#:atticus

Atti,

How does the cloak fit?

I haven't seen you in some time my dear, am I to assume my brother has locked you away as the scum in the halls suggest? Do come and find me. 

Blood. 

Alecto was no stranger to blood, she knew the taste of it, the slick feel of the stuff on her fingers, and a million different ways to draw the crimson liquid from a human body. She knew what it was to be beaten until blood was all you could see, to be so lost is such player that it was impossible not to bite your lover so hard the taste of it danced on your tongue and what it was like to crave it. 

But she wasn't used to Atti's blood. 

It was everywhere, on her hands, her dress, and on him and for the first time in her life the sight of it truly made Alecto feel sick. Out of her pets he was by far her favorite, but until that moment the witch might not have been fully aware how she cared for him, how dear he was. She still could not admit to herself that he was nearly a child to her, despite their ages being nearly identical. And someone had hurt him, she had not protected him. 

You're not a protector, you're killer. This is your fault.

She stroked his hair and did her best to shove away the rage, the pure hatred and the part of her that wanted nothing more to take revenge, because she understood revenge. But she could not, would not leave his side.