#illfatedheroes

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“What do you mean you are ‘used to this kind of thing’?” Still obscured by the hood and cloak he was wearing, he looked around the village, which was now razed and abandoned, the residents long gone to some safe haven, leaving everything but their lives and the clothes on their back behind. Cuan himself had barely escaped with his life, nearly reopening the wound on his chest as he had locked himself into a temporary fight with some of the men responsible for this. He pet his steed’s mane gently, doing his best to calm its nerves, especially with a wyvern so close.

His daughter, raised as a Thracian and fighting on a wyvern… how ironic.

“How can anyone ever get used to such scenes? Are you talking about the carnage? Or are you talking about the fighting? Or is it the sight of us commoners being so afraid?”“

“...Anyone who have lived here long enough would say it’s common—the norm you could say... To see the people struggle to keep their lives together for long. Practically everything you’ve spoken of you have seen, I presume...” That’s what she was used to seeing. What she was used to hearing stories and gossip about.

“Every time one would turn around, there’s some lives lost to a village raid or children being kidnapped or another...” It pained her to say this. Thracia hadn’t been this horrible of a state as far as she could remember during young childhood. Support and cooperation was much easier then, even with their longtime fighting with the northern land of Manster going on...

Did she say she was used to it all? No... that very much was a lie.

It still bothered Altenna, the girl who’d been raised as the King’s daughter from... day one? Although she had adapted well to living in the mountainous country, she who had learned to make Thracia her home to heart despite the rough times growing up... It was like watching a place she tried her hardest to love crumble from her delicate yet firm touch. A place burning up aflame that she could not control nor put out to save it.

“I feel saddened inside when they up and leave their homes behind in search of a better life... yet a part of me is...glad.  We’re—... They’re used to that happening.” If one were to question her, she’d respond that they wouldn’t be suffering anymore then had they found happiness to escape to. When in truth, it would be that those cold stares she’d receive would be gone.

Clasping a hand to her upper arm, the woman turned sideways away from the man, her eyes downcast to the rocky ground. Altenna felt small compared to every next person who could be so ready to shout words of glory and pride of their beloved South Thracia, and here she was wanting to self indulge on feeling safer over the recent occurrences.

“Heh. You would always be the better of that than me…”

And it was true. Although Quan was the more logical out of the two, it was the passionate Sigurd who was always more willing to talk out a situation than deal with it with swords and lances a blazing. Ironic.

“But, more often then not, that’s surprisingly true, although hard to do…”

“Hard to do... Yes, quite. I worry about my own neck sometimes!” A chuckle escaped him as he remembered the recent times he’d nearly gotten into a dangerous situation...or did get into one and got out of barely unscathed. But honestly, he couldn’t help it. It was just...in his blood to be that kind of person.

“All of the fighting as of late has been getting to me... It seems to be going our way, although shakily. I can’t help but wonder if there will be a battle where words cannot prevail over physical fighting.