“I was lying,” Achille answers, deadpan. He watches Ryatah with eyes that darken in a rotting, angry sadness.
He remembers the first time he was caught in a lie.
The look of disgust on his mother’s face, the sheer terror trembling in his heart.
“I’ll have to tell your father,” she said firmly. “Lying to miss lessons. You’ll have to lead in the war one day, Achille. You must know that?”
Big, glowing eyes stared up at his mother. Silence was his only answer.
“Achille,” he growls eventually, gemstone gaze trailing the golden dust dripping into his fog. He draws back his head, almost offended that she would mix her magic with his without asking. His gaze is sharp and defensive when he stares at Ryatah, desperate to find some reason to ruin this interaction.
But that anger he harbors is perhaps muted by the pattering rain and dark forest—all Achille feels is such suffocating melancholy. It strikes him with a physical pain, one that mirrors a strike of lightning in the sky. He turns his head away again, sighing a heavy, burdened sigh.
“I don’t know where I’m going,” Achille coughs out. “I’m not from here.”
He practically barks like a scared dog, uncertain and barely willing to admit even that smallest secret.
He remembers the first time he was caught in a lie.
The look of disgust on his mother’s face, the sheer terror trembling in his heart.
“I’ll have to tell your father,” she said firmly. “Lying to miss lessons. You’ll have to lead in the war one day, Achille. You must know that?”
Big, glowing eyes stared up at his mother. Silence was his only answer.
“Achille,” he growls eventually, gemstone gaze trailing the golden dust dripping into his fog. He draws back his head, almost offended that she would mix her magic with his without asking. His gaze is sharp and defensive when he stares at Ryatah, desperate to find some reason to ruin this interaction.
But that anger he harbors is perhaps muted by the pattering rain and dark forest—all Achille feels is such suffocating melancholy. It strikes him with a physical pain, one that mirrors a strike of lightning in the sky. He turns his head away again, sighing a heavy, burdened sigh.
“I don’t know where I’m going,” Achille coughs out. “I’m not from here.”
He practically barks like a scared dog, uncertain and barely willing to admit even that smallest secret.
achille
a little bit of bad thing never hurt anyone
but too much of a good thing
is like a hand on your neck
@Ryatah