The crack in my foundation

The journey home in the dark was long, but it gave him time to find a piece of his past. It was like a mask that no longer fit properly. He had once been nothing but a slave, a prawn in a larger scheme. There had been times when he had been ordered to kill another slave, to deal out punishments for those that had ‘wronged’ the Empire. It had been easier to become someone who cared nothing for those around him. Before Deathbelle had offered him his freedom, and Zee had forced him to accept it.

He shut himself down, reached for the boiling anger and turned it into hate. This world just kept ripping away the things he loved, taking from him. Hate was easy, it was easier to hate than to feel his sorrow.

Tamsyn had other ideas, she wouldn’t let him hold onto this shield against the world. He had not seen her, he had paid no mind to the wolf beside him. He had felt nothing when they reached Armada territory and continued on.

It wasn’t until Tamsyn collapsed that he realised what he had done. It shook from from his stupor and he stared in horror at the collapsed wolf. She had done this for him.

No, no no no” He gasped, throwing himself at her side. It took a moment in his panic for him to find her heartbeat, and see the rise and fall of his chest. He trembled, shaking, before kissing his cheek. “I love you Tam, and it hurts so much to love, damn you.” he whispered, feeling his tears returning. He tore the makeshift cart off her, splintering it in the process - if he let out some of his rage, there was no one here to call him out on it - bones scattered, but Tamsyn was free. The Warlord raised his head and howled an urgent summons to his recently promoted Trauma Specialist. Mojito.

"Speech"