- Invitation Status
- Looking for partners
- Posting Speed
- 1-3 posts per day
- One post per day
- Multiple posts per week
- 1-3 posts per week
- Writing Levels
- Intermediate
- Adept
- Advanced
- Prestige
- Preferred Character Gender
- Male
- Female
- Primarily Prefer Female
- Genres
- Fantasy, Historical, Magical, Romance (usually within other genres), Dystopia,.
Zemira
Distracted briefly by him taking one of the bags from her, she had reached out to try and pull it back to her own shoulder. The gold that painted his skin unnerved her, but not for the same reasons why it unnerved those within the carriage. It forced her to relive the memories of when she first found him... when she saved him. She was not naïve, she knew he must have bled during his training sessions with the other guards, but those incidents she did not see.
They will leave. Once they are done.
His words caused her mind to shudder to a stop, the images of a young Eitan curled up in a ball blowing away as if on a breeze. The words remained though, since they were so fresh off the tongues of the villagers within the carriage. So it left Zemi confused, the princess struggling to understand both what had been said, and how she felt once it began to dawn on her.
Her eyes travelled up to land on his face, her hand and arm stilling in her attempts to get the bag back so he didn't worsen his injury. He could never hide things from her, as hard as he tried. Something always gave him away, his expression, his words, his tone. As hard as he tried to keep her from learning the truth about something, he always found it difficult to lie.
Clearly a deal had been struck, just how Zemira had yet to find out and understand, undoubtedly she would question him about it later. But it seemed that deal was only good for their lives. The temptation to turn and look back at the carriage was great, but she kept herself from doing so, not wanting to face those who so cruelly heckled them moments ago. Even if they hadn't said anything, they still didn't stop others from doing so, and in Zemi's eyes... they could be considered just as bad.
Zemira was stuck, torn between her duty to the common folk and the anger and hurt she felt at how poorly the people responded upon stumbling across the truth. They had smiled to Eitan when they thought he was human, welcomed him onto the carriage, offered conversation and a friendliness that would not have been present if they knew the truth that pumped through his veins. He had, in their knowledge, risked his life to protect them. Yet even that wasn't good enough.
Perhaps it was a good thing he hadn't risked his life for those people. They certainly wouldn't have stuck their neck out for him.
Yet... if they allowed these people to die, knowing that they were walking away and leaving these people to their fate... did that not make them just as evil and beastly as the monsters that would ultimately kill them? Surely they had to be better, and rise above all the abuse and discrimination, and therefore prove that Eitan was no monster and actually more human than any of them.
But... did she really want to watch her friend fight to the death over people that would spit after his feet once it was all done? Who would look to kill him despite him having just saved their lives? How could she allow such risks to be taken, when those people didn't even appreciate it. They did not care for him, nor recognise what he had just seemingly done for them. If his blood had been red, he would have been a hero. But because it was gold... he was a threat, a monster, a fiend. He was nothing. And Zemira could allow him to fight for people who thought him as nothing.
To her, he was everything.
"...W-we... we'd better go then. I'm sure... I'm sure they will be able to find their own ways back." Zemi whispered, gaze dropping to their feet as her mouth seemed to move of its own accord. She did not believe a word she spoke, but perhaps it was better to feign obliviousness, rather than acknowledge the truth of what would come. "We... we really ought to get moving. The sooner we can get your injury tended to the better-- I do wish you'd let me carry that bag. You need to recover."
She kept talking. Talking nonsense. Talking about him. Talking about his injury. Focusing on them. She didn't want to face what she was so selfishly about to do.