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Ri’kara leant against the wall in the shadows of the small, private docking bay, tapping her claws against her arm. If it weren’t for the blue crystal lights embedded into the walls between each sweeping pillar, it would be almost pitch-black, but the harsh, blue glow they provided didn’t exactly make the place welcoming.
He’s meant to be here already… She frowned, looking up at where Alarak’s ship was meant to be docking from; glass panels that opened up the building to the dark, starry sky. Uncertainty tugged at her gut, and she sighed.
Something was clearly off. The air felt too still, every sound was amplified. She held herself tensed like a coiled spring. Usually, she was fine with waiting for him…
It’s probably nothing.
Finally, a shockwave sent a strange ripple through the air that she felt in her bones, even tucked away inside the building, and the shimmering, hexagonal forcefield dissipated, the doors slowly sliding apart as it did so. A shape, imperceptible if one didn’t know what to look for, lowered itself into the room, the air underneath it swirling and kicking up the dust that had been missed on the circular, gold landing pad.
The doors slammed shut again with a shuddering boom, the forcefield snapping back into place. Only when the ship was hovering mere inches from the ground did the invisible cloak lift from the sleek, black ship.
The little Tal’darim pushed herself from the wall, head tilting with interest at the sight of something so… well made. Everything that she and her fellow smiths had put their hands to when she was on Slayn was done quickly, parts cannibalised from other devices and ships that didn’t make it through their tests, patchworked and rushed with obvious scratches on the paneling. It just had to be safe for the vacuum of space, and hardy enough to withstand a warp, but this…?
It was clearly an original, or as original as the Tal’darim could manage, design. The wings jutted out sharply and cornered into a razor-sharp point at either side, forming a triangle at either side of the main body, which tapered gracefully into a rounded point where the cockpit clearly was. At the end, a large, black, diamond-shaped halo hovered just behind the three glowing red engines. Something beautiful…
She laced her fingers together, rocking back and forth on her heels to stop herself from rushing to the panel that was clearly the door, momentarily forgetting her earlier unease. A million different questions that she knew the only passenger would not be able to answer filled her head, and she so dearly wanted to climb inside and pull it apart to see how it functioned.
The soft, pneumatic hiss of the panel brought her a little out of her own thoughts. It pulled out slowly and slid to the side to let Alarak out.
Ri’kara’s blood ran cold as he leant heavily against the door’s arch, pain clear in his narrowed eyes. One hand curled around his abdomen defensively as he stepped out of the craft and stumbled slightly.
Automatically, she was there, even as he tried to wave her off, holding him up and helping him off the platform so that he could sit on the edge of it.
“I am fine, Ri’kara—”
“Yes, clearly.” She rolled her eyes at his strained protest. “What happened? And let me look at your injuries since I know you won’t bother with a healer.”
He scowled at her for a few moments, eyes flickering back and forth between hers before the expression softened and he sighed. “Where is your guard?”
“Waiting outside.”
His nod was reluctant, and he moved his arms out of the way of his torso, leaning back to allow her to part his robes even as he shivered slightly in the chilly air.
Deep purple ink soaked the bandage hastily wrapped around his chest and middle. The heavy movement of his shoulders shuddered slightly as she touched the edges of it and frowned.
“Do you have anything in your ship?” She shook her head. “Another thing that needs stitches, Alarak…”
“Arun had left me with some supplies. I had the time to alert Artanis and wrap the wounds; that is all.”
If he was this injured, why did the Hierarch send me instead? Surely he could better force him to get looked at…
“Alright, stay there.” Ri’kara climbed up onto the platform and into the warmth of the spacecraft. It was standard inside; for a regular Protoss, the corridor would be quite narrow, one way leading to the open cockpit, still flickering with red lights and consoles.
The chair that the pilot would sit in was tilted oddly, as though there were someone still sat on it. Creeping closer, she nudged the back, swinging it around to face her.
Immediately, she shot backwards, her hearts slamming into a sprint at the sight of what looked to be a bloodhunter draped over the side, blood still pouring from their face where their eyes had been clawed out. Fresh. In one hand, there was a knife, blade made of metal rather than energy. She shivered.
They must have lay in wait…
There was a strange glass receptacle at the blade’s pommel, carved to look like a crystal. It had a tube that ran into the fuller of the blade, though it seemed to be empty.
The other way lead to another panel door that slid open when she pressed her hand against it. In the small room, there was a bunk nestled into the curve of the wall and a small space for the storage of necessities opposite.
