Elenium Drabble set after the incident at the abandoned Styric settlement.
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Sparhawk sat by the fire, slowly struggling into wakefulness. The bustle of the camp flowed around him as he considered the flames.
“Sparhawk!” His head snapped up to look at the two blonde’s standing in front of him. Kalten stood with his arm wrapped firmly around the shoulders of a fuming Parasim.
“Gentlemen.” He acknowledged.
Parasim was given a lighthearted, but very firm push onto a log to the far side of the fire and Kalten sat down next to him. Parasim’s eyes were red rimmed, and his skin was pale with rage. Kalten kept a restraining hand on the younger man’s shoulder.
“Is something wrong, little brother?” Sparhawk asked, keeping his tone mild. Parasim took a breath, finally looking Sparhawk in the eye.
“Sir Haldorain.” He nearly spat.
“Can’t say I’ve had the pleasure. What did he do?” Sparhawk leaned back a little.
“He-he. After last night.” Parasim sputtered, too angry to be coherent yet.
“He was talking about the superiority of Elenes, and Parasim was about to start a brawl before I redirected him.” Kalten supplied.
“I see, and after seeing that Styric settlement, you can’t imagine anything farther from the truth.” Sparhawk kept his tone mild, but he did feel a small, understanding smile tug at the corners of his mouth. Parasim nodded.
“I suspect our dear brother Haldorain is desperately trying to convince himself what he’s saying is correct. It’s easier than confronting the evil we Elenes can commit when we put our minds to it.” Sparhawk observed. Looking off in the direction Kalten and Parasim had come from, he could see Sir Olven and a few older knights corralling an unfamiliar young man.
“Is this really what we are?” Parasim’s despairing voice redirected Sparhawk’s attention back to the younger man. He was starting to regain some color, and the rage seemed to have stepped aside for confusion and hurt.
“As humans, as Elenes, or as Pandions?” Sparhawk asked.
“All, I suppose.” Parasim gave a vague wave of his hand for emphasis.
“Yes.” Sparhawk said simply. Parasim slumped, his shoulders dropping and his bright blue eyes cast downwards. “However, we can be so much better. Your reaction to all of this is proof.” Parasim looked up.
“Really?”
“Truely.” Sparhawk replied. Kalten put out a hand and ruffled the other blonde’s hair.
“I see why our little mother likes this one so much.” Kalten joked, earning a cautiously happy smile.
“Sir Parasim. Come here for a moment.” Sir Olven called, the younger knight standing next to him looking thoroughly shamefaced.
“Gentlemen.” He said politely, jumping up and making his way across the camp.
“Good lad.” Kalten observed.
“He is. I’m afraid he might not be with us very long.” Sparhawk admitted, watching the younger men talk. They appeared to come to some kind of accord and shook hands.
“Must you always be so dour?” Kalten asked, a mixture of annoyance and sadness in his tone.
“You know I’m right.”
“I’m afraid I do.”
