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by Selothi on Sun Jun 08, 2008 12:58 am
"Yeah, let's all sit down together ... and after a long pause Keleth added: and start a group therapy session, talking about our problems and congratulating each other for surmounting a simple, everyday-life one ! By the gods !" What a bunch of losers. Giving up his earlier sarcastic tone, the assassin added: "You're supposed to be a band of mercenaries, not some drug addicts looking for consolation ! Talk if you want, but it won't get us anywhere closer to the goal, that's for sure ..." he shouted. Shit, anger flaring up again, not good. Keep your calm Tarn, otherwise heads will roll ...
After muttering a few curses, Keleth stormed off to interior of the ship, going deeper into its belly, and he finally reached the storage compartment. No one was around; not a soul, not a sound, barely a light. To make up for this, Keleth placed his hand over the ruby pendant, Sharilyun it was called, and let the blood-red light calm him, soothe him. After staying many minutes in a deep silence, were he simply let the anger exude out of his body, he started his interior monologue again: And what if they just want to be friendly, I can't hate for that, can I ? I'm used to working solo, or with other guys like me, not a bunch of goody-two-shoes girls and boys. Then again, they each tried to be nice, I'm the one that's rejecting help the whole time, and keeping friendship on a strictly professional scale ...
He sighed heavily, the full weight of his thoughts sinking into him: he was being an absolute fucker, pissing everybody off, demanding respect where none was due so far, and not helping anything or anyone. This isn't getting anyone anywhere, not their play-talk, my actions are ... And the worst thing is, I'm too damn proud to admit it, and too damn haughty to demand forgiveness. "Keleth Tarn never has to demand forgiveness" ... Damn this interior reflection, before I know it, I'll be sinking into depression, and what do you know, I'll commit suicide in the ship's hull, and nobody will feel sorry, no one will feel a loss. That is the way of the assassin, out of touch, or only with himself, to consume himself in his own pride, and fall, for overconfidence kills, and I have reached a climax of overconfidence. Argh, change, that fickle thing; do too much of it and you can never come back to your original stage, for better or for worse. But I guess I'll just have to, or else I'm a gonner, either by their hands or by the hands of fate, as she sweeps me up and takes me away; damn this all. Luckily, my dagger isn't feeling too friendly right now, so gutting myself will have to wait for another day ...
He just sat there, against the hull, bathed in blood-red light, as the thoughts swirled around his head, a myriad of feelings the assassin had tried to shut up all his life, but that were now erupting and flooding over him. For the first time in his life, Keleth Tarn, the great assassin, felt weak and out of control.