Getting on her knees, she pulled out the metal box tucked away in the corner and pressed the red crystal to pop open the lid. Bandage had been stuffed back in like white intestines, spilling out and onto the floor. With a roll of her eyes, she pulled it all out, bundling the gauze in her hands and casting it aside.
Finally, something useful.
There were small, sharp scissors gleaming in the low light, a metal pot of the usual ointment, and a suture kit. She eyed the bandage she had just pulled out and guessed at a length, cutting what she thought she needed and gathering the rest of the supplies before heading back out.
“You do insist on taking your time.” Alarak snapped half-heartedly as he looked back at her. His skin seemed pale, even for his usual complexion and the cold lighting, and sweat beaded at his brow in unusual colours.
The little Tal’darim froze, staring at him. He must have seen something in her eyes, something that stopped him from his usual abrasive insistence that she speak her mind.
“What?”
She knelt beside him, putting two fingers at the dip between his crest and his cheekbone, and immediately snatched her hand back. Burning hot. His arms had begun to shiver as he held himself up, and without thinking she thrust the supplies into his lap and hopped off the platform, rushing out to where Verinis was still leant against the outside wall.
They immediately stood to attention, eyes widening. She must have looked frantic; her voice certainly sounded that way in her own head as the words tumbled out.
“Val’ka’s been poisoned, we need a healer here; I thought it was just gashes, but he already has a fever—”
A loud clatter from inside caused her to jump, and she quickly moved to go back inside. “Go! I’ll be fine.”
Verinis nodded, rushing off in the opposite direction. Inside, Alarak had slid off the platform, slumped to the side and leaking more of that greenish fluid from his crest. Ri’kara pushed him carefully onto his back as his whole body shuddered.
Her own hands shook a little, cursing the fact that Urach had never taught her about the poisons he so liked to brew in his room, cursing the fact that there wasn’t much else she could do but kneel beside him and make sure he didn’t hurt himself from how hard he was shivering.
Quickly, she pulled open his robes a little more, grabbing the discarded bandage and bundling it up to press against his still bleeding wounds; his initial wrappings had become saturated, beginning to leak the inky substance onto the floor below him.
He let out a pained hiss from vocal cords she could only assume he barely used anymore, though it was short, weak. His chest was rising and falling slower than before, but the way his eyes and dulled and begun to roll back meant it definitely wasn’t a good thing.
Ri’kara grabbed his hand with her spare and squeezed it as hard as she could, watching some light flicker back in as she tried to get his attention.
“Hey, come on. Stay awake.”
All he could do was make another soft hiss as he strained to focus on her face.
“I’ve sent Verinis to get help; they’ll be here soon, ok? Please, just try to stay awake.”
His own grip on her hand tightened, and he pulled her a little closer to his head, just looking at her. There was the light brush of his mind, usual when they spoke to each other, but he said nothing, continuing to keep uncomfortable eye contact with her as she tried to resist the urge to break it. Part of her was desperate to know exactly what he was thinking in those few moments that stretched out for an age.
“Ri’kara!” Verinis called out just before they came into view. Behind them, Khalai in snow-white robes rushed forward and tried to usher her out of the way so they could lift him onto a board that hovered beside them.
She refused to move, instead gently extracting her spare hand from his grip and joining with the lifting as best she could with her other hand occupied.
“What happened?” One of them asked, voice curt.
“I thought it was just a few knife wounds that I could stitch, but then he became feverish and started convulsing. He’s been poisoned.”
“You are sure?” Another narrowed their amber eyes as they started to leave with him.
“Of course I’m sure!” The Tal’darim tried to reach out for him, almost ran to keep herself in pace with them. “I’ll get the knife, just please, I’ve been trying to staunch the bleeding—”
The first healer that had spoken darted between her and his body, replacing her hand over the already soaked second set of bandages and blocking her from following any further. “We have this in hand now. Do what you must.”
As though she had been the only thing keeping him alert, Alarak’s head lolled back, and his eyes closed as soon as she was made to let go of him. Fear gripped her as she slowly came to a stop and watched them all disappear from view.
A hand rested on her shoulder, and she jumped out of her skin, whipping round with wide eyes as Verinis held up both hands in a defensive motion.
“Sorry! Sorry, I should have—”
“It’s fine, it’s fine.” Ri’kara bent over slightly, trying to calm her thundering hearts. Blood smeared over her chest as she pressed her palm to it. “Make noise next time; I’m jumpy, ok?”
