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Juk'los : The Escape

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Nenicirene's picture
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You lost the war. So what? It wasn't your war anyway. It was their war, and what did they ever do for you? They've done enough to you, beating you and insulting you and treating you like a disposable tool. Screw them and screw their war. You're glad they lost. Hell, you'd have sabotaged them yourself, if you didn't think they'd catch you and thrash you for it. Bastard princes and their casual arrogance.

Not her, though. She almost likes you. You're always there for her. Sure, she bosses you around, but she doesn't hit you. She uses your actual name. It gives her power over you, yes, but she's still the only one that calls you by name. She orders you to do things rather than beating you into submission even though you'd never dare to resist. And she wants you to fight most of the time, but she appreciates it. Her friends ask for you, and she calls you up. It's almost like having friends yourself.

It's not always fighting, though. Sometimes she just lets you follow around after her. It's all so bright and different—leaves and snow and rivers and sand and cities. You've lived more in the moments with her than in the eternity before.

You can't let her know, though. She might stop calling you up just to spite you, and then you'd be stuck here, in Hell. You have to keep up the pretense of griping and complaining. It's just how things work. She has to think she's taking advantage of you. If she knew she were gifting you with freedom, she'd take it away.