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Post by Cyran Fenastra-Asiliari on Nov 1, 2023 16:59:38 GMT -5
Cyran shrugged, clearly not expecting or even quite sure how to respond to the compliment, regardless of how lightly or off handed it was spoken. “Well. Even an old dog can learn new tricks once in a blue moon.” He murmured, a deflection; polite, but one all the same. He didn’t much need other’s compliments or their disdain, or even their disbelief. He did appreciate the young assassin’s compliments, and was not unaware of his sudden shock, but it felt… distant, as if someone had spoken the words to him through a sea of turbulent waters. He was far too old to let such things bother him.
“Alright, then.” He nodded. “Follow me, at a distance; they’re looking for two conspirators, not individuals. My room is only two blocks from here.” As for what might come next… he wasn’t sure. Cyran had planned on slipping away quietly after the race, in and out, with hardly the memory of his murder remaining when he stole away the next morning. He could not have anticipated for so much excitement, but his plans generally lay somewhere firmly between meticulous and fluid. Rigidity was dangerous - too much bend caused a break. Nor did he flow like water with the ease that Riptide did, trusting that everything might work out. He’d stay for the night, let Riptide take the bed, and…
He would see where things went from there.
Cyran hopped back into the darkened alley, form almost flickering in the shadows while his boots hit the grass. King’s Valley villages were structured quite differently from the urban sprawl he was used to. There were less natural places to hide, buildings more interspersed and separated by swaths of grass and fences. But everyone was so preoccupied with the race and the events that transpired within that they didn’t notice the man who seemingly looked as if he’d ducked behind a house to pet a stray cat lounging on a cart. Cyran strode across the dirt path, only occasionally daring a glance behind him to make sure Riptide was following.
His blending in was more about controlling posture and demeanor, less so changing his appearance. Smart for a general crowd but cracks formed when keen, suspicious guards started taking second looks. But he was good at what he did. Cyran watched him until he reached the hotel - more of a bed and breakfast run by a lovely minotaur woman - and made his way in, locking the front door and the bedroom door both behind him. It was only an extra precaution, really, but he hoped that Riptide was still around as he opened his window for the triton to enter.
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Post by Vonoros Jedath on Nov 2, 2023 3:43:04 GMT -5
Vonoros did as he was told and followed behind Cyran at a safe distance, during his crawl towards his hotel he managed to grab someone’s jacket from their shoulders and skillfully take it from them placing it on in plain sight.
He grabbed a pair of shaded bifocals off a local vendor’s stall all the while following Cyran keeping his distance enough. To him, the people were a sea that he needed to get through instead of charging forth and going against the waves he was taught to go with it instead. Slipping through the crowds as if he saw another part of the wave. An unassuming one, just part of a greater community as he walked making himself feel and look smaller. Although he hated doing skilled and tiring stuff like this, he was good at it. Years and decades were spent training his skills to the very best.
He once remembered having to blend into the night sky while running through the rooftops, it took some time to master it considering he was a bright blue triton but it worked out in the end, whether he wanted it to or not. He saw a pair of guards approaching looking into the crowds and laid their eyes on him suspiciously for a second before shaking their heads and looking somewhere else.
After a couple of minutes, he made it to where Cyran was staying and walked into the alley behind it waiting for a sign from Cyran to go in. He started dozing off while he stood before his sharp ears heard the cracking of a window. He looked up and spotted the elf man’s boring face smirking as he stepped back, touched the bottom of his feet (1), and ran forth at the building jumping onto the ledge and holding onto the windowsill. He held himself together before pulling himself up and into the room with some effort ignoring any efforts by Cyran to help him if he did.
1. Long Stride
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Post by Cyran Fenastra-Asiliari on Nov 8, 2023 8:50:26 GMT -5
A few minutes after Cyran opened the window, Vonoros appeared - he offered a hand to the triton that was promptly rebuffed. He… tried not to feel too hurt about it. It was only fair, he supposed. Cyran didn’t have the right to help. Once the young man was firmly inside, Cyran closed the window and drew the curtains shut. A few rays of sunlight still filtered through the cloth, scant fragmented light swallowed by the darkness before it could reach anything meaningful. It was for their privacy as much as it was Cyran’s awareness. The darkness was the Specter’s domain. When those entered that did not belong here, attempted to conceal themselves within his shelter, he would know as suddenly and intimately as he did his own shadow.
