Braig sighed, chin in hand and staring blankly out at the distant rooftops of Radiant Garden. The sun's low in the sky, guard duty is slowly, but surely drawing to a close. Soon he can go crash.

He's been up for nearly nineteen hours and he's running on next to no energy, having been unable to take the time to even get a cup of coffee before running to his post for the day. Hadn't eaten anything. Drained a large bottle of brandy while bored, since he'd had it on hand.

Dilan and Aeleus were far below, guarding the front Entrance to the Castle. Lucky bastards. They only had to guard the door until night shift came. He was the only Arrowgun user at the castle.

Some guns-man. A gloved hand is raised, fingers brushing over the leather eyepatch covering his right eye. A scowl. He'd lost the eye in a battle, not even three weeks ago now. Some old coot had manipulated him, and he'd taken the bait dangled in front of his face like some dumb dog, and worse; he'd nearly gotten killed by both the kid and the old man.

What a disgrace. Forced to beg for mercy, with a key-shaped blade at his throat.

He'd been lucky that the other had use for him, but that had quickly soured. Not only was he injured because of the bastards plans, he was also tricked. He'd been promised power.

The power to be the best at whatever he chose.

Darkness was that power.

But it was Darkness that had given the Old Master power over him. He'd ended up with a shard of the mans heart, and it was steadily poisoning him. Every morning when he looked in the mirror, he could see that the warm, honey brown color was fading from his eye, to be replaced with molten gold. The other's hadn't noticed. Yet. But that was because he barely maintained eye contact with his fellow apprentices. It's not that he wasn't willing to, but...

They looked at him with something like...pity. And he hated it.

Ienzo and Even, Dilan and Aeleus, even Ansem the wise, lord of the Castle...they all treated him as though he wasn't able to do his job as well as he used to.

And they were right.

He couldn't. Just today, he'd missed an easy bullseye while practicing after his recovery period. And he'd flushed red with embarrassment when Even pointed it out.

Useless.

He couldn't aim right. And he didn't understand why. He was doing the same thing as always, after all, so it couldn't be because he was out of practice. Maybe something Psychological? Having his thoughts muddled by the lingering effects of alcohol probably didn't help much either.

He's jerked out of his thoughts by a voice. "...aig...Braig! Shifts over, go get some rest." Leaning over the rail, he can see a familiar black haired guard, staring up at him with a concerned expression.

"Yeah, whatever. Night." He waves down at Dilan, then heads inside. He's tired. Time to crash.

Once in his room, he shoots a look at the mirror, eyeing his reflection, the scar marring the once flawless skin of his lower left jaw, that ends just below his eye. The patch on his right eye. His notably darker skin, though the others assumed he'd tanned from being out in the sun all day long. And then, the slightly pointed ears. They seemed longer to as well. Everything about him looked like it had changed a bit.

"...Hmph. I barely recognize myself anymore."

Turning away, he moves to the bed and flops onto it, not bothering to change out of his guard uniform and kicking off his boots, arms beneath the pillow and closing his eye with a sigh. He better try and get to sleep. He had to get up early tomorrow for guard shift.

Too bad it still took him three hours to get to sleep after that thought.