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War of Attrition	By : vivarose Category: +M through R > Ninety Nine Nights Views: 4339 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Ninety Nine Nights, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 1-War of Attrition
- 2-ch2
- 3-ch3
- 4-ch4
- 5-ch5
- 6-6
- 7-7
- 8-ch next one
- 9-ch 9
- 10-chapter 10
- 11-11
- 4
- 5
- 6
A/N:OKay so the overhaul is a bit late sorry about that. >.< I hope you guys and gals all like it :)
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Dwingvatt opened his eyes and stared at teh darkness of his room. It was a few hours before dawn, too early to be awake, but he had work to do. Sighing reluctantly he sat up in his bed rubbing the sleep out of his eyes, even after the rest, he still felt drained. There were too many sudden demands being made on his fifteen year old emotions by the captive human. Hopefully she would sleep for most of the day and he wouldn't have to deal with her....The white goblin rubbed his face vigorously as he tried to block out the events of the past night with little success. It was unnerving when someone who had been bent on wiping out your entire race was suddenly made helpless and terrified. He shuddered, he could almost feel her skeletal frame clinging to him begging him to save her.
//It would've been kinder to kill her// the young goblin muttered to the darkness as he got out of bed and padded quietly to the bathroom. Once there he opened a valve pump similar to the one attached to the bathtub only this one emptied into a waist high basin. He cupped his hands under the cold water and splashed it on his face, shocking his sleep numbed brain into full consciousness. He could've built a small fire under the basin and heated the water, as heating was commonly available in the main goblin cities, but the outer most lying villages had not managed to organize that commodity yet. It mattered little, cold water worked better to wake oneself up. He waited for a moment or so for the basin to fill, then shut off the water and dumped the basin over his head. Replacing the basin he shook the water off himself, picked up a small knife and began to shave away any stray hairs on his face. His hand traced over his small pointed beard for a moment, he'd been growing it for a few years now and he considered cutting it off. He was too old to get a mate now, not that any female would look in his direction anyways. He finished shaving and splashed water on his face to rinse it. Dwinga had died when he was eleven, at thirteen he'd joined the goblin army, despite Magistra's protests, after he and Magistra had come to this small village from the smoldering heap that had once been the great city of Fort Wyanbeck. He'd taken care of Magistra, she was getting older now, thirty-seven, a remarkable age, and her healer magics drained her body of its youth, giving her the appearance of being much older. The time for them to get reestablished had allowed him to think. To mourn.
Dwingvatt frowned as he picked up a towel and finished drying himself off with it, the water from his hasty wash was collecting and draining in the groves he'd made in the stone floor. He'd never really stopped mourning for Dwinga. He'd never let his brother go. Inphyy was still alive and things a lot more complicated. The gods were probably having a field day with this. Perhaps he should just admit defeat. Dwingvatt walked back to his room tossing the towel on his bed and pulling a clean pair of pants out of a trunk. He paused for a moment and pulled out an old bronze incense burner and a small cone of incense out of the trunk as well. Perhaps Magistra had been right. For too long he'd held on to revenge. Killing Death's Red Mistress wouldn't have brought his brother back.
//So what do I do now?// he whispered to the still quiet morning darkness, setting the incense and burner on the ground, as he pulled his pants on. Unsurprisingly the darkness held no answers for him. Reluctantly he dug through the chest again and pulled out two spark rocks. He knocked them together over the incense till a spark caught and a dull glowing ember appeared at the top of the cone The white goblin stared at the ember for a few moments, letting all his attention focus on its warm orange glow as a ghostly stream of smoke began to issue from the top of the cone. Dwingvatt knelt in front of the incense moving his hands in the gestures of worship that Dwinga had taught him. He moved his left hand across his throat then down the center of his chest. He bowed his head, cupping his hands so that the smoke of the incense pooled into them then raised them up offering the thick smoke to the gods. Sitting back on his heels, Dwingvatt placed his hands palms up on top of his thighs and tilted his head back, closing his eyes. Taking a deep breath be began to pray.
---
Inphyy awoke, not quite sure at first as to why she had just snapped awake from dead sleep, but after a moment she knew. There was a soft singing, almost
wailing in quality, that was filling the house. There was a hazy pre-dawn glow issuing form the horizon outside the small window of her room, as Inphyy lay
in her blankets listening to the strange song. It sounded incredibly sad, as the deep voice wavered for a moment then rose again as if calling out to someone.
