Qualm

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she was quick the point the anti-empyrean, commanding her wods over his ears, and yet he found himself angry, blatantly wishing to disregard the asinine commands that dared to seep from her maw, and yet, this Glaciem had become hers. He was not the fore-front of it and though anger burned in his chest, it were his eyes that she would see. the demon's gates would open to something of neutrality, not allowing her ot know of the anger brewing beneath his breast, "then we leave," the statement needed no more, needed nothing of repentance, for he had nothing to argue with her, "Then you are pregnant," dare she idly throw the word and privilege of brith around without explicitly explaining that it was from her womb? her children? her promise? The paladin's lips would part a single time more for him to inquire, for him to place what he felt was his right, "And what home? What home is it we go? To Valhalla? I would prefer a child of ours know of it's parentage, I would prefer we visit our birth place, and father's burial ground," he still had his connections his drawings and if she were as indifferent as he often placed her, it should have been without any macabre argument that she not mind, aye?