scratched lenses of my knockoff ray-bans

He frowned at this latest question, realising it was a difficult one to answer. “My parents died when I was very young, and I remember little of them. They were bred to be warriors however, so I imagine they wouldn’t have been chosen if there were any hereditary issues in their bloodline.” He waited a moment to ensure she had no further questions, and then settled down. “To give you an understanding of my inability to sleep, I'll have to delve deep into my past. Are you sure you want to go there?” He waited, and she nodded her acceptance.

"Very well then. Get comfortable, and I will tell you the story of the Warlord." He said softly, knowing he would have to go back aways to give her a fuller understanding. "This story began just over four years ago. When I was a slave in the original Ashen Empire. In the final days, when a mighty people fell." He explained, giving her some context to his story. He paused for a moment, letting the past wash over him. Closing his eyes as he breathed in the dusty scent of a dying land. Remembering. "Drought hit too many years in a row. There weren't enough crops to feed the herds, and then enough herds to feed the wolves. The Empire had once been a thriving montroplise. When people starve, they believe foolish things. They believe the gods are angry at their rulers, they believe their rules are incapable. They would do anything to feed themselves and their family. They would kill an entire line if they believed it meant they could live. Kings are as easily slain as woman, children. The royals fled. I was given as a friend to the King's Daughter, but I was also her guard." He paused here, his eyes unfocused. "Deathbelle." He said, saying the name of this childhood friend. Lingering on the word as he wondered, not for the first time, what his life would have been like. What he had done to that woman he had loved, and the regrets he would carry with him to the grave. He cleared his throat, blinking as he brought his eyes back to Halo.

"I watched her back as we fled for safety. A group of crazed scavengers found us. They laughed and spoke of the taste of our flesh, of her flesh. Hunger wasn't their only appetite. I killed them to the last man, but that last man scored a hit that left a wound that festered. Deathbelle thought me dead, and fled. My memories here are fevered and vague. I remember a wolf, but I do not know if that was the fever or reality. When I woke up, the heat in my body broke, there was no wolf in the cave with me. The journey to this new land was a long one, but I returned to her. The dreams started that night," it was a long story, and he paused to take a sip of his tea, gathering his thoughts. "So long as I slept alone, I posed no danger to the wolves around me. Zee didn't know this, and as our friendship first began she slipped into my den and slept beside me. Have you seen the fanged scar on her neck? My dreams we're almost the death of her." And that was how they originated, but not why the plagued him now. "My sister helped me through them, and they stopped for a time. A group of wolves... took Zee, and staged her death. For almost a year I believed her dead, and I was unhinged for it. The dreams have worsened since. And that, my dear halo, is why I fear to sleep.

"Sirius Fatalis"