Wren swung himself off the zeppelin as it landed by gripping one of the many ropes tethering the large balloon to its ship-like cabins below. Even as a few of the goblins gave him dirty looks and one yelled at him not to get them all killed, he turned sharply on his heels and extended a hand in a half bow.
With a giggle, Zeresa's fingers feathered over his, and she hopped off at a bit of an angle.
Sethyl's ears were a tad flattened as he watched the two of them together. He'd agreed to head back to Orgrimmar with them after spending some time with his father—they'd sort of danced around the issues that had been plaguing them ever since they'd first learned of his mother and brother's death to the Scourge—and had finally been unable to stand the tension.
It had felt like divine intervention when Wren had shown up and asked if he was planning on returning to the western continent. Sethyl had briefly surmised that they might be able to talk a bit on the ride over. He'd wanted to ask Wren how he felt about Liila and her…predicament. And if anything had ever come of Margaret's comments about hunting down a certain death knight. Liila's death knight.
Yes, he'd been developing quite the travel plans when Zeresa had slipped up next to his fair-headed companion and snuggled into his arms.
As it was, they'd been adorable the whole trip over, and Sethyl found himself debating if hanging himself from the side of the ship would count as being overdramatic or not. He'd been thinking about such things more and more as he dealt with other members of the Horde. So many whispered about how odd the elves were: how over the top they could be.
Well, it hadn't gotten them run off, yet.
Even so…
Zeresa's giggle cut into his thoughts, and he tried not to cringe at it. Wren and his new friend were just so incredibly…in love.
Did that sort of thing actually happen so fast? It couldn't.
He trailed after the two, not completely sure how to excuse himself. He'd tried the old, 'I should probably go report to Gore or Gregor' excuse, but Wren had loved the idea and told Zeresa that she would like Gregor as well. A good, stand up man, he'd called the forsaken.
Now, Sethyl was plotting how to lose them. And how to get Enlyhn and Timmons back for ignoring all his pleas for summons.
Even as he considered that perhaps he could—perish the thought—hit up Wren for some ideas on how to terrorize the dark masters, he saw a familiar figure walking down the length of the dusty Drag, shoulders slumped and long brown curls disheveled from dust, sweat, and a lack of hair product.
"Tyan!" Their armor made a dull screech as he gripped her in a tight hug, though he didn't even flinch at the sound.
His fellow blood knight, however, was quite bewildered for a moment. It took her a few blinks to shake off her exhausted stupor, but when she did, she perked up and hugged him back. "Sethyl! I was wondering when you'd come back!" She paused, frowning. "Does that mean Miss Liila is here as well?"
"She came back before I did," Sethyl replied, releasing her. He offered her an arm. She rolled her eyes and lightly thwacked his bicep. Even as he dropped his arm with a laugh, she'd been reaching for it and covered her disappointment with her own giggle.
"I'm glad to see you out here," she murmured.
A few casual introductions were tossed about as they resumed a march toward Whisper's Vials. Sethyl noticed the way Tyan tensed the second she met Zeresa, her fingers feathering over her hair as though so simple an action could fix it. Poor lady.
In the shop, Blood sat behind the counter, his helm on and the occasional puff of icy breath escaping from within. His brilliant eyes fixed on the four of them as they stepped into the shop, and Sethyl could have sworn that they narrowed, though it was hard to see through the thin slit in the orc's helm.
"May I help you?"
Tyan shivered at the undertones in the orc's voice, though she steeled her resolve with a shrug and a quick glance to Sethyl. "Why are we here?"
"This is our guild's—"
"Shop," Blood interjected. He clasped his hands lightly on the counter, looking from elf to elf. "We have to fund our little adventures somehow."
Wren cocked his head. "I didn't know you ran the shop."
"We all pull shifts on occasion."
"It just seems like…they would want people versed in alchemy to tend to the alchemy shop."
"Cinder was here, but Margaret came and called her away. Something about an explosion and a fried warlock." Blood abruptly stood up and paced slowly around the counter. It wasn't until he was between them and the doorway that Sethyl realized what he was doing. The death knight pointed toward the small table at the back of the room. "I can't help but notice the vibes of good will, hope, and love hovering around your lot…" All four of them stiffened, "and it occurs to me that surely you would take pity on a poor bag of bones and listen to his woes?"
That last bit had been spoken in quite clear Thalassian.
