derpa herp derp
His mother was very, very pretty. Harlowe had always thought she was the most beautiful and kindly woman in the world. It didn't matter much anymore, though, since she was gone—the tawny-furred youth had yet to really absorb that fact into his mind, let alone begin to digest it. Princess didn't look anything like his mother, and since Naniko was the basis of his scale of pretty... well. Again he rolled his shoulders in a shrug, trying to look disinterested in the conversation now. He had passed his vague judgment, neither validating her nor shutting her down, leaving her in some haunting limbo, hopefully. Maybe it would bother her for months that he hadn't begun salivating over her; Harlowe couldn't tell.
She spoke again, informing him that the others told her these things because they were true statements; at this, the creamy-furred youth couldn't help but scoff. His jade eyes turned back to her, now a clear smirk on his face. He was spiraling out of control of himself; though he wanted to look calm and collected, the desire to hurt was too strong, and he felt its pull overwhelm the desire to remain calm. “I think my sisters are much prettier than you,” he informed her shortly. His sisters weren't even that pretty, and they were still prettier than Princess, since they looked kind of like his mother.
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