[The unsaid why? does not go unnoticed by Carlisle, but he can't say for certain why he is the way he is. Was it his goddess who awakened him? A necromancer? Or a terrible case of serendipity? He can't be sure. What he does know is that he was the Blight Heir, a true horror, and that's something he's not sure he'll ever be able to accept, much less forget. He can't after what he did -- he shouldn't, and no one else should, either.
He wrings his fingers, his eyes hardening on them as he pushes his voice from its hiding place in the back of his throat.]
no subject
He wrings his fingers, his eyes hardening on them as he pushes his voice from its hiding place in the back of his throat.]
I am not one anymore.