“oh, i think i know plenty.” henley refutes with ease.
herbert fancies himself an intellect—a scientist. she’s all too eager to break such a delusion. is he a man or a mouse? the answer is quite obvious. sniveling, weak, a fragile ego… he’s a poor man’s imitation of a genius. like a child’s drawing, crudely made and shackled together.
“your… research, i shall call it, is… quaint.”
it’s a kinder way of putting it, but even so, henley makes her cruel intentions obvious through her stare and tone combined.
“it’s commendable, really. how much you can learn by essentially smashing sticks and rocks together.”
“it’s how humans discovered fire, after all… a great tool,” she stares at him down her nose, her figure imposing and cold, ”but useless in the hands of a fool.”
❝ you are vile. you are nothing. what mark will you leave behind? you will be nothing within the wake of my legacy. ❞ A PREACHER'S VERSE THAT FALLS FROM A FALSE GOD'S LIPS. the same mouth that spoke of himself within godhood — — cavemen created fire, but was it not a god who bestowed those tools to their hands? herbert circles around henley like a snake in the grass as nostrils flare in irritability.
❝ my research that you condescend to so easily will conquer what ever other fool in this wretched existence dreams of. ❞ he's striking where he deems fit, grasping at threads to land any sort of blow. her lips quirk to an amused smirk — — 𝙰𝚂 𝙸𝙵 𝚂𝙷𝙴'𝚜 𝚆𝙰𝚃𝙲𝙷𝙸𝙽𝙶 𝙰 𝚁𝙰𝚃 𝙵𝙻𝙾𝚄𝙽𝙳𝙴𝚁 𝙸𝙽 𝙰 𝙼𝙾𝚄𝚂𝙴𝚃𝚁𝙰𝙿. it only seems to vex him more. his jaw tightens as he steps closer, chin jutting upward.
❝ smashing sticks together? hah! how barbaric and underwhelming of a comparison. please, you do amuse me, MS…. HENLEY, is it? have you simply come to waste my time with elementary banter about intellect? ❞
