The irritated noise in the back of Stocke's throat grows louder in volume. "Trent Ashbane. Victim of assault, blackmail, extortion. His family, meanwhile: Jenna Ashbane, victim of assault, murder. Michael Ashbane..." The shade ticks off a short list, lifting one claw per crime - he's forced to shapeshift a few extra fingers to count them all. Then he leans forward, a jagged white line of light starting to grow where his mouth should be. "Can you say your claim is better than his? It's my duty to make this one show remorse." Not yours.
Stocke... doesn't actually wait for her to respond, though, hypocrite that he is. In truth, much of a deal as he may make of it, it's not the reason for the vengeance that matters much to a shade; a revenge for a stolen trinket counts the same as a revenge for murder. It's the vengeance itself that he cares about, and Stocke will remember those names only for as long as it takes to carry it out.
The shade steps straight through Amelia, wisping into shadow, and into the man's body to possess him.
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Date: 2016-07-04 01:29 am (UTC)From:Stocke... doesn't actually wait for her to respond, though, hypocrite that he is. In truth, much of a deal as he may make of it, it's not the reason for the vengeance that matters much to a shade; a revenge for a stolen trinket counts the same as a revenge for murder. It's the vengeance itself that he cares about, and Stocke will remember those names only for as long as it takes to carry it out.
The shade steps straight through Amelia, wisping into shadow, and into the man's body to possess him.