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"That's quite the curse."
Azura looks up. Nyx, the small spellcaster they've just picked up, is watching her with a thoughtful expression. Truthfully Azura feels a pull towards the petite woman. There's something familiar about her, as if there's something they understand. Older than she looks, more knowledgeable than she seems. There's more to her than meets the eye and she isn't shy about letting people know. But Azura can sense it isn't out of pride. Rather, Nyx has a burden on her shoulders, too.
Nobody can hear their conversation from their spot near the forest's edge, so Azura confirms Nyx's observation with a small nod.
If the dark mage is pleased about being right she isn't showing it. Instead she seems disappointed. "What's a young lady like yourself doing with such a malignant thing?"
Ah. That's something she isn't willing to admit to. Azura looks back down. Sitting like this means her pendant sways, tick-tocking in the air. "How did you know?"
"I'm no stranger to curses." Nyx's legs appear beside her and she sits down. "But your affliction grants more questions than answers. It isn't dark magic. It's... otherworldly. In the way a weapon created hundreds of years ago is. But I doubt you can claim such an age." Her voice changes to something softer. "Or that you'll achieve many more."
Azura sighs heavily. These ideas aren't new to her but to hear them spoken shakes her. "Are you just here to confirm your suspicions?"
"It is lonely." Nyx states. Azura looks up and finds her looking towards camp. Her expression matches the years in her voice. "We fight for them, sacrifice for them, and they still whisper amongst themselves about how we strangers can't be trusted." A bitter smile crosses her features. "I deserve it, after everything I've done."
Does Azura deserve it? She toys with the pendant in her hands. This premature swan song is one she sings out of choice. The poisonous notes come from her lips alone. "If being lonely is how I can protect the ones I care about, so be it."
A warm hand brushes against Azura's cheek. The touch is light but lingering, as if Nyx is holding herself back. "To gift someone like me with a long life and leave you to disappear like seafoam... fate must think itself a funny thing."