One by one, ha-rah ha-rah. A crooked grin split his jaw as he turned to find the others filing to the top of the cliffs. Kersey floats to the tangle of their twisted siblings, and he can not utter a single word of caution. Raelynx is last, the one of fire sports a coat of charcoal and Kult wonders why that is.
It's Nicia's touch that derails his silent train of thought, making him cringe and toss his head away. She would do as she pleased he knew, but that didn't mean he had to go and enjoy it. His flat eyes sink, as he recoils inwardly, turning himself inside so as to display the desired outward farce. "Sister." He says simply, before he can find the opportunity to move away.
Luckily for a while Raelynx takes center stage, her doting concerns wash away his discomfort and he can go back to being a silent observer. That proves difficult too, he can see, hear, this all boiling over. It was a carefully placed lure, it was bait all the same. He knew Kersey would not simply roll over like a good dog, much as he thought she should. Snip, snip, snap, the line would break if they were not careful. All he can think is how sore her absence has made him. They had done everything together, the three, and he was feeling jealous. He didn't pine for her affections, more her attentions, and she was not around to give them. Kersey was, Kersey did.
It's a mistake perhaps. A better mistake though than the one he can predict, he slides back in front of the gilded woman. Nipping at her shoulder, if anything it would be a graze, a pinch. Physically that's what it would be, for her. He knew the pot would boil over, onto him, not his Kersey. He needed to redirect the volatile situation, place the blame on himself, because somehow he thought that he could take the blow. So, where else would he turn the table if not on himself?
