Blackheart

In Calamity, Hope

Razorwing blinked, feeling himself begin to wake up. As he shook the sleep out of him, he realized he was feeling absolutely horrid. A throbbing pain in his head nearly distracted him from the nausea and dry mouth. It almost felt as though he had cotton stuck to the insides of his throat, sucking the moisture from him.

Water. He needed water.

As he stood up, he nearly fell face first back to the ground as his vision spun. The koutu stumbled left and right as he fought to keep himself standing. Eventually he managed to steady himself, rubbing at his eyes as he tried to shake the dizziness away.

He blindly stumbled deeper into the camp, not exactly sure where he was headed.

...

Paul awoke, groaning a bit as he tried to remember what had happened before he passed out.

He scoured his memory, bits and pieces beginning to coalesce into the full picture. He had gotten drunk with that dumb bird, and then...

"...son of a bitch!"

His identity! It was compromised!

Instinctively, he went for his crossbow, but as he wrapped his hand around the weapon on his belt...he stopped and thought.

He was a famous hero. Literally everyone here knew him. He had spent his life traveling the lands, fighting monsters.

He couldn't be an agent for the criminal underworld. There was just no way someone with his level of fame could do that kind of work on the side. There were too many prying eyes, no ability to blend in, his name was too big to drop subtly.

No, his desire to be Paul's...friend, was genuine. The bounty hunter just couldn't believe he let his guard down like that, though.

What if he hadn't been a celebrity? What then?

The man shook his head, letting go of the crossbow. He fastened his mask back on, stomping off into the camp. There were things that needed to be addressed.

The bounty hunter pushed through the tent flaps, stepping inside of the modest structure. After a bit of wandering, he found that this is where the bird headed off to.

Makes sense. He's definitely the type of person to fret over others like this.

And there he was. Razorwing was sat beside a bed, watching over the knight. There were three other beds as well, all occupied. Another man, the woman, and the kobold that they had pulled out of that mess as well.

Razorwing glanced over as he heard the tent flaps moving, eyes lighting up as he saw the bounty hunter.

"Paul!"

The human's eyes went wild at the name, Razorwing suddenly shooting him a questioning look.

"What did I tell you about that?!" the man said in a gruff half-whisper. Razorwing seemed to have remembered at that, putting a taloned hand over his beak.

"O-oh! My goodness! I'm so sorry! I completely forgot..."

Paul shook his head. "You shouldn't even know in the first place...no one's ever supposed to have known."

"B-but I thought that since we were best friends..."

"Agh, we're not! I was just wine-sodden. No, NEVER speak it!"

Razowing's face dropped. "I-I mean, I know it's a secret, but...you really...didn't mean it? You don't...think of me as your friend? After all we've been through?"