covers your plate with blood of the saints

Edmund had returned to Torchline briefly. Just to take his things and go. It was as he was leaving a note for his family that he saw Jude's. Running a tongue over his fangs, the Ancient contemplated just what to do. He loved his little brother, ruly. But how could he face him? The blood had only just been washed off his hands and clothes. The thought made him recall the last few hours. When the bloodlust had faded, the young Ancient had been physically sick with himself. He had thought he'd stick with hunting animals. But the initial bloodlust and lack of animals in the general vicinity had been against him. He'd killed a man. Killed him. Eaten his heart and sacrificed him in fire. It was monstrous, horrific, and cruel. And at the time, Edmund had loved it. He'd reveled in it. Yet there was no turning back, and sill he didn't regret the power he'd gained by going to Dygra. But he'd still be seeing Milo's face in his nightmares and mind's eye for years to come. For now, all he could do was shove the emotions and memories down. He'd deal with it later. Maybe. Letting out a sigh, Edmund made up his mind. He left his note on the table and went to find Jude. Upon arriving, he couldn't help the small smile that came to his lips. Jude was just adorable. Thinking quickly, Edmund hid behind a nearby collection of trees. Once he was obscured, he called out. "Jude? I need to you stay there, ok? I need you to promise me something first, before you come here." Hopefully his little brother would listen to the urgency in his voice and comply. Edmund the prince of torchline