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“You’re sorry?”
She nods enthusiastically.
I take a moment to think.
“You don’t need to be,” I say.
She glances up at me in confusion. “I told you that I served the light. So why wouldn’t I apologize for attacking an innocent creature?”
In her eyes, I can see a naivety perfectly suited for her youth, but I can also see the true lack of ulterior motives. It’s refreshing in a way I’m not sure how to process yet.
She really came all this way to apologize to a demon. There’s something strangely amusing and twisted about that.
“You came all this way to apologize to me, and I reject your apology,” I say, unable to keep my composure at the disappointment on her face. “But do me a favor.”
Her ears perk up. “What’s that?”
“You came out here and attacked me because I was a demon. It caught me a bit off-guard, but it was principled.”
“And?”
I can feel the anger rising in her. There it is, the ferocity I’ve come to admire. I won’t tolerate this sheepish, weak version of her.
“When you feel or believe something, you stick to that. There’s too much cowardice in this realm. That cowardice creates delicious darkness.”
She mulls over my words, grabbing a nearby stick and making circles in the dirt.
I can see, with some satisfaction, that she’s actually drawing identical sigils to the one laid out before her. Only hers are more detailed and ornate than my own.
Perhaps I’m being too hard on her.
I reach out, laying a hand on her shoulder. I can feel her resisting the urge to shrug away even as the warmth of touching her travels up my arm. I want to lean in closer, and she wants me nowhere near. The incongruency of both our desires is not lost on me.
“Don’t get me wrong,” she says. “I’m still convinced you’re the one responsible for the deaths.”
I don’t move my claw, only holding firmer onto her shoulder.
“Oh?”
“The killings perfectly match everything I’ve seen from you,” she says, almost thinking aloud. “The victims were drained and ripped apart in brutal ways, unlike anything I’ve ever seen from a dark elf or a human.”
I look down at her, fully engaging her gaze, and I smile.
“You sure do like to talk,” I tell her.
She smiles in response, but I can sense that it betrays her deeper motivations.
“You’re awfully dodgy about it,” she says. “It would really ease my peace of mind if you’d just tell me. Are you killing the dark elves?”
“And why would I tell you?” I move my hand off of her shoulder and hang it at my side. “You seem pretty well convinced that I’ve done it. And, like I said, you should stick to your convictions.”
“If I stick to my convictions, then I might have to fight you again.”
I show my teeth in response. I don’t like being attacked unaware or having my meal interrupted, but the thought of sparring with her again does excite me for some reason. Not because I want to hurt her, but because I want to challenge her, I want to touch her, I want to dominate her in a way that is somehow entirely different from all the beings I dominate on a regular basis.
Maybe I don’t want to dominate her at all. I don’t want to defeat her, I realize, I just want her participation.
“If that’s what you must do, then please do it.”
