Hadrius lingers by the hallway, his form hidden in the dark shadows that lick across his skin, pressing him further in.
The kitchen is not far ahead, glowing light spilling from the burning fireplace and casting the two shifting shadows within. His footsteps are noiseless as the distance between closes and their voices take on a prominent form.
“...Where is your family?” Cain’s voice is husky and distinct, and holds a curious yet familiar playful edge to it. Hadrius halts by the entrance, still masked by the murmuring shadows that joined him in his eavesdropping.
His human does not reply immediately, the recognisable sound of a knife cutting on a chopping board echoing throughout.
The cutting falters but only slightly. “I have no family.”
The warlord can almost envision his brother’s
