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
Exposed
As we moved back into the banquet hall, I fell back behind Korra hoping to ride her fame again. But, when we passed through the doors, she turned and grasped my hand, pulling me beside her.
"Korra, I-"
"I don't care if you're a slave. Please, walk with me," she said gently.
I reluctantly followed her command, as much because of the slave crest as anything. Even so, a warm feeling filled my heart, strengthening me as we navigated the crowded hall amid staring gazes. As we approached the platform, an important-looking priest stepped in our way. Unlike the traditional robes of the Divine Throne, he wore deep blue silks trimmed with lace reminiscent of sea foam.
"Korra, if I may have a moment of your time? Some of the dignitaries from Ornth would like an introduction," he said, bowing respectfully.
"Go on without me," she murmured, giving my hand a final squeeze before pulling away.