The scent of wet mud greeted Dorian, as his horse trotted towards the city. The mission had been long and arduous, across the dry, bleak plains to the south of Ostra. It was good to finally be home.
Home, he wondered. Do I even have one?
The sound of horse’s hooves on the soft ground, in conjugation with his own feelings of fatigue and relief, had lulled him into a drowse.
He heard a woman whimper, as she tightly clutched the hem of her gown, tears streaming down her face. The blood on her hands was definitely her own. He had seen this before. He knew.
“What are you looking at?” he heard the gruff voice of a burly man, followed by a smack to the head that sent him sprawling across the small room.
He could see the man advancing towards her.
He could see the terror in her eyes.
He could hear a dull thud, as her head bounced off the wall and landed on the cold floor.
He could see the blood spilling out, drenching her wispy auburn hair.
After that, all he saw was red… His hands, his tunic, the knife at his feet, the wall to his side…
They were all red…
The sudden change of sounds, as he entered the paved roads of the city, roused him. He wiped the sweat off his brow and adjusted himself in the saddle. He had almost arrived. Continue reading Character Origins #5: Dorian