@audaciis ; cont.
Therion frowns, teeth bared under his mask.
“ Your father is perceptive, my lord. Doubtless he’d realise you’ve gone somewhere sooner than you would think. ”
Slitted pupils eye the garments M’hilo is carrying. So that was his plan...
“ You know, I’m sure you could at least say something to His Majesty about this... He is an understanding soul, after all. ”
Almost too much so, perhaps - who would have thought the Warrior King to be so caring under that harsh-looking exterior, to take in Lord M’hilo as his own... and even give Therion any time of day. (Of course, such kindness comes at the cost of hushed, discontented murmurs from nobles of a crueler streak. But those faceless few are exactly why Therion stays).
“ ... Alas, I know you are the restless type. ” He sighs, before his gaze sharpens once more. “ But if you truly are not going to say anything to your father, then you’d best make it very quick. ”
