SPIRITED BLOOD: Lann
Blood is thicker than water. Thicker than tea, too.
I find myself glaring daggers at the Magician when his back is turned. My face falls flat when he's looking, and that's probably a good thing as I don't want a repeat of the time he had spiked my potions... That time is never to be mentioned again. But anyway I can't help myself from feeling this pissed; I know something is going on between him and her. Not only does she spend a lot of time around him already, recently she has been acting nervous and jumpy, especially when this man is mentioned. A really intense, sick emotion festers in my core, making me want to tear him apart—my comrade, my potion maker!
I have this really annoying lump in my chest, and it becomes painful the more I think about it or her. I'll admit I'm not as eloquent with words as I am with swords in battle, though I wouldn't say I'm abhorrent to a degree that deserves to be compared to Gallagher. I'm a likeable enough person right? I just prefer things simple and clear, honest. I don't like dancing around the point like a girl unless it's going to run me through my middle.
A sigh escapes, staring up at the ceiling of my room in the inn. Another sleepless night. There is a lot to think about, and not just her; my mind keeps shifting to thoughts before I came to Colhen, a town mostly forgotten by the world, and the battles I'd been fighting ever since that tragic night. Funny thing is, I think that night started out a lot like what I'm doing now. Staring at the ceiling, somehow not able to sleep, then...
I clench my hands into fists. I relax my them. Over and over, again. They itch to hold a sword, or maybe even throw something. But tantrums never solve anything, and in fact make more problems instead.
I mustn't forget why I'm out here in Colhen, why I joined the mercenaries against the endless onslaught of monsters who call themselves Fomors. It's not even just for revenge, but for the peace I wish we could have… And especially for the people who can't defend themselves. I don't know why the Fomors do the things they do, attacking defenceless people, but having seen… what I've seen … I will take up my swords and bring them to their knees, whether they're willing or not.
The walls that surround my brooding bulk suddenly feel suffocating, and the urge to go somewhere sweeps me off the bed onto my feet.
†•†•†
"'Clubbing' was never really my thing either, honestly. Too many drugs and drunks." She joked, referring to the club that caused me to go flying, and going clubbing. "That's why it's always better to go with friends." She smiled cheekily as she took to my side like a partner I've been fighting with forever. She effectively covered my back as I tore through the enemies and broke their ranks.
For once, I'd decided to take a good look at her, and she looked a lot more reliable now than she did at first. Maybe it was the calm smile, maybe it was the realization that my first impression of the woman was wrong, I don't know. Though I started watching her more closely after that moment where she helped me in a pinch, and I saw her facial expressions as they changed from perky, to concerned, to determined… Her eyes roved the crowds as she picked out enemies with much more deliberation than my ad hoc plans. I supposed it made sense, considering she was a ranged attacker and I needed to think on my feet, but she also had to watch her own back too. Anyway, she wasn't as weak as what I had judged her to be, despite her lightly armed person and cheery attitude.
I had groaned at the bad pun, however. "You're hilarious."
She giggled in response, a little too well timed with some sort of blast from her staff that nearly beheaded a—no, that gnoll was definitely dead. Goddess, I've done a lot worse but I can't even pull off that sort of apathy when I'm cutting up bodies. A feeling of irony almost makes me spill my own giggle, though I hold it back with a grim smile.
Despite the dangerous setting, I was grateful for her presence. Though it didn't change the burden that fight's importance put on our shoulders, having her by my side seemed to reignite my motivation to move forward into the fray.
†•†•†
This isn't exactly where I pictured I'd be when I went out for air, sitting at the dark, empty docks with the fire long gone and the loud hum of crickets serenading the town. I don't know what time it is, but the moon is bright and clearly visible right now. Perhaps it is midnight. Armed with a whiskey bottle, and alone, tonight I think I'll drink until I pass out. I need to sleep, for tomorrow Evie, Fiona, and I are heading back to the place that nearly kicked our asses more than a few times we've been there.
I pop the cork and take a short swig. I take it slow so that I won't get sick, learning my lesson from the first time I remember drinking.
Aye, 'lo, they, know,
We stack the barrels high and low.
A song from the town I came from comes to my lips, a song usually sung by those drinking. Mindful of the slumbering town, I keep my voice low. I stop once in a while to take a swig.
But if she falls, let her go,
Aye, 'lo, they, know.
I wed her on that cliff right there,
looking upon Poseidon's lair.
Months passed while I was at sea,
she wasn't looking out for me.
Aye, 'lo, they know,
We stack the barrels high and low.
But if she's gone, let her go,
Aye, 'lo, they know.
It's about letting things go when misfortune strikes you, though I don't sing it because it's relevant to how I feel right now. I don't sing because I like singing, either. I do it… because I'm getting drunk and need something to do. Yeah, doesn't sound like a very good reasoning to me either. Oddly though, it reminds me of home in good and bad ways. The people weren't always the nicest, and that's by far not the best music they made, but for all of its faults and good points, it was mine to call home. My childhood home, my friends, my family, the nostalgic places I loved and hated and loved to hate… Just for tonight, I let these feelings rise to the surface.
"If she burns, let 'er go-o… Aye, 'lo, I kno-ow…" I sigh, a depression strangling the song into silence.
"You sing well, for a drunkard, Lann."
I startle badly, a wave of dizziness causing the world around me to blur into one messy shlop of dark paint. Goddess forgive! That scared the living shit out of me. Ergh, I think I should stop drinking. Besides me, who would be out at this hour at the docks?
