* WAR PRIEST.

she settles on staring at vann, budding frustration smoothed into something placid and – despite instinct screaming at showing weakness – turns towards the water, arms folded across her chest (front towards enemy, she has been taught; vann is not one – not now, not yet) as she plays the conversation back in her head, trying to understand where the hells it went wrong. gods above, this is why she asks kyphelass to handle negotiations. it is far better an orator than — sol frowns, grip on her biceps tightening momentarily. reclassifies the thought into past tense. she's grown weak, it would seem, relying on it so much (perhaps that is why it –) but no matter. she'll have to learn conversation herself, and learn quickly. and that's the point, isn't it? vann wished to talk, not to be interrogated – had just said so minutes ago.

there's only one way to move forward.

words from slowly, boulders on her tongue. her steady, deep breaths belie the way her heart kicks into overdrive, a shock of pure adrenaline crashing into her system as she squeezed her biceps, forcing herself to speak. "it was not my intention to insult you. i only meant… i spoke poorly. i'm sorry." for a moment she thinks to explain – that it is easier, cleaner, to see people as hers or enemies. that the only way to determine one from the other is to bite and maul until they bite back, and only then can they know the true measure of each other – only then can true trust begin to be built. but penitence does not involve excuses and the thoughts are distant, barely coherent over the pounding of her own heart and the roar of her blood in her ears.

sol turns abruptly, making for the incline. she needs to leave. she needs to get away before vann takes that moment of weakness and wields it against her, use it to debase her or to make her debase herself or —

something impacts her foot, soft yet sturdy. she pauses, blinking, and looks down. her boots stare up at her where they sit on the incline. where she had left them, when she decided to approach vann to ask why he had spared omeluum – even treated it kindly. she had turned that question into interrogation too without meaning to, and on the tail of that thought: vann has, not once, spoken to her with intent to harm.

that act belongs to darrhmiirym alone.

the thought cuts through the haze of panic that had overtaken her and sol swallows her fear. (she is not her father's daughter. she isn't ashamed of her mistakes. but neither will she run and hide from them.) she sits down beside her boots. dusts sand off her calves and feet before pulling on her socks, then her boots. sol keeps her gaze focused on her hands. they do not shake as she laces up her boots.

his hands relax, fingers unfurling from the fists they'd curled up into. it takes him a moment to physically recover control over his movements; when he does, vann massages his left temple, drags his hand over his face with a sigh that banishes the last remainders of stress from within him. with a few tentative strides, he reaches her and sits by her side half an arm's length worth of space between them, for no other reason than to not test the waters further. cross - legged, vann rests his elbows on his knees.

i'm sorry. and gods help him, that is enough for him to absolve her. [ not everything in the world is made kinder by your forgiveness. ] maybe not, teacher, but i must start somewhere.

" you're right, they are. but the parasite is the parasite, and ... up until a few minutes ago, " the cleric begins slowly, finding his measured approach again, " i'd always wondered why the illithid perspective was so ingrained into you, for a lack of a better word. it's jarring. the degree of pragmatism is alien to me, and coupled with the fact you think of everything in extremes ... not only that, but you're looking for something. in me. " vann turns his head towards sol, staring at her visage in profile. the smattering of white markings over her nose and cheeks reminds him of snow. " it's like you can't comprehend that i am what i am, not what you want to make of me. and — "

a sentence starter prompts list comprised of quotes from the novel a torch against the night by sabaa tahir. please be advised that this list may involve topics including, but not limited to, murder, death, and violence. change verbiage as needed.

how did they find us so fast?

if your sins were blood, you would drown in a river of your own making.

you ask what am i, but what are you?

stay out of the way. no matter how bad it looks, don't interfere, don't try to help.

when the fear takes over, use the only thing more powerful, more indestructible, to fight it: your spirit. your heart.

we have to keep going. we have to get out of the city.

if something happens to me, don't fear.

you took long enough. i’ve waited hours.

if you think i need an army to destroy you, you are mistaken.

don’t falter now, fool. you’ll regret it.

bad luck to lie to a comrade-in-arms.

do you enjoy it? the hurt you cause? the pain? i can see it. you carry it with you. why? does it bring you happiness?

i don’t mean to–i don’t want to hurt people.

you destroy all those who get close to you.

you are dead, you just don’t know it yet.

you’ve been blacked out for hours. i thought you might not wake up.

don’t you dare fade out on me again.

i can’t do this without you.

stay. don’t go back. i need you.

i’m going to hurt you. i hurt everyone. 

try to stay. you were gone for so long last time, and i need you to stay.

tell me another story. tell me another memory. something good.

if you care for [name], then do not let [name] care for you.

like the poison that rages within you, you have no antidote.

willpower alone cannot change one’s fate.

thirteen fractures is nothing.

i’m about as good with tears as i am with declarations of love.

every time i stare into your eyes, i see my nightmares.

now you seem older and harder and, perhaps most terrifyingly, wiser.

he insisted that killing you would lead to my doom.

to be honest, i’m tempted to slit your throat just to see what happens. perhaps i still will.

i’m yours to command, my lord.

i don’t have allies. i have people who owe me things and people who want things and people who use me and people whom i use.

you swore to be the sword that executes my will. now is the chance to prove your loyalty.

i need him dead and i want you to be the one who kills him. 

i want you to watch the light die in his eyes. i want him to know it’s the person he cares for most in the world who shoved a blade through his heart.

i want it to haunt you for all your days.

he’s sly enough to escape the bounty hunters quite easily, but you and i both know that he would never be able to escape you.

how do i kill the man i love?

forgive me, but how can you speak to me of obsession?

small victories have made you daring. do not let them make you stupid.

you have your orders. carry them out.

it will destroy you if you’re not careful.

would you care to hear my theory?

your injuries tell me you’ve seen battle.

the problem with greedy people is that they think everyone is as greedy as they are.

we’re surrounded.

i’ll catch you.

almost there. stay with me now.