Seraph Letters 02

From Mr. Riku “Seraphim” Sephiroth, to Mr. Griswold Steeldriver, in which Seraph proves that when you’re the equivalent of a nineteen-year-old, it is a thin line you tread between boy and man, and every step is a treacherous one; written on another piece of Zojikoe’s parchment, blotched with ink on the sides.  Several quills were harmed in the writing of this letter.


Griz;


Damn it all to Hell!  I’ve snapped my only quill half-way through your god-damned letter and wasted a piece of Zoe’s parchment, and now I’ve been forced to ask him for another one, AND to borrow his quill which is just as bad as the parchment and between this and me saying I was going to “watch Keth’s tail” earlier today, I bet you any money the whole god-damned party is going to start to wonder about me, and you know, I may as well let them, because I’ve already given Zoe a piggy-back in front of them, haven’t I?  And that’s not even counting all the … oh for God’s sake.

And now I’ve got to try and remember what I’ve already written.  I can’t even transcribe it, because the original page is covered in ink (and so am I) and the words are all blurred and ruined.

Why am I even writing these letters?!  I can’t even mail them and I’ll probably die on this God forsaken island and you’ll never get them anyway!

Screw it, fuck!  I need to go hit something.  I’ll finish this later.


Back.  Obviously.  

So to explain that whole thing about me watching Keth’s tail, that was an excellent example of my ever-present foot-in-mouth syndrome.  He said he was going to take point with Brethil, and then told me to go to the back of the line to watch our tail end, and because I’ve been a petty bastard the last day or two I took offence to the order, and I was leery anyway about leaving Keth and Brethil at the front together, not so much because I don’t trust one or the other, but because I don’t trust them together.  Keth has a habit of showing absolutely no respect to Brethil (or anyone else), and Brethil has a habit of pretending Keth doesn’t exist and ignoring everything he says and does.  It’s not exactly an efficient relationship.  So, whether for legitimate reasons or not, and because I suck at comebacks, after he said, “Go watch our tail” I said “Oh, I’ll be watching someone’s tail” and Zoe giggled and Keth smirked and I wanted to kill myself.

That’s not what I meant at all!  I meant I was going to … oh never mind.  It doesn’t matter any more.  The damage has been done and I’ll be red for the rest of my life, that’s all, and it’s not like the rest of my life is likely to be all that long, now is it?

It doesn’t help that not long after that Zoe was up on my back.  Kronk and Keth are assholes who don’t seem to understand that just because they happen to be over six feet tall and weigh more than a hundred and fifty pounds and can run all night in full-plate armour, uphill both ways, doesn’t mean everybody can.  Kronk seemed to assume the fact that Zoe can’t march for six hours straight means that he can’t pull his own weight in our group, to which I reply, he can jam it, because Zoe’ll likely save all our asses at least once before this ordeal is through, and he doesn’t need to carry three times his weight on his back to do it, either.  We’re not all soldiers, nor are we his soldiers.  I don’t know how they do things in the Imperial Army, and I don’t know how they do things wherever it is Keth comes from, but around here you don’t leave your allies behind.  At least you don’t if you’re me, and if that means giving Zoe a piggy-back because he’s never walked that far in his life, then Zoe gets a piggy-back and Keth and Kronk get evil stares until they turn around and mind their own god-damned business and stop talking about taking Zoe’s jewellery and throwing him in the mud as though he’s not even there.

We were headed for a cave to rest up so Sianna could memorize some spells for that evening.  We had arrived at the conundrum of how in God’s name we were supposed to kill 650 troops before the full thousand come raining painfully down on us from every available angle, and Brethil came up with Druid’s Rock.  I’ve told you the stories about it before.  Blah, blah, blah, powerful druids, yadda, yadda, yadda, call down nature’s fury on her enemies (and the occasional litterbug if the Druid happens to be Brethil).  I always thought they were bullshit.  Mum took me out there once and told me about them and I tried everything I could to get that damn rock to smite something and nothing happened.

Well, after seeing real druids get up there … let’s just put it this way: I’ll never litter again.

And neither will the Imperials that came, but for an entirely different reason.

