~Her usually white palms were slick and red with blood. Her pet elf was laying on the stone floor like a broken ragdoll, a single wound was on his side and some blood pooled beneath him. The male's body was innaturally stiff already, his mouth opened and his features grew sharper. The expression was of torment, as he died suffering, his end was not a peaceful one.
Maylin's eyes filled with tears and the girl sniffed, devastated with her loss. She knew she should not have gotten attached to the captive, that it'd have been noticed and she'd be punished. But he was so kind to her... so genuinely, it was disarming and the child was truly taken by this kindness, never really experiencing it before. And now it was all gone. He was gone. Stolen. And that was making her angry.
Maylin. She heard Sabala's voice, but ignored it. -MAYLIN!- The drow repeated, louder and with more authority in her voice. The girl flinched, turning to face her tutor. -Look at yourself. Sab cooed, wiping her cheek. So sad, so hurt... so -weak-. - Why did you do this? May asked, looking up to the woman. - -I- did it? Oh no, you did it to yourself. Growing soft, getting attached, it all brings pain. Shows your weakness. The child looked over to the dead elf again, then glared to the drow, reaching to a dagger that dangled from the belt. A rather harsh backhand made Maylin stagger back and trip over the corpse. -Control- your emotions. Sabala towered above her, sizing the szarkai up. You're angry. It's good. But never show it. The tutor watched her longer, then turned and walked out of the cell, leaving the girl in the puddle of cold blood.~
Maylin looked to her leatherclad palms. Since the incident in the past, she disliked having her hands uncovered, so usually have been wearing gloves. The lesson back then was learnt well enough. Her dark painted lips quirked in a smirk. No weaknesses. No emotions. No attachments.
The albino placed her new sword in her lap and examined the blade thoughtfully. It was truly a masterpiece, an example of the finest elven craftsmanship. That elf, Legos, was as blind and easy to mislead like others. He even offered her to become his apprentice and learn smithing. The leatherclad fingers stroked the silver-gilded blade almost lovingly. Definitely going to accept that offer...
The woman rose up then, attaching a shield to her left arm and heading down the stairs to the crypt. The halls were silent and dark, her mind was still elsewhere. "Look for the thrice damned in times of trouble, yah? They will hide your shadow." - What that vooden told me... So I checked that Drain and what did I see? A hole in the sewers filled with careless little villains. The ones I saw were so... self-assured, they proceeded to discuss their little villainous plans in my presence. MY presence. A complete stranger's. From Degannwy. I learnt their plans for enslaving others, for alliances, learnt the names of associates. How very very sad and disappointing... Amateurs. I wonder who'd be interested in all that information?
A sound drew her attention to a corridor. A zombie was dragging its feet, moving closer to her. I wish you were Ay'uriel. Maylin actually smiled as the new blade of hers proved to be razorsharp, cutting through the dead flesh like through butter. That bitch suspects me. And will come after me eventually if I give her a reason to. Another swing of the sword chopped the zombie's head off and May stepped in, stabbing the rotting face. I should keep playing my role... be a little poor lost elf, losing faith.
"Beware the night of all Nights. For that is Her place... and Her Children are ever watchful, even here." Right now I'd welcome even a Llothite... The pale drow stopped hacking the head, looking around again and breathing out, staring ahead to a spot where she last saw that vampiress whom attacked her. Such... raw power. The woman stood motionless a moment longer, then moved deeper into the crypt.
