Only the Good Die Young

As much as he fought sleep, there was no denying that his eyelids were getting awfully heavy. In the passing moments he’d allow them to rest, it was easy to lose track before that sensation of falling jolted him awake. Simply put, Aresenn hadn’t noticed the silhouette out in the distance- there was nothing to be heard over the airy roar of the winter storm. In fact, he only began to stir at the sound of nails scraping stone. It didn’t immediately strike him as something out of the ordinary until he remembered he was supposed to be alone.

Amber eyes flashed open, immediately settling on the frame of a familiar stranger. After blinking in rapid procession, only then did he entertain the idea that maybe he wasn’t dreaming after all. Aresenn quietly observed as Sephiran Saxe released his grasp on a bundle of herbs before offering a panning glance around the cavern they had miraculously both found independently. There was no help to be had for the cough that ripped through his chest and throat. He clenched his eyes shut at the stabbing sensation in his head. However, when he opened them once again, he was met with that dual-colored gaze filled with disbelief. Offering an attempt to clear his throat as lightly as possible, he spoke out- voice hoarse with sickness. “Seems that you’ve caught me at a disadvantage.” He said slyly. He always aired on the side of dry humor, but his cracking vocal cords brought a whole new meaning to the idea.

Shifting his attention to the herbs that Sephiran had left on the ground, he made a shallow gesture with his chin. “Happen to have anything in there to finish the job?” Once again, only partly joking. But even in humor, he thought better of it. “What am I saying. Poisoning isn’t really your style.” He mumbled to himself through a winced grin. At least he was entertaining himself in his fevered stupor.

"Aresenn Praetor"
972 / 1500 words