Terres des Légendes
Reluctant changeling assassin
One would think that after a while exhaustion would do the trick, but no.
Of course, I already knew this. Shortly after Tikulti’s mother’s death, the dreams would wake me with the promise of my soulmate’s warm touch, letting the soul-wrecking truth of her absence twist the knife. But now, that ficklest of bitches, Fate, handed the dreams their very-own knife. They tortures me with all the depraved things that cackling bastard might be doing to my sweet Tikulti and, when I wake up, sweat-soaked and screaming, I get to dwell on them and my powerlessness to save her. Only now can I tell, the lies were better.
The only nights I get a little rest now are the ones when I dream of that syphilitic womanizer Fustian. Some people say you never forget your first, but frankly I barely remember the details of that night. A young buxom and naïve debutante was all it took to get that man in a private room; a blindfold and a dagger did the rest. I can’t even remember where it was or if he said anything as it happened. The dreams can keep trying, but truth be told, I simply don’t have the energy left to care and, at this point, I would kill a thousand Fustian to get my baby back.
It’s probably too much to hope that the Leper actually intends to help me get her back and that we’ll just return to our normal lives after what I did to his people, but another major player in the game can only mean that black-souled bastard Baker might need me, and his leverage, alive a little longer.