[log] Early morning sparring
Who: Percival and Seed.
What: Early morning chance meeting?
When: A few days after Jillia's arrival.
Where: The courtyard.
Seed woke up with a start. He had been there, again, in L'Renouille. And he watched them die, again.
Jillia's arrival, Jillia's crying, Jillia saying that she had been abandonned, had unsettled him even more than Camus and Luca ever did.
He felt guilty. Guilty because of her tears, because of her loneliness and her fear.
Reason dictated that he did his best, that he died to buy her enough time to escape, that he couldn't be expected to do more... but reason could not silence the nagging voice in the back of his mind.
If only Culgan was here, he'd make sense of it all.
And if he couldn't, then they could get drunk together, like when they were younger, and attempt to make it back to one of their rooms, most likely passing out in the hallway.
But he had no one to hang on to, here.
Just memories.
He sat on the bed in the small room he had been given, and raked his hands through his hair before deciding that he wouldn't get any more sleep. He pulled out a package from under his bed, and slipped on the padded black leather garments, following through the familiar motions of buckling every piece of armor in a predetermined order, the pieces clicking into place with a satisfying noise of metal against metal.
He let out a sigh of contentment at the weight of his sword against his side, and left the room, making his way through the corridors to the courtyard. Night was slowly receeding, as the strange second sun in the sky bathed his surroundings with an eerie glow. There it was, on the horizon... there was the sun.
The same sun that rose over Highland, at the other end of this continent.
Over the beauties of L'Renouille.
Over what was left of his village.
Over the rubble of the castle that...
Seed slipped his sword out of its scabbard, and pointed it towards the rising sun, watching the light reflecting off the tip of the blade.
What: Early morning chance meeting?
When: A few days after Jillia's arrival.
Where: The courtyard.
Seed woke up with a start. He had been there, again, in L'Renouille. And he watched them die, again.
Jillia's arrival, Jillia's crying, Jillia saying that she had been abandonned, had unsettled him even more than Camus and Luca ever did.
He felt guilty. Guilty because of her tears, because of her loneliness and her fear.
Reason dictated that he did his best, that he died to buy her enough time to escape, that he couldn't be expected to do more... but reason could not silence the nagging voice in the back of his mind.
If only Culgan was here, he'd make sense of it all.
And if he couldn't, then they could get drunk together, like when they were younger, and attempt to make it back to one of their rooms, most likely passing out in the hallway.
But he had no one to hang on to, here.
Just memories.
He sat on the bed in the small room he had been given, and raked his hands through his hair before deciding that he wouldn't get any more sleep. He pulled out a package from under his bed, and slipped on the padded black leather garments, following through the familiar motions of buckling every piece of armor in a predetermined order, the pieces clicking into place with a satisfying noise of metal against metal.
He let out a sigh of contentment at the weight of his sword against his side, and left the room, making his way through the corridors to the courtyard. Night was slowly receeding, as the strange second sun in the sky bathed his surroundings with an eerie glow. There it was, on the horizon... there was the sun.
The same sun that rose over Highland, at the other end of this continent.
Over the beauties of L'Renouille.
Over what was left of his village.
Over the rubble of the castle that...
Seed slipped his sword out of its scabbard, and pointed it towards the rising sun, watching the light reflecting off the tip of the blade.