Sometimes it only takes one word spoken by a single voice to crash every boundary that a person builds around a heart. One trembling cry wretched from the heart. There's really not much to speaking, but to listening it's another challenge. To hear the words, to take them in, swallow them, engulf them, and feel your heart break slowly. Can you do that, or will you forever remain deaf? One has to wonder which is better. To never listen, never comprehend the gentle caress of words, or to have one's heart torn out by them?
Weakling. The word that started my feverish obsession with you. With your voice my own trembled and screamed out in the agony that's left of me, agony kept constantly fed, a fire of years and ageing. I never thought it could die.
Hate. Denouncing the immense emotion that was meant to be between you and I. This cooperation was not meant to be, despite what those holy worms say. What god would punish a child in such a way. A peaceful, powerful childhood, destroyed in the early stages of my growth. Payment for my father's sins against the faithful, they say. Fools, all of them.
Compassion. Claiming that I lacked the simple, foolish word. What would such a feeling bring me. Compassion killed my father. I killed my father.
Want. You wanted me with you? Why, you fool? Maybe I... maybe I wanted to die for you. I had nothing else and I knew you'd be going. I couldn't ask to go with you, I have my pride. But you saved me and took me with you anyway. You, fool, are mine.
Just cut it out, you told me. Such an outburst that begged from me to be softer. Eyes begged me, emerald green, to be kinder, to accept. Just be silent for a little, be vulnerable, and maybe I'll show you.
Hate... You still refuse to hate what I hate most of all. You watched me as I came, naked and ashamed, before the sword. I don't know why you bothered, but I no longer hid a thing from you. Vulnerable, a weakling, just as you said. Just like they all said.
Love. That's what your eyes said. Traveling with me, you "belonged" with me, you said. Compassion. There it was again, someone just asking to fall victim to the curse of The Wicked One.
It was insanity. Everything, everything drove me insane. And, suddenly, everything revolved around you. Fighting, eating, breathing with you. When town was far and we were forced to camp out in the cold of Elicoor where the monsters grew recklessly thick, with the danger and the freezing cold we were forced together. Another hunger was fed too, a new one that I have learned to crave. Companionship. Insanity. Everything was you, you were more than everything.