[center][color=#008b8b][h2]Fionn MacKerracher[/h2][/color][/center]
[hr][@VitaVitaAR] [@Raineh Daze] [@6slyboy6]
[hr]

By the time Amy had made it over, the Boars' commander had long lost any ability to speak around the well of blood rising to fill his throat; as his final breaths bubbled through Fionn knew there was likely no chance that Clarice and Veilena with their knowledge could halt the curse and prolong the man's life, or that Tyaethe might manage to pull something else out of her hat like she had the night of the ball. No, as Amy sank down against him and issued her own plea to the man, he closed his eyes with a sigh.

[color=#008b8b]"Gods have what mercy on you they will,"[/color] he murmured at the mercenary's last gasps, pink foam bubbling up and over the grimaced lips. [color=#008b8b]"At least you weren't so proud as to refuse to try and aid us at the end."[/color] He let the body down as the others spoke up around him, one hand closing the corpse's eyes rather than leave their empty stare. His left arm wrapped around Amy's waist, dimly aware that she was relying on his physical support as much as she was trying to help with the enemy commander. With his right, he reached out, fingers wrapping around the hilt of the sword he'd dropped moments before as he placidly listened to the others speak around him.

Staring down at the Boar's face, still twisted with pain even in death. Whatever crimes the man had committed in life, he'd at least held on to enough of a sense of decency not to support the corruption of his men, enough of his honour to answer a challenge honestly. Betrayed and silenced by his patron at the last chance he had to make any show of repentance for his wrongdoing. After so many years spent on the field of battle, some in outright war, there was little that could make Fionn sick—but his stomach still roiled with revulsion at the injustice committed before his own eyes.

He hung his head, breathing deeply, still for a moment as the others spoke around him.

[color=#008b8b][i]"Clarice Kastin."[/i][/color]

He growled the name out in the momentary silence, his voice as brittle as grinding ice as he played back the last bits of the conversation around him, head still low. Not offering the girl the chance to try and win him over with some cute act or pout, nor leaving any room in his words for her to pick apart or disregard his statement. [color=#008b8b]"You owe our captain an [i]apology."[/i][/color]