"If I could pull souls back from the great beyond, I'd still have a family."
Kasoria had rarely felt kinship with others. Ever since he was a boy, that had been the way of him. Always a barrier, indistinct and undefinable yet ineffable and unbreakable. No matter how close events had put him to others, he did not partake of camaraderie. Not even in the Academy, decades ago, when he was still a boy and unbroken on the anvil of the world. The siege, the march, the plagues, the Season of Horrors... that had changed. Now he knew that countless others of his people shared his anger, his rage, his grief. He could see that same fury and sorrow on their faces that he saw in his own.
He'd almost reflected that he had been the cause of it, so many times. With his efforts, but his hand, he'd taken fathers and sons and brother and, yes, mothers and daughters and sisters. It was not a thought he liked to dwell on.
It's done. It's past. It's history. Can't change it, do don't brood on it like a wanker.
"Aye," he said simply, finishing his water. "Know the feelin'."
Fortunately, the Ithecal wasn't one to brood, either. He was soon moving on, crowing, almost boasting. Kasoria snorted as he stooped to low to refer to himself in the third-person. Fates, just as he was starting to like the scaly cunt. His smile said he understood the necro's meaning, though. Far better to have the skills and balls to make your own way, charge your own price, sell your own talents... or your sword, whichever you were best with. Then he mentioned bounty hunting and Kasoria shrugged, speaking with telling familiarity.
"Ain't no cause t'get involved in the politics or the personal, mate. Some cunt puts a bounty out on some other cunt, an' youse go an' bring the second to the first. That or the bounty's fer a corpse, an' things're much easier. Ain't nothin' t'get caught up in, there. Most folk're smart enough t'know s'just business. Plenty more sword-wielding wankers like me out there. We're jus' the help."
Which was all true, though he inwardly chuckled at the irony of the statement. Oh, all true, yes indeed... but he could easily apply the logic to his career as an assassin, instead of his recent, semi-legal activities as a bounty hunter. It was much the same arrangement, after all. The only difference was that one bounty was sanctified by the laws of the land, and the other was not.
"I'm getting nervous, the longer I stay here in the city. I'd prefer to go back to the wood. Have I convinced you that I'm no public threat?"
Kasoria eyed the empty cup and nodded, getting to his feet. He rifled around in his pocket and put enough coin on the table to pay for the drinks, and leaving a nice gratuity for the wench. Just that much. If the Ithecal was the kind to swipe an extra nel once he was gone and rob her of a tip, well, that was hardly Kasoria's fault.
"Fer now, aye," he said, reminding the Ithecal that for all his casual, affable conversation, this was still a human more than ready to hack his head off less than a break before. "Like I said before, pays t'be ready t'treat yer friends like enemies, soon as they act up. S'the kind world this is, now. But fer now?"
Again, that casual shrug. As if matters of mortality were beyond him. Like he was every bit the reaper he looked, now. Only accentuated by the hood he drew up over his head, darkening his face to the point Roly could only see a glint of teeth in the shadows.
"Get a room, or go to yer woods. I ain't bound t'stop yeh. But remember what I said. Fortune to yeh..."
With that, the human walked away from the table. No need to stand on ceremony, after all. He wove his way through the stomping crowd, Roly noticing they seemed to part for him without a shout or a bark or a signal. They just knew him, or knew of him, or smelled what he was like sheep could a wolf. He fancied his new friend Black Eyes looked over his shoulder at the door... light-drowned eyes drilling a stare at him, as if commending every detail of the Ithecal to memory... then the door opened, and he was gone.