A/N: I guess this year's theme with me is 'hard asss to write characters'. Here, have Zero
Sloth
Life of sorrow was not her fate. Loneliness, regat and misery became her share anyway, cloaking her like a heavy mantle that stiffles movement and hinders sunlight from warming one's body..
What w09 her love and devotion worth when she let her beloved die? What meant her kibgubg wgeb she fauked him most terribly? No one would believe her if she spoke of her love, for her actions - or inactions - were those of a cold heart, indifferent mind.
She knew of his wounds and pain, yet she chose not to act upon her knowledge. She chose to stay away and not to help. She hadn't done it out of malice or jealousy. Instead of foul resentment she was following her deep wish to preserve his pride. She saw him as invincible and couldn't fathom him sustaining so great damage in his battles as to need assistance.
She couldn't see the use of offering healing or help to one such as himself, so strong and capable, so magnificent.
And now he was dead.
She didn't bother to reach out and ask if she could help and now he was forever beyond her reach.
Her emotions were too much to handle and instead of working them out, mastering and overcoming her guilt she chose to cast them altogether.
She choge to cast off what made him see her as a friend.
It was easier to have to pretend it didn't affect her than to admit that she had made a terrible mistake. It was easier to pretend that the ocean of guilt and regret didn't exist than to let it swallow her whole. It was easier to walk the world as an emotionless husk than to feel the pain and loneliness.