[Guy doesn't speak, but his fists clenching around his sleeves should be answer enough.
He remembers. He'd imagine it very often, as young as eleven he'd dream up different ways he could exact his revenge. He'd stand over Asch's bed as he slept, holding a pillow. He'd walk behind Asch on their way back from his lessons, holding onto the hilt of his sword so tightly his knuckles turned white. Picture the light leaving his eyes and Fabre's screams of horror.
He'd even wondered if he should kill the Duchess and the maids too. Just to be fair.
He didn't want to share that with anyone...least of all Asch.]
no subject
He remembers. He'd imagine it very often, as young as eleven he'd dream up different ways he could exact his revenge. He'd stand over Asch's bed as he slept, holding a pillow. He'd walk behind Asch on their way back from his lessons, holding onto the hilt of his sword so tightly his knuckles turned white. Picture the light leaving his eyes and Fabre's screams of horror.
He'd even wondered if he should kill the Duchess and the maids too. Just to be fair.
He didn't want to share that with anyone...least of all Asch.]