[okay, early quicklog!]crimson_seekerMay 14 2011, 21:43:25 UTC
[Hawk has watched this page for a while. At some point, he simply closes the journal, leaves his errands for later, and sets out to look for his friend. He's never known Paladin to be anything but true-hearted and honourable. To see such words from him means something is wrong indeed.
After a while, his search carries him to the higher parts of the Tree and to Paladin's door. He'd hesitate to knock, but right now concern has the upper hand. He raps on the door, rather briskly. Waits, knocks again, then a third time.]
[Inside, there is motion, and there is a light on--but no one comes to answer the door. If Hawk's ears are very sharp, a sound matching that of a person rolling over on a couch and possibly pulling a pillow over their head can be heard.]
[Hawk's ears are sharp, but not quite that keen. He sighs, wondering whether his presence is required or even in any way beneficial. The other part of the problem is that someone he considers a friend is, by all accounts, in pain, and he does want to do something to help.
[...Break down the door. He can't do that to himself, nor can he do that to Reed. After a few moments, he gets up and gets the door, opening it probably not as wide as he should, and--he's not hiding behind the door, but it seems to provide some kind of shelter for him.]
[He doesn't say anything, but his haggard, unkempt and unshaven appearance likely speaks for itself.]
[Hawk frowns at the sight of Paladin--he is a far sight from the man he's used to seeing, somehow bedraggled, and probably in dire need of both food and sleep. The cause for his distress seems to be buried deeper, though.
Hawk stands back a little, as if to say he isn't here to intrude, or even if he is, his intention is wholly benign.]
Heavens above, what's happened? Ah, I wasn't really going to force my way in, but it looks like you...
I don't even know what it looks like. What's the matter, if I may? [And he will. He could hardly do otherwise, now he's come this far.]
[He's having difficulty meeting people's eyes, but now that Hawk is here and the door is open...he glances up briefly, then opens the door wider to let him in.]
[What's the matter? The question almost forces a laugh from him, but he chokes it down.] I am... The matter is... [As hard/easy as it was to write, the words stick in his throat and do not want to be spoken.] I'm not what I was.
[Hawk steps in cautiously, lingering by the door even after it is closed. There's a space here, clearly, that he should not breach, but he can't help wanting to reach a bit closer.]
Not what you were? You don't look that changed to me, save for that you could use a meal and a week of sleep... but that isn't it, I'm guessing. A memory, was it? [He pauses.] The truth is a broken mirror here, my friend.
[Despite spending so much time screaming it at himself inside his head, it's hard to say aloud, and when he does bring himself to say it--or something like it--his voice is dull.] It was a slaughter.
[Hawk sighs, smothering a sudden jolt of memory. What would it say of him, of his own past, that the word sounds so familiar?]
Right. I see. That would get to any man. But... I'm guessing, again, that it wasn't as simple as that. You don't seem the sort to be this shaken over simple bloodshed.
It wasn't. [He steps away, but in a way that invites Hawk in further, however obliquely. Perhaps it is because he is opening up, even slightly...perhaps because he doesn't want to be so close to the outside world while he says it.] An innocent people, a defenseless people, and I led the killing.
[He follows Paladin's gesture, if only by a couple of steps. It doesn't seem like an occasion for making himself comfortable, even if the invitation is there. The topic is anything but.
It would have been something terrible, to have disturbed Paladin so. For a moment, Hawk is at an utter loss for words. Platitudes, tired, oft-repeated consolations, yes, but what to say?]
How much do you know of your life before? Other than this latest piece?
[He pauses, almost biting back his next words.] It is a single shard of the truth, my friend. You must take it as such.
I know--I know I have seen much death. I know...much, and yet little. [His response is hesitant--where to even start with his many received memories?]
[His lips turn up and brows come together at Hawk's next words, but his expression is anything but a smile.] I have...difficulty finding a context that makes the slaughter of the defenseless more acceptable.
[The words come more fiercely than Hawk intends, and he admonishes himself as soon as they are out. What right does he have? Perhaps only the right he claims, seeing a friend in pain,]
I'm saying that you do not know the extent of what you were. This horror does not void the good you've done in your time here. I don't know what gods would judge you, but if I know anything of them, then they weight the hurt we cause against our virtuous deeds. There's no one who would be damned unless he truly desires to be.
After a while, his search carries him to the higher parts of the Tree and to Paladin's door. He'd hesitate to knock, but right now concern has the upper hand. He raps on the door, rather briskly. Waits, knocks again, then a third time.]
Anyone home?
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He knocks again, insistently.]
Come now, I'd rather not break down the door.
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[He doesn't say anything, but his haggard, unkempt and unshaven appearance likely speaks for itself.]
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Hawk stands back a little, as if to say he isn't here to intrude, or even if he is, his intention is wholly benign.]
Heavens above, what's happened? Ah, I wasn't really going to force my way in, but it looks like you...
I don't even know what it looks like. What's the matter, if I may? [And he will. He could hardly do otherwise, now he's come this far.]
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[What's the matter? The question almost forces a laugh from him, but he chokes it down.] I am... The matter is... [As hard/easy as it was to write, the words stick in his throat and do not want to be spoken.] I'm not what I was.
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Not what you were? You don't look that changed to me, save for that you could use a meal and a week of sleep... but that isn't it, I'm guessing. A memory, was it? [He pauses.] The truth is a broken mirror here, my friend.
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[Despite spending so much time screaming it at himself inside his head, it's hard to say aloud, and when he does bring himself to say it--or something like it--his voice is dull.] It was a slaughter.
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Right. I see. That would get to any man. But... I'm guessing, again, that it wasn't as simple as that. You don't seem the sort to be this shaken over simple bloodshed.
[His voice is quiet now, but he speaks frankly.]
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It would have been something terrible, to have disturbed Paladin so. For a moment, Hawk is at an utter loss for words. Platitudes, tired, oft-repeated consolations, yes, but what to say?]
How much do you know of your life before? Other than this latest piece?
[He pauses, almost biting back his next words.] It is a single shard of the truth, my friend. You must take it as such.
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[His lips turn up and brows come together at Hawk's next words, but his expression is anything but a smile.] I have...difficulty finding a context that makes the slaughter of the defenseless more acceptable.
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[The words come more fiercely than Hawk intends, and he admonishes himself as soon as they are out. What right does he have? Perhaps only the right he claims, seeing a friend in pain,]
I'm saying that you do not know the extent of what you were. This horror does not void the good you've done in your time here. I don't know what gods would judge you, but if I know anything of them, then they weight the hurt we cause against our virtuous deeds. There's no one who would be damned unless he truly desires to be.
Reply
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