Fear. Pain. Anger. Rage........
*Big Cheesy Grin*
Alvar scampered amongst the Armengarians. The Legion were retreating. Falling back.
Regrouping.
Rage........
The Lions were talking. Discussing. Arguing.
Amnor is dying.
Alvar twitched, sword and hammer perpetually drawn, body tense from the constant itch, the constant pain of....... Unliving...... on Amnor.
Rage.....
"Why Lions talk?" The fae thought to himself. "What there to talk about? Legion here. Kill Legion. No more Legion....... If Legion on other Lion island, Lions not talk. They kill, like kill Raven host."
Alvar whimpered as another bout of pain struck. 'Twas like the itch between ones shoulder blades. But more intense, and everywhere. A feeling of *wrongness*. Of *not-belong*.
Pain.....
Alvar listened to Princess Alyssa. Another speech, of Lions standing together. Of unity.
"OF DOING NOTHING!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!" Alvar screamed within his mind.
Some of the Praetorians eye-balled the obviously tense, battle-ready fae.
*Big Cheesy Grin*
"They know what Alvar think. Alvar kill them they not know anymore..... No, not kill.... Lion's friends..... But Lions want kill Brains...... But Lions want help Armengar......"
Confusion
"But NOT help Armengar. Stand and talk again....... All Lions do........ talk talk talk talk talk talk talk talk talk talk talk talk talk talk talk talk talk talk "
A wary praetorian turned to better angle himself between the Princess, and the armed fae. The constant grinning was more than a little disconcerting.
Alvar noticed the prepared stance, almost welcoming it. But promises had been made, and friends must be kept happy.
Alvar bounded off, away from the Lions.
Anger.
The Thruddites lounged by the front gate, the cliché of warriors at rest, looking deceptively relaxed, ready to fight at a moments notice. Alvar liked these Thruddites. People of action, not talk, fighting, not peace. Good drinkers too.
Alvar ran on.....
Pain
Alvar sprinted through the citadel. Past Lion, past Armengarian, past Tribe, past Heramaclian, past Delalarian. Past the hospital.........
Alvar stopped, out of breath.
"Caillte in hospital. Midir too. Other healers. But healers not fix Alvar."
Fear
"What fix? What fix Alvar? What fix Amnor?"
Uncertainty.
Alvar felt the frustration. The inaction. The calm acceptance of all the people around him. The acknowledgement that things take time. The battle against the unliving had begun in November. 6 Months of fighting unliving, making little to no headway. Alvar has only 9 months of memories. 2/3s of his life filled with PAAAAINNNNNNNN.
Alvar suppressed the roar, and ran on.
Rage.
City. Street. Building. Hovel. School. Office. Garden.......
Alvar stopped dead in the Garden of Remembrance. Remembrance. "Armengar peoples who died......"
Pain
"Chareos. Friend."
Anger
"VOOOOOOOOORRRRR!"
Rage.
"Voor dead too..... Chareos happy..... Cosaint kill....... Cosaint.... Murder.....? Not murder, Chareos WANT die, Cosaint make Chareos happy, but Cosaint make Cosaint sad...... How Alvar fix?"
Sadness.
Alvar fell to the ground, to the only green place he knows, the only green place where the unliving are not.....
Alvar is awoken, in the dark, by a gentle prodding. A Coircre is sat nearby....
"Alvar wake up...."
Alvar rose slightly, and sat up. Wiped the tears away.
Pain.
His Glamour was nearly all blue today, reputedly a sign that he was unwell, or that unliving were on the island. Or both.
"Why Alvar cry?" Coircre asked, concern showing plainly on her face.
"Because it hurts. Coircre know. Coircre feel it too, yes?" Alvar responded, voice quiet but harsh.
"Yes, of course I can Alvar. But it always here, since the unliving came to Amnor. Why Alvar cry *now*?"
"Because the Lions come to help, and they fight, and fight, and when Legion turn to walk away, Lions stop. They not chase Legion. They not chop up Legion. They not kill Legion. Alvar thought pain end soon. Armengar peoples be happy soon. Legion be DEAD soon. But no, Lions start to attack, then stop, then talk and talk and talk, and they lie and lie and ALWAYS lie, and not do what they say they do and IT HURTS!!!!!!!!!" Alvar's voice steadily increased in volume until the final declaration was a roar that bounced off the walls of the citadel, and woke the sleeping warriors.
Coircre said nothing to this. Couldn't say anything to this. But knew the pain that Alvar spoke of.
Anger.
Rage.
HATE.
She leaned in, and gave Alvar a hug.
Peace
"Let's go talk to Mactire. Maybe he have a plan to help Alvar feel better."
Alvar sniffed, and wiped his eyes.
"Ok. Thank you Coircre."
*Big Cheesy Grin*