Phantom pain

Macabre's mannerisms were quite a bit different than his own. When he was a bit younger he'd been much more carefree but as he neared the point where he'd be considered a yearling he'd grown a bit more restrained, like the long night had permanently darkened some part of him. Veigar watched curiously as the boy approached, noting the way the black and white markings on his face seemed to blur together in his vision, turning to a hazy shade of grey. "I'm Veigar," he returned his enthusiastic greeting with only a minuscule fraction of the same energy. "No," he lied to his question, after a moment of hesitation. His father had been Harbringr Klein but he'd died before he'd even been born. Veigar was no Klein and wouldn't claim to be one. "But yeah, this place is kind of overrunning with Kleins. You have a bunch of brothers and sisters too, right?"