[ Howl sits, a shivering black heap, and quietly listens. Childe loves to talk, and Howl is in no mood to interrupt his musings. Regardless of what he's saying, there's something about being spoken to, having to process spoken words, that helps Howl stay grounded in his own humanity, as he sits and stews in the transformation magic choking him from the outside in.
The mention of traitors makes him pick up his slumping head. He glances at Childe and hesitates before asking, ]
no subject
The mention of traitors makes him pick up his slumping head. He glances at Childe and hesitates before asking, ]
Traitors...? Who? Where?