Never Promised

At first, Atreyu thought maybe he was ignoring her question. The way he continued to work almost annoying her before he popped the eye out of the beaver and put it with the growing pile of usable meats. Perhaps one day she should try to trust him enough to send him hunting with Fairytale, no doubt the two of them could bring home something nice to eat. 'Touché.' He rumbled, returning Atreyu's attention from the now skinned beaver, they looked so strange without fur. Ultyr then revealed that he had gotten his scars from his very own father, a fact that absolutely horrified Atreyu. A parent attacking their child was unheard of in Judila, though she supposed some places were much harsher than her old home had been. Ultyr's voice cracked, halting in the middle of his sentence, and he got a distant look in his eyes that said he was chasing his own ghosts.

She nearly felt bad for dredging up what had to be a horrible memory, but there was a small part of her that took a morsel of pride that she had slipped through his armor. The spotted woman watched as Ultyr all but crumbled before her, guilt outweighing the pride as her holographic eyes roamed over his now slouching form. He seemed almost disheartened, and Atreyu was about to take pity on him and show him a bit of kindness before his vocals rumbled out of his throat once more. 'We were to be betrothed, you know. You and I.' For a moment, Atreyu didn't speak, just gawked at Ultyr as if he had grown a second head. No, her parents would never, would they? She had been betrothed to Azriel, and she doubted her mother would have changed her mind on that willingly.

"My mother would have never agreed to that." She said flatly, wondering if he was even telling the truth. Maybe he just wanted to hurt her for making him relive his bad memories. If that was the case, she could very well make things up that would equally horrify him. She was repulsed, but she did want to know how he thought they were going to be betrothed. "Who made the plan to betroth us? Your father?" She asked him, skepticism and maybe a bit of venom coloring her voice. Curiosity was getting the better of her, but she didn't want it to, completely repulsed by the idea of being tied to Ultyr. Hoping it was a lie, Atreyu reclined as she watched him continue his work.

"Talk." || Think || 'Hear.'