Board Thread:Roleplaying/@comment-25038310-20160405011238/@comment-5583506-20160506224132

(Hm, don't get any notifications from this one.)

''The boy will get himself killed over and over for sure... ''reflected Katla as she rested her chin on the of her claymore, with the tip to the ground. But perhaps that's the only way for him to learn...

She herself didn't know much from where she had gotten her skill with a blade. She had no memories of ever swinging one before her death. Before her duel with the enigmatic Battlemage.

''How did I kill him? Can barely recall whether or not I wore this armor? He was armed though... that much I know... and he was carrying a...''

She raised an eyebrow and glared down at her own weapon-of-choice. It was strange. From what little she knew of her former self she had regained some memories via her dreams, but none of those fit her personality. She had never been a warrior, yet she instinctively knew how to fight. She had never been the owner of a claymore, yet here it was... in her hands. It was an unpleasant feeling that made her feel tugs of discomfort in her very heart-strings.

''Was this... the Battlemage's weapon? ''she thought and silently observed the claymore beneath her. ''And this armor... was that...?''

The more she thought about it, the more it made sense. The Battlemage's last words to her had been that as a punishment for her actions, whatever they had been, she would suffer... the pain of having a conscience. She wasn't sure what he had meant. But she knew that whatever he had wished upon her had come true. She didn't know much about her former self, save for the glimpses she caught in her dreams, but that wasn't enough. All she knew was that somehow she had been powerful, more powerful than she was now. She had commanded an army of Draugr. She had spoken in... Dovahzul... She had fought against a Battlemage, whereupon she had lost to him. And as a punishment he had given her... this? She was wearing his armor and his weapon, yet she felt more alive than ever. How was this a punishment?

She smirked. Bloody fool...

Yet her smile faded shortly after. There was nothing to be happy about. He was dead. The only man to have ever beaten her in a fair fight was dead. And she was wearing his possessions like some morbid trophy collection. Or perhaps he had voluntarily given them up to her? She couldn't recall. Mocking him felt... disrespectful, if anything.

That's when it ocurred to her. Hadn't he wished for her to learn... sympathy?

Keep wishing, she reflected. You will not have me broken even after your death...