[Log] He just needed to arrive. And he did so before morning.

[corpseknight]

Larkspur is seated near the edge of the boardwalk, soaked to the skin, pieces of his armor strewn about him. He's folded around his runeblade like a drowning man clinging to a piece of wreckage, cheek pressed against its haft, face turned toward the sea.

Krenyn approaches, footsteps on the board. His scent should be familiar enough. The footsteps stop nearby. He hadn't had to search. He just needed to arrive. And he did so before morning.


[Krenyn] says: [Thalassian] Get up.


Larkspur would ordinarily respond to Krenyn's presence long before his partner got this close. It takes the other death knight actually speaking before Lark so much as twitches an ear, this time. "...sir," he replies numbly, automatically, to the order.


Larkspur drags himself to his feet, still clutching at his runeblade with bound hands.


Krenyn steps closer, giving Larkspur a cursory once-over. Concern for ailments, chains? None at all. "A pitiful state. And that I have to come here to fetch you home," he notes dryly. "What have you to say?" 


Krenyn is heard pacing forward even as he speaks, seeking face to face with Larkspur.


Larkspur can't muster the energy to object, to defend himself, to do so much as lay his ears back in distress or distaste. Or even avert his face to hide the fact he's...maimed. "Nothing." His voice is flat, devoid of emotion. "I failed."


[Larkspur] says: [Thalassian] The only...mercy...is that I did not fail as a Blade. Just as myself.


Krenyn reaches out, two gauntlet-clad digits extended to brush against the empty sockets, without remorse for any lingering pain it might cause. "Hm."


Larkspur doesn't move, other than a reflexive sort of ... failed blink. His hands tighten on Terminus Est. "I'm sorry," he breathes.


Krenyn scrapes slightly. Some form of... something best left undescribed is left on his fingers as they pull free, is rubbed with thumb and sniffed at. "Mm," he states again. "Is this the best they could muster in retaliation for your actions?"


[Krenyn] says: [Thalassian] I suppose you should be thankful. Your punishment from me for your failure to follow my orders will not be as light.


Krenyn reaches down to pick up a piece of the discarded armor. "It's time to leave, Plagueheart."


Larkspur cl-- he doesn't have EYES to close anymore. Is he trembling? Possibly. "They would have killed me. Or done worse. The priest Auroran took my eyes at my...suggestion." No mockery for how easily he got off. No acknowledgement of the threat of punishment.


Larkspur is just restating the facts. "...yes, sir." He'll...have to set his runeblade down to pick up the rest of his armor with his hands bound like this.


Krenyn won't allow it to be set down. As Larkspur kneels to retrieve the armor, Terminus Est is grasped and held upright. As if claimed by the commander.


Larkspur has in no way just been sitting here for hours clinging pathetically to his runeblade for comfort, so this certainly isn't a disturbing and unwanted separation. ...He gathers his armor, unable to shake the numbness.


Larkspur tries, though, to show the proper respect the dreadplate deserves. A surprised moth flutters out from under his breastplate as he picks it up, vanishing under his cloak to hide.


Krenyn is silent while waiting for each piece of armor to be gathered. Another disgrace is pardoned; in that Krenyn allows Larkspur to know when he has found the last piece. "Now."


Larkspur gets to his feet, balancing his armor carefully, and obediently follows Krenyn through the death gate.