The plan was to run down to the closest Imperial camp and have Sianna cast a large illusion with which to draw out the Imperials and get them to chase us back to Druid’s Rock, at which point, Brethil and the others (the others being other Druids who we managed to gather) would do their holy vengeance thing.  Keth and I were to jump and dance and scream and whatever else inside the illusion to add some reality to it.  So, of course, we did, and it worked perfectly.  The Imperials chased us all the way back and when we got to Druid’s rock, the real show began.  There were six druids up on the rock, Brethil included, and when they started doing their thing the Imperials started dropping like flies.  Brethil went absolutely bugnuts off the power.  All I could smell was ozone and blood and death everywhere.  Someone pinned them with various forms of entangling spells, and all they could do was sit there and wait for death.

But then, they attacked us first, and without provocation.  No quarter where none is offered, as Jecht was fond of saying, and there you have it.  Mercy is reciprocal.

Kronk and Keth did fantastically against the few who managed to break free, but I made a mistake or two, and paid for it.  I was … distracted.  I think Zoe’s cross with me, and I don’t know why.  I wracked my brain trying to understand it, but I can’t think of anything I’ve done, unless he’s still sore about Sianna, which is entirely possible since I stuck up for her again when the druid Erallador (also an Elf) refused to accept that she’s been nothing but trustworthy so far.  Zoe gave me a look but he didn’t really say anything so I figured it wasn’t that big a deal.  But if it wasn’t that, then what?  Why else would he agree so easily to staying behind when we went out for the illusion part of the plan?  He stayed with the druids.  He didn’t even fight me when I told him maybe he should stay.  That’s not … I mean, he always comes.  Always.  God, he won’t even let me get five feet away from him sometimes without following me.  And suddenly he wants to stay behind with the druids?!  But then he acted like nothing was wrong when I got back.  He hugged me and everything.  Good lord, he’s confusing.

So, yeah.  My brain wasn’t really on my fighting until I took a longsword to the back that nearly dropped me right then and there.  The guy moved to finish me off, but Zoe did that thing where he blows up their brain and that was the end of that.

It’s just … been a bad day.  For me anyway, everyone else’s was great.  We beat the Imperials to a man, took out about a hundred of them in one go.  Keth threatened the Hell out of the last guy and sent him off to tell the other Imperials about what had happened, but I think the wolves (animal companions of all the druids) might have got to him first.  They were a bit … uh, hyperactive I guess after the battle.  A little … over enthusiastic maybe.

After the battle we piled up whatever bodies remained (no few of the Imperials having been almost entirely consumed by lightning, wolves, or some random combination of) and burnt them.  God dammit, Griz, I’ve never seen that many bodies in one place in my life.  It’s so much harder to hate things after they’re dead, you know?  I mean … here the Imperials are, invading a tiny little island in the middle of nowhere that’s never bothered anybody, for no reason except expansion or greed or some other bullshit excuse.  They’ve come on, killed everyone they could, and aren’t done yet.  They’ll probably raze the whole place to the ground after they’re done, just because they can.  They’re monsters, every last one of them.  Kronk can say what he wants about them just doing their job, but there comes a point in time when that excuse is no longer valid.  A job is something you can quit.  Something you can replace.  Life isn’t, not at all.  If you’re too damned lazy to think for yourself and make your own decisions about something like this, then you’re as bad as the people ordering you to do it.

And yet …

Watching as all those bodies burned …

I couldn’t help but feel a bit like a monster myself.

No quarter where none is offered.

All in all I think Zoe took the whole thing a lot better than I did, even if my issues with it were all internal.  But Zoe’s got a tick layer of prejudice that keeps him above things like this, and people like them.  Insulated from this kind of thing because of the people involved in it.  He was affected, sure, death is death is death, and whoever said it was the great equalizer wasn’t kidding.  It’s just … not as personal for him I guess.  He can be upset by it, disturbed by it, but still keep his core pure of it.

And I just can’t.  Not with the things I’ve seen.  Not with the things I’ve been through.

Not with this thing trapped inside me somewhere.  I know it’s just my imagination, but the ring feels heavier on days like today.  The marks have moved a bit further.  Not much, not very noticeable at all, but it’s there just the same.  I’m going to have to start hiding them, maybe wrap them in bandages or something.  It’s not exactly inconspicuous, but Zoe’s going to notice, and I don’t want him torturing himself over them whenever they decide to move a bit further.  I’ll just tell him … I dunno, that I don’t want to look at them anymore or something.  He won’t believe me, but it’s a valid excuse so that’s just too bad.

At any rate, I’m tired.  It’s been an extremely long couple of days and I need to talk to Zoe and then sleep.  

Seraph, the merciless-by-necessity