✧* ░ From the day one of the greatest sorcerers self-exiled, she wanted to find him, bring him back - until the day it became apparent there was no cure. It took all this time in denial, running away from the evident. Ignoring the fact that there could be life after the curse. At times it felt the curse had no rules. Surely, the ones hollowed had succumbed to it. Yet, she had seen hope kindle in someone, second they were mad. Or, could it be that last bit of hope was taken away from them? The more she thought, perhaps, it was just another form of existence.
As the weight lifted off her chest - she wasn’t afraid to keep her eyes closed - lean against the cold frame of the armor she was held against. Her free hand, would find a place over his - ensure its place. Against all of the expectations towards the assassin, who always reminded her about her mortality - symbolize death lurking around the corner. Perhaps, she could also sense something he still claimed to have peeking through - someone he used to be. Rather, than what she had learnt him to be.
“ I only wanted to preserve knowledge, what they seek to destroy along with me… was I disappointment of a target? Mm… perhaps that is for the better. Even though, who is to preserve anything, if not ready to fight for it? I never cosidered myself a fighter… ” What a problem, indeed.
“ I knew I’d be in danger for being a sorcerer, but I don’t understand why people seek to put an end to this art… I could have hidden and denied everything. Still, it is something I never ran away from even if it threatened my life: The fact I am a sorcerer. Maybe that is what keeps me going… against all the odds. I assume, there is still something you fight for? Even if it’s for being a sword for someone else. ”
The assassin is quiet. Thoughtful. There have been times where he seemed vacant in the past, but now, he hung on her words, knowing the importance of this event. For her, it was to come to understandings she had long since denied and fled from. For him..?
“ Spite, is a powerful thing “ he says. Devoid of his usual jovial tones.
“ When what you had given your very life to protect has been stolen away from you at every turn, there is no choice, other than to stubbornly refuse to let its legacy fade. And when there is a name- a face to the very thing that has caused misery to your people, you are driven by vengeance. Driven to kill. For it is either their life, or yours. And upon your shoulders lies everyone you once knew. The legacy they left behind. Your foe, hated as they are, has no such legacy but what lies around us. This crumbling kingdom of corpses and hollows. It will fade to dust. But I, I will remain.”
He goes quiet again - but not for long. His laugh begins to ring out soon enough.
“ You worry that you were a disappointment? “ he smiles, hidden as it may be. “ No, I cannot say you were. For you are far more entertaining than any old bag of bones, crumpling into a heap and helpless the moment I shrug off a magical spear. I’ve seen some prefer a death by the lava of the Iron Keep than to fight me.”
“ ...Perhaps I see some of myself in your stubborn denial of death itself. In some warped, twisted sort of way, keheh... isn’t that just a riot? “ he whispers, sighing, and squeezing her ever that slightest bit tighter. Through the armor, he can still feel the tiniest additional weight of her hand.
How comforting, that tiny thing can be.
