บท 379: Ragged

I had imagined many visions of Rakkal. I imagined him pacing restlessly, armor still resplendent and polished to a mirror sheen. I had imagined a harrowed husk, sometimes with the broken stubs of horns pared down. I had imagined him, gone to fat and flab, no longer even able to fit into his armor. I had even imagined him older, just beginning to wither but still strong and fit.

I hadn't imagined him physically much the same, perhaps some new scars, or ones which memory had forgotten. He did pace back and forth, but like a caged animal rather than a triumphant warrior. His palms were together on his forehead, gradually spreading to let his fingers tease at his hair.

While not tangled, neither was that hair well brushed, nor braided. With a blink, I realized that it had been a while since it had been washed, as well.