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Haurchefant has never seen you in the state that you are now. It was to be expected, though, since you’ve always tried to show him the best sides of you as possible. Yet, what can you do about it? The man idolized you, worshipped you, admired you like a schoolboy would a celebrity, and you’ve always felt you owed it to him to meet those expectations. The purity of his adorations were virtuous grounds that one needed to tread carefully and the destruction of such ideals was the gravest sin of them all.
However, in your passionate outrage against the training dummy within the confines of Camp Dragonhead’s walls, you had forgotten this inner vow you made to yourself.
“My dearest, whatever is the matter?” the presiding lord called out to you in an attempt to pull you from the crimson haze. “Ever since you had returned from this mysterious land called the First, you-”
His words fell on deaf ears as you continued beating on the standing structure. You had wondered before how the objects manage to sustain such high levels of abuse (and what magicks allow them to do such a thing so you can implement such a spell on your adventuring friends for whenever they trick you into going into accursed Aurum Vale) but at this current moment, you are grateful. There’s only a few items that exist in this world that can take your brutal onslaught and continue functioning as well as it does.
“My love…” Haurchefant whispers feebly in your direction.
You release your most intricate combinations, unleash your strongest attacks - all in vain attempt to release the anger burning in your breast and stave off the waterfall of tears swelling from your eyes. You were hanging on a thread and the glassy barrier that encompassed your heart upon your return from beautiful Amaurot - alluring, exquisite Amaurot - was so close to falling into the abyss that was your shattered soul.
The city called to you when your eyes laid upon the intricate structures, the familiar landscapes and the people that had been remade to inhabit the aetherial city. Your soul cried out to them, yearning to see everything this recreation had to offer to fill the empty cracks within your very existence. There was even one Amaurotine that recognized you as it stood outside The Capitol before it brushed the sight of you aside, claiming that it was a trick of the eye.
Yet, the way you relished within this place, the connection that you felt, was certainly not.
Neither was the sensation of dread you had facing the Architect and the subsequent despair that followed as he donned to you his last words.
Blow after blow, you released your strength. Hit after hit, you vented your anger. On and on until you no longer had the will to continue such a farce and you had collapsed to your knees, dropping your weapon at your side and had hands pressed against your face.
The sight of it made Haurchefant gasp and immediately run towards you. Arms quickly wrapped around your figure as he heard you sniffle and the gentleness of his touch served to undo you where you were. Your sobs were ugly, you thought; there was no need for him to spoil you after your childish tantrum, but you hadn’t the will to tell him to stop.
Haurchefant, in turn, petted your head and held you against him protectively. When one of his knights would attempt to get close, his gaze was brutally sharp and unforgiving - a certain manner of fervent loyalty to you, you, you that he attempts to hide from your immediate sight. It was suffocating and he wished not to startle you wish such sentiments, but this was hardly the time to think about such things. Not when you were falling apart right before his eyes.
“There, there,” he cooed softly. “You are safe here. I have you now and no manner of nightmare or ill intent will reach you while you remain in mine arms. Just the way I got you now.”
His words, under normal circumstances, would have your heart fluttering and buzzing. Your cheeks would be red as rolanberries and your lips as outstretched as the Ruby Sea. Now, it served to fill the cracks to the semblance of self you have and the sundered vessel that the man that begged of you to remember him and his people continuously berated you for.
Marvelous Amaurot. Beautiful Amaurot.
“You are not alright,” Haurchefant stated. “But that is nary an issue. Because life is not a race that must be won and you have faced such roadblocks that threaten to steer you off course. Allow yourself to rest now - you have earned it.”
That’s right, you think. You need to rest. You must. If not for you, then for those that you can yet save. For the people continuously clinging on to their desperation to live that they will lift their fellows up so they could reach the sky. For those that fight with you, fight for you.
Haurchefant has you now.
For now, that’s all that matters.