"Bors Lothian is dead…"
-THUMP- -CLINK-
Nyrielle's pronouncement provoked reactions all around the table, but it was Virve who slammed her fists into the table, clenching them tightly enough that her arms shook with barely suppressed fury that the old man had died before she was able to get her claws on him.
Sitting next to her, Ollie rested a hand gently on one of her powerful arms, silently offering what comfort he could. Unlike the people of the Vale, particularly Nyrielle's progeny, the young man struggled to think of anything that enraged him enough or tormented him enough that he needed to claim vengeance.
