— I'm not here looking for absolution —
He would see her go to her knees, he thinks, the savagery in the back of his mind nearly ruthless. There is joy in the way that she defies him, but also fury, and he finds that he cannot full separate them in his head. They are utterly combined and he remembers what it had felt like the first time that they had come together; the way such things had manifested into their coupling and then into the two children.
It infuriates him to know this is partially of his own doing.
And it forces him to focus, instead, on her own part in it.
“Pity that this is your best,” he says, voice never changing inflection, despite the way that he would snarl if he were to drop this mask he wears. His depthless eyes sharpen on her again and he wonders what she would look like, truly, if he were to stop her in her tracks completely. If he were to simply be done with her. Would her face freeze in horror? Would he regret it tomorrow? Would he forget her entirely?
The smirk is enough to stir enough in him to stand away from the tree, standing up from it and focusing on her again entirely. His mouth twists into something nearly ugly as his tail flicks behind him.
With a force that surprises him, he grabs onto her life-force, feeling it pulse in his hands.
“Children should have respect,” he growls, pulling tighter than expected.
“You should have respect, Gospel,” this quieter, refusing to let go.
