( For once, he seems startled, if not confused. Stilling to tip his head with the feline curiosity that so often seems to overcome him. )

...no, my uncle played no part in this. Well. He killed most of the.... ( A shrug, half-shaped, as if he understands he is skirting the dangerous liminal space between disclosing much more than he should and yet not enough. )

You know the stories. You must have heard. He culled the last of the sirens, with my good cousin. And... dozens of other good men no one can be troubled to remember. ( Now, the smile turns, all teeth, lining lips bloodied by cuts of warfare. )

A man turns more amenable to murder, when you tell him it's his holy duty to rid the land of demons. And not just good Haiva of his homicidal sisters-in-law.

( To think, Deimar wouldn't have been the worst sibling-in-law of this entire proposal. How very splendid. )

But who cares anymore? We're all about to die. No one's special.