Everkant ep. 18 - 1st draft

Does it really matter?

They're sitting by the hearth warming their naked bodies. The air is heavy with sounds of sweat and moans. As he has been finding lately, he's taking a lot more of these detours to know more about the outside world. He knew it would be a temptation, but this...this is different. There's several kinds of freedom. The one in Everkant, however powerful made him be, is nothing compared to this. Looking at her like this, her skin, her hair, her blue eyes and full lips. It's a wonder worth seeing, tasting, consuming. Something akin to love. What's supposed to be love. Cause it never lasts. Not for him anyway. She covers her chest with a plain cloth. It suits her. She's the most beautiful creature he found, but then, everyone he meets is some kind of the most something.

'What you writin' in that book of yours?' her voice has a soothing feeling to it. Seph has been trying to ignore it. Very much. He's not used to gentleness or kindness. Of any kind. Guardian training was supposed to make you a rock. A literal rock made of fire and flames to be consumed and drained as the gods will it. Her voice made it all different.
'Some old tale.' he doesn't want to keep hearing her. It reminds him of everything outside the Dark City. Everything good, compassionate and the fragments of humanity inside that he can still feel tingling in his core. His rotten, burnt core. The Tutors call it The Light, but he knows better. He feels the pieces of him stripping away little by little each day he strays a bit further from Everkant. The light that burns twice as bright...
'Can't be that ol' she says with a smile
'Why not?' He's puzzled
'Cause you're not ol', silly. Old tales are for old people. Everyone knows that.'
The logic behind that statement baffles him, but it's been somewhat normal to find such simpletons like this in the outerlands. He finds himself envying them in a circular logic. He pities them. He knows how he could turn them all to flames with a snap of his fingers. 'At what cost?' That's the question he's been asking as of late.
'You don't know how old I am, girl.' the chill in his voice shocks within his inner core and with a mere wave of a hand he burns it all down. The smell of burned flesh drowns him, but he's got what he needed.

'Why would I do that?' he seems conflicted, confused. The diary still on the left hand. He opens it. There's an entry with today's date. The page is blank. Old tales are meant to be forgotten.

Like everything else in this world. Himself included.