They were, as expected, alone. Only once Cyran was certain there was no unwanted presence in his room, he made his way over to the table and chairs. The room was sparsely furnished - there was a bed covered in colorful quilts, a table, two chairs, and a small apparatus in the corner that looked like a cross between a fireplace and a wooden brazier. Tapestries hung from the walls, hand-woven, depicting songs in the wind and horses dancing across wild plains. Its simple was did not mitigate its homeliness. Cyran rarely made his way through King’s Valley, but he often found the few settlements he stopped at or tribes he ventured with were ever so kind.
And as he stood there, after a mutual kill, Cyran finally felt the energy leave him.
He was far from the oldest elf in the world; but far too old, he often felt, to engage in the high octane activities of an assassin life. Cyran sagged, running a hand through his hair. The elven man took a seat in one of the chairs, moving to grab some glass containers from a bag of his things. Inside was a cold soup from the Crescent Isles, meant to be enjoyed at that temperature, and thus, an ideal leftover - Cyran opened the woven bamboo lid, allowing the aromatic scents to waft through the air. Grabbing two bowls, spoons, and a ladle, Cyran glanced up at his guest.
“Make yourself at home. I don’t bite. Would you like some dinner? It’s delicious.” Not prepared by him, but by Del - his fiancé had left him with a plethora of food for the trip, rice and soup and salted fish snacks and even Starlight Puffs as a treat. It was the one positive of working the job; getting to return to his shelter and indulge in her meals at the end. Regardless of whether Riptide responded or not, Cyran would set the soup out for him to eat. It had been a long day, and he would be surprised if the Triton wasn’t hungry after all the excitement.
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Post by Vonoros Jedath on Nov 9, 2023 16:28:03 GMT -5
Vonoros took a long sigh and stretched his body as he took a glance around the room, it was surprisingly homey enough.
He sat on the wooden floor trying to gain back his zen after the stressful escape he just had.
He looked up as he saw Cyran preparing food for them, the triton was excited as he rushed to sit on the chair opposite of Cyran. He immediately dug in without time for thanks or table manners. He devours it in but a moment, stuff like this would’ve been equivalent to eating home-cooked meals from your parents as a kid. But for Vonoros he didn't have that luxury, he didn't even have a proper meal until he was 7 only weird test tube nutrition packets he hated. He finished and left his plate on the table silent for a second thinking about his past and how stuff like this would’ve been what all the other kids would’ve had.
He shook his head and then looked across to Cyran in the eyes returning his wide cold sharp eyes into a small almost closed-looking glance and smiled.
“Thanks for the food dude, appreciate you saving my ass out there Specter Guy, it’s been a bit hasn’t it huh? What’ve you been up to all these years haven’t seen ya in a while haven’t I?”.
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Post by Cyran Fenastra-Asiliari on Nov 15, 2023 18:50:19 GMT -5
Cyran could not help but smile as the young man made a beeline for the food; the elder assassin not at all bothered by manners or lack thereof. They’d both had a long day… and they were both hungry. It was a novel thing for Cyran to carry homecooked meals with him, but he could not deny they soothed his soul, especially in knowing Del had prepared it on him. His work weighed heavily on his own heart. He could only imagine the effect it had on Riptide.
Or perhaps not. The triton had been in the business a long time in the context of his own life. Perhaps it had preemptively broken something in him to the point where this was nothing but a blip in the strings of fate. Cyran hoped that was not the case, though he was prepared for it. Kids like Riptide and even Fish, their minds adapted to what they believed “normal” was in the course of their development. Events like this were the only life they knew.
They finished their meal in silence - Riptide, throwing down food with the ferocity of children in the orphanage who’d still yet learned that there would be another stable meal for them come morning, and Cyran, more melancholic and thoughtful.
Eventually, they finished the meal Del had prepared for him, Riptide breaking the silence first. Cyran felt the ache of all his centuries as he replied. “There’s no need to thank me. Of course I’d share.”
Though he stopped smiling as Riptide asked what he’d been up to.
He did not want to dwell on exactly why it had been so long.
“I’ve been… busy.” He spoke eventually, unsure what to say. He reached into the bag of starlight puffs with deft fingers - though he’d not much of a sweet tooth he would be remiss if he didn’t enjoy the treats Del packed for him, and it gave him something to do with his hands while he formulated his reply. “With business and personal matters alike. Not to mention the nasty business with the cultists up north. I’ve mostly, um, settled in Darkveil, so I’m no stranger to their comings and goings.”
