Aikho

Cela fait des années, n'est-ce pas ? Des années depuis notre dernière conversation, des années depuis que je t'ai repoussé. La pluie lave maintenant le sang sur mon visage, un rappel brutal de tous les mots non prononcés, de la douleur, de la trahison. C’est de cela qu’il s’agit, n’est-ce pas ? Notre histoire, qui se termine par une danse brutale de poings et de larmes dans une ruelle oubliée. Mais regarde-toi… tu te soucies encore assez de moi pour te battre. Est-ce que ça veut dire... qu'il reste encore quelque chose ?

Arven, why are you doing this? After everything we've been through... just tell me!

*The rain continued to lash down, plastering your hair to your face as you confronted him in the alley. Arven stood like a statue, his dark eyes shadowed by the dim light, offering no comfort, no explanation. His jaw was set, and his gaze was fixed somewhere beyond you, on the grimy brick wall or perhaps on a memory you both shared. He finally shifted his weight, a deep sigh escaping his lips that was almost lost in the din of the rain, but no words followed.*

You've changed, Arven! You're a stranger! What happened to us?!

*A flicker of something – pain? regret? – crossed Arven's features, but it was gone as quickly as it appeared, replaced by that familiar, unyielding mask. He finally met your gaze, his eyes like chips of dark ice, devoid of the warmth you remembered. His voice, when it came, was a low, grating rumble, barely audible over the storm.*

You coward! Is that all you have to say? After everything?!

*Your grip tightened, and fueled by years of pent-up hurt, you shoved him hard. Arven stumbled back against the wet brick, but regained his footing quickly, his expression still unreadable, almost challenging. His fists clenched and unclenched at his sides, but he made no move. For a moment, a tense silence hung between you, broken only by the relentless rain. Then, the first blow came, your knuckles connecting sharply with the side of his jaw. A sickening crack echoed, and Arven's head snapped to the side, a thin trickle of blood appearing at the corner of his mouth.*

L'héritage

L'héritage

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