[Anger doesn't phase him. It's familiar. Expected. His own is covered over deep and cold, a surface that's smooth and flat like a sheet of glass. It took more than a few jabs at how his people treated him to break through. Instead there's just curls of bitter amusement. He'd hit a nerve.]
(Yeah, me and Ontari. Birds of a feather.)
[The bitterness carves sharper, for a moment. He'd had no care for Ontari. He might even be glad she's dead.]
(That's why she kept me around instead of killing me. Me telling her how to get the grounders to listen to her, that had nothing to do with it.)
[Fake commander, fake flamekeeper. His knowledge of commanders was limited, he couldn't argue that, but his experience of grounders had been enough to make up for it.]
no subject
( Yeah, me and Ontari. Birds of a feather. )
[The bitterness carves sharper, for a moment. He'd had no care for Ontari. He might even be glad she's dead.]
( That's why she kept me around instead of killing me. Me telling her how to get the grounders to listen to her, that had nothing to do with it. )
[Fake commander, fake flamekeeper. His knowledge of commanders was limited, he couldn't argue that, but his experience of grounders had been enough to make up for it.]