He let the sugar melt on his tongue and thought it far too sweet for someone like him.
“But enough about me.” He finished as delicately as he could, maneuvering the conversation topic. “I’ve been around a long while and that won’t stop being the case any time soon. But you’ve grown so much since we last saw one another. Tell me how things have been in your neck of the woods.”
He supposed he didn’t have the right to ask, but he wanted to know nonetheless.
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Post by Vonoros Jedath on Nov 15, 2023 21:42:17 GMT -5
Vonoros chuckled, already familiar with the older elven man’s generosity from over the years, “Yeah thanks anyway dude I appreciate it I was pretty hungry”.
He then takes a moment to think about what he’s done in recent years, “Ehh yeah that’s what happens when time passes, you grow up. Well, I came out of hiding after the whole pirate crew thing didn’t work out considering I had a lot of guys come after me wanting my head. The person who set me free from life is dead and gone but it’s fine stuff happens. I’m back into our life of work full-time to pay bills and just generally smash people’s heads in. Back to you though you mentioned you settled down. Living in Darkveil now huh? How’s that going? Is some sort of cover business going on? Empire? What’s the deal?”.
The triton was carefully observing the other man with a cold sharp look in his eyes thinking over and analyzing every word he said.
After hearing his response he drummed his hands on his chin as he thought it over, “Interesting to think the big bad specter guy who I know for ripping out throats and stabbing men to death is now some type of domesticated normal guy”.
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Post by Cyran Fenastra-Asiliari on Nov 20, 2023 7:49:05 GMT -5
“Anytime.” Cyran resisted the urge to reach over and wipe a little bit of leftover food off the Triton’s cheek - habit ingrained in him from years of taking care of messy children. He had a feeling the gesture would not be so welcome. “You’re always welcome at my table when you need a meal.”
Though he still did not know the young man’s name, Cyran was generally good at reading people; his strength as an assassin. The blank-faced young assassin was the kind of guy who concealed his true thoughts behind a blank face, but Cyran was keen enough to pick up on subtle hints and gestures. Little brush strokes painting a broad picture as to his character. Not to mention Cyran had known him since he was a child… only glimpses, mind, but even when being trained as killers, kids were notoriously honest.
Nor could Cyran pretend to be blind to the young man’s… admiration, or hero worship, if he even dared call it that. He knew that Riptide once idolized him, a notion he’d done his best to dissuade. It wasn’t good to make heroes out of killers. Regardless, he had an inkling of Riptide’s character, and knew he was a good kid at heart. He could not help the circumstances he had been born in… and despite Cyran’s best efforts, once upon a time, he could not help the ones he’d grown up in.
Perhaps it was too late for him to break free of this life.
But Cyran could still be as much a presence in Riptide’s life as he could.
“Pirate crew?”
He was unaware that Riptide had been involved in the seafaring life; yet the young man spoke like this was information Cyran ought to have been privy to. To be honest, Cyran did not keep much of an eye on comings and goings in the criminal world - any mention of Riptide in the past few years would have been lost on him. Though the casual manner with which Riptide spoke on assassination attempts on his life, the loss of a mentor figure, and a return to the business was… disconcerting to say the least.
He bit the inside of his cheek but remained silent.
Riptide didn’t seem to want to dwell on such negative thoughts, though - the tides quickly turned back to Cyran, and the Specter mulled over his words carefully while he thought about what he should divulge.
There was care about Riptide, but still not enough trust. Especially in the wake of Del’s kidnapping right from under his nose, right from Shade’s Valley - no. He could not put them at risk again.
“I do run a business, of sorts.” He danced delicately around the fact that said business was an orphanage. “Mostly, I work for whatever criminals need throats slit in a back alley and don’t fancy getting their hands bloodied.” Mainly Zarius, whenever the young man needed his particular set of skills.
He hesitated.
“I do not particularly recommend it. Darkveil is… particularly brutal. If I could live somewhere a little more peaceful,” There was a sort of wistfulness in his voice, a longing for a home he’d been pulled away from.
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Post by Vonoros Jedath on Nov 21, 2023 11:44:03 GMT -5
The triton stared at the man trying to read his soul, Vonoros this was a very strange experience. He was meeting his childhood hero who often guided the man’s decisions even if he hated to admit it. To see him so normal and so nice and kinda put him off, this was the guy who left him to rot in the hell he lived and he was acting like nothing ever happened.
