Time: Morning
Location: Camp
Interactions: Torvi
@TaeBowyn glanced at the merlin as Torvi explained that she had no magic.
“Lovely, the elves have summoned a defective human.” He said rolling his eyes. This is why he stayed out of meddling, it never turned out as one planned. Now, this unlucky human was left here, stranded and without any great power to speak of. Not only did the elves bring false hope, which would get the people of this world killed in futile disobedience to Aklenroth, but they had doomed this stolen human as well.
“Bowyn, the human can hear you when you speak to me,” The bird reminded him,
“Perhaps we should not insult the armed warrior.” Boreas cautioned.
The fairy signed; the bird had a point. Although she claimed to have no magic, he did not doubt that she was skilled with the weapons she carried. Her story painted her as a warrior protecting her village and he did not wish to provoke a fight.
“Hope is a lie, and a dangerous one at that. It leads fools into battles they cannot win. It brings death.” Bowyn allowed his bitterness to seep into his tone. He didn’t like the way she spoke of hope and change, it reminded him too much of Aeryn, and he avoided eye contact with Torvi as well, fearing that he would see that same spark in her. He did not need to be inspired by hope into any further foolishness than he already had been. She had that same aura of the young and hopeful that he and those he used to surround himself with once did. He remembered what it was like to be worse than foolish, to be naïve enough to think the world could change. He wondered what was worse; to die with that hope still held, or to live long enough for the world to rip it out of you? Bowyn honestly wasn’t sure, while he wouldn’t wish his coldness on another, believing in pipe dreams had brought him just as much pain. Boreas flew from fairy’s shoulder and into the trees, keeping watch for any sign of others approaching the camp, as Bowyn walked towards the fire pit to create a more comfortable spot for the human to rest.
“I am sorry for the loss of your sister, you should never have been brought here, it is not the elves place to decide to steal others from their homes.” Bowyn said with sincerity, having now learned why the human seemed so sad. He thought on the similarities between her story and his own, he easily he understood wanting to fight back against invaders, the memory of his own failed attempt still raw. There was a dark irony here, how she had fought to stop invaders who would slaughter or kidnap her people only to be stolen away by elves of another, more dangerous, world. And for what end? Another rebellion against Aklenroth as if any before had brought anything but death to those who opposed him. He let out a dark chuckle and shook his head.
“Here, there is no possibility to win. It has been tried, and it always fails. There were tyrants before Aklenroth, and should his reign ever end, there will be a new tyrant in his place. The choice is dying for a lie, or living with what you have. I chose wrong once, and it cost me far more than my life.” Bowyn’s tone grew more hostile, and he cleared the burnt and wet wood out from the firepit as he spoke. He then used his remaining stockpile to build another fire. As he worked the fire plough, he channeled his frustrations from the reopening of old wounds, struggling more than usual to get a spark until he finally regained composure, calming himself and pushing thoughts of the past from his mind.
“If you like I can help you build a pyre for your sister, to honor her life, and to ensure Aklenroth cannot raise her for his army of the dead.” He spoke softer now, removing his previous hostility from his voice. Although this offer went against his baser instinct which was to put as much distance between himself and Torvi as possible, his fool mouth was apparently offering more help to the stranger. Bowyn did not know what the human’s customs were for honoring their dead, but he did always regret leaving Aeryn’s body behind after she had died. The thought of what the dark elves, or Aklenroth, did with all those who had died in that day in vain, haunted him. He didn’t know if a proper funeral would have given him any closure, or if that was anything that would dull the sting of such a loss, but he did not wish for Torvi to be robbed the opportunity to try.
Once the fire was lit and starting to flourish, he dragged out the blanket made of animal furs from the lean to and shook it out. He placed the blanket near the fire, making a spot that would comfortable and warm for the human to rest. From his shelter he also grabbed a pouch that contained dried fruits and jerky, remembering that Torvi had said her village had been starving and assumed she was likely hungry. He placed the pouch of food by the blanket and gestured towards the Viking.
“Rest here, help yourself to food, and the water from this stream is clean.” He said, and since the human seemed uninjured he did not offer his limited ability to heal, he thought it best to keep that secret to himself. No more help, he promised himself, if they human wanted to honor the dead, he would help with that but anything more and Torvi was on her own. The more time spent near the human, the longer he was in danger but at the same time he recognized that Boreas had been right all along, it was nice to converse with someone other than a bird. This self-acknowledgement greatly annoyed him, he preferred to ignore the loneliness his isolation brought him, and it seemed almost intentional that Avalia had led him to a human he found so relatable.
