Bonding in Desdem pt.1

Hearing of the battles only added more to Tarmen’s thoughts. Only a year ago he would have willingly been among the slaughter… all for the smallest bit of freedom and solitude.
He pulled a large claw from a pocket, the last memento of his past self, and mindlessly turned it in his palm as he stared into the flames.
He spoke with a lighter tone, trying to break all of the seriousness they had been dealing with.
“So, doin’ the will of gods are we? Should Voah be worried about competition?”
He looked at her with a half grin.

Alexis softly huffed as she picked up the hammer head to put it away again.

“You know how it is… you have a nice chat with some mysterious hermit in the mountains and next thing you know you find yourself on some crazy quest for an ancient relic or two. Gonna teach me a lesson not to talk to strangers. Or not.”

She sighed.

“I’m sorry, Tarmen. I wish I didn’t get you involved in this mess.”

He wasn’t sure if he should come clean to her about his involvement with Slivhiki. Telling Voah had nearly cost him his life and their bond, plus he figured now wasn’t the time to be adding more revelations.
He shuffled closer to her, moving his unfinished food out of the way as he sought the best words to say.
“I’ve been in this mess since I signed up for the voyage here. Only difference is that being here feels more right than takin’ orders from Zane. Like I’m doin’ more helpin’ than killin’.”
He flicked the dulled tip of the claw, hesitant in his next words.
“Besides, I might know a thing or two of feelin’ pulled by hidden strings. Had that all my life.”
He looked her in the eyes, weary but resolute.
“You’ve got no worry of me regrettin’ bein’ here. Even if it kills me, I’m with you.”

Alexis smiled softly back at him, his declaration of loyalty warming her heart.

“Thank you… but see that it doesn’t. Got way too attached to you ‘Kru’ll guttersnipe’.”

She picked up a stray stick and threw it into to fire.

“Share a story about your ‘hidden strings’ with me?”

She gently requested.

He chuckled sadly, both at the jest and the request.
Memories of past glories had recently been tarnished with a growing realization. Speaking of them now felt hollow… wrong.
“Best story among them… perhaps the start.”
He dug a small pit in the sand in front of him, more so as a way to recall the faint images than for storytelling.
“My part of Kru’ll doesn’t follow a true unity like the Empire. We are all Kru’ll, literally and as a people,” he couldn’t help but smile at the personal joke from home,” and as a younglin’ you have to learn it fast.”
The pit was about as deep as his index finger now, which he promptly filled in.
“My town has a tradition, both for this reason and to help us get used to scroungin’ in the ruins surroundin’ us. We are buried and left to climb our way out. ‘To know Zin’heim’s embrace’.”
He absently patted the mound he had made, as if giving a prayer to one who hadn’t made it out.
“After my own trial, it seemed that Ole’ Zin took an interest in me. Death, both good and bad, has followed me everywhere. Part of the reason I started mercenary work, figured I could make sure the death was mostly in my favor. Hasn’t worked out so well here.”
He looked into the fire, his features hardened.
“That story of the jester? Tend to leave it out, but that fellow didn’t make it to the end of the day. Stuck around cause I took a likin’ to him, but his lord thought he was part of the heist. Nothin’ to pin it on him, just a bad day to start tellin’ good jokes.”
He shifted around, burying emotions that threatened to reveal themselves.
“Seems that since I came here though, a path has been slowly showin’ itself. Been wanderin’ for too long and am wantin’ to find my place in this mad world. For now, that place is here, whether it’s the gods' choice or not.”