03-18-2012, 11:49 AM
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Hmm...wondering where we should go with this. We didn't come up with a plot or anything o__o *is out of practice*
Ah. He smiled ruefully to himself. Of course. She must think him a fool to think her such, in spite of her ethereal beauty under the light of the moon. He shook his head and looked to the ground once more.
"My apologies, then. I suppose I am in a spiritual mood...a long chapter of my life has ended recently, and it did not end happily." He reached up to the mess of his ear and the stab of pain nearly made him wince. Still, it was hard to show such weakness before someone like the woman before him. He got the impression of strength despite her calm manner. If she were mortal, he did not fear for his life: though his confidence in GreyClaw's purpose was shaken, he was still a few days away from finally accepting that they did not have a monopoly on fighting prowess. But fear or not, he was compelled to show her no weakness. To veil his pitiful state with at least a veneer of respectability.
"And I did not expect to see someone so beautiful in the epilogue of this years-long misadventure." He shook his head at the foolishness of his words and reached down to pick up his gear. He was vulnerable, the very last place a warrior should ever allow himself to be. If he kept talking to this woman, there was no telling what he would let slip, where he'd come from and why...what he'd done. He would have one more enemy in the Souls' lands before this was all said and done, he was sure.
Yet the thought of a sympathetic soul being the only one to have observed his departure was oddly comforting. The idea that perhaps someone might think better of him than his former packmates in Phoenix Valley, think him more than a treacherous murderer who had reached in and plucked one of the land's protectors away. Still, in spite of everything, he had his training to consider. There were so many things to sort out now...so many questions he would need to answer if he heeded that inner voice which had implored him to stop...which had convinced him that his duty was monstrous and that he was wrong for pursuing it. But he had stayed true to his objective, and now his next step was to report the mission a success. To go back to the world that had set him down this road in the first place, only to--he now suspected--advocate the very views that had gotten Gronnor and all of his students killed.
He made as if to walk away from her before revealing anything more of himself, but the cawing raven drew his gaze, and he wondered. Were there such things as omens? Would that carrion bird be the symbol of his stay here, a harbinger of death who fed on the wickedness of the world? How could he ever make up for what he had done...how should he try? He turned his troubled eyes toward the woman--he was much closer to her now--and met her cold eyes. He did not know the answers. He might never know them. But one way or the other, he was not dead, and in one direction or the other life had to go on.
Hmm...wondering where we should go with this. We didn't come up with a plot or anything o__o *is out of practice*
Ah. He smiled ruefully to himself. Of course. She must think him a fool to think her such, in spite of her ethereal beauty under the light of the moon. He shook his head and looked to the ground once more.
"My apologies, then. I suppose I am in a spiritual mood...a long chapter of my life has ended recently, and it did not end happily." He reached up to the mess of his ear and the stab of pain nearly made him wince. Still, it was hard to show such weakness before someone like the woman before him. He got the impression of strength despite her calm manner. If she were mortal, he did not fear for his life: though his confidence in GreyClaw's purpose was shaken, he was still a few days away from finally accepting that they did not have a monopoly on fighting prowess. But fear or not, he was compelled to show her no weakness. To veil his pitiful state with at least a veneer of respectability.
"And I did not expect to see someone so beautiful in the epilogue of this years-long misadventure." He shook his head at the foolishness of his words and reached down to pick up his gear. He was vulnerable, the very last place a warrior should ever allow himself to be. If he kept talking to this woman, there was no telling what he would let slip, where he'd come from and why...what he'd done. He would have one more enemy in the Souls' lands before this was all said and done, he was sure.
Yet the thought of a sympathetic soul being the only one to have observed his departure was oddly comforting. The idea that perhaps someone might think better of him than his former packmates in Phoenix Valley, think him more than a treacherous murderer who had reached in and plucked one of the land's protectors away. Still, in spite of everything, he had his training to consider. There were so many things to sort out now...so many questions he would need to answer if he heeded that inner voice which had implored him to stop...which had convinced him that his duty was monstrous and that he was wrong for pursuing it. But he had stayed true to his objective, and now his next step was to report the mission a success. To go back to the world that had set him down this road in the first place, only to--he now suspected--advocate the very views that had gotten Gronnor and all of his students killed.
He made as if to walk away from her before revealing anything more of himself, but the cawing raven drew his gaze, and he wondered. Were there such things as omens? Would that carrion bird be the symbol of his stay here, a harbinger of death who fed on the wickedness of the world? How could he ever make up for what he had done...how should he try? He turned his troubled eyes toward the woman--he was much closer to her now--and met her cold eyes. He did not know the answers. He might never know them. But one way or the other, he was not dead, and in one direction or the other life had to go on.