Mikhail froze. The embrace of a woman was nothing new to him, but never like this, never kind and gentle and caring. Always passionate and lustful, though this was certainly full of passion. Just one of a different kind. Blood slowly soaked the knees of his pants. The coppery tang of death hung in the air still, but for a moment Amore managed to push all of it away with a simple hug.
He felt her fingers in his hair, her slender arms around him, comforting. Comforting the man who not five minutes ago had killed her. Impossible. Mikhail did not understand. Confusion seeped into the tidal wave of guilt and regret. What was he doing? Trying to kill her? Because what, she pretended to be a god? The Sith had done this to him, warped him into a monster. He wanted to run from it all, run far away. But where did he have to run? What friends did he have in this galaxy? They were all either dead or estranged.
Mikhail's arms lifted up almost of their own accord and wrapped around Amore, crushing her close, desperate and even terrified. Yes, Shorn could be afraid. He was afraid a lot, but the Sith had shown him not to show fear. Fear was weakness. Weakness was death. Love was passionate and fleeting. That was what the Sith taught. The Sith were fools. Shorn clung to Amore and found tears falling from his eyes, hot and stinging. He didn't even know this woman.
Finally, he stumbled to his feet and back, tears still standing in his eyes. His eyes roamed across the bodies on the floor and back to Amore's crimson stained tunic. "I can't," he whispered softly, "I can't do this. I can't do this." He repeated over and over again, clutching his head in his hands and tearing at his hair. Mikhail nearly tripped over a body. "I have to go. I have to-"
He ran.
[member="Amorella Mae"]
He felt her fingers in his hair, her slender arms around him, comforting. Comforting the man who not five minutes ago had killed her. Impossible. Mikhail did not understand. Confusion seeped into the tidal wave of guilt and regret. What was he doing? Trying to kill her? Because what, she pretended to be a god? The Sith had done this to him, warped him into a monster. He wanted to run from it all, run far away. But where did he have to run? What friends did he have in this galaxy? They were all either dead or estranged.
Mikhail's arms lifted up almost of their own accord and wrapped around Amore, crushing her close, desperate and even terrified. Yes, Shorn could be afraid. He was afraid a lot, but the Sith had shown him not to show fear. Fear was weakness. Weakness was death. Love was passionate and fleeting. That was what the Sith taught. The Sith were fools. Shorn clung to Amore and found tears falling from his eyes, hot and stinging. He didn't even know this woman.
Finally, he stumbled to his feet and back, tears still standing in his eyes. His eyes roamed across the bodies on the floor and back to Amore's crimson stained tunic. "I can't," he whispered softly, "I can't do this. I can't do this." He repeated over and over again, clutching his head in his hands and tearing at his hair. Mikhail nearly tripped over a body. "I have to go. I have to-"
He ran.
[member="Amorella Mae"]