Raise the Wreck of Doubt

As she spewed her own hatred back at him, Aresenn couldn’t help but narrow his eyes. His lip curled up to expose his teeth ever so slightly in a frustrated snarl. Looking around the den, he could tell a lot of work had been put into it. She had to care about something. With a shift of his gaze, his attention found on the small, smoldering altar towards the opposite end of the den. It was where the incense was burning in the embers … but with a bit more fuel, he wondered what kind of blaze he could stoke. Leaving her where she stood, he crossed the room with aggravated intent, wedging a paw atop the herbs organized into pockets in the wall, and with more force necessary, scattered the contents over the floor with an attempt to fuel the dying flame. He could hear Aurelia's furious voice, but the words were lost on him. He wouldn’t be stopping until his point was made. He scattered two or three more organized stacks worth of medicinal remedies that he didn’t recognize before he started collapsing entire built-in shelves themselves. Sticking his forearms in the divets, and pressing down on the aged channels of dirt with as much weight as it required to cave them in. It was surprising how shallow they were. The smoke was beginning to cloud heavier- he wasn’t aware of what Sephiran’s toy had been doing behind him. But it was only when he had heard the magic words did he stop. Finally, A little cooperation.

"Aresenn Praetor"