05-04-2021, 03:05 PM
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[div style="max-width: 360px; font-family: palatino; color: #2e8b57; text-align: left; padding-top: 8px; padding-left: 10px"]HOW DO YOU RUN FROM Y[color=#5d8e93]OUR OWN MIND?
A harsh growl erupted from her throat. The Pitt she worked for? No. It clearly wasn't Dante's Pitt. A fact made clearer to her every day. He was stuck in an arrogant and bloodthirsty past. She wanted to part of it. "You know nothing of what I worked for."
Her blood boils with fury anew at the vile suggestion of manipulation. Without another word, the druid would attempt to fracture the earth beneath Dante, to ensnare any limb she could, nodding to Kold to strike if she deemed necessary. And Aine hoped she did. "Anyone- anyone who does so, will die a slaver's death." For it was no better. No better at all. Cruel. Unjust.
She still remembered. The struggle in her best friend's eyes. The pain and fight to remember. It broke her heart. To suggest doing the same to a child was unforgivable. Irredeemable. Enough to push the fae into more brutal action. Murder in her eyes. Only a strange sense of... Spirit froze the fleshweaver in place. Throwing her off guard. Hauntingly familiar. Like a ghost.
With it followed the boy's voice. Aine released a deep breath. Slowly nodded to Sweeny. The cub needed care. This was foolish behavior for a medic. Dante deserved nothing of her attention right now. He deserved nothing but a trip in the nile. Especially if they thought they should be anything like Stryker.
"... Let's just focus on- on getting you better." she murmured, lowering to a crouch besides Fragglerock. All this chatter about making him talk. He'd been through enough. "We- we'll take you to the white temple. I have herbs to help you there. We need to- we need to stop the bleeding, okay? You can rest there too."
[/td][/tr][/table]Her blood boils with fury anew at the vile suggestion of manipulation. Without another word, the druid would attempt to fracture the earth beneath Dante, to ensnare any limb she could, nodding to Kold to strike if she deemed necessary. And Aine hoped she did. "Anyone- anyone who does so, will die a slaver's death." For it was no better. No better at all. Cruel. Unjust.
She still remembered. The struggle in her best friend's eyes. The pain and fight to remember. It broke her heart. To suggest doing the same to a child was unforgivable. Irredeemable. Enough to push the fae into more brutal action. Murder in her eyes. Only a strange sense of... Spirit froze the fleshweaver in place. Throwing her off guard. Hauntingly familiar. Like a ghost.
With it followed the boy's voice. Aine released a deep breath. Slowly nodded to Sweeny. The cub needed care. This was foolish behavior for a medic. Dante deserved nothing of her attention right now. He deserved nothing but a trip in the nile. Especially if they thought they should be anything like Stryker.
"... Let's just focus on- on getting you better." she murmured, lowering to a crouch besides Fragglerock. All this chatter about making him talk. He'd been through enough. "We- we'll take you to the white temple. I have herbs to help you there. We need to- we need to stop the bleeding, okay? You can rest there too."
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