Oh yes, such a good father. So good he abandoned his children for ten fucking years!
[If he wanted to sit up there on his high horse and act like he could do no wrong, he could do so knowing he had been a shitty father. Ivar threw his last knife with an almost contemptuous air before whirling his chair around.]
I hate you!
[That right there is probably the sharpest knife he has in his arsenal.]
[He was far too angry to feel guilty about something he wouldn't do for another two decades. This time he barely dodged the knife, which was something of a mistake as it barely caught the lobe of his ear and, like any head wound, it immediately started bleeding profusely despite the cut being small and shallow.
He didn't say anything, but Ivar's words stung. A lot. He didn't hate Ivar. How could he? He was his son. He loved him.]
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[If he wanted to sit up there on his high horse and act like he could do no wrong, he could do so knowing he had been a shitty father. Ivar threw his last knife with an almost contemptuous air before whirling his chair around.]
I hate you!
[That right there is probably the sharpest knife he has in his arsenal.]
no subject
He didn't say anything, but Ivar's words stung. A lot. He didn't hate Ivar. How could he? He was his son. He loved him.]