NED Does Some Things

It all felt too grimly quiet.

Lucidity washed over each of them just as quickly as exhaustion settled into their bones. Every heart rattled with the distress of what would eventually become only a memory - one stained in pitch black and viscous sin. Blood that still trickled through the ever cracking stone which masqueraded as a rivulet of unholy, desecrated wine. Shrieks of the dead were echoed by the grief of victims once lost to time and the care of the living.

But here, in the fresh air that stung with barely there morning dew, it was quiet. 

Caked in blood, dust, and clay, J'egr dropped his body heavily onto the nearest stone he could find in the field they had all arrived to upon exiting the catacombs. Blindly, he rummaged around with one hand inside a deep leather bag to find a slender cigar. He much preferred a drink but a smoke would do, as he then provisioned a pack of matches to light up. 

No one said a word.

But how could they? The campaign had been emotionally draining for each of them; facing fear, guilt, and pain no matter who they were. Some, like the royal courier, pretended he had no reflection in the stage of this blood mage's horror. Others, like the earl, had lost a bit of his own soul down there when faced with the truth of his life and the lies he had been fed since he was only a boy.

And then there was J'egr.

For him, all of this had felt like some sort of truly bizarre and horrifying misadventure he had only barely had any emotional stock invested in, and also one they had all been sorely underpaid for. Underpaid for trivial things like near death experiences, trauma, and their lungs filling with decades of bone dust and stagnant air stirred by the dead.

While their party drifted off here and there, whether alone like Avren or in pairs like the cleric and warlock, Hazriel herself chose to sidle up to the rock J'egr had made a home on. Like the hunter, she was as equally blood-soaked. She took her seat in the grass so that she could draw her knees up, allowing her arms to wrap around her legs and rest a bruised cheek upon them.

At first, neither of them said anything. It was only the gentle chime of armor here and there, the breath of J'egr releasing smoke into the chilly autumn breeze, or the sway of branches from the dark woods that filled the space between them for some time. A time of decompression they silently needed before words would ever pass their lips. But a glance was spared as J'egr craned his neck to look down at her. Hazriel chose not to notice as her gaze remained fixed on the glimpses of dirt between dying blades of grass. 

"Do you think he'll be alright?" His voice was the first to break the silence.

Hazriel flinched at first. Not because of the question, but the absurdity in genuine concern didn't sound right coming from J'egr. None of them had initially liked the man - a strange and beautiful human, haunted by things Hazriel recognized yet also couldn't truly identify. Her eyes then raised to the earl at the memory of their meeting, the one who had asked with deep sincerity for their help. 

The noble was perched on a sunken fence post, far from everyone else, and close to the road. The elf's gaze traveled down the length of his back, noting how his shoulders were slumped but his head was lifted; staring up toward the slowly rising sun with a patience she would never begin to understand. It was hard to explain, she thought, the relief that was washing over him. Most people didn't understand what true relief felt like. When a weight was lifted off of your own soul and granted the freedom to float; unhindered, forgiven. 

With her eyes still on the man's blood-drenched back, Hazriel answered, "I don't know."

Drawing the cigar from his lips, J'egr exhaled a breath and joined her line of sight.

"You know, we grew up listening to fairytales. We had nightmares beaten into us to make sure we feared the night so that we stayed in bed until morning," he began. "Half of the things we imagined as children would probably still be terrifying to us."

There was a pause.

"Even if he's lived with ghosts all this time, I can't imagine seeing your brother turn into a monster was something he was prepared to see. Much less go up against the way we had to."

Hazriel remained silent, with her arms crossed around her knees, and her eyes staring straight ahead. Glancing down at her again, J'egr watched before attempting to crack even the most lighthearted smirk.

"You don't agree?"

Turning her head toward the hunter, Hazriel let her eyes finally drift back down. Down to the grass untrampled between J'egr's bloody boots scarred by sharp stone and unforgiving bone. Down to the dirt beneath him.

"But we see monsters like that every day," came her soft whisper. "We are all someone’s monster. In one way or another we terrify those around us. Look at me. Look at the death cleric. Look at you."

J'egr felt that grisly silence fall over them again as he peered down at her, but Hazriel said nothing else for the moment. Not until she chose to move one hand down to begin plucking at the blades of grass beside her.

"I guess you're right." The hunter released a delicate chuckle as he turned his eyes downward. While Hazriel pulled at bits of grass, J'egr chose to toy with the cigar between his calloused, ashen fingers. Some twisted sense of reality stabbed into his heart, making his quiet laughter shake in his voice, "Some, I suppose, are just more ugly than others."

"I wish you would stop talking," Hazriel whispered again as she lifted her face to look at him. Her expression was one of exhaustion, but beneath that was something that still felt welcoming. From one monster to another. "Just. Close your mouth. And don't say another word for a few minutes."

J'egr brought the cigar back up to his lips with another chuckle, "You got it, darling."

The silence returned but this time it was accentuated by something different. The uneasiness remained, yes, but that kindred nature between them was beginning to stoke warmth back into the chill of death still lingering on their skin. They needed baths and perhaps another joke or two.