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[Catskills] Quiet Contemplations (Story)

Alira Drakrul

Seasoned Veteran
Stratics Veteran
"I cannae' remember his name..." Those words kept running through Alira's mind over and over.

She lay curled up, her lungs filling and expelling the bath water on mere reflex. "I cannae' remember his name..."
The water dampened the noise, cradling her in its warmth. "I cannae' remember his name..." As the minutes became hours she lay there struggling with that simple sentence.

"The embrace broke somethin' in me. They are always hard, but this one..." Alira shuddered under the water. "...this one I nearly stayed there." her fetal position tightened.

The memory of what she experienced weighed down her mind like an anchor. Although unlikely to admit weakness, she had been traumatized by what she had seen, and more importantly, heard. She shuddered again feeling the coldness of that place stir inside her with it's memory. The sharpness of that lifeless void as it cut and bled her soul within. She had buried that coldness and done her duty, to her city and to her progeny. She wore the mask so beautifully, but by the end of the night she was emotionally spent. Perfect smile on a perfect face. The cost of perfection lay in the bottom of the tub.

She had stood earlier that night and listened to John, Dagur, Rotep and the others come to warn her of the possible threat on her life. That all of these attacks were mere distractions. That she was the real target.
She probably should have been concerned. She probably should be now.

She wasn't.

Why wasn't she? This game of corpses and cryptic notes was illogical. There was always someone who wanted her dead, and there always would be. It came with her job. She had tried to focus on John, but it had been difficult. She couldn't get over why someone would go to such trouble if they wanted her dead. She could understand someone breaking her before doing it, but this was hardly accomplishing that either. It seemed to have no purpose other than wasting her time.

She loathed to have her time wasted. It was more important to her than almost everything else. This wasn't an opinion, it was simply fact. Many had earned mental black marks next to their name for wasting her time. It had even become a death sentence to some. She should have been angry this psychopath was wasting her time.

She wasn't.

Now, she lay there on the stone floor, the warm water around her distorting the light from above upon her alabaster skin. The jagged raised scars on her back becoming crevasses of damaged flesh in the fluctuating light.

"Why cannae' I remember his name..." She thought to herself as the water started to move around her.

There was a gentle caress on her left shoulder a moment later. She flinched curling herself tighter, more protectively against the unexpected contact. After a moment her mind finally ceased it's endless loop, grasping onto the comfort brought by that touch.

"Delom.." She sends at her recognition.

"You aren't alone anymore." His mind tells her as he gently grips at her shoulder.

She turns her head to his hand on her shoulder, arching her neck and rubbing her cheek against his token of comfort. She was always alone. Her needs denied by the enslavement of a long held chain of responsibility. Sighing out lungs of held water as she lays her head back down. A moment later he was pressed against her, arm draped over her his hand upon her cheek. Closing her eyes as she relaxes against him with a slight shudder.

"I am tired of being alone. "
 
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