Dragoncrest Cliffs Don't Do Sadness

The pair advanced through the heart of Sapphique, marching into the night. Njord let Rosencrantz take the lead to find Erzulie’s den, but every now and again he had to rest against the paladin’s side, completely fatigued from the spar, his injuries, and the sprint from the Watch back home. All his body wanted to do was lay down and sleep… forget about the pain and the embarrassment. Yet the promise of Rosencrantz’s deal was enough to keep him moving forward with a dogged determination.

Eventually, they arrived at the captain’s nest among the jagged stone. She was like a glimmer of gold in moonlight, but her two-toned gaze was darkened by the troubling sight before her. Rosencrantz ushered the seafarer into her alcove where he promptly collapsed with a “whumph” sound onto the floor.

Who did dis? where have dey gone? The captain asked, her voice eerily flat for accusatory words. Njord cringed inwardly, guilt bubbling anew. Rosencrantz had been right about how further actions would affect Sapphique more deeply. He looked to the knight for some backup but all Njord received was: It would be best if he explained. Crap.

The islander slid an elbow underneath his ribcage, propping himself up. He could see the open wounds on his wrist, the burn of Kigipigak’s mark still fresh. His cerulean eyes narrowed, his mind an addled soup of: anger, embarrassment, guilt, loss, and hope. The promise of courting Valmúa stolen by a rival – the post-fight drain of adrenaline and testosterone on his body… Still, Njord had Rose’s words on the mind and his humility shone through. He did not want to make things bad for Sapphique because of his actions.

“I got inna brawl, Erzulie,” he told their captain with slurred words, recounting the story as he had told it to Rosencrantz. “I wasn’t meanin’ to. I was tryin’ ta court a woman, but another man wasn’t havin’ any of it.” He laid his head back down, thinking about Valmúa‘s blonde mane and he shiny blue shell he had given her. Screw Kigipigak.