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“I know this is difficult. I know you do not like this. But you are starving yourself, Thomas, and God would not see you starved. I would not see you starved.”
Thomas wonders what it says about him that one of those means more than the other— and what it means that this does not bother him as it should, this blasphemous thought, this sacrilegious reprioritization.
“I do not wish to argue with you, my dear Vincent,” Thomas says, voice quiet. “Your concern is kind, but— I am afraid this is only how I am.”
Vincent squeezes his hands.
“You are not your punishments,” Vincent tells him, firm, warm, insistent. “You are not your denial. You are not your sacrifice, Thomas, nor your hunger. You are not your starvation.” His hands shake Thomas’s, a rattle to keep his attention. “You are Thomas. You are human, and you are starving, and you should not be.”
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Bookmarked by skipkips
09 Mar 2025
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Caleb is unaccustomed to the aristocratic tendencies of any nation, let alone the one that has only recently come out of a war with his own. Despite this, he is allured to the Firmaments' High Society-though it is not the work of the sparkly chandeliers or gaudy bouquets, but rather the temptations of a handsome drow man whom he'd trekked miles with, Essek Thelyss.