flesh of the servant, willingly sacrificed
you will revive your master
blood of the enemy, forcibly taken
[size=3]you will resurrect your foe[/size]
She poured herself out to him, allowing him to see what she hid from the rest of the world, trusting him probably more than she’s ever trusted anyone else that had come and gone from her life. With him, she felt at ease, like she wasn’t alone in the world after all. Even when she was around others, more often than not she felt alone. But not right now. Not at this moment in time. And it felt nice. It felt really nice to not feel ignored, to not feel like she was invisible, to not feel alone and lonely. It was also nice to be able to open up to someone who was not going to judge her harshly, nor use her words against her, proving to others just how weak she was.
She leaned into his nudge, enjoying the touch of another, brief as it may be. When he settled beside her again, she shifted to further lean against him. “Not so different at all,” she agreed, giving her scarred head a slight nod before resting it against his shoulder. She really wasn’t the cold hearted bitch that she portrayed herself as being. The scarred woman had feelings, had emotions, and spent a lot of time trying to run from them, trying to hide them from everyone else. Did it make her less Tartok because of it? Aguta could only hope that was not the case. “Be my friend, Taltos,” she said without lifting her head from against his shoulder. She asked for nothing but friendship. It was something she really needed, craved, desired, more than anything else.