Believe it or not, Felix's is scarier. And I don't say that lightly, considering I've been on the receiving end of both of them more times than I can count.

[ The words come out drained and exhausted, voice still a broken rasp from between split lips. Fingers still curl in the front of Claude's shirt, as if to make sure he doesn't vanish again, that he's here and real. After the things he'd seen when trapped before that altar, he's not sure how much he actually trusts his own mind right now.

But Claude's fingers in his hair, stroking against his spine, are soothing in a way he hadn't expected and his eyes slide closed for a moment, even though there's no way he's going to be able to rest anytime soon. ]

They think we're special to their gods. I'm pretty sure that's something we don't wanna be.