He could read the annoyance in her body language, but he found it so very hard to care again, when caring only made it easier for others to wound him. Fox's eyes met feline, and though he couldn't narrow them further at her opening remark, invisible hackles still bristled. Talking had been the cause of his fall from grace, no words sufficient, no truth acceptable enough to sway hearts that had arrived arrayed against him for trying to help.
If he could have ignored it and had it go away he certainly would have done so. He was not so naive, however. He ran that day and night over and over in his head, replaying the words he had spoken, that Edrei had spoken... that they had spoken. They had followed him in his fever dreams in the depths of his sickness, distorted and cruel, and had been waiting for him when he'd returned to consciousness, a bitter refrain reminding him of the cost of his actions. The road to Hell was paved with good intentions, his world had said, and he had lived the proof of it more than once. That didn't make this most recent time hurt any less, though.
Her declaration finally startled a bark of disbelieving laughter from him, a dark and twisted sound so unlike the face he had always taken care to present before. His song faded, echoing through the tunnels as he gripped the lantern until his knuckles ached, and the light shook and danced around the walls from the tremble in his hand. "You, who had nothing but 'could haves' and 'should haves?' Who said straight out that you didn't like it? That I was suspicious for caring what the people I trusted most," past tense, "thought?" He turned away, walking again, restlessly trying to escape the pain and anger that twisted through him like thorny, poisoned vines.
"What do you think happened to me?" His voice was bitter as Isuma shook against him, more than a little afraid of the darkness that had risen in her bonded's heart. "People are people, no matter the world. Sweet words to your face when you have something they want, but give them long enough and they'll stab you in the back once they're done with you. At least they only used words, not knives this time." Though he would have preferred the knives, truth be told. Cleaner cuts, and faster to heal than the wounds left by words that no healer could reach.
If he could have ignored it and had it go away he certainly would have done so. He was not so naive, however. He ran that day and night over and over in his head, replaying the words he had spoken, that Edrei had spoken... that they had spoken. They had followed him in his fever dreams in the depths of his sickness, distorted and cruel, and had been waiting for him when he'd returned to consciousness, a bitter refrain reminding him of the cost of his actions. The road to Hell was paved with good intentions, his world had said, and he had lived the proof of it more than once. That didn't make this most recent time hurt any less, though.
Her declaration finally startled a bark of disbelieving laughter from him, a dark and twisted sound so unlike the face he had always taken care to present before. His song faded, echoing through the tunnels as he gripped the lantern until his knuckles ached, and the light shook and danced around the walls from the tremble in his hand. "You, who had nothing but 'could haves' and 'should haves?' Who said straight out that you didn't like it? That I was suspicious for caring what the people I trusted most," past tense, "thought?" He turned away, walking again, restlessly trying to escape the pain and anger that twisted through him like thorny, poisoned vines.
"What do you think happened to me?" His voice was bitter as Isuma shook against him, more than a little afraid of the darkness that had risen in her bonded's heart. "People are people, no matter the world. Sweet words to your face when you have something they want, but give them long enough and they'll stab you in the back once they're done with you. At least they only used words, not knives this time." Though he would have preferred the knives, truth be told. Cleaner cuts, and faster to heal than the wounds left by words that no healer could reach.
