cakeThe lady's voice revealed nothing to him, except her preoccupation. During the course of his life Bane had learned to expect nothing, and he subsequently didn't think much of it. Vaguely, the gash on his side, clean of dried blood, ached dully, but in some other dimension in his mind, a place he couldn't really touch. His face revealed curiosity at her scrutiny, and he tilted his head slightly, feet rooted to the ground. He wouldn't move any closer, not now. Above him, the skies were strange, the trees whispering to the air around him, and he felt out of place. It wasn't a bad feeling. The instinct was awake; he enjoyed its energy, felt it coursing through him. Such a pleasant discovery. He had been so quiet since Fate had brought him the blackbird with the white eyes. So hidden. He felt awake, now.
cakeBefore he responded -- words were a waste of time, he told himself, but patience was a virtue, particularly when you knew what you wanted -- the white lady continued. Her words made him smile, teeth bared, eyes bright with the fever that still burned in his eyes and his blood. "I wouldn't say different," he told her, and it was true enough. Perhaps the only thing different was that he was more real. Or maybe not; sometimes the black wolf found it easy to forget what these things meant. He understood there were things he wasn't meant to understand. "I'm rather always the same, ma'am, sometimes simply just easier to see. What about you? Why so serious?" He added the last part quietly, almost in a whisper, head still tilted as he watched her. There were things he wanted to know, and these questions glittered behind his eyes, cloaked in that darkness he held within.
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