Will all great Neptune's ocean wash this blood
Wednesday, December 5, 2007
10:48 PM

I could protect him from the mob. I could not protect him from one of my own. As the bolt tore through, and he crumpled to the ground bleeding, the herd did as one would expect: they stampeded.
I pushed my way through the crowd. As I reached him there, I knelt, trying to help staunch the steady flow of blood. I was angry. Ripping strips from his shirt to quell the bleeding, I cursed at him. I doubt he heard me. My hands were covered in his blood.
In my haste, I had not realized I was causing another similar frustration. Mika tried without success to extricate me from the Square. There was the possibility I could have been a target as well. Or that knowing the first attempt was botched on Szol, a second would come to finish the job. At that time, I did not think of these things.
The physicians came, and took him away to the clinic across the Square. Trahkam was there as well, it was comforting to see him. I knew he would be there. He is divine sent. An honest love that stands for the ages. Perhaps the only faith I still retain.
I spent the night in the Hawthorne Clinic, in a chair outside of the Poet's room with my crossbow in my lap. There I sat until I was relieved by Pontius the next morning.
Mika is angry at me. A problem I will attempt to remedy when time warrants.
Labels: Great Square of Ar