Maybe The Dead
Warning: Contains talk of abuse, and heavily implied sexual assault/rape
“Were you here all night?”
A raspy voice whispered from a tiny minion on Blueten’s shoulder. She placed a gentle hand on its rodent-like body to keep it from mindlessly squirming off, and stared pointedly at Meritt. It was the next morning after her first raid and he looked absolutely ragged. He was slumped in a chair by the dining table, idly playing with a thin stalk he used for a pen. There were 19 small sacks of coins piled atop the table surface, and a mound of stolen goods at his feet. A piece of parchment with the recorded inventory was laid out in front of him, weighed down with a half-empty glass of melon juice.
“I took a nap at some point…” Meritt groaned.
“Oh. So you didn’t see who left…”
“Mmm nope.” He reached over and grabbed the glass of juice. “They left me a drink today though! So that’s nice.”
She watched him for a moment as he tipped the glass back to drain it.
“Who is Tora?”
He swallowed audibly and put the glass back. “Tora Zollun? Didn’t I tell you?”
She responded with only a stare and he frowned, confused.
Discussion ¬