Private (18+) Hands of the Sorrowful Knight: Redux

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    Hlíf 'Ulfr

    Nothing but a lyre
    Staff member
    *

    Shalns eyes widened slightly as the shadowed figure became increasingly clear to him, though they quickly flitted to those around him searching for any hint of recognition. His thoughts began to accelerate as he retreated inwards, brow furrowing slightly. Perhaps, he reasoned, it was a new symptom of his condition. It would stand to reason that only the dead could perceive such spectres, which would explain why the others seemed ignorant. It vexed him slightly, following such logic, as to why he had not encountered this before but as the acknowledgement and affirmation of his undead state rolled over him the world suddenly became very clear. What had he to fear? All sins of the past had been paid for with his life, whatever torment lay ahead was nothing.


    Shaln breathed in deeply, appearing almost rejuvenated and no longer withdrawn but serene. He turned to the argonian who had only moments ago addressed him. No smile was offered nor gleaming kind eyes and yet there was something there, in his face, that spoke of honest interest.


    “My name?” He repeated softly “You may call me Shaln, and yourself? Your companion has named you as Ix, but I hesitate to use a name without permission. Should I, a stranger, call you such or is there another more formal name you wish me to use?”


    Waiting politely he made respectful and direct eye contact with the woman though he desired nothing more than to look upon the second dunmer and his shadow. Like a curious itch to be scratched, it lived on the periphery of his mind, growing as he ignored it in favour of his current conversation. Focusing on the even ebb and flow of his breathing he pushed to ignore it, awaiting a moment at which he could steal a glance and sate his desire.


    Before their exchange could continue beyond her response however the two were interrupted. Forced to the ground by a mighty blow the khajiit lay in a heap surely regretting whatever mistake had caused the aggrieved orc to strike him. Releasing a quiet sigh he reminded himself to be fair in his judgments, he had seen countless others react more harshly with less reason. Still, he wished that someone would bring this meeting to its conclusion swiftly. At this point, he was unsure what exactly that would be though he could imagine many possibilities. However it was not his place to steer their course, he would not lead them or alter their path when they had so much more to lose than he.


    Shalns wish was to be granted it seemed as a leader seemed present in the Dunmer who had captured his attention moments ago. It also offered a wonderful opportunity, a perfectly acceptable excuse for his gaze to linger and study the man and his spectre. Content in this he listened placidly, that was until the spectre disappeared and became one with its companion. Were he to have a heart within his chest it would have raced, pounding to hear the ghost’s voice become clear and fall a mouth that was not its own.


    "Join us, and we will show these bastards that there are fates far worse than death, and we command them." It said, with a zeal that was not out of place.


    He would not likely have suspected a thing if he had not been able to see the apparition, of that he was fairly confident. It did leave him at odds with the others, only separating him more from them in ways that they would not understand. Despite this, the idea of rejecting the opportunity to come to the aid of those with a good cause did not sit right with him. He was, therefore, the first to respond. Unencumbered by any thought of self-preservation he stepped forward.


    “Though I have not experienced any personal loss in this tragedy I believe it would be contemptible to ignore the suffering that has been already dealt and that which no doubt will follow. I offer you my aid in whatever capacity you may need, I will join you.” His head bowed respectfully he awaited the others, swallowing an ominous feeling that had begun to claw its way from his chest up to his throat.


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