“Yes, of course… Are you…?”
“Yeah. There’s a body in the ship. I need to call the Hierarch.”
Their eyes widened as she walked past back to where the craft was still resting.
“A body?! What—” They began to follow quickly, somehow having a little trouble keeping up with how fast her body had decided to march itself towards her goal.
“They must have stowed away; I don’t think they were planning on anyone meeting him when they landed and attacked him once the ship had warped.”
Climbing back into the dark cockpit, she grabbed the body under its armpits and dragged it to the door, throwing it from the ship and wincing as it bounced from the landing pad to the floor. The knife rolled out of their hand, and Verinis moved to pick it up—
“Wait! That’s what poisoned him, don’t touch it right now.”
“Alright, alright.” The Templar tilted their head, taking in the ornate armour and cloth they had been draped in, wincing at their bloodied face and eye sockets. “Wow. Val’ka does not mess around.”
“I doubt he would say this is his best work. It was a messy fight; he was likely taken by surprise. High ranked Tal’darim don’t exactly fight like this unless they really have to.” Ri’kara squatted next to the corpse and ran a finger over the delicate red swirls of temple tattoos that decorated their crest, face, and hands.
“Remind me not to get into a real fight with him then, I suppose.” They raised a brow. “Were they from a tribe?”
“No. Temple caste; or at least they’ve spent a lot of time in the temple caste. They could have been any rank above votary, or a bloodhunter.” She shrugged. “We don’t have tribes.”
“Oh.”
Tearing a piece of cloth from the already tattered bodysuit they were wearing, she wrapped it carefully around the handle of the knife, picking it up carefully to examine. As it had rolled away, it left a yellow smear across the metal floor. She wiped it up with another cloth piece.
“Do you know what it is?”
“I recognise the colour, but I couldn’t tell you. My overseer liked to mess with this kind of thing; he would send me out on the surface to look for plants… I’m sure the healers will know anyway. Where would they have taken him?”
“There is a facility close by but allow me to get a patrol to deal with the body; they will probably want to examine it too.”
“Ok. I guess I’ll alert the Hierarch.”
Artanis stood outside of the door to the room they had placed Alarak in, unable to stop himself from tapping his foot with a worried impatience. He had expected a smooth return, but as soon as he received that almost frantic call from his aide, it was clear it was anything but.
He had appeared fine, strained, but fine, over communications. He had asked for Ri’kara specifically, and made no indication that anything was wrong—
The metal slid open suddenly, and a healer bowed deeply.
“You may enter, Hierarch.”
He nodded, stepping over the threshold. Ri’kara stood from the window seat against the opposite wall and bowed as she saw him.
“Hierarch—”
“What happened? He seemed fine when he indicated his intent to land.”
“I don’t know.” Her voice was firm, level, but her eyes were frantic; it was clear she had been keeping all her panic in for a while. “There was a stowaway, an assassin. They had poison in their blade, and I didn’t catch it until he was already starting to get a fever; it all rolled downhill after that. Why did you send me? Didn’t you know about this?”
“No; I promise I would never have sent you if I knew.” Sympathy filled his chest, and he couldn’t help but give her a comforting look despite his own concern. “He asked for you, but he would not say why. There was no indication he was injured.”
Something seemed to click for her, her shoulders sagging as she pressed the heel of her hand to her forehead. “Of course… He probably didn’t want a healer; I’ve… Well, I’ve patched him up before.”
I see.
“How very like him to refuse aid for something this serious.”
She let out a soft, humourless laugh. “I doubt he knew about the poison. We make them pretty nasty; sometimes you don’t even know until the minute your hearts stop.”
“You know what it is, then?”
“No. I gave a sample and the weapon to them.” She gestured to the healer. “They said it would help with treatment. I just knew someone who used to make them, that’s all.”
Artanis nodded, releasing the tension in his own shoulders. He looked towards the other Khalai in the room.
“How long will he be like this?”
“Maybe a few hours, maybe a day or so. His body seems to be repelling the toxin, at least, though we have to clean his face and change the sheets every hour. We will see once the fever breaks.”
His eyes finally rested on the Highlord, lay back with his arms to his sides, unmoving save for the twitch and swivel of his eyes under closed lids and the occasional spasm. His skin was pallid, though his cheekbones and the edges of his crest were flushed purple, clearly in the throes of whatever the would-be assassin had done to him.
“… Alright. Alert me the moment he awakes.”
