Board Thread:Roleplaying/@comment-10197675-20131208215432/@comment-3293219-20131209120407

Nish awoke in his cell, he no longer felt pain but he still felt incredibly weak.

He looked to his right and noticed that Eilonwn was snuggled up to him, her mouth covered in blood like a child who'd eaten a rasberry pie to themselves before falling asleep. It would have been endearing if it weren't for the fact that it was his blood, not to mention he guilt that he still felt.

He raised his left arm, noticing for the first time, how sticky the floor was. It looks like the breton had lost a lot of blood, most of it still stuck to his clothes. He used his freed left arm to brush Eilonwyn off and gently roll her onto her back as he got up. He sighed heavily, knowing that he'll never be free.

"Breton!" The guard snapped, "you have a visitor."

Nish turned to the guard with a look that said 'please kill me' and nodded at him to send the visitor through.

The guard left and once again, Nish was alone, stood in his own blood. He must have been out for days as it was dry and stuck to whatever surface it fell on during his 'struggle.'

His trail of thought was interrupted when a guard came back, escortin a familiar breton.

Dad?

He ran over and wrapped his hands around the bars, the first ounce of happiness he'd felt in days.

"You look terrible..." His father muttered, typical of him.

"Well... I did just survive my own execution...." Nish explained, gesturing at the blood and his sleepin executioner.

"No, I mean, look you at you! You haven't eaten in days!" His old man countered, poking his waste.

"Well, I've been dead for... three days? I think it's been three days but I'm not sure..."

"That's no excuse." His father laughed, "I've been dead twelve years and I'm as fit as a fiddle!"

He then paused and thought about what he had said.

"Well... on second thought, maybe I'm not. But at least I'm not a scrawny little bag of bones like you!" He mocked, poking Nish's ribs again.

His father's teasing surprisingly made him feel better, until he remembered why he was there.

"Are you... aware, of what I've done?" Nish muttered, putting a downer on the mood.

"I've read your charges, yes..."

"And you aren't pissed at me?" Nish asked, surprised. His father was an honest man, one who would never be caught dead clapped in irons and here was Nish, repeat convict, murderer.

"You don't really feel this way, do you?" His father asked, taking his hand through the railings.

"What, that I let her down? Let that... thing get her and turn her into a monster, then I just collapsed!"

"She's not a monster..." Nish's father corrected him, gesturing at the sleeping predator.

"No... she's not the monster, the monster is what's gotten hold of her." Nish said, wincing at the thought of it.

"What makes you think that something's gotten hold of her?" Nish's old man questioned.

"That's just what happens, you turn and lose your mind and you're neve the same."

"How do you know? How many vampires do you personally know?"

"Well... there was the one that killed you, those monsters in the cave, that freak Dunlammus, that thing inside my head and her..."

"You only know one of them personally." His father pointed out.

Nish though about it, the old bugger was right but that didn't change anything.

"So?"

"People change Nish..." His father corrected him.

"I know but not like this..." Nish knelt down beside her and touched her shoulder, gently.

"How do you know that she's changed... she could be exactly as you left her but now she's alone and afraid. What if Dunlammus was abandoned, what if all of those people in the cave were like they were, because all they had was eachother? What if she doesn't need to be saved?

Tell me, am I wrong? Even if I am wrong... cures exist."

"Do I look like a bloody wizard?"

"No but your friend with the pointy stick, pigtails and the robes looks like she fits the part." The old breton chuckled, sitting down, crosslegged to bring himself to Nish's level.

"What if she doesn't want to be 'cured'?" Nish asked, somewhat weakly.

"Why wouldn't she?"

"She's always gone on about 'protecting me,' gone at great lengths to put herself in danger to do so... whether I agree to it or not."

The old breton stroked his chin as he thought, wishing that he had a wizard's beard to make him look wiser when he did it.

"Have you ever told her how you feel about her 'protecting you?"

"I... no, guess I haven't."

His father smiled, bringing back memories of their talks on tollerance and dealing with others.

"Why does it bother you?"

Nish thought about it, why did it? Truly, what was it, if he couldn't figure that out, then he'd be stuck here forever.

"Because... it's futile..."

"What is?"

"Protecting me, you know that more than anyone that, everyone dies. Everyone and everything dies and turns to dust, that's how it is and that's how it will always be. Her turning into... that won't change anything." A tear rolled down Nish's face as he grazed his thumb along her boot.

"Does she know this?"

"Yes... no... I don't know." Nish confessed, looking back.

"Maybe it's time you told her..." His father suggested.

(I'll continue it later, I have a class coming up soon.)