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" you know, i could've used a friend. pity that won't be you. " from karlach.
there is nothing more bloodthirsty than the rapier wielded by the careful hands of blade of frontiers . its thin blade , just as the magic coursing through his veins , calls to him with a voice that rings louder than the shriek of any monster that falls in his path . his patron's kiss burns memories of his sworn loyalty to a pact whose details he fights to hold on to ⸻ and fight he does . fight he always does , but they escaped him ; mizora's venomous words seep through his fingers and yet the blade worries more for the flowers that will fall to the touch of her poison than his own hands . he agrees to her game . when she places the rapier in his grasp , he tightens his fingers around it and strikes down anything that she sends him after. the heartless. the soulless. the burdens of this world . he trains his expression to remain bare in her presence ; not even the slightest change at being called her pet . reduced to an allegory of an animal ⸻ if only his father could see him now . would he look at him ? just the idea of his father , eyes low , head shaking in disapproval with a low grunt being the extent of his acknowledgment of his disgraced son , it is enough to make his mouth dry . wyll has long since abandoned the idea of finding a purpose on his own . instead , he lets mizora assign what she sees fit . he takes her hand and gladly laps up the sugar that helps the medicine trickle down his throat . he will kill what she orders , under the guise that it is what makes him the hero , the blade . but they are just titles , after all . he never expects them to carry much weight . his purpose changes over the years . slay monsters , obey his patron , karlach . karlach . . . she has been his purpose for so long that it felt surreal to stand in front of her now , surrounded by quiet forest and still water . leaves crunching under his boots are the only sound he makes , his words locked behind clasped lips and ground teeth . the flames emitting from her body turn the air around them thick with smoke. " karlach ! " he calls out to her , using what feels like his last breath . taking a stance and holding his blade forward , he snarls , his brows twisted . he expects her to do the same . their game of cat and mouse has transgressed all concepts of time in his mind and now that they are face to face , now that she is cornered , he expected her to snap back like a desperate dog , as if they were two animals of their respective master's creation . instead , she looks to him , golden eyes wet with something more human than anything he could pull from his chest . his mind was plagued with flashes of her past . a victim of war , battle axe stained with the blood of the demons sent after her . she pleas to him ⸻ to him ? who is he to be plead to ? something less than a man with a devil yanking his collar . " ready your blade . " his words are so cold that they shift the air between them . so cold that he can see the horror ⸻ the sadness ⸻ grace her features briefly before she closes her eyes and rolls her shoulders.
" you know , i could've used a friend . pity that won't be you . " karlach speaks with a hint of something solemn that weighs heavily on his head . he's killed devils like her a hundred times over . devils like her . . . he only questions it for a second . the weight of her words threaten to haunt him more than her blood on his hands , it's the only thing he's sure of . he doesn't back down , he doesn't let what he is sure is a trick cloud his judgment . he widens his stance , he tightens his grip around his sword , he breathes out just enough to loosen the tension in his jaw and he looks at her , scarred yet battle ready . he quietly wonders if friend is a title that would've been worth fighting for . his mind twisted with the idea of being pet to the one on the throne and friend to the other in the pit . the idea makes him tense again and he gives in to the uncomfortable feeling that washes over him ; to the tension that robs the forest of its tranquility . and he speaks only once more. " ready your blade , karlach . "
#∙ ⸻ ♱ 𝒂𝒏𝒔. ❨ wyll ravengard ❩ .#∙ ⸻ ♱ 𝒎𝒖𝒏. ❨ deadcmd ❩ .#∙ ⸻ ♱ 𝒄𝒉𝒂. ❨ karlach cliffgate ❩ .#∙ ⸻ ♱ 𝒂𝒓𝒄. the blade ; forged in flame ❨ karlach / deadcmd ❩ .#maybe i'm crying maybe i'm SOBBING#i want to be buried with a print out of this ask#long post tw
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