Board Thread:Roleplaying/@comment-3293219-20150918203802/@comment-5543592-20150919191620

Scire crouched low in the bushes

"' I'll have to make hard calls on who lives or dies, and I just did.'"  He muttered to himself in a mocking tone.

"'And you're not insane or dead because of it!'  Bullshit..." There was clearly another way out of it, regardless of what Hawke said. She was just trying to explain away her guilt, or lack thereof.

The deer picked it's head up and glanced around, and Scire cursed under his breath. The mocking was careless. Now this thing knew it wasn't alone.

'I don't have to explain my reaons of why we're alive to you.'  He thought angrily, steadily pulling an arrow from his quiver.

Hawke had been trying to save her own skin. Of course she was. But... she hadn't wanted him to come in the first place. No... she'd been willing to go alone. And it was only after Magda had hit her, that Hawke did it.

Did... what was necessary?

Arrow touched bow.

No. It wasn't necessary. Scire could've found a way out of that. But then.... Magda was going to die anyway. Sheogorath was a god. He knew Magda's guilt from the onset. The court had just been a game.

Scire sighed, then sighted the doe.

What was really bothering him? No, her certainly would not want to have traded places with Magda. He very much liked to be alive. What bothered him was just how remorseless Hawke was.

He drew the bow string back.

But why did that bother him? He'd seen other group members do much worse, yes? And Hawke spent her nights stopping crimes. She wasn't a bad person. In fact, she was the opposite.

Maybe, Scire thought,'' I'm the one who's guilty. That I let Hawke do it, do what ultimately needed to be done, instead of me.''

And he'd argued against her, like an idiot. Whether he wanted to admit it or not, she'd made the clear choice. Maybe not the good choice, but the best. That's what Vale had said, a thousand times. 'In the end, the right thing to do isn't always the easiest.'

Scire was an idiot.

The doe glanced over as noise was made, somewhere in the forest. Scire looked back down the shaft of his arrow. A fawn trotted into view.

He released the string.

The arrow thudded into a tree and splintered into fragments, far off it's mark, and the two bovine creatures darted off into the forest.

He watched the empty clearing for moment, just basking in the silence, before turning around and heading off.