To breathe, to feel, to know I'm alive

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Jagoda would never hold the cunning of his brother Skellige, nor of Szymon. But over the past year, he had gained awareness. His own trials and adventures had earned that for him, and he knew now what he wanted and where he wanted to go in his life. 

It was easy to see that the two had difficulty communicating, spitting curses and insults, but at last the important question was asked. As much as Jagoda loathed to bow down to the man he hated most, his respect for Skellige, and as he now knew, the Sea who had taken him, was greater than his disgust for Szymon. He almost could not believe the words that Szymon spoke and for a terrifying moment, he wondered if the pale brother had killed Skellige himself. But that, even, did not seem like something that the man who stood before him was capable of. The siblings at odds had one thing in common, and that was respect for their now deceased brother. 

True to his nature, Jagoda made little outward response though the news cut him like a treacherous dagger. All he asked was a soft, almost grunted, You're sure? Every muscle and sinew in his body was tense with grief.

I hate to serve you, growled Jagoda, chartruese eyes blazing. But I owe it to the Sea, and the the spirit of Skellige, to stay here. The words were spoken almost laboriously.


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