He spoke up, “Appreciate the offer but I wouldn’t want to bother ‘ya since you seem like a busy guy. And yeah Pirate Crew, funnily enough, me trying to take the bounty of the captain is what saved me from life at least for a while. He was a good dude, really goofy but strong, he kind of reminded me of you..or what I thought you’d be like”, his voice was but a murmur as he mentioned that last part.
His voice picks back up to a cheery tone, “It was a fun ride, sailing the high seas and everything. It was a pretty fine time while it lasted, well that time’s over like Wilford's life.. he’s dead now or whatever. Cool to hear yer a businessman nowadays always makes for a good cover during the day. It’s fine. I heard Darkveil was fun and good for business. I'd go there too, maybe strike while the Iron’s hot. Hell, maybe I will once I finish business in the Pale City after I hid out there for years being supported by the people above. I decided to pay them back and set them up for the rest of their lives to repay my debt to them. They were starving, suffering, and in pain but even still they took me in with no problem. No matter where my job takes me I always send like half of the money back to the Pale City. It's the least I can do”.
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Post by Cyran Fenastra-Asiliari on Nov 27, 2023 17:51:27 GMT -5
“I do not make this offer out of propriety or a sense of manners.” Cyran said, resting his chin on his hands while they conversed. “As I said, you are always welcome, and I mean that. If you ask for me in Darkveil, most anyone will point you in the direction of my home. It’s not much, but I do have a bed and a dinner table…” He trailed off. He did not miss the pointed accusation tacked on at the end of that statement.
“I’m sorry?” He blinked, wondering if he’d misheard. But no, there was no mistake in his words, nor was there any dishonesty or bitterness in his tone. Where had that come from? He’d thought the day had been rather amicable, aside from the assassination, but Riptide hadn’t seemed to mind them ending in what’d he’d described in a tie. He shouldn’t have said anything, but it was gnawing at him. Disregarding their work together years in the past, he thought things had gone well enough so far.
“Have I done something to upset you?” He asked; quiet, but… genuine.
He stewed in that question for a moment while Riptide continued to reminisce about the seafaring life, and the captain that had raised him. It seemed like he was doing well enough for himself, at the very least. Cyran didn’t think he was living with the people who had forced him to become an assassin anymore. Long ago, when Riptide had still been but a child, he’d fantasized about ‘rescuing’ and being a hero and whatnot, for the poor boy who’d been made to become a weapon; a tool to exchange blood for money. He knew better now that he was only one man, and there was only so much he could do, especially back then when he was nowhere near as… competent as he was now. Still, it grated at him that he’d not been able to do more save a few failed attempts at the lives of the boy’s godsawful parents.
It put him at ease to see, at least, he’d created more of a life for himself. It put Cyran less at ease to think that Riptide might blame him for it all.
Cyran remained silent and nodded along, unsure what to say. He was never an especially talkative man but the silence seemed more than prudent now.
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Post by Vonoros Jedath on Nov 27, 2023 21:23:11 GMT -5
Vonoros held eye contact with Cyran as he heard the man’s strange offer, “Well isn’t that a very funny joke Specter, man I didn’t think that you were a comedian on your off time. Offering a well-known murderer to hire a place in your home? Don’t make me laugh man you don’t have to be facetious you know right dude? I don’t have a home and you could probably tell that by my attire but that doesn’t mean you gotta fake offer me some peace offering, nah. I fell asleep at the stands last night and I won't lie, your offer sounds tempting but you can keep that fake bed and dinner table. Dude don’t gotta offer that just for the sake of niceties and saving face”.
He then responded to the offer man’s question as his face turned stone-cold serious, “Don’t apologize dude you got no reason to feel bad and yeah ya did do something wrong although it doesn’t matter now. I’m glad to hear that you got your pretty little life and pretty quiet existence trust me I truly am. Someone like us can rarely end up reaching that lifestyle without worrying about waking up dead or with a dagger next to your head. But don’t go acting like you care about me alright? Don’t act like we’re cool like the past didn’t happen that you didn’t…”.
He stops before smiling, “Just kidding hahahahahahaha”, and chuckles, “I was kidding there dude you shoulda seen your face there. I got you back for that funny joke offer earlier huh?”.
His fake smile then drops once more as he stares coldly into the elf man’s eyes awaiting his response.