Wren and Sethyl exchanged a glance. However, before either could argue, Blood had his arms slung over Zeresa's and Tyan's shoulders, and he escorted the two elven lasses over to the table. Both seemed quite willing to get out of his grasp, though Zeresa was a few shades paler than usual. Tyan merely seemed prepared for an attack, her hand resting on the pommel of the blade at her hip.
Sethyl and Wren followed. When Wren tried to object that there weren't enough seats, Blood sat down on the air, a block of ice forming beneath him. He patted the air beside him and another formed. It had to be the most pedestrian use of a death knight's talents that either elf had ever seen.
With a glance toward the others and then out the door, Sethyl sat down on the ice and let Wren take the chair, if only to sit close enough to Zeresa, who was positively terrified.
Blood at least acted like he didn't notice. "I'm going to tell you a story, now." Despite a few haphazard glances, none of the elves objected. "Back when I was alive, I fell in love with a rather gorgeous orcess. Rhaela was her name. We were competing for the position of commander, and I had wanted to win so that she would consider me for a mate." He paused, as though expecting comments from his audience. When he didn't get any, he merely grunted and continued. "Well, it didn't take me long to learn that Rhaela was more attracted to individuals with attributes that I would never have."
"Patience?" Zeresa offered tentatively.
"At the time I lacked that, yes, but I think you'll find I've learned to be very patient." Blood cocked his head, and Sethyl abruptly got the feeling that he was purposely trying to scare the mage. A glance to Tyan showed that she'd drawn the same conclusion. However, the orc rambled on. "However, that wasn't the issue then. It turned out that she was as fond of the ladies as I was."
"Oh."
"That said," Blood shifted a bit on his makeshift chair, the ice cracking beneath his plate like bones. "While I was investigating this, I met another orcess, Saphon. She wasn't a warrior, but she had a fierceness about her…she was brave and reckless and defied the laws, bending them to suit her best. I soon forgot I had ever hoped to bed Rhaela."
He drew in a long breath, and the air grated against his dead throat. "Well, years go by, life continues, I died." He motioned to himself for emphasis, as though it was needed. "Things continue to happen, and I took the long road in being reunited with my wife, Saphon. Just about an hour ago, actually." He paused, starting to glance toward the doorway and then stopping himself with a shake of his head. "Wouldn't you know that Saphon and Rhaela were childhood friends? Rhaela never came by the house, never showed up to any of our children's' births. Do you know why?"
The silence that filled the air was tangible.
"Why?" Tyan finally whispered.
"Because she was in love with Saphon. Rhaela was in love with her and furious that her competition had won not only the title Commander, but also Saphon's heart." He rested his elbows on his knees, leaning toward that little table and his unwilling audience. "Do you see where this is going?"
Even as Zeresa sunk into Wren's arms, almost in his lap rather than her own chair, a withered voice interrupted the mockery of a gossip circle.
"Blood, why have you taken hostages in the shop?" Gregor stood in the doorway, an exasperated look on his face. He looked older than Sethyl remembered him, and his clothes bore some scorch marks. He vaguely remembered the earlier mention of a 'fried' warlock and wondered what exactly had happened.
However, as his guild leader took in a ragged breath, he grew still. He'd gotten word on the guild stone that some curse had afflicted Gregor and Timmons, but to see the man breathing…it was eerie.
Blood slapped his hands against his knees and rose to his feet. "They were just consoling me."
"Oh?" Gregor looked so tired.
"I just found out that in the time I've been gone, my old competition stepped in to fill my shoes. In quite a few regards." The air seemed to drop a few degrees. "I understand that she'd have moved on by now…but Rhaela? Really?" He let loose a few curses under his breath.
Though Gregor did seem sympathetic, he merely patted Blood's shoulder and looked at the others. "I'm afraid I need to speak with our friendly death knight." Blood scoffed at the phrase, but didn't argue. "Why don't you get settled in at the inn? I'm afraid the shop is going to be closed for a little while."
Blood seemed as confused as the rest of them by their guild leader's words, but he merely waited patiently as the elves filed out. As he closed the door after them and turned back to Gregor, Sethyl strained his ears and heard their leader whisper, "I'd like to talk to you about death runes…."
It wasn't until they were to the inn that any of them bothered to say anything. Most of the smaller tables had been taken, and so they seated themselves around the largest, main table in the room. It looked as though it was big enough to house a war meeting, though most of the chairs were empty. A lonely grunt sat alone at another part of the giant circle, but he was far enough away—and buzzed enough—that they didn't worry that he'd be eavesdropping on any conversation.
Zeresa's pallor was still in shambles, but Tyan had recovered from their odd encounter almost entirely.
