Dead Dwarf

[hotdog99 18]

Castaway. Over time the realization that most were. Firm stares of disgust. A castaway in a familiar setting. Emotions ran through him; dread, angst, regret. All will eventually die, but few come to regret it.

Stares. Lambasted with his back turned. Honesty. Honesty washed ashore these isles in droves. In reality, appreciation came from it, though one wasn't keen on admitting that fact.

Cared for. Caressed with words. Distrust. Honesty came only in brutal forms in this savage land. Otherwise, deceit ran rampant. Deceit to rip apart hearts that were too delicate and willing to trust.

 

For his first days, the dead dwarf was a hermit. An eye desperate to see truth, and ears desperate to hear it. Secrets uncovered to only be buried into his frail heart.

[hotdog99 18]

The hunger. The desire. The forced choice. A dash to unleash blind ferocity. She watches. Animal by animal, vulnerable to vicious - slaughtered and mutilated. She feels no remorse, no empathy for his prey. Sanity crashes against him like the isle's waves. He feels rotten, disgusted.

Desperate for choice. Choice before the forced choice. The Huntsmen. To live peacefully through bloodshed. Humane, at least.

Cheer. Jolliness. Normality. It was what he was once before. He remembers. His heart gone, but his spirit persists. At least pretend to see smiles and hear laughter. Happiness in their faces, at least.

[hotdog99 18]

The stone. Its power. Its fate. None could grasp it without greed. It could not be hidden. A home was given to it, instead. One, despite its vile nature, could not equal the vileness those of Opej'Nor spew. I regret my decision in that it now serves as the heart of a construct; a construct that can be demolished, destroyed, and salvaged from. They will take it.

Decisions. Choices. Failure. A crushing realization. They do not intend to make the hard choice. They too make one of greed. Bloodthirsty, vile. They have lied to my face. I will rectify that mistake.

Trust. Honesty. Loyalty. All that remains. The currency of life on these isles. So easily given, and so easily stolen. I have few I trust, though I have betrayed the trust they return me. Lies, deceit. Less they know, the safer they are. I fear they will not see that if these lies were exposed. But I must make the hard choices, so they do not feel what I do - nothing.

Edited July 22, 2018 by hotdog99