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Post by Cyran Fenastra-Asiliari on Dec 1, 2023 10:12:33 GMT -5
Okay. Admittedly, Cyran was a bit confused at the sudden outburst… he hadn’t thought his offer was that offensive. He’d met kids who stood on pride and assumed that he was only taking pity on them, but that could not be further from the truth. And he’d certainly never had anyone accuse him of lying about having a spare bed just to make fun of them. Cyran shrank back, suddenly unsure of where he stood here. Riptide had followed him here, but he ought not to have assumed that was because the young man placed any semblance of trust in him. Perhaps this was a mistake.
“It’s not fake…” He mumbled, unsure what else to say - his voice a whisper as he tried to find himself again. “And I’m a killer who sleeps in a bed under a roof. You’d hardly be the first criminal I’ve hosted, and it’s not a lie. I’ve no reason to offer what I don’t mean. But if I offended you, I’ll drop it… my apologies.”
He stared down at the empty bowl of Del’s soup, the spoon trembling in his hands.
But Riptide was not finished. Cyran flinched at the casual manner with which the young triton asserted that he had done something wrong; it felt like a slap to the face. Not one he didn’t deserve, apparently, but it still stung all the same.
Don’t act like you care about me when you didn’t…
Riptide did not finish what he’d started, but he did not have to. Cyran knew what he was referring to. And gods, Cyran had tried to rip him from his abusive parents, but he’d not been stronger back then, still a fledgeling assassin no matter how professional he acted. But of course a child would see that as his fault. Of course a child who wanted help would not see or care about that. And Cyran could not begrudge the young man for thinking of him that way… no matter how much it hurt. He honestly ought to have expected this reaction. There could never have been a happy reunion for the happy assassins.
And he knew, of course, that Riptide was not joking.[1]
Cyran ought to have controlled his reaction better, but his cheeks had grown wet without his notice. Cyran’s shoulders heaved and his throat felt thick, and he ought to have pulled himself together but the guilt burned and seeing the cruel look on the face of a man who he could still remember as an innocent baby still ached and there was nothing he could do.
“Sorry.” He gasped out. I’m sorry. I tried. He did not think Riptide would understand even if he tried to express it. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to offend you or hurt you. I’m human.” He pulled himself to his feet. “You can have the room for the night. You don’t have to want to ever see me again or be cordial but I want you to take it. I’ll just… I’ll just go.” 1. Insight Rune
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Post by Vonoros Jedath on Dec 4, 2023 12:38:01 GMT -5
Vonoro’s yellow emotionless and stern eyes looked straight at the other man’s eyes as he listened to his rebuttal.
He waited for a second before responding, “Isn’t it though? After all, why would you offer me something like that? It’s not like you like me or we’re friends. You don’t have to offer some sort of vague offering of peace. You don’t gotta drop it dude I’m just telling the truth after all”, the tritons words were laced with venom.
He listened to the other man’s attempt at apology and he stood up, eyes finally breaking from his neutral front.
“No don’t leave, you don’t understand how long I waited for this day, I want this. Do you know how many times I practiced what I was going to say to you? You don’t just get to leave and this be done okay? I looked up to you, you were my hero, I looked at you as a father figure as silly as that sounds. I wanted you to save me. I thought you would’ve but you didn’t. You didn’t just not save me but you left me, left me to rot in that hell for yours. The only friend, the only semblance of a family I had left me without even saying a word, not even a goodbye. You know I had this silly little fantasy that you’d save me from them and we could’ve been a real family”, he chuckles softly, “I had a family once, those pirates were my only family but they’re all dead so I don’t have one anymore. I’m glad to hear you’re doing well. I truly am. I hope whatever family or bonds you have now you cherish them well".
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Post by Cyran Fenastra-Asiliari on Dec 12, 2023 8:46:21 GMT -5
The assassin kept his gaze averted, unsure what to say. Instinct reminded him to keep silent. He was not unused to venom, to being the disappointment. It had… just been some time since he’d dealt with it, was all. He closed his eyes and said nothing, simply exhaling through his nose - seeking calm, seeking the ice in his veins to prevent from unraveling entirely. Riptide was a kid. A hurt kid, and he was just lashing out because it was all he knew how to do. It broke Cyran’s heart but all he could do was remain neutral, as he always did.
