Byerly's voice drops low, soft. Nearly a whisper. His one hand releases its grip so he can momentarily caress Daryl's throat, his touch as light as a lover's.
"I come from a long line of killers. It's in my blood. That's the marvelous thing about being Vor. You know every one of your ancestors' deeds. My great-great-great-great grandmother bathed in the blood of proles like you, just to keep her youth and beauty."
But he doesn't keep up the charade long. He sits back, right across Daryl's hips, his smile cruel. Cheerily, at normal volume: "Glad to hear you won't kill me, though. That's a real weight off my mind."
no subject
Byerly's voice drops low, soft. Nearly a whisper. His one hand releases its grip so he can momentarily caress Daryl's throat, his touch as light as a lover's.
"I come from a long line of killers. It's in my blood. That's the marvelous thing about being Vor. You know every one of your ancestors' deeds. My great-great-great-great grandmother bathed in the blood of proles like you, just to keep her youth and beauty."
But he doesn't keep up the charade long. He sits back, right across Daryl's hips, his smile cruel. Cheerily, at normal volume: "Glad to hear you won't kill me, though. That's a real weight off my mind."