warm blood trickled down satorus fingers as he clenched his fists tightly; digging his nails into his palm as he tried to make sense of everything.

“explain to me.” he says to you, struggling to keep calm. he didn’t want to believe you were capable of such violence. he didn’t want to believe you were a traitor.

he swallows thickly—anxiety and anger bubbling in his throat as he waits for your answer.