“Is there some reason you think I plan to shy away from you?” Thespius didn’t know why he spoke so properly when he was upset— every time an anger bubbles in his gut, his French seemed to bubble up with it, making him spit his R’s and speak all flowery.

Right now, though, he didn’t care. He didn’t care if he was speaking in pig Latin or making a total fool of himself— all that mattered to Thespius right now was you. You, turning your back on him, icing him out— as though he hadn’t speak millennia of godhood by your side, as though he hadn’t held the heavens open for your and toiled through the mud for your partnership.

“I’ve stood beside you for thousands of years, it’s been you who’s been my second half— every action I take, every breath that fills my lungs, in some way, is tied back to you— I breath for you, so please, tell me, what I’ve done to deserve this treatment from you. It’s one thing to leave me alone, to severe our ties— it’s other to say nothing as you do it.”