State of mind

May Light take mercy of our souls...

" But then, where the fel are you, Eireannan Saralonde?"

Stirring again to change her position, Laandra opened her eyes, enough to see the bruised face of Daria, only centimeters away.

The place was humid, cold, and unfriendly. But the real issue were the noises. And the sickening smell of death.

She sat upright in the bed, her back against the wall, huddling the body of the almost unconscious girl in her arms. Daria shivered and trashed at times, as if still trying to break free from some invisible bonds, and Laandra would whisper to her calming words.

It hadn’t been hard to drag her out of the house in upper Hillsbrad where they had found her. The man with whom she had been was probably still recovering after the three curses Eireannan had thrown at him. It wasn’t hard even to manage escape out of the place, with a mob of angry, armed peasants gathering in the village. Strange enough, Eireannan wanted to avoid bloodshed, so they had made their way out of the window, setting the house ablaze, in the process, to prevent being followed.

No, that wasn’t bad at all, Laandra thought. Almost fun. The worse part had started when they reached the Undercity.

It was the closest and safest place to go, Eireannan explained, his expression contorted, as they crossed the former throne room to descend into darkness.
Not for long, he had promissed.

Yet hours had passed since he left them into that horrible hole that was the inn and Laandra felt already panic and exhaustion creeping into her heart. She tried to calm herself, reciting every prayer she knew, but then she would spot some Forsaken going around on their own errands and the sight sent her chills down the spine again.

“Still here?”

It was Daria’s voice, an almost inaudible whisper.

Laandra nodded.

“I hate this place.”

“So do I.”

Daria bit her lips, turning her face away, then lifted a hand and slowly felt the bruises on her right cheek.

“I’m glad Ei’an’s fine”, she murmured. “That you didn’t leave him. He deserves…to be loved…” The tears she had been fighting back for a while threatened to choke her. “I just wish he’d let me die, for once…I’m no good to anyone…”

“Shhh”, Laandra whispered, leaning over Daria’s crumpled form to hug her tightly. “It's a lie and you know it."

But don't we all say such lies when we want to be conforted?

Shifting again her weight to ease the uncomfortable feeling that spread into her limbs after so many hours of just sitting there idle, Laandra smiled at her own thought, as she felt Daria suddenly relax in her grip.

Then she laughed. The sound was so clear, so unusual in that dark place that the Forsaken passing in the hallway stopped to listen, in awe.