#d: queue

   “This how you want me, aye?” Corner of his mouth is upturned in a smirk, an eyebrow quirked in question. His knees force the boards beneath him to creak, and he wonders how long they have in his cabin before Adewale knocks. “Down so low you can feel powerful, Kassandra? You’ve me on my knees, what will you do now?”

   “Haha, then what?”

   “Of course, dearest. I always have, I think. Before, all my life had been colorless. Muted. Monotone. Now, with you at my side, my eyes are open. Color surrounds me, and you are the brightest of them all.”

   “I never claimed to be a good liar, Miss Frye,” Jonathan smiles thinly, thinking little of it. Her disbelief was enough to show she couldn’t fathom what he spoke of. “Werewolves are quite real as well, though I’ve only caught one in the middle of their shift.”

   “You know I cannot,” He says it over his shoulder, knowing Clarus will catch up with him. “With the hounds of Niflheim snarling at our borders, I cannot rest.”

   “Of course not, Miss Keyleth. It would be better for the both of you if none knew, but it would be best for you two to come to terms with what may happen should word spread.”

   “Careful, lass,” Voice low, carried from the depths of his throat. Edward’s hands rest on top of her hips, well aware of the power she holds where she sits. “You’re on the edge of something undesirable.”

   “You say it like it’s a simple task. As though I am swearing off red meats, or cutting sugar from my diet,” Jonathan snarls, nearly unaware of his tone. “I am half of a whole person without it, Ariana. There is no resistance, there is only submission.”