braying jackass

That Abaven had burned twice was news to him, but not surprising. The land, it seemed, was as prone to melodrama as its people. "Perhaps. Nature has a way of rebuilding, but I wouldn't put too much hope in it returning to what it was before." It was likely the balance of plant life had shifted. It would be an arms race to see who could put down roots and spread out the fastest.

In response to her comment about still feeling the loss Valentine simply nodded. Though he had been largely indifferent to Shaye save for the occasional well deserved eye roll, it was clear her people had loved her. Though he had come here to provide rude commentary to the fights he was trying his best to rein in his tongue for this grandkid's sake, at least as far as her grief went. If she dipped into any other topic he held derision for there was no guarantee he'd make himself behave.

Ah, so this one hadn't been whelped by Shaye. That meant she belonged to the sentient wart. Valentine was not at all surprised Theory's mother had ended up being as good a mother as she had been beautiful. Shocker. Who would have thought a sniveling ho midget would make a terrible caregiver? He didn't know the particulars but Valentine was willing to bet that puppy-Theory would have found anyone with whelping hardware to be a better mother than her actual mother. Not that he was necessarily knocking Shaye there. He just thought that little of the ugly little beast he'd glimpsed at Rhyme's side.

It also was no surprise to him that Rhyme wasn't doing well. No doubt losing Shaye - since the two had clearly been so close - had been hard on him. Valentine didn't fault him for grieving. That was a natural response to loss. "I'm not surprised the loss hit him hard," he offered carefully. Though his thoughts had been nasty he'd deliberately kept his expression neutral so the breadth of his disgust would remain hidden from her. Best not to start anything there. "It was sudden, wasn't it?"