[P] r.i.p. to my youth;

[Acton]

Acton these violent delights have violent ends   For a terrible moment, Acton thought that Raum would not say anything at all. That had always been the surest sign of where things stood; like a shark, the Ghost was most dangerous when silent. That is how he did his killing, not with the flash and glamour of the magician. It was why they made such a good pair; if they were a sliver more similar they would have killed each other long ago. But that did not answer the question of why he was afraid in the first place. Not that one shouldn’t be, around Raum; even Acton could recognize that was the only intelligent way to feel. Maybe that was why he could never quite manage it. Now though - ah, something had changed, when he learned that Raum had tasted his new queen’s blood. Whether it was a fracture or a break, well…that was why Acton had come. So he was relieved to hear the voice, not echoing despite the stone walls of the cave, and blew out a breath that eased a little tension he hadn’t known he carried. The moonlight finally caught Raum as he stepped forward, and trailed like fingers along his skin. It made Acton wonder how the man had ever survived so long in the court of the Sun; it was clear it was the moon that loved him. “Only when they stopped making sense to me,” he returned, and his voice was not a whisper. It was flint and steel, a bite of flame that sought to catch. For once he was not smiling; for once his gaze was hard to read. The buckskin did not flinch or withdraw before unspooling quicksilver or drown in ice-blue eyes. The thing inside him was too molten, his skin always bright and hot as breathed-on coals. Outside the wind moaned beyond the entrance, and clouds like field-furrows drifted past. Within, for a moment, there was only their breathing. It wasn’t until Raum spoke of hatred Acton twisted a dark ear back, and he almost snorted in response. This was nothing like the war with Day, and all the blood between them; Isra had not earned what she had paid. Not after all the had done to help rebuild, and that as a stranger, after their own king had been the one to begin tearing Denocte down. “She has not betrayed us or Night,” he said, and closed another step between them. That alone had been enough for him, but Acton could not forget the devotion in his brother he had always seen as curious; Raum had always been the pious Crow. So he swallowed, and added, “Caligo chose her.” @Raum