She will not snap, she tells herself. Will not give in to his taunts. Clenches her teeth and fists, imagines both of them sinking into her brother in blood’s flesh.
”I understand, fleeing your duty and betraying your order are all traits of a hero then.”
There’s something at the tip of her tongue, something she knows is sure will make him loose his smugness. But it’s wrong she realizes, even in her fury. Something he would do, not her.
”More power than a mage?” A sardonic smile adorns her face, voice dipping low. “That wasn’t what you were thinking all those times when you under my spell, screaming like a bitch.”
More power than a mage. She can set his blood on fire, sap his lifeforce whenever she wants to with a single wave of hand and he thinks himself more important than her. She could have killed him a hundred times by now, that arrogant douche.
”Because obviously a man whose only friend is himself would be an expert.”
"I lack friends out of my own choice.“
A lie, to ignore the truth he doesn’t dare face. Once upon a time, Balfour Cousland had been quite the popular young man, though his personality had still been lacking a fair deal. His family more than made up for it, thoughhis family lifted such a darkened soul. They were good for him, and now they’re all gone. The only light Balfour has in his life anymore seems to come from a select few companions, and he can see that even they begin to tire of the dark cloud that lingers perpetually over the youngest Cousland’s head.
He is young, but he lacks the energy to act it. To act as he should.
A shame, quite honestly.
"And I will tell you who the bitch is here, Amell. 'Tis not the prince, I assure you."
For a moment she doubts she can resist the urge to urge to snap, to set his blood on fire as he begs for mercy. But she will not give him the satisfaction, will not let him know what he is capable of doing to her.
They have never seen eye to eye, have never been companions. It’s hard for her to tell when dislike turned into hate, however.
”Where is he? A cowardly Prince-Consort is all I see.”
It’s not much of an insult, but nothing feels like it would suffice.
“Cowardly? Hardly. But I understand that perhaps you're jealous of me. Marrying a beautiful woman and gaining more power than a mage such as yourself could ever hope to grasp. It’s alright, though. I understand. I have what you want and you don’t know how to react to that in any other way.
"It’s very sad, Bianca. You should really learn to process things in a different way, you know. You’ll never make any friends otherwise."
“He is going to hurt himself one of these days, I fear.”
Nanna did not really see the appeal of such alcohol indulgence, especially to their dear dawrf’s extent. But for some it kept the party contented, except when it wore on Balfour’s nerves. Which honestly did not seem very hard to do, she observed to herself.
“How he manages to store it all, I have no idea… But at least it is a bit quieter?”
”…– a fair question to raise, actually.“
Balfour’s certain the dwarf has drank even his weight four times over, and the Warden can’t help but wonder where it comes from and where the dwarf ends up putting it all. Maker only knows, and perhaps it’s a question that Balfour doesn’t really want an answer to. Considering it’s Oghren that it concerns… well. Any answer will most likely be awful.
"True enough, though; at least it’s quiet. Perhaps now we can concentrate on matters that are actually of import.”
“Oh…I do not think that will be necessary. He should fall over any minute now.”
Nanna certainly hoped so, though for whose sake, she wasn’t quite certain.
“He really should not drink so much… Where does he keep getting it all?”
“I made the mistake of taking him to a tavern. We stayed for three hours and he probably stole twice his weight in booze. I should just tie him to a tree stump next time.”
It sounds like a joke but anybody who has known Balfour for more than five minutes should have a fair idea of how serious he is about this idea. Because why treat your companions like people?
