How could she...
Tarnon gulped from the bottle again and bashed with his fist against the table.
"You are nothing to me now..." This can be understood. This can be respected. Sometimes one needs to depart and disappear.
Another sip of Thorin's Hall brandy was burning his throat as it was passing down his belly.
"No. Not anymore." I don't deserve a hangover for HER. He raised hand with the bottle, ready to throw it in the corner of the room.
But then he changed his mind. No, even my small appartment doesn't deserve shards and mess.
Not after this.
"You were just faces I tolerated."
If you were here, I'd slap you. Hard. And from the side you have the eyepatch so you couldn't dodge.
Everyone of us has past that he would like to cut out of their lives. Everyone has experiences which are locked deep inside our skulls behind seven doors and dozen locks. Locked and buried. Especially I know what I'm talking about...
The word 'Blackwolds' started oozing from behind one of the locked doors, but then the ear-piercing throat-hurting yell sent it back.
That Deorla's line was not even an insult. This was living in lie.
But it was useless to waste time with angry thoughts.
Tarnon stood up. He needed to do some activity to clear his mind.
He reached for the bottle and took a sip for the last time. Then he headed to the stables for Horsea. A wild ride and then a target practice for his throwing knife will be the right thing now.
And then to find Raspi for a longer talk.
I will show you sinking kin. For everyone who meant something at least for a short while.
Amaken, Furley, Ana, commander Altheric. And for the current members.
Somewhere deep inside him, there was a faint feeling, nearly choked by others. It was the feeling that something is not utterly as black and white in Deorla's parting letter.
