[ Iorveth keeps his expression carefully still, the picture of neutrality. The Woodland Fox has killed countless brothers, fathers, sons, seen resentment in all shapes and sizes. He only shifts his weight from one foot to the other, regarding the starved man with distant caution.
"You... you did this to me." Defeated, the spawn hooks his weak fingers into the tarnished gold bars of the cell. Upright, he'd likely cut a more impressive figure－ tall and broad, barrel-chested－ but imprisonment seems to have bent him, his spine curled to match his broken spirit. "You lied to me. You gave me to him. And now I have nothing."
A sharp exhale, as if saying the words out loud have shattered something in him. "Gods, please, I don't want to die down here."
Some of the spawn around him look tiredly on, as if it's been centuries of hearing someone say this at least once a day. An endless rotation of despair and misery. Even their own hopelessness has become rote. ]
no subject
"You... you did this to me." Defeated, the spawn hooks his weak fingers into the tarnished gold bars of the cell. Upright, he'd likely cut a more impressive figure－ tall and broad, barrel-chested－ but imprisonment seems to have bent him, his spine curled to match his broken spirit. "You lied to me. You gave me to him. And now I have nothing."
A sharp exhale, as if saying the words out loud have shattered something in him. "Gods, please, I don't want to die down here."
Some of the spawn around him look tiredly on, as if it's been centuries of hearing someone say this at least once a day. An endless rotation of despair and misery. Even their own hopelessness has become rote. ]