Last night, I decided that I was going to try and write something every day. And being the person that I am, I always like to take what I have created and stick it on the proverbial fridge. So it looks like this blog is going to be the refrigerator door. These will probably be the only blog posts that I tweet about, only because I am making them to be entertaining. All the rest are just the ramblings that dance around in my skull. Alright, so here it goes.
The tension, heavy like the mugginess after a summer rain, hung through out the entire hall. Every man could feel it weighing baring down on his shoulders. Anger, outrage, all bottled up in these soldiers' bodies, causing them to clamp their mouths closed and grind their teeth against each other. But no one said a word. All sat silent in that thick of emotions, letting it gnaw at them.
But even in silence and in the midst of averted eyes, Evan knew that all this animosity was directed at him and his men. The disgust and loathing was directed only at those who wore the Silver Rose over there armor. And yet no one would utter a word as to why. The situation at hand was already dire as it was. The small coalition of troops only hung together by a thread and paper thin truce. This hatred threatened to severe the only thing keeping it together.
There was a shuffling coming from the doors that lead into this large hall. It was followed by murmuring and whispers that swelled louder and louder as the it spread like fire through dry kindling. However it was not loud enough to drown out the heavy foot falls of the man who slowly made his way through the throng of soldiers. He kept his head down, dark hair covering his eyes. And like the rest, anger and rage exuded from his being, almost a visible aura around his person. He stopped only a few feet short of where Evan was standing.
"Everyone had given up on you," he started, his voice more of a low gravelly growl than a voice, "We had all resigned that we were going to die in that battle, waiting for you and your men to show up. But not her. She kept insisting that you would be here, we only had to hold on just a little bit longer."
The strained words escaping from pursed lips caused the other men to stir in their seats and shift about where they stood. They knew what he was talking about. How she had rallied them, tried to give them hope despite everyone knowing it was useless to continue on. Defeat was inevitable, it was only a matter of when.
"She believed in you. She made us believe in you. She made me believe in you, despite the fact I knew better."
Evan stood in front of this dark haired man, not letting his face change.
"I want to speak with her," Evan said.
The man's fists tightened in response to Evan's request. And, almost in an instant, he sprang forward, colliding into Evan and knocking him to the ground. The soldiers all jumped to their feet, some trying to break up fights and others wanting the start them. The room had instantaneously devolved into a chaotic brawl, spanning from the door the wall, only to stopped by the earsplitting crack of a rifle shot. Evan lay on the ground as the dark haired man was pulled off him and restrained by three others.
"You made me lie to her!" he shouted towards Evan, the long hair not able to hide the tears that were streaming down the sides of his face, "You made it so the last thing I ever said to her was a lie! You left us out there to be slaughtered and I had to tell her...I had to tell her..."
His voice was lost behind clenched teeth as he bit back the bitter sobs that choked him. That had been choking him ever since it happened. Evan picked himself up very slowly. She was dead? It did not seem real. Evan did not open his mouth to speak. What could he say? With a blank and dumbstruck countenance, Evan simply turned and started to head out of the hall.
"She died waiting for you to be a hero!" the man shouted, a seething rage stemming from bitter agony still shaking in his voice, "Her blood is on your head!"
Evan slowed his step, but did not turn around, "I know."
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