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Orrin's eyes flutter open as the sunlight crept through the window and shone directly over his face. He raises his left hand reflexively to block the light and winces, dropping it back down. He turns his head to his right away from the light, seeing the wooden walls and his bandaged up shoulder.Â
Orrin had spent about a sennight now in the dubious household and he began to dislike the familiarity of the that infirmary that developed over the course of his stay. He felt the heat of the sun starting to uncomfortably warm his skin.
He sits up, away from the sunbeams, sliding over to the foot of the bed where he let his legs dangle off and come to touch the cool wooden floors of the estate. In here time seemed to stagnate, stiflingly so. Yes there was Nihka, Anstarra, even Spahro to which made his internment all the more tolerable but he knew that out there, the world did not stop. Inquisitor Mol, charged with crimes he could honestly believe but he thought her better to not do all of them at once. Furthermore, it had been half a cycle since that Wyrmtear had escaped his clutches. And even then, though the dragonsong war had hit a lull, it was far from over.
He stands and heads for the showers, unraveling the wraps that bound his chest together in one piece. He slides open the door and steps into the surprisingly civilized shower and turned on the water, letting the steam rise and cloud everything around him. His thoughts turned to the butcher of Toto Rak, how after the purification nothing was left but a corpse. He felt the sting of the hot water upon his tender, bruised flesh and he grits his teeth. Ishgardian mind wondering if it was worth it all in the end.
"In the twisted smile of every murderer" Those were Neruhm's words and yet the building fell, the voidsent banished from the realm. However, was the demon truly beaten? If so, any tortuous, eternal hold he had on any of those souls would have been freed, surely. And by extension, his injury was unnecessary. However if the creature was merely deflected..those that had died, they still suffered, suffered enough that even Syros North, in all his pain and agony, only wished for an apology from Orrin for sending him back to that hell. Â Neither conclusion sat well with him, though what was certain was that he was not convinced of the void prince's supposed inability to be killed.Â
"Neruhm" he says to the deserted walls of the infirmary, none answered him except for the rushing of water that circled down the drain. "I thought so."
Even then, there was a haunting emptiness that resided, some restless dissatisfaction, he still remembered the silent screams of Wailers consumed by the Greenwrath, his arm still occasional twitched from the levin bolts he sustained from a god.
Dragonkiller, voidslayer, and still..."I'm out of my depth."
Orrin had spent about a sennight now in the dubious household and he began to dislike the familiarity of the that infirmary that developed over the course of his stay. He felt the heat of the sun starting to uncomfortably warm his skin.
He sits up, away from the sunbeams, sliding over to the foot of the bed where he let his legs dangle off and come to touch the cool wooden floors of the estate. In here time seemed to stagnate, stiflingly so. Yes there was Nihka, Anstarra, even Spahro to which made his internment all the more tolerable but he knew that out there, the world did not stop. Inquisitor Mol, charged with crimes he could honestly believe but he thought her better to not do all of them at once. Furthermore, it had been half a cycle since that Wyrmtear had escaped his clutches. And even then, though the dragonsong war had hit a lull, it was far from over.
He stands and heads for the showers, unraveling the wraps that bound his chest together in one piece. He slides open the door and steps into the surprisingly civilized shower and turned on the water, letting the steam rise and cloud everything around him. His thoughts turned to the butcher of Toto Rak, how after the purification nothing was left but a corpse. He felt the sting of the hot water upon his tender, bruised flesh and he grits his teeth. Ishgardian mind wondering if it was worth it all in the end.
"In the twisted smile of every murderer" Those were Neruhm's words and yet the building fell, the voidsent banished from the realm. However, was the demon truly beaten? If so, any tortuous, eternal hold he had on any of those souls would have been freed, surely. And by extension, his injury was unnecessary. However if the creature was merely deflected..those that had died, they still suffered, suffered enough that even Syros North, in all his pain and agony, only wished for an apology from Orrin for sending him back to that hell. Â Neither conclusion sat well with him, though what was certain was that he was not convinced of the void prince's supposed inability to be killed.Â
"Neruhm" he says to the deserted walls of the infirmary, none answered him except for the rushing of water that circled down the drain. "I thought so."
Even then, there was a haunting emptiness that resided, some restless dissatisfaction, he still remembered the silent screams of Wailers consumed by the Greenwrath, his arm still occasional twitched from the levin bolts he sustained from a god.
Dragonkiller, voidslayer, and still..."I'm out of my depth."