As Wren ran his hand along Zeresa's arm, he smiled at her, leaning forward so that he could catch her gaze. "I know that was a bit disconcerting, but Blood is a good…orc. Gregor, one of our leaders, is an excellent gauge of character. He wouldn't have Blood in the guild if he were a threat to anyone other than our enemies."
Zeresa's lips twitched toward a smile, though fear still played clear in her eyes. "If you say so."
Before any of them could say anything else, a plate heaped with various meats and vegetables slid onto their table. Tyan perked up. "We didn't order—"
"Jus' take de damn ting, yeh?" Khai'rhi stood beside the table, arms crossed. A few beads on her tribal robe gleamed in the inn's dim light as she inspected the four of them. "Ya look like ya been sta'ved 'n stressed. Dis be de least Ah can do for ya."
After a chorus of thank yous, the elves tentatively tried the food to find that it was excellently prepared. Khai'rhi still stood beside their table, though her gaze was sweeping the rest of the room, to make sure she wasn't making anyone wait. For the time being, it looked like the rest of the rowdy room was rather content.
Sethyl tried what looked like a bit of roasted hog and glanced over at Khai'rhi again, suddenly feeling self conscious. How could he have been in the guild this long and still know so little about so many of his guild mates? He struggled to think of something to say. Finally, he held up the meat. "This is very good. Our compliments to the chef."
"T'ank ya, den," Khai'rhi looked back at him and gave him a crooked grin when his ears perked up. "Don' tell meh. All dis time ya been stayin' hea 'n ya neva once realized Ah been de one cookin' all de meals?" She laughed when no one responded. "Ah be runnin' half a O'grimma wit' mah talents. Half dese genta'men not know wat ta do if Ah left."
Zeresa leaned forward in her seat, her ears perking up a bit. "Forgive me if this is rude to ask, but most of these seasonings don't seem very…trollish. You really made all this?"
"Ya luckeh Ah like ya boy dea," Khai'rhi murmured, arching her brow. "Ah been studehin' all ova de world, yeh? Mah friends see a cookin' recipe, dey brin' it ta meh. Ah studeh it, figua out how ta make it betta. Ya got the culmination a all a Azeroth's culinareh secrets sittin' in front of ya." She winked, only to wince as a crash echoed out from the kitchen area. "Ya welcome."
Sethyl and the others nodded, offering a few more compliments her way. The troll seemed rather pleased with herself, even as silence closed in around them again. With a curious glance, Sethyl peered up at her again. "You know, I don't think I've ever seen you away from Genji. How is he?"
"Ah, dat mage…" Khai'rhi sighed, glancing back toward the kitchen again. "De troll be agile 'n quick in a group…as ya seen in ah adventu'as, yeh?" She waited for them to think back to the few raids they'd been in. Sethyl couldn't really remember seeing Genji doing anything spectacular—granted the mage would have been behind him as he was melee—but nodded nonetheless. She beamed and then scowled. "Dat fool be so graceful in combat. Den ya try ta give 'im a real job 'n he fall ova his own robe like he neva wo'n it befoa." She paused and added. "Ta'lim be good, too. He been runnin' around tendin' ta de festivitehs, yeh? Ya see him, mebbe tell him stuff be lookin' nice?" She motioned around them to the Hallow's End decorations. "If ya t'ink so, neway. He been workin' ha'd is all, 'n nobodeh seem ta notice…" She trailed off and then frowned at another crash. "Ah gotta go save meh kitchen befoa dat idiot burns de whole place down. Ya take care now."
Zeresa watched her disappear into the back—the door slammed behind her followed by a few more crashes—and then she lightly reached out and picked a tomato from the edge of the plate. It looked as though it had missed the majority of the marinating juices, and Sethyl wondered if they ought to tell Khai'rhi they had a vegetarian in their midst.
Before he could ask, the meek mage let out a small laugh. She nudged Wren with her shoulder and then let her gaze settle on their blood knight companions. "It's like we're on a double date."
As Wren laughed, Tyan busied herself with finding something interesting on the central plate. There were a few other, empty plates around the table, though Sethyl wasn't certain if they were supposed to be there for people to gather their own food or if they'd been forgotten by a previous party. He lifted one near him, inspecting it.
They were clean enough. He handed it to Tyan and took another for himself. "I, um. Actually, Tyan and another friend have always been—"
"What?" It was Tyan interrupting him.
Sethyl felt his ears burn a little. "Well, I was just talking about Ralarr. You've always seemed…close."
