( He doesn't like the way that sits in him, the ominous sense of something he feels beginning to unfurl hollow in his bones, low in his belly. Their steps falter again, a little too much of his weight leaning on her before he regains himself with a sharp puff of cold air that burns his lungs.
Where he comes from, there are dragons. Where he comes from, there are nightmares and stories they tell children to frighten them into staying in their beds. Grumpkins and snarks. And then there are the colder things, the ones he hasn't met yet. The ones he'd be meeting soon. Things made of teeth and ice.
He studies her profile sharply, staggering step after staggering step, silent for a handful of considering seconds. )
Have you just decided to stop making any fucking sense at all, or what?
( Because being a sarcastic fucking twat is easier than acknowledging that dread. )
no subject
Where he comes from, there are dragons. Where he comes from, there are nightmares and stories they tell children to frighten them into staying in their beds. Grumpkins and snarks. And then there are the colder things, the ones he hasn't met yet. The ones he'd be meeting soon. Things made of teeth and ice.
He studies her profile sharply, staggering step after staggering step, silent for a handful of considering seconds. )
Have you just decided to stop making any fucking sense at all, or what?
( Because being a sarcastic fucking twat is easier than acknowledging that dread. )