The human lay there a moment more, till her curiosity overpowered her. Shakily she rose, her body weak from days of not eating, and carefully slipped from
the room that she was in. As her bare feet padded softly on the dirt floor of the main room of Dwingvatt's home, it quickly became apparent where the sound
was coming from, a room at the other end of the small house.
She paused outside the door, listening a moment more to the song, then slowly turned the handle. To her surprise it was unlocked, noiselessly she pushed it
open.
Immediately she was hit with the near over powering smell of smoke, blood and pine. The human gagged, clapping both her hands over her mouth and doubling
over in futile effort to keep herself silent. Her eyes found the source of the singing as the mournful chant began again: Dwingvatt, half naked, was kneeling
before a small bronze plate that was issuing smoke. His head tilted back, his eyes closed as if her was deep in sleep, his lips slightly parted as the
tuneless sound issued from them. Inphyy found herself captivated by the scene, the air was thick with magic and the pre-dawn light gave the room a other-
worldly appearance. And for the first time she found herself staring at her young captor. His skin was surprisingly unmarred for a soldier of war, the muscles
in his back and shoulders rippled just slightly beneath his skin as he moved his hands in symbols in the air. Giving the impression of controlled strength.
Had she not already known he was a goblin she might have mistaken him for a young human. For a second she wondered how old he was, where his family was, and
then what he was praying to? The last thought shook Inphyy out of her daze and she suddenly felt as if she had intruded on something sacred and instinctively
bowed her head only to realize that there was no symbol. How odd...How does he direct his mind? His spirit?
She looked at him again, careful to be as silent as she could, but he'd not noticed her entrance to the room, his room... The white goblin suddenly
moved, cupping his hands so they filled with the smoke of the burning incense, then brought them down over his body in a washing motion, as if he was trying
to cleanse himself. The mournful sounds still issuing from his lips. Inphyy almost felt herself crying, even though she didn't understand the ritual, it
seemed terribly sad.And private, she scolded herself and quietly stepped back to take her leave. But the white goblin suddenly fell still and
silent. Inphyy froze as well, fearing he had realized her presence. She watched him, his arms held open in front of him, as if trying to embrace something,
his entire body tense and trembling. Inphyy held her breath, scanning the room nervously, the air had changed, no longer magical but with presence and
purpose. Something lying in wait to smoother them in silence.
//Dwinga!// Dwingvatt suddenly cried out, collapsing from his stiffly held position For a moment he lay curled of the ground his body trembling as his
breathes came in fast, uneven gulps. The goblin pushed himself back, tears were streaming down his face as she called out to the empty air in the goblin
tongue. Inphyy stared frozen on the spot, torn between feeling in terror or watching in fascination. The white goblin before her cried out again as his had
been physically struck and bowed his head, covering his face in his hands as sobs wracked his body, repeating the same phrase over and over. Inphyy couldn't
watch any longer and fled as the air in the room thickened again with the presence of a spirit. Dwingvatt didn't even notice her panicked exit, as in mindless
repentance he cried over and over again:
//Dwinga! Brother forgive me! Forgive me! Help me! Guide me! Please!// He pulled at his ears and dreadlocked hair in frustration, bowing his head to the
ground.
//Brother, please// he whispered. //Please don't leave me! Not alone. Not blind. Not like this// Dwingvatt took a shuddering breath and tried to continue but
tears overcame him and the white goblin hit the floor with his fist in frustration at his weakness. Alone. He was alone. Lost and stuck with Death's Red
Mistress. He needed his brother. I can't do it alone. I don't know what to do. How to act. It hurts to even be in the same room as her. Dwinga please,
brother-
The goblin's panicked thoughts were interrupted as he felt an embrace around him from behind.
//Don't be afraid little brother.//
//Dwinga!// Dwingvatt clasped his brother's arms, his hands passing through the corporal spirit's limbs.
//Listen to me Dwingvatt// his brother pulled him back up from his hunched kneeling position. //Let me go little brother. You need to let me go. Let me
finally rest and then peace will come to you.// he hugged Dwingvatt tightly. //I'm proud of you. You've done something very brave, even if it is under
orders. Let me go, let her go. We were all bred at the wrong time, had we met any when else things would've been different. You have the chance to fix things.
And you were always good at fixing things.// The spirit chuckled.
//But she killed you!// Dwingvatt cried in protest.