The healer nodded. “Of course, Hierarch.”
The little Tal’darim had gone back to her window seat, curling her legs up underneath her and wrapping her arms around her first knee. The dark circles that usually rimmed her large eyes were more pronounced, heavy bruises as opposed to light shadows. Her hands shook a little.
“Ri’kara.”
“Yes, Hierarch?”
“You could go and rest. I will call the moment I receive word.”
She shook her head, pressing her face against her knees. “I’m fine here. He asked for me, so, I’ll do as he asked.”
“I am sure he would wish for you to be rested.”
Her shoulders twitched in a half-hearted shrug. “He wishes a lot of things of me that I don’t listen to. I’ll be fine.”
Inwardly, he sighed. Both as stubborn as each other. Still, the way she was just staring, as though if she even once took her eyes off him, he would suddenly begin to get worse… For a moment he wondered just how many times she had been through this with a friend, how many times she had to stay up all night in vigil just in case they didn’t wake up again.
“Fine, but once he wakes up, I insist you rest.”
“… Yes, Hierarch.”
He bowed to both her and the healer in the room, sparing a last glance to the Highlord before he stepped back out into the corridor.
Alarak’s eyes cracked themselves open, the blurred ceiling above him a soft, muted gold. He blinked a few times, trying to lift the fog so he could tell if it were dusk or dawn.
His body felt heavy. An aching pain seeped into his muscles as he tried to move, particularly in the side of his abdomen. His cords felt oddly tender, and his face felt… sticky? The taste was foul, and he recoiled slightly, finally able to move his arms enough that he could try to lift himself into a sitting position.
All of a sudden, hands were on his shoulders, and Ri’kara caught his attention, eyes wide and brimming with tears.
“Alarak.” She said his name with a palpable relief, though the brush of her mind was slightly abrasive, painful. “Stay lay down for now, I’ll go get the healer.”
He did as he was told, partially because of the dizziness that took hold of him as he got himself upright. The room stopped spinning once he was on his back again.
“How long have I been here?”
She quickly wiped her eyes, blinking away the vapour. “A day. Your fever broke last night.”
“Poison?”
“Yes. The dagger had a receptacle made to look like a gem; you might have noticed it was yellow.”
Of course. “I had assumed they simply decided on solarite as their power source of choice, as foolish as that would have been.”
“I didn’t think anything of it when I first saw it. I should have put the pieces together sooner…” Her face twisted with regret, and then she sighed; “I’ll go get the healer and tell the Hierarch you’re awake.”
Before he could say anything more, she had darted for the door, leaving him in silence.
The sun was peeking up over the horizon through the high window; dawn. There was a dip in the cushion of the seat that was set into the sill, likely from Ri’kara. Has she been here this whole time…?
The door opened again, and a Khalai walked inside with the phase-smith. They wore stark white that almost glowed where the sun’s rays hit it. Alarak squinted a little.
“Ah, good.” The healer swept over to the bed with a bowl of water, dipping a fresh cloth into it and passing it over his crest and face. A greenish-yellow substance came away with it, and he frowned thoughtfully. “When did the fever break?”
She stood a little straighter. “Last night. He was restless, so I cleaned him up a little, and then he relaxed and was able to sleep through. I guess the moisture helped.”
He nodded, cleaning the cloth in the water and passing it over the skin of his neck and collarbone.
Alarak glanced at the Tal’darim beside him. He remembered, vaguely through delirious nightmares, hearing her speak to him softly, though the words were mangled together. Something about the emotions they had given off, however, had suddenly dispelled the kaleidoscope of delusion the fever had settled over his mind. A coincidence, perhaps.
Putting the cloth into the now dirtied bowl, the healer moved towards the set of consoles opposite the bed, passing a hand over the glowing blue readouts that flashed rapidly over the screen.
“I believe we can safely assume the worst of it has passed.”
“Good.” Ri’kara once again sagged a little with relief.
“You may experience discomfort with movement, dizziness, perhaps a sharp pain when speaking with others. I suggest bedrest for another day, and then I expect you to avoid bending or lifting while those slashes heal; I know what you Tal’darim are like. You need to recover the same as any of us.”
The Highlord frowned slightly at his tone but nodded anyway. “Fine.”
“I’ll make sure he rests.”
The healer gave her a chastising look, pointing towards her to punctuate his next words. “I expect you to rest as well, miss. I do not believe I have seen you close your eyes.”
