It's their eyes, they're always on me.
Watching.
Judging.
Martel, the one whose name I deigned to actually remember is the worst. Every time I help and not just "help" he looks at me like I am a monster. His words cut deep, and I'm lucky pain isn't something I feel anymore.
"Starting forest fires is a crime." How many gnolls did I prevent from attacking the local meat filled villages and farms?
"Harvesting organs for profit is wrong." How else are we to afford things that would actually make us powerful rather than just believing in the power of friendship and junk boxes from a cat?
"What the fuck was that!?" Me saving everyone's fucking lives!
The Bear, the Rat, and the Goopy Gurl were wasting away trying to fight particularly violent shadows. I don't know their names but I like them. Dead friends don't keep me "alive".
I don't feel pain. I don't feel sadness. Honestly, I don't feel very much of anything. But I do feel something new, something invigorating.
Hunger.
That's what I feel from those who now dwell within me. The result of a whim. A hope to gain power. I expected to fail, to be stopped by my joyless companions. But I saw her. The Fletcher came to me in a vision, glancing up her clicking clacking machine, smiling as she graced me with her power.
I felt the shades enter me.
Pain. Strife. Despair. Death. All things I have promised to my tenants. I do not know what will become of me. I do know that I will keep my promise to them, and allow them to feed.
Smile.
Be the fool they expect you to be. The Fletcher watches over me and in return I will give her glorious deaths to chronicle.