Annabel and Janet

“You can do better than him, Miss Annabel,” Janet huffed, hardly giving the other woman a chance to say hello after opening the door. She swept into the desolate tavern, silk rustling and perfume a sudden assault on the young bartender. Attempting to cough quietly as to not offend her friend, Annabel moved around the bar to pour two glasses of whiskey. “I don’t see what the problem is, Janet,” she said demurely. “He’s a good man, kind, honest, and we get along. What else would one marry for?” “But darling, do you love him?!” “Love-” Annabel chuckled, taking a sip before setting the glass down once more. “I imagine that could come with time. Janet, we’re on the edge of the wilds, what does love have to do with anything?”

Fallen

“I d-don’t-” the young elf tried to choke out through the blood burbling up past his lips. “Nae, I… pl-please…”

The pain in his chest was growing now, each labored breath fighting the arrows lodged within his flesh. Veriel swallowed and gasped as a gentle hand touched his cheek, the other elf’s fingers wet with his blood.

“I know, sweetheart,” Nae’ali murmured, her arm under him, wrapped around his shoulders. “I… know.”

“I j-just,” he half-sobbed, the trail of his tears streaking down his face. “I don’t un-understand.”

Nae hugged him tightly, his face nestled in the crook of her shoulder. “It’s okay, Veriel.”

“Is M-matthew safe?”

A long silence from her, and the dying elf sobbed again, hacking coughs rising up from his throat and wracking his thin frame. His eyes threatened to close, and he gasped and choked, shuddering.

“Nae,” his voice rises, trembly panic. “I’m sc-scared.”

“I won’t leave you, sweetheart.”

“I love y-you.”

“I love you too.”