Title: Dead or alone
By: Emmelyn Cindy Mah
Category: Game/Diablo III
Sub-category: Hurt/Comfort
Summary: Oneshot-The whole of Sanctuary is under siege. Demon hunters stand against darkness and corruption, willing to give all for salvation—even life. Despite strength in numbers, two demon hunters nonetheless find themselves lonely.
Disclaimer: I don't own Diablo; Blizzard does. These kids, however, are mine.
She was wearing the same face she'd worn since they'd stepped out into the field in the early hours of the morning: sour and grim. Beneath the muck of battle and the stained blood that rouged her face and lips, he saw a desperate loneliness she tried, and failed to hide away.
The sourness dissipated as she trudged towards him; she shoved her cowl back, then lightly toussled her shaggy, sweat-stained hair.
"Why do you always look so sad?"
She gave him a look, brows furrowing, then shrugged."I thought that was sort of a prerequisite for us."
He chuckled grimly, then handed her his waterskin. "Maybe. But you're not really one of us, are you?"
"I've earned my rank same as you did, jerk. I was here before you were." She shook the skin. "You have it. I know how precious this is."
"Still." He reached for the skin and took a swig. The liquid burned his throat—hot, spicy, and cloyingly sweet, but bitter in his mouth. It warmed his insides; his empty stomach growled in protest. "Doesn't mean you belong here. Maybe you did once. You don't now."
She pursed her lips, then fell limp onto the log, slumping into his side. "It's my home too. Don't be selfish. You're not the only one who's felt loss. You're lonely—only you don't really need to be." Beneath the brisk exterior of her words, he sensed longing. But not for him; for something unreachable, unattainable and far away. For all she spoke of his loneliness, he knew who ached more between the pair of them.
"I thought that was sort of a prerequisite for us." He echoed. She shoved him then. "Ow."
"Seriously, though." She straightened and turned to face him. Her voice wavered; despite her words, he could see she was uncertain, as if she didn't fully believe them herself. "You're not alone."
He shrugged. Felt the lump rise in his throat. "Better to recognise that we all end up alone, than to know companionship and have it taken away."
The corner of her lip twitched. The smile she wore was wry. She knew it as well as he did—only she dared, still, to hope. Wretched as it was, he didn't have the heart to take that hope away.
All the further for her to fall, he thought. We're all alone. Always alone.
"I have a feeling we'll come out of this either dead or alone, anyway." He offered the skin to her again. This time, she did not refuse.
It was only after she'd handed the skin back that she'd gotten to her feet, pausing to place her hand atop his head. It was an odd show of affection for one of their order—most were too far gone to recall that sort of friendliness. He arched a quizzical brow at her, and received a resigned shrug in return. Once the moment had passed, she rapped the side of his head with her knuckles, and let out a breath. "Buy you a drink if we're both still standing then?"
He nodded. "Done."
She quirked a smile in response.
"Big if, though."
She'd turned to leave, but paused at his words. Her eyes met his—the solemn acceptance of their mutual fate passed.
Her voice was low. "You know, if you're going to keep thinking that way, you're only going to end up depressed."
"Now that is definitely a prerequisite for us."
She pursed her lips at him; lacking words, she trusted to her gaze to convey the degree of her indifference.
It was his turn to smile. "We all die, darling. For us, it's likely to be sooner rather than later. Best get used to the idea."
She watched him, unmoving. When she spoke, there was an odd sort of finality to her tone, one he hadn't thought her capable of harnessing. "I know." A pause. "I'll pour it over your grave."
He chuckled as she strode away. To the west, the sun was fast sinking, casting shadows over the realm. He took a moment to marvel at its beauty, and dared himself to live long enough to see the next. There was no peace of mind to be had, however; only an ache that had, through the years, become natural; a part of him, he thought, never to disappear, much like the exhaustion that plagued his mind and spirit.
We all suffer. He repeated the words until they ceased to make sense.
Then, he let out a breath and got to his feet.
It was getting dark, and tomorrow, they would have to fight again.
-End