Snippet #1994557

Sorosillian nodded silently to himself, leaning his arms on his knees and then resting his chin upon them. He wanted to believe Jacob, but...
"I haven't said a word to him, since I found out," Sorosillian whispered, staring into the forest after Iliam. "What if... I never get to talk to him?" his voice broke slightly at the thought and he closed his eyes. He did not want to think about it... but he already had. What if Iliam died today? What would he do, then, knowing he had missed his chance?
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Imail did not jump, though her voice did surprise him. He looked around and met her eyes. His own were deepest silver, nearly identical to Sorosillian's, but older. Wiser. He had always wondered how people who had met Sorosillian did not make the connection. Fair features, dark hair, gray eyes, a rather unstable nature...

"Isabella?" he answered her evenly, revealing nothing of the roiling bloodlust within. There would be time enough for his madness to take over.
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Louis nodded in agreement.
"Can we just... not move?" he mumbled then, laughing as he smothered himself in Conner's scent. "Too comfortable..."