- Messages
- 275
- Character Biography
- Link
"Will you be alright, Zephyrine? You look pale and tired."
"I have been through worse." She smiled, but it wasn't to show any cheer. It was the same old story, the ones Dreadlords of old and new would know and understand. The reality of having to keep going, even if you cannot. Zephyrine had been exploited and used by the Academy for years, to push her boundaries and strengthen.
The full extent of what she had been taught prior to being introduced into the graduating class would never be spoken about. Not to anyone. She knew there would be people that would feel pity, would mourn a life for her...
Zephyrine didn't want their weakness... their concern. There was nothing against it, not really, but Zeph had no room to feel for the girl she could have been.
"I have my own ways of keeping focused and replenished. Pain still works wonders if we are after that enhancement in power." She reminded Kristen. Her palms were a map of scars, of previous times she had induced pain to bolster her reserves, and the momentary boost always felt like a rush for her.
In a low voice, words between the two young Dreadlords, Zephyrine murmured. "I will see to it that we get out of here alive. That we will not have letter sent... home." And the way she said it was convincing enough. For what home did Zephyrine have? What was left to her, she gave away to a family that needed it more than she did. She had hoped if she were to expire, a letter would not be sent to that home that was never her own. That a letter would not inform the family of Thraah of her death.
"Now, Lady of Vel Numera," Zephyrine's voice returned to normal volume, "are you ready?"
Kristen Pirian
Mortivore Urn