Draiss listened, and went cold, focusing on Niara like a laser, not even realizing Jashah had moved to give Niara a hug. He simply reached forward, and pulled Niara upright, his eyes bright, burning, and boring into hers. His voice was calm, cold, and devoid of all emotion, which made what he was saying likely that much worse. "Calm and collected. Yes, you could call it that. On the outside. Inside though? Inside, I wanted to die. I joined up the second someone said it was a suicide mission, the key word being suicide. I killed fifteen thousand orcs, Niara, not just the warriors, but mothers and children, the latter begging for me to spare the former, that they would do anything. I burned the children ALIVE in front of their mothers, doing JUST enough damage to mortally injure them, before I did the same to the mother, forcing the child to watch. Orkenbane is a title I detest, but I wear it to remember the crimes I committed. The orc god was actually impressed by my actions, did you know that? Said I would have been an inspiration if I had been of orcish descent. Not sure if he was serious or not, but it was NOT something I needed to hear when he said it. Especially since, in the same breath, had admitted no orc had done the crime I had blamed them for.<br/><br/>Truth be told, I still want to die. I go into each battle, acting carefree, because I am secretly hoping there will be someone or something there that is strong enough to kill me, despite all my tricks, cheats, and improvising. I would have no intention of surviving the upcoming fight with Verdelet and Harley, if it wasn't for the fact that there are people relying on me. People just like the orcs I so cruelly butchered and murdered. If they knew what I have done, been doing, WILL DO, everyone would abandon and avoid me like a plague carrier. My mediation room is a room I go to in order to remind myself of my crimes. where I go to remind myself that my personal hell can't be anywhere NEAR as bad as reality seems to be lately. So I don't become what the Beyonder taint is constantly whispering in my ear.<br/><br/>It is ALWAYS there, Niara. You think you have it bad? My barriers seem to block yours, according to you. Mine is always in my head, laughing, whispering. When I am playing with my children, it is there, commenting on how LOVELY it would be to open their throats and paint the walls red, to rape my daughters and do the same. When I am coupling with my companions, consorts and mates, it is there, begging for me to wrap my hands around their throats and slowly SQUEEZE and not let go, just like I did when I first started exterminating orcs. When I am in the war room, trying to determine the 'appropriate' response to a tainted, it is there, idly commenting on how easy a deep core bomb would be, and how pretty the plane would look while imploding. When I am fighting, it is there, begging to be released, so it can show me why just letting go and letting it control me is so EASY and such a good idea, so I won't be in pain. Whenever I am asleep, it is there, guiding my nightmares, forcing me to watch as I destroy everything precious to me, slowly, in increasingly sadistic ways, that would Kamariel blanching in terror and disgust, though she would secretly be impressed that I was THAT inventive and evil. I MISS the old days, Niara, where death was an end, where the nightmares STOPPED when I woke up.<br/><br/>Some days, it can be a little hard to tell when I am unconscious and when I am awake. Other days, it doesn't feel worth it to chew through the bindings and get to work, but I do it anyways. Because there is no one else. Because if I fall, or even give up for a few minutes, Verdelet pulls ahead, or might and I might never be able to catch up. I don't, likely won't, and haven't CARED if I die since I came home and found my mother's 'corpse' raped and skinned on her bed. I am still that shell shocked and deeply, deeply traumatized teenager, staring in horror at what his home had become, waiting to wake up from that nightmare. I have been waiting for four centuries, Niara, and while there have been good moments, the bad outnumber them so much I am surprised I am still standing, and haven't given up and put a balefire beam into my energy center, erasing me. I function, Niara, nothing more. I don't do more because I can't, because I have forgotten how, and simply, dumbly, put one foot in front of the other, wearily trudging forward because I can not, and will not, let someone else die because I sat there with a thumb up my ass."<br/><br/>He suddenly blinked, and came back to reality, and let go, putting her back in her chair, and looking tired and weak, like a turtle that had suddenly lost its shell. "The 'me' everyone knows is just a mask, Niara, nothing more. Every smile, every laugh, every deadpan snarky comment, is just to keep the pain from overwhelming me. And I never asked, or wanted this power either. The difference? I realize that just because I didn't ask for it, doesn't mean I don't have a responsibility to see it used 'correctly.'<br/><br/>Make your decision, and let me know later. I am... wearied. I need a week. Alone."<br/><br/>He turned, still forgetting about Jasha, and headed to the portal room, once again projecting the mask, as easily as he had before admitting aloud it was nothing more than. Just a week to relax and maybe let go, just for a couple seconds. That was all he asked, though he privately admitted that was likely too much. Just a couple seconds without that taint monkey on his back, softly whispering. Though it seemed loud, so terribly loud, at the moment.