"Both of Us", Part 1/10
Sasayaki
Member Posts: 137
"... let's return to this subject later, when we have more time to enjoy it," said Neera.
And then we killed my half brother.
It's a lot more complicated than that, of course. And by complicated I mean killing. Blood and murder always seem to follow in my wake, and doesn't seem to care who's on what end of the blade. Fate seems to want to twist a knife in me, and I'm struggling to see the good in all of this.
There's one little spot, though. Neera.
I think it's still early days, and it's hard for me to put into words how exactly I feel, but... there's something between us, no doubt.
We kissed. That happened. I was surprised I didn't turn into a llama when it happened, and although the scowl Viconia gave me could have pieced the Prime and cut a hole straight through to the Pits, it felt good.
Rasaad gave me a subtle nod, to tell me that I'd done well, and his smile was a mile wide.
Dorn didn't care, of course. He just looked bored. I worry about that orc.
Now we're here, in this temple to Bhaal hidden under the ground, a thousand tonnes of rock over our heads and the slain body of Sarevok at my feet. We were filthy, covered in blood, dirt and grime; but somehow Neera looked more beautiful than ever.
"So," she said, the end of her staff bloodied. "It's done, isn't it?"
"I think so," I said, giving Sarevok a careful prod with my boot. As we watched, his body -- armour and all -- slowly disappeared into thin air and all there was a faint lingering feeling deep in my gut.
A Bhaalspawn had died. I'd gained a fraction of Sarevok's considerable power. The others had gotten the rest. I didn't feel good, though. I felt hollow.
"Good riddance to bad rubbish," said Jaheera, barely able to stand, her skin a pale, gauntly white. She swatted away Khalid's feeble attempts to tend her wounds. "Perhaps now we can rest."
"Perhaps," I said, but some part of me knew that we would be given no rest.
And then we killed my half brother.
It's a lot more complicated than that, of course. And by complicated I mean killing. Blood and murder always seem to follow in my wake, and doesn't seem to care who's on what end of the blade. Fate seems to want to twist a knife in me, and I'm struggling to see the good in all of this.
There's one little spot, though. Neera.
I think it's still early days, and it's hard for me to put into words how exactly I feel, but... there's something between us, no doubt.
We kissed. That happened. I was surprised I didn't turn into a llama when it happened, and although the scowl Viconia gave me could have pieced the Prime and cut a hole straight through to the Pits, it felt good.
Rasaad gave me a subtle nod, to tell me that I'd done well, and his smile was a mile wide.
Dorn didn't care, of course. He just looked bored. I worry about that orc.
Now we're here, in this temple to Bhaal hidden under the ground, a thousand tonnes of rock over our heads and the slain body of Sarevok at my feet. We were filthy, covered in blood, dirt and grime; but somehow Neera looked more beautiful than ever.
"So," she said, the end of her staff bloodied. "It's done, isn't it?"
"I think so," I said, giving Sarevok a careful prod with my boot. As we watched, his body -- armour and all -- slowly disappeared into thin air and all there was a faint lingering feeling deep in my gut.
A Bhaalspawn had died. I'd gained a fraction of Sarevok's considerable power. The others had gotten the rest. I didn't feel good, though. I felt hollow.
"Good riddance to bad rubbish," said Jaheera, barely able to stand, her skin a pale, gauntly white. She swatted away Khalid's feeble attempts to tend her wounds. "Perhaps now we can rest."
"Perhaps," I said, but some part of me knew that we would be given no rest.
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