— I'm not here looking for absolution —
They are frustrating things and if he was more reflective, he may recognize Gospel’s and his own stubbornness reflected back at them. But he has never been particularly good at seeing his own faults and there is no true paternal warmth to soften his opinion of them, so instead he feels nothing but annoyance.
The slightest hint of rage if they were more worthy of his true wrath.
His lips pull back from his teeth in a show of his anger, although it is not his teeth and hoof that they need to worry about. His tail flicks, whips against his haunches, and he focuses on the sting for a moment to distract himself from the way that his throat grows warm with the words currently unsaid.
“Do you always evade questions when an elder asks you?” he turns a question back on them and this time, there is a slight heat to his words. He should not have to answer to children—let alone ones that he is responsible for bringing into the world. His temper flares again, this time growing cold, and he runs his fingers across their life force. He pulls on the strings of it, drags his knuckles against the length of it.
Perhaps they feel nothing.
Perhaps they feel that strange emptying—that sensation of being drained dry.
He stops quickly enough. Releases his grip to let it flood back into them fully, and his eyes never leave them. “Answer me before you regret it,” he says between gritted teeth, taking a step forward again. “I helped create you and I would be more than glad to be your undoing.”
Another pause as he stares into them hard.
“Now let me ask again: where is your mother?”
