Scorn had to pause, he could see how much his only listener's mood was aggravating with each word he uttered. He wouldn't torture the young boy any longer and started to balance his feet above the railing he was on. He left him in a moment of silence without insisting.
The landscape couldn't be any darker, like his thoughts. The ghost had yet to realize how dull were his previous acquaintances until now, the contrast between his host and the disgraceful humans he had observed under Uther's reign was now obvious to him. Arthur was no mage, his education had never skimmed the edges of a strict brainwash, thus his empathy was reacting to the world's demise and echoing Scorn's distant pain.
In contrast with the rest of the known universe, Scorn could see a glimpse of light in his own eyes. It was a mirror that couldn't lie to its owner. Instead of the flat and cloudy gaze he had always been looking at, there was much more depth to the boy's character.
