There was no need for a goodbye. No letters. No notes. No nothing.
Once Zephyra left, he had removed himself from the restraints she had put him in rather easily, and sat in the makeshift bed they had rested him on.
Numb, angry, and most importantly - hungry; he didn't have anything to convey to his "wives" as he left. Besides, he had no idea where they were. The main room where most of the space was did not have anyone in it save for that serpent and what looked like an unhealed Faust.
How was that fuck face alive? ...Did they cling to him now?
Who fucking cared. Good luck to them - and he meant that bitterly. Azier hoped Faust's dick was rotten and had fallen off, and since the man didn't even snort at him, he must have felt the same way too.
....ooor maybe he was asleep and hadn't seen the prince leave, but his own narrative fit his mood just fine, so what did it matter what the truth was?
