"What would you like me to say, Kay?" Casimir has never been the combative type, he'd gotten rather proficient at being slick with both his words and his hands, but the darkness was heavy, it was an inevitable for him, but the dhampir had always held onto the conviction that even if he couldn't escape it, he could salvage those he cared for from its cold and calloused grasp.
"There are whispers that Lusacan is coming," freed from his hidden depths within Avalon, blighting the world with each step closer he took to freedom. Casimir within this fleeting moment of vulnerability was certain he'd told Kay little of the Dragon of Night, but everyone within Lysara who had some vestige of a clue had heard the dragon's name uttered and should know to be afraid of what this meant.
Kay opens his mouth to speak again only to once again close it and this time grimace. He'd been fairly uninvolved in everything going on and he liked it that way, he loved it that way actually. If he'd wanted to do anything expected of him, he wouldn't have left home. Giving up his nobility had meant he was free, he'd pointed out over and over to Araceli that she didn't owe anyone anything, didn't have to put her life on the line time and time again. And he looks across the bar at Casimir and he wants to tell him the same thing. Except he knows Cas, he knows Araceli, he knows that at the center of them, they're far better people than he. "Okay." He downs the whiskey in his own glass and goes about pouring himself another. "Okay, on a scale of one to ten, how fucked are we?"




