Her expression became slightly indignant. “I have napped—”
“And I am clearly the Hierarch in disguise.” He rolled his eyes at her. “I mean it.”
She sighed but nodded. “… Fine.”
With a satisfied nod, the Khalai left, though just before he stepped through the threshold, he turned back to them. “And no Terrazine.”
Before Alarak could protest, the door shut, and he let out an irritated growl. The one thing that may have relieved all of the other symptoms and he was forbidden from having it?
Ri’kara put a hand to her chin, frowning at a spot on the bed, eyes almost burning a hole into the sheets as she thought of something.
“What?”
“Oh. Just… Well, he said no Terrazine. I remember Urach telling me about a poison he’d made that leeches the psionic power from you until you can’t even talk to tell others how much pain you’re in. Terrazine exacerbates the process. I guess that’s why it’ll hurt to speak for a while.”
“And this… Urach?”
“… A priest I knew on Slayn.”
His eyes narrowed; a strange thing for her to feel the need to lie about. He shrugged, deciding, at least right then, to pretend to believe her. “Of course a priest would create something so cowardly.”
“Apparently it has been used for Rak’Shir sometimes. That’s what he told me anyway.”
He made a sound of agreement. “As I said; cowardly.”
At least he had a reason to follow this healer’s orders, not that he enjoyed having to in the first place. I am sure she would not lie about something as important as that.
“You look as though you have more to say.” He gestured towards her. “Out with it.”
She shook her head. “No. I need to think on it first. Maybe when the Hierarch gets here—”
As though the universe had been listening, the door opened again, and Artanis stepped inside. His blue eyes immediately upturned with a relieved smile as they met his.
“I see you have rejoined the living.”
Alarak scoffed, trying to fend off the infectious expression. “Much to your disappointment, I am sure.”
“Much to my relief. Though it would have been easier if you had said what was happening when you hailed me to land.”
“I had no reason to believe I would find myself bedridden, Templar.” He rolled his eyes.
“Do you know who could have done this?”
“Likely a Prelate with a little too much time on their hands; I have made it very clear that I will not be influenced by their silly little games.”
Ri’kara put a hand on the bed. “Are they… gearing up for another rebellion?”
He let out a scoff. “If they are then I will have Ji’nara deal with it as she has before. If they want their precious god back so badly, they may join him.”
“Is there any way we can help?” Artanis tilted his head. “I did not think they would be so bold, but I believe we should avoid bloodshed.”
“I would hardly call this ‘bold’, Artanis, they sent a priest they likely wished to be killed to attack me on my own ship.” He sighed, letting it taper off into a soft growl. “And it is irritating that you require me to treat the situation with such soft hands.”
“We are still trying to move towards the peace your people are demanding, Alarak. I do not believe that another slaughter is necessary.”
Alarak let his head flop back, another displeased growl leaving him as he rolled everything over in his mind.
“I think they must have wanted to humiliate you.” Ri’kara said softly. “Metal knife, poison that leeches you of the power that you are so proud of having… Attacking you when you’re at your most vulnerable…”
He frowned. She is right.
One of the final things that he did before leaving for Aiur was consult with Ji’nara and the head Prelate on Slayn about certain restrictions to the influence of the temples on the rest of their people; he had been tired of their constant refusal to let go of their dead god, and though their rhetoric was becoming less and less effective, it was still effective. As usual, their exchanges were tense enough that there was always the possibility of them coming to blows, though Zal’gah was too used to his cushy lifestyle for that to be any sort of threat, and just smart enough to refrain from taking on both he and the first Ascendant. Not that it stopped him from attempting to act like a threat.
“Hmph. I know exactly who would do such a thing. I do not require help from either of you on this matter.”
“If you are sure.” The Templar gave him a concerned look.
“Of course. It will be dealt with cleanly, if that is what you so wish, but it shall be dealt with.”
He pressed a hand over his eyes briefly. The talking had been grating, but manageable to begin with, but the more he had to juggle tactics and addressing both Protoss at once, the more that grating feeling became knives stabbing against the base of his nerve cords.
Artanis glanced between the two Tal’darim and sighed. “I think both of you should rest for now, regardless. We can discuss this further once talking is not so painful.”
Not that I feel there is more to discuss. Alarak nodded, as did his small companion, and the Templar gave them one last look before turning to leave. He clearly didn’t think that they would bother with resting just yet; the sun was beaming itself through the windows with a force that did not exactly make for a restful environment.
