She grips her upper arms tightly with her hands at his last question.
"It wasn't a wizard's lair or anything like that. It was an abandoned tower, used long ago during times of war. The men who lead us there, who set that demon loose on us, they..." She can feel her chest tightening with the pain of the memories. Even though a year had passed, the pain is still fresh. "One of my friends... one of the people I travel with, the inventor... Those men kidnapped his master's daughter, a girl who was like a sister to him. He followed after them with the man who was his father in all but blood. When they found where they had taken the girl, my friend came back for me and the others. We rode as hard as we could, slept as little as possible to make good time. We rescued the girl, found her safe and relatively unharmed. But..." Her grip on her arms tightens even more. The fabric on her shirt is straining against her grip now, threatening to break. Her voice becomes hard, cold, dripping with hate as she continues. "But those men, those animals, they drugged and tortured this man, this person who had been my friend, and because of their abuse and our late arrival, he died. He died, and there was nothing we could do about it. I had to watch that boy I had met years before grow up suddenly as his father was murdered, his master and his family moved away, and he was left all alone, with nothing but his thirst for revenge to keep him company."
There are no tears in her eyes in spite of the pain. She's barely managing to breathe given the tightness in her chest, but it's as if she doesn't notice. It's as if this pain has become a part of ever day for her. As she continues, her voice lowers to a whisper, full of sorrow.
"And now that friend is gone and I don't know if I'll ever see him again."
no subject
"It wasn't a wizard's lair or anything like that. It was an abandoned tower, used long ago during times of war. The men who lead us there, who set that demon loose on us, they..." She can feel her chest tightening with the pain of the memories. Even though a year had passed, the pain is still fresh. "One of my friends... one of the people I travel with, the inventor... Those men kidnapped his master's daughter, a girl who was like a sister to him. He followed after them with the man who was his father in all but blood. When they found where they had taken the girl, my friend came back for me and the others. We rode as hard as we could, slept as little as possible to make good time. We rescued the girl, found her safe and relatively unharmed. But..." Her grip on her arms tightens even more. The fabric on her shirt is straining against her grip now, threatening to break. Her voice becomes hard, cold, dripping with hate as she continues. "But those men, those animals, they drugged and tortured this man, this person who had been my friend, and because of their abuse and our late arrival, he died. He died, and there was nothing we could do about it. I had to watch that boy I had met years before grow up suddenly as his father was murdered, his master and his family moved away, and he was left all alone, with nothing but his thirst for revenge to keep him company."
There are no tears in her eyes in spite of the pain. She's barely managing to breathe given the tightness in her chest, but it's as if she doesn't notice. It's as if this pain has become a part of ever day for her. As she continues, her voice lowers to a whisper, full of sorrow.
"And now that friend is gone and I don't know if I'll ever see him again."