The Forsaken Hero
I closed my eyes and let out a shuddering breath. My fingers were numb and cold, my arm aching where the needle pierced the vein. Something clattered onto the pavement, and I looked down to see the needle. It had slipped out of my hand. Nothingness swirled around me, bringing the first sense of peace I'd felt in my short, miserable life. There was no one to miss me, and no one I would miss. There's always someone else to beat or rape. The regulars would move on quickly. I died. Only...wasn't death supposed to be dark? And since when did 'nothingness' have so many gods? Discord: https://discord.gg/PX3xqJdZMY
Fruits of Vengeance
I had turned away from Gayron as he spoke, but paused, looking back at the demonkin. He had his eyes fixed on the ground, his hands clenched at his sides. He looked entirely uncomfortable, down to his tail, which trembled with the effort of keeping it still. Gayron was not a man accustomed to apologizing.
"Sorry?" I asked, "What are you even talking about? You're healed, Gayron. You don't have to pretend anymore. Just leave."
His hands clenched tighter, digging into his palms. He raised his head, revealing a glare. "Do you want me to beg, to get on my knees and kiss your feet?" he growled. "Damn it, I don't even know what I was thinking, apologizing like that."