Thump. Thump. Thump.
This was the recurring sound pounding in his ears. His own head felt heavy, unresponsive. But a banging headache was the last of his worries. Through the mist of his eyes, Kahn'a could see multiple figures gathered around him.
Don't look at me. Not like that.
Like a child caught red-handed, the Miqo'te wanted to disappear. The ground splitting in two to form a mouth of earth, rocks and fire. Overly dramatic, but it would do the trick. Alas, this was fantasy. There would be no godly intervention for Kahn'a. Not that he truly expected one, his mind was just reeling stupid ideas to flee from the reality of his shameful situation. A Flame Officier struck in the middle of the city, and by his very brothers of arms.
So to save what he felt was left of his honor, he complied as best he could. Clenching his jaw shut, Kahn'a struggled to keep the throbs snaking in his leg inside. But even if he could forget about the sensation, there was the smell of blood, so very strong. That, he could not overlook. His body would not let him.
Just keep it inside, you've been trained strong.
He also made a point to remain still as filthy hands lifted him, slid against him to bind him in chains. A weak growl that he could not help struck against his fangs in a feral reaction. There was no need, no point for struggle. But it felt no less shameful. Ears pinned downed, Kahn'a then picked up on a distrustingly loud voice calling out to him. He opened an eye, a mix of mild embarrassment and burning hatred shining through.
It had to be that shite-eater. Yes, he was the only one with enough sanity to stand so far out of reach, perched high, probably feeling on top of the world too. A Miqo'te. That was all he could see from his uncomfortable lying place.
It asked a question, Kahn'a steeled his resolve and smirked an ugly rictus for all answers.
I care not, he attempted to convince himself. But his mouth twitched, threatening to spill all the venom the Keeper wanted to spit at the perched one. Filthy words. Pointless ones. The fallen could never inspire an smidge of regret in who had struck them down.
Kahn'a swallowed the venom away. And it was painful to keep it in.
This was the recurring sound pounding in his ears. His own head felt heavy, unresponsive. But a banging headache was the last of his worries. Through the mist of his eyes, Kahn'a could see multiple figures gathered around him.
Don't look at me. Not like that.
Like a child caught red-handed, the Miqo'te wanted to disappear. The ground splitting in two to form a mouth of earth, rocks and fire. Overly dramatic, but it would do the trick. Alas, this was fantasy. There would be no godly intervention for Kahn'a. Not that he truly expected one, his mind was just reeling stupid ideas to flee from the reality of his shameful situation. A Flame Officier struck in the middle of the city, and by his very brothers of arms.
So to save what he felt was left of his honor, he complied as best he could. Clenching his jaw shut, Kahn'a struggled to keep the throbs snaking in his leg inside. But even if he could forget about the sensation, there was the smell of blood, so very strong. That, he could not overlook. His body would not let him.
Just keep it inside, you've been trained strong.
He also made a point to remain still as filthy hands lifted him, slid against him to bind him in chains. A weak growl that he could not help struck against his fangs in a feral reaction. There was no need, no point for struggle. But it felt no less shameful. Ears pinned downed, Kahn'a then picked up on a distrustingly loud voice calling out to him. He opened an eye, a mix of mild embarrassment and burning hatred shining through.
It had to be that shite-eater. Yes, he was the only one with enough sanity to stand so far out of reach, perched high, probably feeling on top of the world too. A Miqo'te. That was all he could see from his uncomfortable lying place.
It asked a question, Kahn'a steeled his resolve and smirked an ugly rictus for all answers.
I care not, he attempted to convince himself. But his mouth twitched, threatening to spill all the venom the Keeper wanted to spit at the perched one. Filthy words. Pointless ones. The fallen could never inspire an smidge of regret in who had struck them down.
Kahn'a swallowed the venom away. And it was painful to keep it in.
