Eye for an Eye

The stench of Novus' demise was still on my clothing. I was at the Rabid Sleen, drowning what was left of my jagged and bleeding heart in enough alcohol to probably kill me. If I were that lucky. That was when Venor chose to storm in. He'd drawn his blade and I just sat there, watching him. The sharp end of it impaled in the wood of my table, I made no move. He was annoyed at my apathy toward the challenge, toward the danger. He didn't know how much I would have appreciated the blow, if he'd had the balls to do it. I got up and went up stairs to my room, I just wanted to sleep. But he was hot on my heels.

He was mad. Livid. Both for the fact I had bedded Damos and not him, and for the fact I was now despondently grieving the loss of the only man I loved. I told him to get out. Get out and not come back unless it was upon his knees. He did leave, but he returned the next day.

It was not on his knees. It was ranting and raving, threatening, and then he threw a small pouch on my bed. It was his eye. He'd cut out his eye, some bizarre love token, some very psychopathic attempt at proving ..what? Devotion? Needless to say, flowers would have been nice.