Ri’kara broke the silence that had been left in his wake with a tired sigh.
“Don’t do that again.”
“… Do not do what again, Ri’kara?” He scoffed incredulously. “Allow an assassin on my ship? Allow myself to be poisoned?”
She glared at him. “You know that isn’t what I meant—”
The high emotion behind her voice was spilling the headache across his eyes and face. He winced. “Then elaborate.”
Thankfully, she saw the pained expression and softened herself. “Tell the Hierarch next time. Please. Don’t just ask for me and then appear with multiple wounds and a possibility that you’re about to die. Why did you even just ask for me by myself? What were you thinking?”
His eyes rolled and he sighed. “Has it ever crossed your mind that I trust you?”
She blinked, and in that window he reached out to give her hand a brief squeeze, causing her eyes to well with tears all over again.
“I-I appreciate that you trust me, I’d still have helped you no matter what, but like with your prosthetic, I’d have liked a little warning.”
“Not that I knew the extent of my injuries at the time—”
“At least let me know you’re injured in the first place!”
It was his turn to blink. The anger that passed across her face, no doubt built up from the two nights and the entire day of sitting there just watching him, was visceral, laced with panic. He felt a little twinge of guilt then at how little he had considered but his own survival. It had felt necessary at the time; have her arrive and fix him up quickly, with little fanfare, as she had when his prosthetic had decided to dig itself into his flesh.
But, the panic she had so clearly felt… The fact that she genuinely thought he was going to die- and he may have -must have been eating at her. Enough to react in this manner, at the very least.
“I… was not aware that it would cause you such distress.”
“You—” Ri’kara let out a soft growl. “I get that you probably wouldn’t care a bit if our positions were switched, but of course I’m going to be distressed! You’re my friend!”
That only made him feel worse. He scowled, looking away from her.
“I would be concerned, Ri’kara. I hold you in the same regard or I would not have asked for you at all. I resent the implication.”
“Then…”
“I will warn you should this happen again. I did not expect this to be the outcome; I do not feel I should apologise for that.”
“Maybe I should just prepare for you to be injured every time you come back.”
“A ridiculous way of conducting yourself. You already have so many concerns in that head of yours that I am baffled you do not cower in a corner for half of your life.”
“I already did the cowering part; it just got me beaten more.” She shrugged, and suddenly, all the tears she had been holding back began to pour down her face, a mixture of laughter and sobbing bubbling up out of her like a fissure had cracked open. “I worry about it all anyway, I might as well prepare myself as best I can.”
Alarak sighed, once again squeezing her hand, since it seemed to be so effective before, and allowed her to stand there and sob until she couldn’t any more. It took several long minutes before she extracted herself from his grip.
“I’m sorry, I… The Hierarch was right; I do need to rest.”
He nodded, making a short sound in agreement; she looked exhausted. “… I will not perish the moment you take your eyes from me. You may leave.”
“I-if you’re sure.”
“Of course I am. I prefer it when you don’t burst into inexplicable tears.”
Letting out a soft, embarrassed laugh, she stepped back from the bed. “Who’s fault is that, hm? Alright, I…” For a moment, she perked up. “Actually, before I go.”
“Hm?”
“I was wondering if you could let me… Well… It’s me, you know I would never do anything that would sabotage the systems, but your ship…”
What? “What about the thing?”
“I haven’t seen anything like it before by any of my people, and I was wondering if I could have a look at it. Just to see how it works.”
Her eyes, though still full of tears and leaking vapour, held a cautious excitement. It looked as though she were stopping herself from breaking out into an infectious smile. His chest squeezed, though he rolled his eyes. Are you really going to agree to such nonsense?
His heart made the decision for him before his head could intervene; “I suppose. You did nothing to my prosthetic, I don’t see why I should be concerned for your motives regarding anything else.”
Ri’kara clasped both hands together, that smile she had been holding back upturning her eyes and scrunching that bump between them in a way that almost made him break out into a smile of his own. The both of them need to cease affecting me in this manner.
“Ok. Thank you, Alarak… Rest well. I’ll be there if you need anything.”
Again, he nodded, watching her as she stepped out into the hallway and gently had the door slide closed behind her. Finally, the pain began to subside, but he only felt mild relief; it confirmed a growing suspicion that it seemed he actually preferred when she was in his presence.
Something that you should not be focused on.
Closing his eyes, he placed one arm over them to block out the sun and tried to drift off. Artanis was right about one thing; they could talk about his plan for revenge later.