"Wow, she really took her time with you brother, didn't she?" Tiberius muttered, his voice a low, melodic rasp in the stillness of the pavilion.
He stepped closer to the heap of meat and silk that had once been his brother, the Golden Prince, the heir to a leviathan. If it weren't for the fine, stubborn set of the chin, the unmistakable Kantazoukenes bone structure, he would have struggled to recognize the man at all. He had heard rumors of Mavius's decline, the bloating of his spirit and the sagging of his resolve, but he hadn't expected the physical reality to be quite so... grotesque.
Apparently, the years of shared misery with Eloir had not fostered familiarity; they had fostered a surgical, intimate knowledge of where it hurt most to be cut.
Tiberius felt his lower cheeks tighten, a reflexive wince as his gaze traveled further down his brother's body. He took in the final, visceral parting gift of the marriage.
