“Why shouldn’t they?” Wemmbu asks and for a moment like Atlas, his tongue holds the weight of the world.
“I’m not sure what you mean…” Zam keeps her eyes downturned as she stokes the campfire.
“Why shouldn’t they talk about the Empire?”
“Well, because… I dunno… I’ve moved on. I disappeared and went to live a peaceful life away from all of this,” She offered the explanation as if trying to win the trust of a wild beast, tentative and graceful, careful not to say the wrong thing.
“Yeah, but why shouldn’t they talk about what you did?” Wemmbu asked, their eyes scanning over Zam’s shaking hand. They reached over and took the stick from her, pushing around kindling and embers, maintaining the Flame. “Everyone has something to say about everyone on the server, why should you be any different?”
“I guess I shouldn’t,” His voice is barely above a whisper when he says it. “I guess I’m just not used to it.”
Wemmbu raises an eyebrow. “What do you mean?”
“When I had the Empire, most people revered me and if they didn’t, I had a way to shut them up. Now, they’re talking about a memory that I don’t want to remember and a person that I’m not sure exists anymore,” Zam sighs, placing a hand on either of her cheeks.
Silence falls over them, thick and tense, only broken by the whirling of the wind, the animals in the forest, and the crackling of the fire. There is a comfort to be found within the intimate quiet, a mutual understanding of the way they both feel.
“Tell me about it,” Wemmbu breaks the silence, sitting the stick down beside the campfire. He tucks a strand of long, yellow hair behind Zam’s ear and wraps his arm around her as she leans against him. Their breathing syncs and for a moment the battles inside their heads pause. “You’ll get used to it. Eventually you realize it’s a bunch of NPCs talking about shit they know nothing about.”
“Yeah, a bunch of NPCs.”
