Adrian lay against the tree with half-shut eyes, trying to catch some more sleep before Emmaris decided they should be moving again. When he had woken the camp, he explained that Krystal and Maston had run off for unknown reasons. The company had agreed to wait to see if they decided to come back.
Rest, however, danced just out of his reach, so instead he watched Lil flirting with Kzahar a few feet away. Kzahar was a solid man, but very closed since his fiancée’s death in the tournament. Adrian had attempted to strike a conversation, but the one-word answers became boring.
He wondered how the elf’s death could have changed Kzahar so much. Before, he had been funny, jovial, and talkative. Now, however, he was much more like Maston. Adrian didn’t get it. He had never felt love, never felt that rush through his veins when they smiled, and never felt the gaping hole that was carved out of his heart when they died.
Lil was having no more luck than he’d had. Kzahar was sprawled on his back, arms behind his head, staring at the sky. She sat cross-legged next to him, prattling on about this and that so fast Adrian couldn’t keep up. It didn’t look like Kzahar was even trying. Still, Lil twirled a loose lock of her hair about her finger and mercilessly kept rambling.
Lil, now, there was a fine girl. She was more than a foot shorter than Adrian, but he admired her small, compact stature. Her lean figure was well-muscled, covered in creamy skin with the occasional freckle and on her forehead, stray strands of fiery red hair. She was really beautiful, it was a shame Kzahar was too wrapped in the past to see it. But he understood that the man disliked her partly, too, for her part in Arya** mental state before her battle.
02-Jul-2007 23:11:21