[h3]The Truth of Us[/h3]

[i]Do you like to hurt people...[/i]

18th of Midyear; outskirts of the Alik’r camp

The cool air of the desert’s night greeted Jaraleet as he left the cave that the group had been using as their meeting place as they decided what to do with Gregor. The Argonian looked at the footprints left in the sand, one of the trails leading in the direction of the Alik’r tent city. For a moment he felt the impulse to go down to the camp and look for Meg, to see how she was doing and to talk with her. It was clear in Jaraleet’s mind that, after what had occured today, he and the Nord woman needed to have a long and serious talk. But, for the moment, he had other matters to attend to, and so he quashed the desire to head back to the camp and instead began following another set of footprints, one that led away from the tent city of the nomads. 

“I was looking for you Latro.” The Argonian said casually as he sighted the former Forsworn, his back turned to him as the Breton seemed to be gazing at the vast expanse of the desert that stretched before their eyes. “I wanted to thank you, for your support in the meeting. And to talk about the...situation that we find ourselves in, in general.” He said as he stopped next to Latro so that they were both staring in the same direction. 

“It’s odd how much the world mimics a man.” Latro said, sounding far away. In a sense, he was. He thought back to his years in the Reach, the brothel, all the time before this trial. He still held his eyes on the distance, “The dunes shift, but it’s still the same desert no matter how much it may change. The snows cover everything, but underneath, nothing changes. It just waits until it’s uncovered again.”

“You forget everything under it is there,” he shook his head, slow, “But it is.”

“That is how life is, my friend.” The Argonian replied quietly, gazing at the dunes of the desert. “To use a different, albeit similar I feel, metaphor to yours, life is like a river.” Jaraleet began. “The currents pull us ever forward towards our inexorable end and the strength of the currents, inevitably, change us all in one way or another. And, yet, throughout all of these changes the river stays the same, always pulling us and everyone towards the sea.” The assassin said, a distant look to his eyes.

He let the silence stretch for a moment before he chuckled weakly, shaking his head slightly. “I apologize if that doesn’t makes much sense. Never been one to ponder on my life too deeply, at least not until recently I guess.” He murmured, letting out a sigh. “I can’t imagine that the trial was...easy for you to stomach through.” He tentatively broached the subject, turning his head to look at Latro. 

“You knew him better than I did.” Latro shrugged, frowning. His eyes went from the stars to the sand beneath him, shifting his feet into the sand. “I never meant to say whatever I said to you. I know I said something, but that wasn’t me.”

“In a way, though, I’m not Latro. I am Finnen Pale-Feather of the Crow-Wife Clan. Sora is the only one that knows besides you.” He swallowed, knowing the sentiment was wasted now that their journey was to go through the Reach. “I hope. Even Sora doesn’t know everything I‘ve done.”

He looked at his hands, seeming so different than Finnen of the Reach, but still all the same. “How many people do you think you’ve killed, Jaraleet?”

“That is a hard question to answer my friend.” The Argonian replied, chuckling darkly. “The first time I killed someone...I must have been ten years old? Eleven? I’m not rightly sure.” He said, shaking his head slightly. “It is difficult to know after nearly two decades spent as an assassin.” The assassin said, looking at Latro. “I assume it’s similar for you, no?” 

“Fifty-nine.” Latro said, no remorse, no joy, “Fifty-nine people. My first was when I was eight, didn’t even mean to. I killed the most men when I was Forsworn.”

He shook his head, dropped his hands back to his side and looked out at the desert again, “I used to enjoy keeping count. It was a neat little fact to pull out at the fires, a conversation starter, make sure everybody knows so nobody tries anything with you.” He sighed, “Even the big men, the tough ones, they feared young little Finnen. Everybody sleeps.”

“I used to like keeping count.” He swallowed, wringing his hands, “Now it’s just a litany of judgement. A solemn counting, a scroll of names to unravel so I can remind myself how long my history of violence spreads.”

Jaraleet was silent for a second, processing what Latro had just told him. “I won’t lie to you Latro and say that I can understand what was going through your head during your time as a Forsworn, or why you kept a list of those you killed.” The Argonian began, his tone neutral and devoid of emotions. “For me my work has never been a case of celebration, nothing to be proud of. It’s just something that I had to do, what I was born to do.” Jaraleet said, looking at the distant dunes once more. 

“Perhaps it is callous of me to say so, but the murders I’ve committed don’t trouble me. They happened in the past, there’s nothing that can be done about them except acknowledge that they occurred.” He continued on, letting out a sigh. “But I understand that you are different than me, and that you’d probably have a hard time coming to accept such an...utilitarian mindset, at least that is what I think.” Jaraleet said, placing a hand on Latros’ shoulder. “But something that I can say with certainty is that, perhaps, you need not share the burden alone? You have Sora, don’t you? And, for whatever is worth, I’m also here as well, if you believe that you can’t share that particular burden with her.”    

“Thank you.” Latro said lamely. He didn’t look at his comrade, only sighed. “I’ve shared my troubles with that woman more times than I think she could handle. She goes on about not leaving me, even if I were to hurt her. I [i]want[/i] her to leave me if I ever go that far.”

He turned to his comrade then, a grim look in his eyes, “If I ever hurt her, Jaraleet. If I ever hurt her and I am not being the Latro you know… you kill me.”

Jaraleet was silent for a moment as he absorbed Latros’ words, before he nodded silently in acknowledgement of what the ex-Forsworn had said. “I’ll make sure it’s as quick and painless as possible.” The Argonian said, his voice calm, his eyes meeting those of Latro. “You have my word.”

Latro nodded, “Thank you.”

Some moments of silence stretched between them and made the space between the two seem to grow. Latro cleared his throat, trying at a smile, “What of Meg? How do you and her fare, friend?”

Jaraleet blinked at Latro’s question, before letting out a soft sigh. “Not too well if what I saw during our groups...meeting was any indication.” The Argonian said, turning his head to look at the Alik’r camp. “I could tell that I had hurt her, at least that’s what it seemed to me based on the way she looked at me.” Jaraleet continued, closing his eyes for a second and taking a deep breath. “Did you knew that she believed I was innocent, back when Gregor pinned Nblec’s death on me?” He spoke, smiling sadly as he turned to look at Latro again. “All I wanted to do was to protect her...to make sure that she wouldn’t be harmed. Not by Gregor or by the Dwemer.”

“And yet it was me, me and my secrets, who did the most damage to her. Ironic, isn’t it?” He chuckled bitterly, shaking his head slightly. “I...I plan to go and speak to her. To be honest with her….she deserves that. To hear the truth.” 

Latro nodded, “That’s the only way. I could never feel like Sora loved me if she only knew the lie of who I am.” He said, “Someone can only love you if they know you. Jaraleet,”

Latro looked at Jaraleet with a sad smile, consoling, “Meg does not know you. What she does with the truth is her choice, but she has to know it if there’s going to be any chance of you in her future.”

It hurt to hear Latro’s words, but Jaraleet couldn’t deny their truthfulness. “You are right.” He finally said, letting out a breath he hadn’t knew he had been holding in. “She does not know me, who I really am.” The Argonian spoke, falling silent for a second. “But that changes tonight.”

He looked at Latro once more and took a step forward, clasping his shoulder. “I don’t know where, or how, to start, but now is the time for truth.” He said, letting go of Latro’s shoulder. “There’s no sense in postponing this any more than I’ve already done. Goodbye Latro, I will see you tomorrow.” Jaraleet said before he turned his back to the Reachman, beginning his walk towards the Alik’r camp.