[ the question is pitched, incredulous. it is as though he does not comprehend the fact that he is being asked such a thing, his brows rising into the tumble of red hair - a sign, a mark - as set reaches up to the ends of that same hair, further up. it's a habitual gesture, as though he's seeking something meant to be perched upon his head. a crown? a mask? something he thinks he needs to straighten, but is no longer there.
it's just -- ] What a silly question. I have. I did. I would. What are the lives of mortals if not to be shaped by the gods?
[ the question is a tight one, his expression folding in on itself stubbornly. ]
no subject
Sacrifice lives?
[ the question is pitched, incredulous. it is as though he does not comprehend the fact that he is being asked such a thing, his brows rising into the tumble of red hair - a sign, a mark - as set reaches up to the ends of that same hair, further up. it's a habitual gesture, as though he's seeking something meant to be perched upon his head. a crown? a mask? something he thinks he needs to straighten, but is no longer there.
it's just -- ] What a silly question. I have. I did. I would. What are the lives of mortals if not to be shaped by the gods?
[ the question is a tight one, his expression folding in on itself stubbornly. ]