15. vice
Daimd was happy to consider himself an orc of few vices. He couldn't recall the last time he'd envied someone else, since he hardly took notice of anyone's life outside his own, and he certainly lacked whatever defined one as avaricious, given that he rarely wanted more than what he already had. Similarly, gluttony was not a factor in his life; he ate what he had, when he was hungry, and not otherwise. In these senses, he would describe himself as satisfied.
The others were less straight-forward, but he shifted them around in his mind, not too set upon by any one in particular. He considered himself prideful in that he was pleased with himself, but not so much that he considered himself vastly better than any one of his neighbours. He was simply the only Daimd in the world, and the best one of that, in particular. Nothing spectacular. Nothing self-indulgent.
Wrath, too, was a familiar cousin, but not a close relative--surely that was something he experienced only with good reason. His life was, all told, free of excesses.
But he supposed, with a rough grin, that maybe he was too generous with himself. If it was sloth to linger hours away beneath the blanket with an arm around his lover, and if it was lust to want him fiercely, any time the slightest opportunity presented itself... But, he thought as he pulled the redheaded blood elf nearer to him and pressed his face into that fantastic hair, that hardly felt like vice.
The others were less straight-forward, but he shifted them around in his mind, not too set upon by any one in particular. He considered himself prideful in that he was pleased with himself, but not so much that he considered himself vastly better than any one of his neighbours. He was simply the only Daimd in the world, and the best one of that, in particular. Nothing spectacular. Nothing self-indulgent.
Wrath, too, was a familiar cousin, but not a close relative--surely that was something he experienced only with good reason. His life was, all told, free of excesses.
But he supposed, with a rough grin, that maybe he was too generous with himself. If it was sloth to linger hours away beneath the blanket with an arm around his lover, and if it was lust to want him fiercely, any time the slightest opportunity presented itself... But, he thought as he pulled the redheaded blood elf nearer to him and pressed his face into that fantastic hair, that hardly felt like vice.