[ He is jealous to his core, yes, of sharing that love. ]
I should have your limbs hacked off and you chained to a wall where you will still do your duties. [ There is a darkness to Sauron, touched by Melkor, that he has not shown to Adar in the longest time, cruel and terrible like Gorthaur when he earned the name. The sick, hateful things he is capable of brim to the surface as he hisses in Adar's face. ] Damnable elves.
[ He drops him without care, stepping back to shrink down, and is only stopped from passing judgement by a sweet voice echoing from the doorway. ]
Who is that? [ Morgil is nearer to eight years old now, aged by the knowledge and training a week with Sauron has burdened him with. He holds the hand of Thuringwethil who is draped in the leathery shadows that make up her huge wings; his hair kisses his shoulders and his eyes are a wary green, robed in black with the red eye of Sauron emblazoned on the front. He shies toward the vampiress when he looks to long at the gore-soaked Adar, then Sauron. ] Papa?
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I should have your limbs hacked off and you chained to a wall where you will still do your duties. [ There is a darkness to Sauron, touched by Melkor, that he has not shown to Adar in the longest time, cruel and terrible like Gorthaur when he earned the name. The sick, hateful things he is capable of brim to the surface as he hisses in Adar's face. ] Damnable elves.
[ He drops him without care, stepping back to shrink down, and is only stopped from passing judgement by a sweet voice echoing from the doorway. ]
Who is that? [ Morgil is nearer to eight years old now, aged by the knowledge and training a week with Sauron has burdened him with. He holds the hand of Thuringwethil who is draped in the leathery shadows that make up her huge wings; his hair kisses his shoulders and his eyes are a wary green, robed in black with the red eye of Sauron emblazoned on the front. He shies toward the vampiress when he looks to long at the gore-soaked Adar, then Sauron. ] Papa?