Welp, managed to get something together for this. Some of the first writing I've done in months.
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They sat in silence, the five of them, contemplating the magnitude of their accomplishment. Kevir, the odd one of the group, sat with his face turned away, staring out the window to the horizon in the east where the first gray rays of dawn lightened the night sky.
Unlike the four other men, Kevir was young, his skin pale and unblemished, as if he had spent his whole life cushioned indoors. The others, by comparison, looked like they had just stepped from the depths of the underworld. They were haggard and unkempt, browned by years spent living in the wild. Their hair was lank and dirty, their faces hard and weathered, though there was still a certain understanding -- kindness almost -- in their eyes. In fact, the only way Kevir shared their appearance was in the rough stubble coating his jaw, and excepting that stubble, his image fit better with the body on the floor than with his companions.
Kevir had not looked at that body since it had fallen in death minutes prior, and even then he had avoided looking at the dagger sticking in its chest. He had looked only at the face, into the eyes that had filled with shock and sadness before they died. In the moments since, he had remained silent, distant from the others.
"We knew you were soft, Kevir," one of the men said, standing. "But I still didn't expect to see you shedding tears over this." He nudged the body with his foot.
Kevir shrugged, and the man continued. "Look, I know you would've rather captured the King, not killed him, but you understand why we had to kill him instead."
"I do," said Kevir. "It was necessary, but still, I do not have to like it."
26-Jun-2012 07:37:34