Something akin to rage was building up inside him. Logically, of course, he knew that he could feel no rage, nor pain at the thought of his goddess, his Lady Luck abandoning him. What he ‘felt’, of course, was different. “Fortuna would never forsake her chosen.” A proud look crossed his face. “I am, after all, Luxord, Gambler of fate.”
“Fortuna? Is that what you call her?” He shook his head, almost as if disgusted. “You don’t even know her name, and you call yourself chosen. The goddess is named Minerva of course.”
(Source: poeticinsanity, via timemademanifest-deactivated201)
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