[It should be a relief when Drael appears, surely. Instead Kristopher cringes horror at the sight of him, that vivid streak of red coating his arm and the rage that colours his voice. When Drael gathers him close he doesn't have the strength to resist, but his stomach roils at the proximity of it all, the blood and the knowledge of what this man has just done. How can he trust this? How can he trust anyone that makes murder so easy, so casual?
Pressed to Drael's shoulder Kristopher shakes his head, whimpering denials but still clinging desperately. He has nothing else to hold on to. This is his only option he has.]
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Pressed to Drael's shoulder Kristopher shakes his head, whimpering denials but still clinging desperately. He has nothing else to hold on to. This is his only option he has.]