Draven Dursden
The Toy Knight
Limping along, The Silver Rest would come into view, Draven would take a moment to lean against the low wall which accompanied the entrance. His battered, beaten appearance quite distinct in the lush, and generally soft aesthetic of the rest. He had been missing...for a little over two months? Three maybe? And he had aged so much in those few months. The knight's missing eye gaped, the charred black hole where it had once been quite visible to the rest of the world, and the horrific sight of his charred, scratched, and beaten plate armor was...quite different then when he had worn it into battle, shining and polished, ready for war.
He was a swirl of emotions, shame, anger, self loathing, disgust, pride, angst, none of which were particularly new to Draven, but there was a new emotion this time, one which had not been there before, relief. He was glad to be..home? Home. The familiar sight of the rest around him, the cool breeze, two things which he had never expected to appreciate or enjoy. And he was...actually looking forward to seeing those which he had once looked down on, sneering at. Obviously he had been wrong, or else why would he be the one limping to them, and not vice versa. Though the knight would try and stand straight, he couldn't help but wilt in on himself, a arm around his stomach, where an enormous gash laid fresh, festered and stinking of rot, puss drooling from it. Wincing, as he brought a hand away, he would continue his limping walk forwards, closer and closer to the temple, his eyes actually beginning to brim with tears as so many thoughts rushed to the forefront.
What would he say? What could he say?
Falling to his knees in front of the temple, Draven began to cry, earnestly. He had been so sure of himself, so righteous in his anger, that he had not seen the truth in front of him. Instead of placing his trust in the Jedi, and those who had tried to temper him, he put it in those who fed into his instincts. Killers, thieves, those who had claimed loyalty. And maybe they had been at one point, but one rash and brute action at a time, that loyalty ran out. So here he was, to beg forgiveness. Draven couldn't lie to himself, it was a bitter pill to swallow. Beaten, bruised, and battered, looking like hell, was not how the Jedi had intended on returning. Instead he was hoping for a victorious, and cheerful return, something to show for his efforts. But alas, here he was. Sobbing at the doors to the temple, and without the strength to enter. He had barely clawed his way back from the force forsaken corner of the universe which him and his "Dudes" had been in, and not through the most knightly means.
So Draven sobbed, falling to his side, and simply rested. He was home now.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=u9jRv1cnjDA