This day has been nothing short of a culmination of every nightmare that I have ever had, every ill thought and bad dream and fear. This day... this day
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Everywhere Kate went today, she seemed to run across her own dead body. It was terrifying, so she was trying to get someplace safe. The compound, maybe. That was such a good, solid building she thought it must be safe there. Before she could get there, she was grabbed by a very large man with a very large knife.
Kate did not understand man's language, but she did understand the knife.
Selig laughs as the woman protests, and I feel that something is not right already. Phedre, who taught me Selig's language, would not respond to him in the common tongue of this place.
Indeed, none of the Phedres that I'd seen Selig take so far said much of anything; merely pleaded with me wordlessly before they met their ends.
No, something is not right, and I hesitate just a second until I place it.
"No. It's Kate." Clearly, this was another case of mistaken identity, and once it was cleared up, he would let her go. And hopefully not find the real Phedre, but that could be taken care of once she was a little bit further away from the knife. "I'm Kate, and I don't know you, and so there's no reason for this, sir. Please let me go."
Oh, Elua no. There is mistaken identity -- there is me accidentally embracing Kate because I thought she was Phedre, once -- and then there is this, and this cannot happen.
"No," I shout in Skaldic. "Selig, this is not Phedre, let her go. Your quarrel is not with this woman!" I repeat myself in the common tongue here, for her benefit. It is her life that hangs in the balance.
Selig laughs, one hand firmly beneath Kate's jaw, as he inches the blade closer to her neck. "You try to bargain with me, Cassiline?" he says. "I know Phedre, I know her in ways you do not, yes? I know her, and you shall watch me kill her, again and again." He pressed his blade to Kate's throat, point pressing just enough to graze her skin.
I advance, flipping one dagger up to prepare to throw. I may have only one chance to stop him. "You are not real," I insist, grasping my blade in my hand and calculating how long I have to throw. "You let her go."
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Kate did not understand man's language, but she did understand the knife.
"Sir, please," she managed to say.
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Indeed, none of the Phedres that I'd seen Selig take so far said much of anything; merely pleaded with me wordlessly before they met their ends.
No, something is not right, and I hesitate just a second until I place it.
"Kate?" I shout, eyes wide.
Selig looks from me to her. "Phedre," he insists.
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"No," I shout in Skaldic. "Selig, this is not Phedre, let her go. Your quarrel is not with this woman!" I repeat myself in the common tongue here, for her benefit. It is her life that hangs in the balance.
Selig laughs, one hand firmly beneath Kate's jaw, as he inches the blade closer to her neck. "You try to bargain with me, Cassiline?" he says. "I know Phedre, I know her in ways you do not, yes? I know her, and you shall watch me kill her, again and again." He pressed his blade to Kate's throat, point pressing just enough to graze her skin.
I advance, flipping one dagger up to prepare to throw. I may have only one chance to stop him. "You are not real," I insist, grasping my blade in my hand and calculating how long I have to throw. "You let her go."
Reply
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