An odd silence settled over them for an instant before Tyan returned to fixing her plate. "Actually, Ralarr has always been interested in another of our mutual friends." She smiled thinly. "We had a bit of an argument over him, actually."
Frowning, Sethyl leaned back in his chair. "Really? He never mentioned anything like that to me." He thought it over a moment and shook his head. "He's my best friend. He would've told me. And he made me promise not to go after you—" Sethyl realized what he was saying as Tyan's coppery cheeks flushed.
"By de Loa, mon." Sethyl abruptly fell back against the back of his chair again as it tilted backwards dramatically. A tusk was just a hair away from his cheek, and his skin prickled from the close proximity as he stared up into a pair of narrowed eyes in a familiar green face. "How de fuk do ya elves make everehtin' so pedestrian?"
Wren's voice answered, annoyance clear in its tone. "And what have we made pedestrian?"
"Infiltratin' de enemeh's lai'a."
Sethyl frowned up at the upside down troll, still holding his chair so that he couldn't get out of it easily. "I'm sorry, whose lair have we infiltrated?"
"'n ya," Haa'aji scowled, his attention recaptured by his captive paladin. "De fuk, mon? Did Ah not be tellin' ya? Ya wanna be wit' mah liila Liila, ya gotta be a loyal liila basta'd. None a dis runnin' around wit' dem otha elves…"
"I don't know if you're aware, but 'Little Liila' was sure to let me know she wasn't interested," Sethyl snapped back.
"Ya eva heard of bein' a bit aggressive?"
"You want me to force my affections on someone?" Sethyl twisted around in the chair so that he could glare at Haa'aji without being at the troll's mercy. "I may have my faults, but I'm decent enough to respect a lady's—" He let out a cry as Haa'aji shoved the chair back into place and nearly sent him sprawling across the table. Wren and Tyan managed to catch his arms before he could fly into the food.
They didn't let go until they were sure that he wouldn't go after Haa'aji, who had taken a seat next to Zeresa. The troll looked like a giant next to the elf, even as he tossed her tomato into the air twice and then ate it in a single bite. Even as Wren chastised him, ever eager to defend his lady, Haa'aji caught hold of one of the servers passing by and gave her a wide grin. "'ey. We be needin' a veggeh plate, yeh?"
"Thank you," Zeresa breathed softly.
"Eh? Make dat two veggeh plates." Haa'aji corrected before letting the server return to her duties. He frowned down at Zeresa. "Wat be wit' ya liila tings 'n not likin' meat, hmm?"
"Leave her be," Wren asserted, annoyed.
As Haa'aji and Wren fell into bickering, Sethyl felt a hand on his shoulder and turned to see Liila leaning in between he and Tyan. "Help me summon?"
Not bothering to excuse himself, Sethyl sighed and followed after Liila. He'd barely stepped onto the inn's porch when he felt an arm brush his and looked down to see Tyan standing with him. He smiled. "You don't need to come with me."
"I'd rather not stay in there."
"As you wish," Sethyl murmured, scratching the back of his neck and hopping off the porch to follow Liila as she slipped around the side of the building. When they were behind it, they found Enlyhn waiting, already channeling his focus into a sickly green and black portal. Without a word, Liila focused her own energy into it.
Sethyl had heard about such practices, but he'd never actually seen it done before. With a bit of hesitation, he reached out toward the portal, pressing his fingers into the swirling mana. It took hold of him, and he felt a part of himself being drawn into that void. It tugged harder and harder on him and finally he stumbled back, unable to stare into that darkness any longer.
Blinking, he was surprised that rather than an odd portal, a statue stood in its place. It was that of a cloaked humanoid figure holding its cloak open, and what should have been underneath was replaced with the swirling nether. Enlyhn sighed and reached a hand into the twisting darkness in time with Liila. The two were braced against one another as their hands disappeared into nothing.
"If he shows up with a heartbeat, too, I'm quitting the guild," Enlyhn muttered.
With a grunt, his muscles tightened, and he and Liila pulled toward themselves, stepping a few paces back until Roberts was standing just in front of the statue, bits of dark magic falling away from him and dispersing into nothing.
His ragged figure was anything but breathing. He wobbled a little uncertainly on one leg and leaned into Liila as their warlock companion released him. The orc skirted around them and batted back an eerily translucent arm that tried to snatch at Roberts' back from within the portal. He paused, eyeing the others. "You go ahead. I'll make sure nothing else comes through."
