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"I loved him." A confession and revelation at once.
"Didn't he make you?"
"He did. What about it?"
"Wouldn't you love him automatically?"
The Corinthian scoffs. "Poor, naive Hobsie. Look at him, all pretty marble and perfect form."
"He was beautiful."
"Is beautiful. What else is he?"
Hob hesitates. "A former regent?"
"His own willing victim." The nightmare turned towards Hob. "His creations were a part of him. He never instilled a quality he didn't have himself. We were all created with an antipathy towards him."
He turned back to the casket, voice breaking. "We came to love him anyways."