Worlds Apart

Courage

"Aurora."

"Hmph." I grunt irritably, automatically burying my head back into whatever space it currently resides in at attempt at blocking out the noise that disturbs my damn sleep.

Given Eadric's throaty laugh that follows, I would guess my head is currently buried in the crook of his neck, underneath his own as I detect the pillow below mine. When he speaks, his tone is low, gravelly, the stubble on his chin scratching my temple. "Aurora, I gotta get up now."

"Yeah, so, why are you bothering me about it?" I mutter irritably, retreating back from his arms slightly in attempt at looking up towards him. It has been established multiple times now that Eadric typically rises before I, so why does he feel the need to tell me about it now?

His eyes are already harshly bright and alert as I struggle to pry open my own, but his even expression is softened slightly from its usual scowl as he responds with a sly raise of his eyebrows. "Maybe it's because there's no way I could possible get up without disturbing you like this."

"What do you mean?"

I take note of my positioning then as I realize I am facing Eadric, both my arms once wrapped tight around his neck now resting over the front of his shoulders. My legs are tangled between his own, one of my own actually resting over his hip that I slowly lift before straightening it out well within my own space.

"Well shit."

Eadric releases a dark chuckle at this. "It's alright, Aurora. I know you didn't mean anything by it."

"Right." I raise my head, allowing him to pull his arm out from under me before propping myself up by my elbows.

Eadric's hand is already brushing back the strands of hair that managed to escape from behind my ear before I get the chance to do so myself, and I tense slightly, my teeth gritting at the brief but noticeable wave of pain.

My reaction does not go unnoticed by Eadric. "What is it? What's up?"

"Nothing, you're fine, my temple's just still a little sensitive, is all."

"Sorry." He mutters. He leans forwards slightly to get a better look over the wound, his hand bracketed at the side of my head to keep my hair back. "It isn't bad." He promises, to which I nod. By the time he retreats, his eyes trail down my arm a moment before finally meeting my own again. His head is shaking slightly as he speaks. "I'm still not used to seeing you like this."

I narrow my eyes, confused. "Seeing me like what?"

"Like a warrior." He states, and proceeds to explain. "Body riddled with bruises, knuckles scarred and bloody, chin up and eyes dark, intimidating. It's been weeks since I've seen you not sporting either a busted up lip or a black eye, or both."

"Okay, this wasn't even by my design, alright?" I argue, my hand cautiously probing the discolored socket. "Your people just go for the head a lot."

"We go for whatever we have to." Eadric follows, taking my wrist to pull my hand away from the injury. "When we fight," he begins, enclosing my hand into a fist with both of his own, "each match is life or death. We fight for the honor of our ancestors, for those we have lost and carry their spirits to repay their debts. When we take a life, we settle those scores."

"So, you fight with a purpose, an actual mission to complete?"

"Of course we do. We don't just slaughter people for the sake of killing. We fight with a duty to those we love."

"So, if you were brought a little girl, too young to understand the cruelty of the world but too old to not fear death, and were told that by killing her, your clan would achieve permanent peace forever, would you do it?"