When he spoke his voice did not lack earlier’s gentility, though there was a firmness and a finality to it. “It was just an offer. You can deny it if you want but there’s no need to lash out. I’m sorry a lifetime of hurts have taught you to be wary of kindness, to bite the hand offered to help pull you up. I’m sorry if you don’t want my help. It’s still there if you want it, whether you like it or not.”
He’d hoped that might be all the young triton needed to get off his chest.
He was wrong.
Cyran stopped, mid-exit, frozen halfway to the door while Riptide spoke. He needed to air his hurts. He needed to grieve. Cyran knew. That didn’t make it sting any less, didn’t make him feel like he was standing in his father’s study hearing about all he’d done wrong, never able to please anyone. A mistake, a waste. But Riptide needed to get it off his chest, and he was right; Cyran didn’t deserve to leave when he needed to look old mistakes in the eyes. So he waited, listened, refusing to let the tears fall down his cheeks of their own accord.
“You’re right.” He gasped. “I’d wanted - I tried -“ But regardless of his own efforts or desires, the young man had still felt abandoned. There was no changing that. He could not explain that he’d tried breaking into Riptide’s home once, to pluck him from his parents, only to be mortally wounded once more, the child’s entire family absconding to parts unknown while he recovered from his injuries. There’d been no goodbyes because the Jedath matriarch and patriarch knew they could no longer let such a dangerous influence around their son; an influence who sought to treat him as a person rather than a weapon. Cyran had tried, but failed, and the young man’s parents had all but succeeded.
“I wanted to-“ No, that wasn’t right either.
Cyran shook his head and closed his eyes, still seeking calm. The triton could lash out at him all he wanted and Cyran would still do his best to do what he could. It was all he could offer.
“I’m sorry about your family. Truly. Regardless of my own wants or desires, I couldn’t help you the way I wanted, and it’s left its scars on you.” He took a deep breath. “But scars do not make you unlovable. I’m a monster and I’ve found a place to be happy. You can too. You have once and you will again. And if you ever need help with that, you know where to find me.”
He bowed.
“I hope that seeing me again could at least provide some catharsis. Until we meet again, Riptide. Shadows be with you.”
He grabbed his bag then, and disappeared into the darkness - brokering no more room for argument. [1] Only when he was out of the inn, leaving Vonoros the room, the bed, the warmth, Del’s leftover food - only when Cyran was a good distance away did he break down entirely, collapsing to his knees in the dark corner of an alley, clutching his ring like a lifeline as the tears finally fell.
He only hoped that Vonoros - wherever the shadows next guided him - might find peace that Cyran had denied him for so long. 1. Dark Form
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Post by Vonoros Jedath on Dec 12, 2023 14:10:06 GMT -5
Vonoros simply sighed at the other man bringing up his offer of a place to stay, “Like I said before yeah right dude as if. Sorry for lashing out, I guess that makes the old man sad. I don’t need you, Specter, anymore. You don’t have to offer your help just because oh no the old man feels bad, nah I don’t need it. I needed it when I was a child desperately but not anymore. I grew up and managed alone and that’s how I prefer it. Sleeping in the streets without warmth or comfort is more than fine with me. A lifetime of misery has trained me to accept it after all it’s better than no sleep at all”.
He then pauses as he hears the elf man’s attempt at an explanation only to see him struggle to come up with one, “pathetic”, he thought, “Even after all these years he just keeps making excuses”, he thinks as he listens to him and sees him run away.
He shouts as the other man leaves, “You didn’t help me, you left me alone to rot in hell for years without excuse. Don’t speak to me about being a monster because you truly do not understand what it is like. I am a human weapon, a killing automaton whose sole purpose in creation and existence is to take the lives of others. You know what and who I am, my body count is in a four-digit sphere there will never be happiness for me. You can have it because you have redemption and are not as evil as I am for existing. I truly am jealous of Spectre but I can't accept your flimsy offer for your good conscience. Maybe someday when I’m dead but not today or ever, I truly do hate you screwing your shadows. I rebuke them. The only thing I need is the deadtide and myself. I don’t ever need anybody else in my entire life I swear it”.
He then ends the night by leaving the man’s room and heading back to his home in the Pale City. He doesn’t sleep that night too awake too enraged as he makes his way home thinking back on his encounter. He simply stays awake as he arrives back thinking about the Specter and his older brother. He didn’t need anyone in this world no matter if his brother came back to haunt him, he’d face it alone.
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