#ivithia

𝐈𝐭 𝐰𝐚𝐬𝐧'𝐭 𝐚 𝐟𝐮𝐧𝐧𝐲 𝐬𝐢𝐭𝐮𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧,     and he knew that. but that didn’t change the fact that he had to hold back a snort at the thought. “is that what that was? it’s barely the size of my hand,” he muttered, unable to help the comment despite the fact that it was a serious situation.     it wasn’t like it was a lie, either - but that’s probably because he rarely used daggers, so he wasn’t used to their small size.     “i will protect it with my life,” he muttered, a quick correction to cover the joke, since there was no place for it. “you need not worry about that.”

@ivithia​ asked: “When all is blood, blood is all.”

                𝐻𝐸   𝐻𝐴𝑆   𝑆𝐸𝐸𝑁   𝑀𝑈𝐶𝐻   𝑂𝐹   𝐼𝑇 .        of   blood .     of   how   it   spills  ,     and   the   directions   in   which   it   flows .      why  ,     his   very   life   is   blood  ,      though   he   has   shirked   the   bond   of   blood   which   ties   him   to   people   and   places   that   he   never   truly   felt   part   of .     there   lies   blood   that   flows   towards   a   situation   where   he   might   spill   without   worry .       his   sword   is   dug   into   the   earth ;    between   his   feet   where   he   sits   before   her  .     calloused   thumb   worrying   at   the   base   of   his   other   palm    as   he   speaks .