As much as Sethyl was sure he didn't want to trust that sort of task to a warlock, he turned and headed back around the corner. They'd barely gotten out of sight—they could still hear Enlyhn cursing at something—when Liila paused. "Would you like us to heal you?"
"Sham's on her way, isn't she?"
"And Khai'rhi's on duty," Liila replied with a simple nod.
"Then I'll pass," Roberts let out a rasping laugh. "I'd rather not be burned with Light when I have other options."
Liila simply nodded and continued to help him along. Sethyl stepped up to the rogue's other side and offered a hand as well.
For an instant, it looked like Roberts might brush off the assistance, but then he slung an arm around Sethyl's shoulders and slumped down a bit. "After all the running I've done, I'll be happy to use your legs for a while." He paused and nodded toward Tyan. "Miss? Would you run ahead and go to the kitchen? Ask for a troll named Khai'rhi and—"
"The troll we met earlier? That's Khai'rhi," Sethyl interrupted. With a nod, Tyan darted ahead of them.
"I don't suppose Mitchell is anywhere nearby? I could use a portal…"
"He's gone for a walk," Liila replied curtly, a frown in place. "He's…upset with some recent developments." They'd reached the few stairs leading up to the inn's porch, and she was careful as she matched her own steps to Sethyl's. "He said that we can summon him back when we're ready to leave for Northrend."
"A long walk then?"
"Mm-hm," Liila murmured. Her voice was that monotone that she'd just begun to abandon. "Margaret went after him, so I think he'll be alright."
"I think Genji's in the kitchen," Sethyl offered as they walked inside. They hadn't even gotten a foot in the doorway when Khai'rhi was standing in front of them, water swirling around her hands. It wound around Roberts and soaked into his leg. After a moment, he straightened a little from his hunch and tested his leg. He gave it a firm hop before nodding to Khai'rhi.
She gave them a small wave over her shoulder before heading back to the kitchen. Roberts gave Sethyl and Liila a nod and then followed after her.
In the time they'd been gone, more seats at the table had filled. Gore and Sham sat near Haa'aji, with Howl and Wrachette flanking them as they inspected a few various maps.
So the plans for Northrend were moving along, then.
Finally.
Sethyl paused when he realized that Liila had stopped in her tracks. He followed her pale gaze to see that she was focused on Zeresa, who was busily clinging to Wren's arm as she spoke with Sprocket.
Haa'aji had swapped seats and was in the process of playing with Tyan's hair. She batted his hand away and then struck him with a holy judgment.
"Who is that elf?" Liila whispered, catching Sethyl's attention as he started toward Haa'aji.
"Zeresa?" He glanced toward her and Wren, only to shiver as he saw her give their direction a harsh glare. "She's some friend of Wren's. I don't know much about her."
"I see."
"Why do you—"
Before he could finish his sentence, Liila had already left his side, trotting over and hanging off of Haa'aji before he could try to retaliate for the stun. "Did the lord of stuns finally get a taste of his own medicine?"
"Wooman, Ah gon ta kick ya ass if ya make fun of meh."
Sethyl slowly wound his way back to the table and slid into a chair on Tyan's far side. Despite other arrivals and departures, for the rest of the evening, he found his gaze kept flitting back to Zeresa.
Who was she indeed?
~"~
Enlyhn stood next to the grand warlock, the two of them watching a caged creature as it lunged at the bars and howled, reaching an arm with wicked claws toward them. It was less than an inch too short, and neither seemed distraught over its frenzied nature.
"The worgen have never been a concern of ours. They are the forsaken's problem," the grand warlock murmured, his tone dripping with irritation.
"This isn't one of Arugal's pets," Enlyhn replied. He and the grand warlock tilted their heads in time with one another as the creature hunched down in its cell. "This one speaks like it has some sentience in there." He paused and added, "And it had enough of its mind to follow a guild mate of mine through a summons portal."
"That is curious." The grand warlock leaned forward a bit, only to simply straighten up when the worgen lurched toward them again. "If you're willing to stay and oversee this creature's…treatment, then I suppose we can keep it."
"You know I'm leaving with my guild in a few days."
"Why you want to run around with those dolts when you could be studying the dark arts is beyond my understanding," the grand warlock paused, "and I've master pit lords."
"One pit lord."
"Your point?"
"Shall we keep this one until I leave, at least?"
"If you'd like." The grand warlock seemed to lose interest, turning away. "I do hope this isn't a waste of time."
