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Durelin · 09-03-2006, 04:36 PM

Khamir

Making a quick round of the camp as the night crept up on them all, the group still licking their wounds, physical and of another kind, Khamir felt worry anger growing slowly inside him, tightening its grip. He should have looked for Shae long before now, and gotten over his stupid pride. He should have known something important, something dangerous, was up. It had always been impossible for the one-armed man to understand that woman. He had often wondered what kind of pain manifested itself in the cuts on her hands. He had never said a word about them to anyone, much less her, but he knew they were there on purpose. But what purpose, he would never know, and he would never have to. To him, pain was pain.

He asked over and over if anyone had seen Shae, each time requiring a quicker answer as he lost any patience had had begun with. That fool woman…she was insane! What was that – bravery or madness? Should Khamir admire her, or fear for her…or both? Part of him did admire her, and the rest of him was a mix of emotions related to just how crazy the woman was. In some ways he wanted to laugh, and in others he felt sick with worry. And he was jealous: she had beat him to the glory. The glory…it was worthless out here, if it was worth anything anywhere; why did he still feel he needed it?

There was really no question where Shae had gone. She always made her displeasure obvious, and this time she had clearly been displeased with just about everything Khamir had done recently and proposed to do. She had gone back. She had gone after them. The bold, thickheaded, defiant woman. Sometimes one had to wonder if she had a death wish. By the cuts on her hands, one might definitely think so, but Khamir did not. She was a survivor. At least, she had always been…

His teeth gritted, he marched through the campsite to find one of the few people he still trusted. He so wanted to trust Shae. He had so many times before, and maybe he still did, even though his brain told him it was foolish, dangerous. To the rest of him, it felt right that he should trust her, no matter where that might lead him. Maybe he simply needed to trust in her and her abilities, trust that she was still alive. Catching Beloan’s eye upon finding him, the man followed Khamir a few paces away from others.

“She really is gone,” the, perhaps former, gang leader whispered.

Beloan let out a pained sigh, and then silently stared at his companion, as if waiting for something.

Khamir did not notice, staring at the ground beneath him. “I am such a fool,” he muttered.

The other man snuck a smile, the one-armed man still looking down. “It is too late for blaming yourself, or anyone.”

Too late…they were all running out of time. Either direction they chose to go, the time they had to make their decision was rapidly growing shorter. Perhaps it had already ran out, and they were now living on luck, trying fate. But Khamir could not feel afraid.

“We have to act before dawn, as long before it as we can manage. Tell the others, and pick… No, we will tell everyone. We will ask for those who can, who wish, to volunteer. We need a party to go after the bounty hunters, to rescue the children, and to find Shae… And we need others, everyone, to be prepared to guard the camp. If you’d like to head the latter group…” Khamir trailed off, as Beloan was already shaking his head.

“No, I go with you,” he said simply. He knew, before any talk of parties, what group the one-armed Southron intended to be a part of.

09-03-2006, 04:36 PM	#157
Durelin Estelo dagnir, Melo ring Join Date: Oct 2002 Posts: 3,121	Khamir Making a quick round of the camp as the night crept up on them all, the group still licking their wounds, physical and of another kind, Khamir felt worry anger growing slowly inside him, tightening its grip. He should have looked for Shae long before now, and gotten over his stupid pride. He should have known something important, something dangerous, was up. It had always been impossible for the one-armed man to understand that woman. He had often wondered what kind of pain manifested itself in the cuts on her hands. He had never said a word about them to anyone, much less her, but he knew they were there on purpose. But what purpose, he would never know, and he would never have to. To him, pain was pain. He asked over and over if anyone had seen Shae, each time requiring a quicker answer as he lost any patience had had begun with. That fool woman…she was insane! What was that – bravery or madness? Should Khamir admire her, or fear for her…or both? Part of him did admire her, and the rest of him was a mix of emotions related to just how crazy the woman was. In some ways he wanted to laugh, and in others he felt sick with worry. And he was jealous: she had beat him to the glory. The glory…it was worthless out here, if it was worth anything anywhere; why did he still feel he needed it? There was really no question where Shae had gone. She always made her displeasure obvious, and this time she had clearly been displeased with just about everything Khamir had done recently and proposed to do. She had gone back. She had gone after them. The bold, thickheaded, defiant woman. Sometimes one had to wonder if she had a death wish. By the cuts on her hands, one might definitely think so, but Khamir did not. She was a survivor. At least, she had always been… His teeth gritted, he marched through the campsite to find one of the few people he still trusted. He so wanted to trust Shae. He had so many times before, and maybe he still did, even though his brain told him it was foolish, dangerous. To the rest of him, it felt right that he should trust her, no matter where that might lead him. Maybe he simply needed to trust in her and her abilities, trust that she was still alive. Catching Beloan’s eye upon finding him, the man followed Khamir a few paces away from others. “She really is gone,” the, perhaps former, gang leader whispered. Beloan let out a pained sigh, and then silently stared at his companion, as if waiting for something. Khamir did not notice, staring at the ground beneath him. “I am such a fool,” he muttered. The other man snuck a smile, the one-armed man still looking down. “It is too late for blaming yourself, or anyone.” Too late…they were all running out of time. Either direction they chose to go, the time they had to make their decision was rapidly growing shorter. Perhaps it had already ran out, and they were now living on luck, trying fate. But Khamir could not feel afraid. “We have to act before dawn, as long before it as we can manage. Tell the others, and pick… No, we will tell everyone. We will ask for those who can, who wish, to volunteer. We need a party to go after the bounty hunters, to rescue the children, and to find Shae… And we need others, everyone, to be prepared to guard the camp. If you’d like to head the latter group…” Khamir trailed off, as Beloan was already shaking his head. “No, I go with you,” he said simply. He knew, before any talk of parties, what group the one-armed Southron intended to be a part of.