His betters for the most part had no insight into his personal life, of course, that might also be because he was a rock who made no friends and lived very little outside of his duty of serving them. Deathbelle knew some, but he did not find her as easy to speak to as he once had, now that she was Empress.
Zee began her grooming across his face, and he sighed softly, leaning into her touch. Was it wrong of him to build a friendship with Zee? Very likely it would cause him pain and heartbreak, and in the end would prove a mistake. For the first time in his life, he wasn’t sure if he cared about the consequences.
She mentioned choice, and he only grunted noncomitally in response. He wasn’t certain what it would mean, to have a choice. He only knew that the thought of truly hurting Zee made him angry to his core. It felt like… like there was injustice in the world. What a foolish, pointless thought for a slave.
“I’m sure it’s better then I have ever achieved” he promised her, before casting his own gaze upwards. “Hmm” he said. “We can continue tomorrow, we’ll bring what we have so far and sort them in my den until we are tired enough to slumber” he said, offering her an easy way to slip into his den where she would be safe from her fear of thunderstorms, in case the darkening sky became something more. She was, after all, his friend, and it felt right to offer this to her. He was glad the conversation had moved away from his status as a slave, and of a time when he might have to scar her. He didn’t want to think on things that would roll away the control he held over his anger.
Bloodletter
