Every time his anger at this absent drow seems like it mightโve subsided, then he hears yet another thing —
โHow do you know that he didnโt want you?โ Stephen asks. Stiff and clipped and precise, it has almost the cadence of one of their theoretical exercises and practices: challenging the premise. Demanding proofs.
The clipped tone visibly jars her, and Ness takes a breath, straightens her shoulders. Stephen is right, no use feeling sorry for herself. Facts are facts. She can mope and sigh all she wants, but it won't change anything.
"He said so," she says, in a tone reminiscent of the one she used to persuade him to cut off her arm. "He told my mother Candlekeep is no place for a child and that he didn't care where I went. They argued it back and forth for I don't know how long, I went to find something to read after a while."
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no subject
โHow do you know that he didnโt want you?โ Stephen asks. Stiff and clipped and precise, it has almost the cadence of one of their theoretical exercises and practices: challenging the premise. Demanding proofs.
no subject
"He said so," she says, in a tone reminiscent of the one she used to persuade him to cut off her arm. "He told my mother Candlekeep is no place for a child and that he didn't care where I went. They argued it back and forth for I don't know how long, I went to find something to read after a while."