[center][color=orangered][h3]Annara[/h3][/color][/center]

The exchange between Lothren and Alan still rang in her ears as Annara rode into the village, her hair and face covered in blood from a dinner rabbit, the carefully applied 'warpaint' making her appearance downright terrifying. Despite her attempt to reassure Alan, he was not convinced and, of course, he didn't warm up to her. Perhaps he was right - they both knew that, if somebody threatened her life, she would defend herself, even if that meant getting more blood on her hands.

As she threw her torch on an open henhouse, the chicken already roused by the noise and thus as safe from the flames as they could possibly be, Annara saw movement in the entrance of a building, a small face with wide eyes.
She dismounted and, with sure steps and a dark expression on her face, entered. Three voices all shouted over each other but they all died down when her sure hands had found what they were looking for: The hair of a small boy, no older than eight, and her knife, pressed against the child's throat. His parents stood across from her, his mother swimming in tears and his father frozen in place, his knuckles white around a spear's shaft.

[color=orangered]"Drop the spear"[/color], she said, her voice cold and unwavering. It killed her to see the people before her so powerless but had she not gotten hold of the kid, the spear would have long been buried in her chest. The man complied and, with a look of resignation that made her heart ache, let the weapon fall to the floor with a dull clang.

[color=orangered]"Good. Now take some food and coin for the road and put it in a bag. You are leaving."[/color] 
She saw a hint of defiance in his eyes but the sobbing child that was at her mercy made him think better of it as he turned and began to gather things. Annara directed her gaze at the woman.
[color=orangered]"You, go and set the beds on fire."[/color]

The woman didn't move an inch, crying and uttering incomprehensible reassurances. With a merciless tug on his hair, the child and mother yelped in panic as she drew blood, but Annara's voice, commanding and loud, pierced through the noise within the house and without.
[color=orangered]"If you don't stop crying like a useless whore, your boy is going to be a lot less pretty when you get him back. Set. The house. On fire."[/color]

Without another moment's hesitation, the woman grabbed burning logs from the hearthfire and ran about with them, destroying her home with desperate fervor. As they returned, Annara stepped backwards through the door, the parents in tow. Most of what they said to each other and the boy was drowned by the thumping of her heart in her ears, but once outside, once they saw the other villagers fleeing, the other houses on fire, the other Ytharien wiping their settlement off the map, she noticed how their shoulders sagged and knew that all will to defy her was gone.

[color=orangered]"Go. Run. And don't return. This land doesn't belong to you anymore."[/color]
With a rude push, the boy fell forward and scampered into his mother's arms. Both of his parents shot Annara looks of passionate hatred, yet their relief and fear got the better of them, as they turned to run.
Only the man let his gaze linger a bit longer and spoke through gritted teeth:
[color=lightgreen]"I hope that your death finds you helpless, desperate and agonizingly slow."[/color]

She watched them join the other refugees as the first flames broke through the roof of their former home, then turned around the corner and, no longer able to hold it back, fell to her knees and emptied her stomach. The coppery taste of blood was more welcome than that of bile, yet it did little to quench the next wave of nausea that shook her.
This entire episode had been scary, to say the least, but it wasn't the fear for her own life or what she did that made it so sickening - it was how easily she had been able to act against her better judgement and morals, how [i]powerful[/i] it had made her feel to exert control over others, how the persona she thought she only pretended to be had [b]become[/b] her, ready to do anything.

Annara heard footsteps and turned her head as she wiped her mouth. She couldn't really see who it was from the corners of her eyes, though she was sure it was one of the elves, perhaps Aust or Juna. Had they seen what she did with the family, that she had her knife at a young boy's throat? She waved her hand, the taste of vomit still tingling in her throat.
[color=orangered]"I'm fine. I... just need a moment."[/color]