It was nearly dark when she finally roused. She awoke with a moan, trying to sit up. "Zaknir?" she called, her vision still blurred.
"I'm here," he called to her, helping her sit up all the way
"How- how long have I been asleep?" she asked. He offered her water and she took it willingly. She sounded terribly tired and raspy. It made him worry. He had heard someone speak like this before. It had been directly before they died.
"Nearly a day," he replied, brushing a strand of hair from her face.
"What?" she stuttered, shocked.
He shrugged, "drink," he instructed. She concented, but waited for him to explain. "I don't understand it either," he sighed to her unrelenting, questioning stare.
She seemed to except it, without argument, but, a moment later, she stopped, slowly lowering the water-skin. "Did you kill them?" She asked it so quietly, he had to strain his ears to hear her.
"Yes," he responded, his voice containing no feeling, or regret.
Laurel jerked away involentarily, a gasp escaping her lips as she felt tears streaking down her cheeks.
"What?! Would you rather me let the torture you like that? Let them take-" he stopped ubruptly, she noticed the fire in his eyes. "What if they took it from you? What if they took your innocence?"
He didn't need to explain any farther, she understood. She turned away, keeping her eyes from his. His anger, it hurt her, it scared her. How could he be so gentle with her? But with no one else?
He sensed it, but had to know. Reaching out he took her chin and turned her so she faced him. It was true. Disappointment.
He growled, roughly letting go of her. Standing he walked a little distance away before turning and looking back at Laurel sitting on the ground. She wasn't looking at him, she seemed to wait, knowing well his anger and explosive rage. He cursed at her in drow, "Woman! What is wrong with you?! You would have rather have me let them do that to you, than for me to have killed them! What makes you so forgiving?!" He yelled at her. She took it in silence, wincing only when he reitterated he had killed them.
He didn't know why, but her silence angered him more than if she had answered him. He crossed the clearing, forcing her onto her feet. He held her at eye level, locking her eyes with his. She didn't even attempt to look away, she let him have everything she was thinking, just allowed him to see it as much as she felt it and heard it.
She didn't even expect the blow when it came. She pities me?! How dare she! his thoughts rang, fanning the flames of anger. Zaknir had never even thought of striking Laurel before, but that was the last thing on his mind. It took her a moment to recover from the blow. When she had, she turned back to him. Her eyes held no anger, or disdain. He dropped her back to the ground and walked away, disappearing into the darkness, leaving Laurel to wonder if he would ever return.
Zaknir didn't go far; he went far enough away to give himself time, and distance, to cool off, but not far enough to not be back in time if Laurel needed him. He couldn't believe that he had managed thoughts of killing her. He looked at his hands as the inner turmoil inside tore him in two. The drow part, the part that he had lived with for nearly a hundred years; it bid him to kill her. Told him that he was being weak, and stupid. That he should have laughed and watched as the men slowly tortured her, ruining her bit by bit. To watch her purity, and innocence be stolen from her. It loved the killing, it loved to sense the fear that the humans had at the sight of him.
Then this other part, the part that had come to light the first day he had seen Laurel, back when she was nine, the day he had first seen true innocence. He sighed, resting his head in his hands.
She is my weakness, she awakens this part in me.This part that tries to stop me from killing, this part that wills me to defend her. He sighed again. It's almost like I'm part of her, like I have her in me. The thought took a while to sink it. It was as true as it could be. That part pitied him after he had killed them, it wasn't angry, but it pitied, while his drow side growled that he hadn't killed the girl, the men slowly. He leaned back against a tree allowing himself to see these parts in full. To my drow half, I tell myself that the only reason that I save her is so that I may be the one to destroy her innocence. I want to be the one to torment her, to kill her. He stopped, listening to himself. He forced his Drow part to take over, subduing the other, kinder, part. He listened, and felt. Old cravings for her death, the ones he had had when he first met her, when he had watched her that day in the feilds, resurfaced. He seemed to physically want to walk back to the clearing and tear her heart out with his bare hands, and his fingers flexed with anticipation, but before he could know more, he supressed it, allowing the kinder part to take over. This was different, he felt like he was being tormented by all the kills he had done, by all that he had done to the humans, and to Laurel. He thought on getting up and returning to Laurel, the first thoughts he had ever had of apologizing ever, to ask for her forgivness. He craved to have people see him by this side the way that Laurel saw him, not the color of his skin, like the world did. Laurel never looked on him as a Drow, but as a companion, a friend on their journey, and this was how he treated her? He sighed, and sat forward again, his head buried in his hands. What is wrong with me? Why am I so torn? He allowed his two parts to find equillebrium relaxing into his seat.
Thunder cracked, and startled him, bringing him to the sudden realization that he was soaking wet. It had been raining since just after he left, but being so wrapped in his own thoughts he had not noticed. He forced himself up, to return to the camp in the dark. The lightning kept throwing his off his nightvision eyes so he reverted to his old useful infared vision. Most creatures of the underdark had this ability, and with the light flashes less disturbing when only spots of heat in the distance, he thought it would be better. As he entered the clearing that he had left before, he stopped. He saw, and realized that Laurel hadn't made a fire or even dressed to keep warm. She was laying right where he had dropped her, wearing only the tattered remaints of the undergarment that she had worn the night before; the undergarment that the soldiers had barely left her with. His cloak had fallen off during the argument and lay nearby on the ground.
She lay there, heat slowly slipping from her small form, her hair sticking in damp tendrils to her face and back. For a moment he was too shocked to react, but then he started forward.
"Laurel!" he called, falling to the ground beside her. Her eyes flew open when she heard his voice, her green eyes were not as bright and vibrant as they normally were and her face was an unnatural wan pallor, appeared almost ghostly. She tried to move, to sit up, but was only able to manage half of her arm extension before they buckled beneath her. He caught her, the chill of her skin, sent shivers through him. He cursed in drow, grabbing his cloak, which too was soaking wet. Looking around the clearing, he didn't have to touch anything to know that they were wet. How long have I been away?! he growled aloud.
He cursed again when he scooped her up and, ignoring her wince of pain, carried her into the shelter of a nearby tree. He didn't know that lightning could strike trees and thankfully, this time, none struck the tree they were under. He sat, holding her close, sharing as much heat as he could offer. Nothing was dry enough to make a fire, so he just sat.
For a long time, she just lay curled up in his arms, awake but with her eyes closed. It wasn't long until she fell asleep, leaving him to his thoughts, only disturbing him with the occasional shiver that ran down her spine.
It was a long night, and the sun rose in the morning, just as the remaints of the storm disappeared into the distance, he sat with her in his arms. He was tired, it had been more than two days since he had last slept, but he felt the need to wait for her to wake up. Just when he started to fall asleep, a moan brought him back to his senses. Laurel shifted in his arms, her eyes opening. They met with his. At first they held so many different emotions, he barely was able descipher them. The few that he could; tenderness, love, and concern, they sent shivers down his spine.
Laurel had a natural ability to displayed her emotions visilby, without fear, but at times like this, such a surge of emotion gave her no balance, and confuzed him. She continued to look at him, both unsure of what to do, so they sat there in silence for several minutes before the whistling of a bird, made them self-conscious once again. A tender blush found her cheeks as she realized that she was only dressed in her chemise.
yralis [fire girl]