//Because that's all she knows how to do. Stop seeing her at just my killer. Besides I would've died eventually, even without her help. Trust me Dwingvatt,
make me proud again.// Then Dwinga's spirit began to vanish as rays of sunlight peaked over the horizon and through the window. Dwingvatt watched his brother
fade away and didn't speak for several minutes.
//Alright brother.// he finally said. //I'll let you go. She will take time but you deserve to finally rest. I'm sorry I held you back for so long...//
Dwingvatt whispered as the sun continued to peek itself out from the other side of the world. The white goblin took a deep breath and slowly began to sing
again. This time though the melody was peaceful, like a child's lullaby, as he spoke the words that would put his brother's spirit to rest.
Inphyy did not hear the resolve of the matter, she had collapsed, just barely making back to her room.
---
Dwingvatt opened his eyes, the sun had risen higher in the sky now, but still waking the world. Shifting his weight unsteadily, the white goblin stood from
his kneeling position where he'd fallen asleep. There was a buzzing and tingling feeling in his left leg, it had fallen asleep during the ritual. Not a
surprise though it had been a long time since he'd prayed properly. The incense was now a grey pile of delicate ash that Dwingvatt picked up he would
scatter it properly later. Now though, he had to begin making his home livable. Dwingvatt shook his leg a bit, experimentally putting weight on it to be
sure it wouldn't give out on him and felt jolts of pain run up the limb meaning that blood was returning to the muscles and he could walk on it properly
without fear of losing his balance. With that he made his way over to where he'd deposited his pack and equipment the previous night. Undoing the leather
straps he began to remove the few items of food, spare clothes, his medicine satchels and his dual curved swords then lastly Inphyy's blood rusted broad
sword.
Dwingvatt stared at the human's weapon for a moment as he held it. The workmanship was not as intricate as the goblin weapons, but the weapon was heavy,
despite the five blood holes in the blade and it seemed very unextraordinary. There were small gold platings along its length the seemed the only part that
wasn't caked in rust and blood. At the hilt of the sword the gold plating wove out making an image of wings, similar to the part of the armor the Temple
Knight had worn in battle. At the center where the wings converged was a small glittering gem. Her Orb Spark. How odd, its separate from her physical
body...The white goblin traced a finger over the dully gleaming gem, and it flashed dangerously. He frowned, not liking the weapon more and more by the
second. He pulled a sheet of canvas from one of his trunks and quickly wrapped the blade in it and shoved the wrapped weapon into the back of his closet.
Dwingvatt shuddered, the sword was dangerous and he'd just as soon destroy it. However the matter of the Orb Spark being embedded in it...Inphyy had
mentioned something about the Temple Knights being the only ones who could control the Sparks. His frown deepened as he wrapped his own swords and slide them
under his bed. Pushing the discerning thought from his mind he began to go through the remainder of his supplies.
His hands paused when he came to the wolf cloak that he'd worn in battle. It had been Dwinga's. For a moment he held the cloak close to him fighting down
the urge to cry. Gah at this rate I'll be crying as much as Inphyy, Dwingvatt shook his head ruefully, the human was an emotional time bomb, granted
with good reason, but it was exhausting for him to deal with it and control his own emotions as well. One ghost before the other. Brother I let you go,
Dwingvatt carefully folded the cloak and placed it in a trunk that held a few other artifacts from his brother and family.
//I've mourned you long enough. You were right. It�s not like it would bring you back,// he said to the contents of the trunk. With that he close the trunk
and began to go through his medicine satchel.
---
Dwingvatt sat down several hours later, most of his house in more order than it had been for the past three years, as he waited for the tea he'd just put on
to brew. It wasn't bad for not having a mate, he wasn't as chaotically disorganized as his soldiers joked he was. It was then that he realized he'd managed
to avoid Inphyy all morning. He was honestly surprised that she'd not tried to explore or escape, however in her condition neither would be very
possible, girl was a walking corpse. He pulled on a loose white shirt as he tried to think of something to feed her so she didn't die on him. The last thing
he needed, more complications. The rations he had left from the field were high protein, meant to sustain energy, not bring people back from starvation.
Dwingvatt frowned, even when the girl wasn't an emotional wreck, she was still complicated. I need fucking gloves to handle her, he thought irritably.
Why is she so thin? None of the other soldiers were. It doesn't make sense. He turned the thought over in his mind a bit while he mixed water with a
mash mixture.
