The Hollow Man

[Niethan]

Haala was always being fought over. Perhaps not constantly, as in the more established battlegrounds, but the ground was stained a permanent rust red from the traffic. It was sickeningly wasteful, but both sides offered rewards to those who would defend it, so the fighting never really stopped. Even Sanctuary supported its defense, moreso to prevent further conflict in more populated areas.

Niethan never truly understood the point, but the rewards were nice and the activity exciting, and he needed air and camraderie to take his mind off the shaking and the aches that had begun to creep into his bones. In Nagrand, air and sun were plentiful, and camraderie was easy despite his lonliness; Sanctuary's presence was often in Haala, and Sigrun's presence was eternal.

"Sigrun! Don' let that one get away!"
Haha! You got it, Muir!

It really shouldn't have been sunny. It should have had clouds blotting out the sun, and enough rain to drown the stars. It should have been nothing else forever.

Sigrun was already tearing into the priest when he Spoke, two of Niethan's arrows in his side and a third in the air. He raised his hand and took a step back from the furry body that puffed up red dust when it fell before him.

It should have been apocalyptic, but this is the way the world ends.

"Sigrun...?"

Not with a bang, but a whimper.

[Niethan]

Dearheart, come look!

Muir, don't you think you're being silly?

Dearheart, please don't cry--

Dearheart--

Dear--

She was half of me, my heart and soul. Maybe more than half, my Queen of Air and Darkness. It was like that from the start, even before the oaths that bound us.

"I am your shield. I am your sword."
"You are my heart, my lady."

Even before that, when she had two legs and knives in her hands, and he carried a shield of his faith instead of a bow. "Sigrun Bael'itae! Not at your service, but certainly pleased to make your aquaintence!"

Half of me or more. And when she left she took me with her, though I would have gladly followed her anywhere.

[Niethan]

That's three you owe me, now. "...what?"

I don't remember being dead.

[Niethan]

I didn't know until later that I struggled. The first soldier to approach me after I crumpled recieved a shock as I suddenly scrambled up, charging towards where Sigrun's body cooled. I remember someone holding my arms and a hand pulling at my hair, trying to keep me from marching blindly into the carnage, but desperation gave me strength and I either tossed them aside or dragged them along.

Nothing in my power could open her eyes. I stayed there for a while, ignoring the continuing conflict as I wondered just what in hell was I supposed to do now. I think I begged Death not to take her from me.

He has never claimed to be kind, or fair. Though he does try to be pleasant. It might have been someone tring to snap me from my silence, but I saw Him watching. I doubt he truly grieves for anyone, but I like to think he was quiet in sympathy, not in scorn. Eventually I was left alone, and I picked up the shell of my queen and carried her away.

Aman'i don't have burial rituals. We keep our dead with us forever; a lock of hair goes into the tribal memorial basin so we can burn incense to our ancestors before them, and the flesh is consumed by the surviving family. It's a way of honoring them, and honoring the living by adding their life to yours. If there's no time for preparation and gathering of family, those closest are supposed to just take a bite or more and continue the fight. Nobody is forgotten, nobody is wasted.

I knew the rites, and the prayers and the offerings. I knew where to find her grown cubs and of course I was here. Blasphemous as the thought was, I wasn't sure if even taking her life into mine would be enough to fill the gasping empty hole she'd left.

[Niethan]

A few days passed. I hardly noticed. I took care of her five cubs, they were grieving too-- but even the most intelligent of beasts don't feel sorrow quite like we do. Animals do not feel regret.

I remember telling Nojinbu, and we ended in an argument over the drugs I've been taking. I can hear the frustration and disappointment in the rogue's voice, and that makes me move more than the threats of force. After Vilmah came back from her trials with me, she asked about the paint, and I told her too. She left to go mourn and eventually I followed her, not out of a desire to comfort but simply to return her cat to her. When the shakes from lack of medicines returned she begged me not to take them.

I don't understand, sometimes. Why this preoccupation with my health? I've got more things to worry about, and so do they. I take the painkillers because I'm so sick of pain, and the tranquilizers because I'm so tired of being exhausted from worry. That's what they're for. But... I suppose I have had enough of being numb. There's no longer a feeling of sinking-dust clogging my chest, just a sense of being an empty shell. I doubt my powders and potions would help with that, anyway.

Sulajin insists I'll be okay, in time. Well, maybe not okay, but that I'll heal, or adapt. Personally, I think the latter more likely. It takes me a lot longer to pick up pieces than it does to grow over the shards. No wonder I'm so bristly.

[Niethan]

I woke up to a cold bed. Doesn't much sound like a world-altering event, but this was the first time this had happened to me. The world is pretty much my bed, but my tendency to lose heat while I sleep dictates exactly what parts of the world I sleep in. Usually I sleep someplace warm, no matter how uncomfortible it would seem to be. If I'm not someplace that heat collects on its own, like in a bed or outside in a log, then it was garunteed that Sigrun would come lie with me once she'd finished her nightly hunting.

But today she wasn't there. And I finally realized that she never was going to be again.

I bit my fist and rocked myself a while, to let the thought settle. I refuse to cry. I'll weep over anything else, but not her. Sigrun was the only person who never made me cry, and I will not dishonor her by starting now.

When the fit passed I layed back on the bed, ice-bone cold and weary. I felt like something dead. Like if I moved, my skin would slough off my bones and my eyes would go runny and drip off my face. But of course they wouldn't. I wasn't dead, it just felt like worse. So, this is what was left. Me, singular and unique. So be it, then.

I decided it was time to get a pet, and be a hunter. And divisive as I was, I knew just what I wanted.

[Niethan]

Zul'Gurub looked abput the same as I had left it. That is, red skies and full of the smell of copper. I wonder how the Gurubasi can stand to always have that smell everywhere. It must be soaking their clothes and hair with the stench, to have forgotten about it. The patrol near the entrance is even talking and joking with each other.

I decide that the city of Zul'Gurub must have a bar, somewhere, and probably a damn good one to keep these soldiers happy. It's the only explanation, really. I'm quite sure this thought will get me into a lot of trouble later on. But that's the way things go, and its not what I'm here for, anyway. At least not today.

I slipped past the guards easy enough, and this time managed to skirt past the hungry fish. This side of the jungle was unfamiliar; I'd gone left instead of right, this time. I wasn't headed for Mar'li's web or even any of the Primal Avatar's sanctums. I didn't want a bat or a tiger, or a panter or spider or snake. I didn't even want one of the Bloodlord's trained raptors.

My skin crawled when I laid foot upon the altar of Hakkar. This is where the god was, where his children were... and where his nest-brothers were. I dodged around the berzerker guards and the clusters of windserpents, eyeing each one and listening inside for the tug to show me which one to take.