man who only knows matters of a warm heart when he eats them- you, whose hand was in mine as I turned my back on everything. You. You who has given nothing but to those who would rot this world from its core. You--
[ Godfrey does not shout - he is not the sort of man who lets the clap of thunder seep into his words. His is the rumble of thunderstorms to come; the gradual, earth-shattering crack of long-frozen hearts of ice. Godfrey takes a harsh breath. ]
You did not love me. You did not even understand me. You don't know the meaning of the word.
no subject
[ You can hear the bitter smile in his voice; his faith, the desiccated joke that it is. His faith, that venomous viper, all stinging teeth and spraying toxin. That hearth he'd turned into an inferno, an all-consuming blaze in his gut.
His shoulders slump against the back of his seat with a derisive snort, his chest trembling with low, amused chuckling. The smile feels foreign on him now.
He betrays himself again. Naturally would Gale think such a foul thing worth preserving; it had always been nothing but a blade that would be turned against him. If ever he'd had any concept of its power to heal and protect, he had been expecting too much to think that it would return to him now.
Godfrey still does not turn his head up to see him. Instead, his eyes roll upward, glaring to him through his eyelashes, his smile stretching to vicious excess. Silence roars in the room, penned in by Gale's charm.
Until Godfrey begins to speak. ]
I bound myself to perdition for you.
[ The words are seething from him through tightly-clenched teeth. Rage flashes just below the surface of his voice. His nose wrinkles like the muzzle of a wolf. ]
You disassembled me for your foul brood. I complied in my own destruction to please you. And still--
[ Godfrey's head twists to catch his eyes, like a serpent, flashing and dangerous. His tongue begins to move too quickly in his mouth, his heart pounding in his ears. ]
--still, you would presume to lecture me. You would tell me of love. You, a man who only knows matters of a warm heart when he eats them- you, whose hand was in mine as I turned my back on everything. You. You who has given nothing but to those who would rot this world from its core. You--
[ Godfrey does not shout - he is not the sort of man who lets the clap of thunder seep into his words. His is the rumble of thunderstorms to come; the gradual, earth-shattering crack of long-frozen hearts of ice. Godfrey takes a harsh breath. ]
You did not love me. You did not even understand me. You don't know the meaning of the word.