what happens next
09-26-2018, 09:59 AM
Dying in the snow was preferable to living in a dark, dirty hole, although if it was up to Basileus he would be literally anywhere else and alive. If his options were to stay where he was or die then of course he'd choose death. This was not how a man should live. He had been stripped of his dignity and laid low, and now he writhed around in the muck like a worm. Basileus was disgusted by his own existence. Not that long ago he'd thought he cuoldn't sink any lower, but this metal dungeon had taught him otherwise. His gaze drifted towards the latch as Enrico began to speak to him again and then he sighed peevishly. His lips curled as another wave of anger rolled over him. Once upon a time this man had been his mentor. Basileus had looked up to Enrico. He'd envied his position in the cosca, his strength, his cunning. And now what was he to him? A trophy? A toy? "Comfort," he sneered back. All of this, his situation, his memories, they exhausted him. His anger wavered and gave way to fatigue. He answered Enrico's question with a question of his own. "What is the point of any of this?" |