Having gotten it out in the air, it's suddenly terrible, awkward and strange, to be so vulnerable. He tries to shake it off, almost literally, with a convulsive, full-body shiver, but it's no use. There's no way out, except through.
"A criminal from White Gryphon," He says, at last, not quite able to look at Viktor, and not sure why. It's humiliating, embarrassing, as if he were plucked naked and put before an audience, "Someone I'd met before, someone we'd caught, and then exiled. We don't execute people, above my objections, we just— we sent him into the wilderness, presumably to die. But of course he came back."
He falls silent, ears back, and feathers slicked-down with distress. There's the strange need, yet again, to justify himself: that he wasn't weak, wasn't unwary, to have been caught by such a hideous little worm of a man, and yet... And yet he had been caught, hadn't he? Inexcusable arrogance.
"Of course, there's always the chance for a daring escape, but— it'd been days, and I was in a bad way. In a way, we're neither of us all that far from death," He manages it then, to look up, and see what Viktor is making of all this, to meet his eyes, "What rankles most was, we had the chance to stop him, and we chose not to. But here... I can at least make sure we're not— that it's safe. That you're safe. Even if that does mean disappointing you."
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Having gotten it out in the air, it's suddenly terrible, awkward and strange, to be so vulnerable. He tries to shake it off, almost literally, with a convulsive, full-body shiver, but it's no use. There's no way out, except through.
"A criminal from White Gryphon," He says, at last, not quite able to look at Viktor, and not sure why. It's humiliating, embarrassing, as if he were plucked naked and put before an audience, "Someone I'd met before, someone we'd caught, and then exiled. We don't execute people, above my objections, we just— we sent him into the wilderness, presumably to die. But of course he came back."
He falls silent, ears back, and feathers slicked-down with distress. There's the strange need, yet again, to justify himself: that he wasn't weak, wasn't unwary, to have been caught by such a hideous little worm of a man, and yet... And yet he had been caught, hadn't he? Inexcusable arrogance.
"Of course, there's always the chance for a daring escape, but— it'd been days, and I was in a bad way. In a way, we're neither of us all that far from death," He manages it then, to look up, and see what Viktor is making of all this, to meet his eyes, "What rankles most was, we had the chance to stop him, and we chose not to. But here... I can at least make sure we're not— that it's safe. That you're safe. Even if that does mean disappointing you."