[private] my heart has started to separate, atrox

[atrox]

hangman hooded, softly swinging; don't close the coffin yet, I'm alive

Perhaps it should be surprising that there is peace in her presence when he has known so little of it in his duties of his father, when so much of her gaze reminds him of Ryatah, but in these moments, he feels it. He feels something warm in his chest, something protective, and he lets it grow slowly—like embers that catch kindling. Let him enjoy this one thing, he thinks, as he watches her, holds onto this moment.

Tomorrow, he will be alone enough.

Today, he can enjoy this.

At her promise, he just nods and makes a noncommittal noise in the back of his throat. It is enough to assuage whatever fears he may have (the boy would not remember him either way, he knows, but there is something in Magnus acknowledging it that Atrox cannot bear) and he gladly turns from the topic. The less that he is forced to think of his failures as a father, at the loss he has suffered there, the better.

Instead, he focuses wholly on her, his mouth pulled tight. “They are…” his voice fades off and he looks in the direction of the kingdom, “fine.” He settles on the word and rolls his scarred shoulders. “Quiet in a way that they shouldn’t be, I suppose, considering.” He knows that Beqanna has once again shaken away. Has drowned kingdoms and resurrected new ones. But the dust has not settled from the population. They have, instead, tucked themselves away—buried their head in the sand. Let the ocean come.

“Which usually means that they will not be quiet for long.”

His smile is tight as he finds her gaze.

“You and your home should be prepared for that."

ATROX | THE PANTHER KING

@Casimira