bitterness is thick like blood and cold as a wind sea breeze
if you must drink of me, take of me what you please
He feels the exhaustion root through him, the strain of watching over Bright and healing them both a strain on his reserves, but he turns a blind eye to it. He will think of it later, when he is by himself and able to rest. When he is finally able to find a solution to his twin’s current predicament, he is sure that he would be able to restore himself to full health once more. It was too much of a strain to be separated from her like this, both of their consciousness on different planes, living at different frequencies.
He doesn’t divulge such weaknesses to them though, family as though they may be, and instead regards them with a cool gaze, his face carefully neutral. “I didn’t think that,” he says simply. To be honest, he didn’t think of her gratefulness much, if at all. Whether she was properly thankful for his ability was of no consequence to him. They had made a bargain, he had stuck to the terms of it, and she was now healed.
That was the beginning and the end of it.
“I will keep that in mind,” at the offer of her aid, although he already knows that he won’t be calling on it anytime soon. He would rather not feel the weight of owing on his soul. He had regretted the bargain almost immediately; hated that others had expectations of him, hated that it felt like a collar. But he hadn’t backed out of it, for reasons he still wasn't sure about. Perhaps he had a deeper sense of family loyalty than he realized. Perhaps it was self preservation to make sure none succumbed to the disease.
Perhaps he was simply too lazy to bother with the technicalities.
Regardless, he watches her, thinking further about the bargain. “If you or yours need assistance, come find me.” He looks toward the stallion on the cliff, the eery yellow eyes and the way the darkness seems to wrap around him. “I am not an entirely heartless creature,” his smile is hollow as it curves on his features, finding her gaze and feeling that strange tension between them. “I will do what I can.”
On his terms, perhaps, but it would be done.
woolf
I am loathed to say it's the devil's taste