~"~
Leafless stood on the beach outside of Acherus, again watching the waves crash over one another. As she heard the sound of boots crunching over the sand and bones, she didn't bother to look to see who it was. She just knew. "I asked the Highlord about you."
Bloodsworn stopped a few feet away from her. There was no hint of fear of being caught in some web of lies in his action. Merely, he seemed to be most comfortable with a small distance between them. "I thought you might."
"He said he remembers seeing you at the chapel. When we were freed," She added, offhandedly.
Bloodsworn took in a slow breath and let out a sigh. He walked forward a few paces so that the waves lapped at the toes of his boots. "If only."
Leafless' brow knit together as she turned to focus her gaze on him. "What's that supposed to mean?"
"Ask anyone in the Ebonhold, and they'll tell you the same thing: their master still whispers to them. Still calls them back. There is no such thing as freedom for us."
Leafless rolled one of her shoulders slowly. It was true enough. With a sigh, she ran her fingers through her mane, grimacing as she realized how brittle and unkempt it had become. When she was living, she never would have allowed herself to become so matted and dirty. But then…what did a bit of dirt matter on a corpse? It wasn't like there was anyone to impress. And even if she took care of herself, no one would notice. All they'd see would be her glowing eyes, proof that she'd ceased to be a part of their world years ago.
Bloodsworn had turned to watch her. He offered her a faint, regretful smile. "I'm not saying that there weren't scores upon scores of victims who fell at our hands…" he trailed off for a moment, the corners of his eyes crinkling with loneliness, "…but no one gives pause to consider we suffer, too."
"The Highlord thinks you should come by Acherus more often," Leafless murmured, not wanting to agree with him. Somehow, it felt weak.
Bloodsworn shrugged. "Forgive me if I don't want to play the stoic hero." He hesitated. "I've never been much for playing with others…"
"Not from what I hear," Leafless murmured, though she sucked in a breath as soon as she said it. Bloodsworn merely frowned at her comment. "Sorry…I don't always think before I speak." Her mind wandered back, filling with Whisper's angry face as she told Leafless what she could do with her opinions of her and Shadow.
Bloodsworn offered her a half smile. "We all have our faults."
The two stood in silence for a time, listening to the waves crashing against the shore. One came up and splashed up Bloodsworn's legs. He frowned, taking a few steps back. Leafless had to bite back a laugh as she watched the water drip off the skulls at his knee plates. Bloodsworn merely shook his head.
"There are plenty of people who don't work well together. You should still come up to Acherus."
"I will pass," Bloodsworn said, removing one of his gauntlets so that he could wipe off the excess water threatening to rust his boots. "There is a common sentiment among the knights of the Ebonblade that I cannot quite put words to." His frown deepened as his finger caught on one of the vicious looking teeth on his armor. "It is as though they are all playing a warped version of house. As though they think they can escape the monsters they've become with a few good deeds and tabards."
Even as Leafless shivered at the truth of his words, not wanting to believe them, he continued. "I don't want to pretend that I don't have to listen to the Lich King's call constantly. That I don't relish the thought of succumbing, of letting his will lead my hand." He paused. "Things were so much…easier when I obeyed." He gave Leafless, a lost, pleading look. "Do you not agree?" When she didn't answer, he looked toward his feet. "Perhaps I really am the monster they claim me to be."
"No," Leafless whispered before she could stop herself. "I know what you mean. I think everyone wishes they could fall back to being his pawns…every once in a while."
"Oh?" Bloodsworn looked up at her, his expression hard to discern. Leafless didn't notice, though. She was staring down at a few rib bones sticking up in the sand.
"Because then, we did horrible things, yes, but we couldn't really be held at fault for it. It wasn't us doing those terrible things. It was him doing them through us." If she were capable of tears, she was certain they'd be slipping down her cheeks. She caught a dry sob in her throat. "But there's no way to go back to that simplicity."
"Isn't there?"
Leafless snapped her head up, frowning at Bloodsworn. "There isn't. Because if we go back to him now, anything we do after will be our responsibility. It will be on our hands because we let ourselves cave in to his whispers."
"You think?"
"Undoubtedly so."
"You are right," Bloodsworn whispered, softly. He allowed himself a single, melancholy laugh. "It's unfair, isn't it?" When Leafless merely narrowed her gaze, he shrugged. "What you describe would be a single second of weakness. A momentary lapse that we would be incapable of clawing away from." He shook his head as he began to walk along the beach, parallel to the waves, away from both Leafless and Acherus. "The living are allowed such moments, yet we are not?"