He couldn't avoid her all day, as much as he wanted to. He still hurt too much. The wound was too fresh. But he did have to make sure that she didn't die on
him. Silently he walked over to the door and entered her room. For a moment he thought she might have escaped, but then saw her body nearly hidden by the
blankets, had she not moved he might have mistaken her for dead. The white goblin sat on the floor a few feet from her and watched her sleep, fighting down
the ridiculous urge to coddle the human. This is what I get for hanging around Magistra so much, a damn interest conflict! He almost laughed at the
thought. Had for Wyanbeck not been attacked he probably would be a healer now, instead of a confusing mix between two opposing lifestyles.
A whimper from Inphyy however pulled him from his internal conflict. She was twitching in her sleep, not unlike an animal caught in a nightmare, and was
moaning softly,
"No! Aspharr...Don't..." she muttered weakly, before she began shuddering again.
A nightmare, Seems like her brother still haunts her. Dwingvatt bit his lip for a moment, then reached over and shook Inphyy's shoulder gently.
"Hey, it�s just a bad dream," he said softly. Her eyes fluttered open and he wasn't sure if she was awake or not. "Just a bad dream. You're safe," he said,
not knowing if she could mentally process what he was saying. But surprising she nodded and her eyes fell closed again, a deep sigh of relief escaping her.
The white goblin watched her a moment longer to be sure the dream didn�t' return and then stood and left.
---
"Just a bad dream. You're safe." Inphyy stared at the silhouette of her captor for a moment, confusion clouding her brain. I'm safe here? Amongst my
enemies? but she was too tired to question his words and dully nodded before giving herself over to sleep. His hand lingered on her shoulder a few
moments longer, it was surprisingly warm and oddly comforting. She sighed and unwillingly relaxed, her mind slipping into a dreamless state.
A soft clatter roused Inphyy from her sleep some time later. The human tensed, not opening her eyes but when no other noises accompanied the initial one, she
opened her eyes. Sunlight was pouring through the high window, she was alone in the room. She lay there for a time, trying to summon the will to move, which
was becoming quite a strenuous task in and of itself. Finally she managed to sit up and her head began to spin. Once she was sure that she would stay upright
she looked about her, finding a small tray with a bowl of grey mash and a cup of sun colored clear liquid, Inphyy guessed it was tea. Touching the bowl she
found that it was still warm and a painful jolt ran through her stomach. I'm actually hungry, she realized. The human did consider, naturally, if the
food might have been poisoned, then decided that she didn't care much. As she tasted it, she found it to be a bland grain mixture with a small amount of
honey, then her stomach clenched-unaccustomed to eating since her fear induced anorexia had taken hold of her. The former Knight fought down the urge to vomit
as she slowly ate.
Aspharr is dead. He can't hurt me, she told herself but even so her hands were trembling to the extent that she could no longer eat. She sighed and
gave up for the moment, and wrapped her arms around her chest in a self embrace, closing her eyes and forcing her mind to go elsewhere. Anywhere that Aspharr
wasn't. Surprisingly her subconscious chose the mental photograph of the previous night. Inphyy seized the memory and buried herself in it, taking in every
detail. Reliving it.
Her naked trembling body, covered in a thin sheen of sweat. The awkward embrace--or was it restraint?--that Dwingvatt held her in as he translated the words
the healer was speaking. His grip was strong, warm. But not painful. Safe. Inphyy realized with a start. She was safest in the arms of her sworn enemy.
Here she could breathe without fear. As he had spoken in her ear his breath was hot and tickled the back of her neck, giving her gooseflesh.
Inphyy shivered and opened her eyes, the feeling of the white goblin's touch lingering on her skin. She took a few deep breaths, holding the memory a moment
longer, then let her arms drop into her lap. She had calmed and noticed that a some clothes were left next to the tray.
An hour later she had finished the food on the tray and dressed, some of her strength had returned. Inphyy toyed with the blankets that composed her bedding,
she was dressed in a long white skirt that barely managed to stay on her hips, and a dark green blouse and fighting down the urge to try and escape or at
least explore. The nagging feeling that she was getting off to easily was close to overwhelming as she stared at the square patch of sunlight that was coming
through the window. IN less than a week my captors know all my secrets and I'm at their mercy...
"Gods...why?" she whispered to the empty room, but if the walls happened to have the answer to her mental naggings, they keep it to themselves. Inphyy
shifted her weight uneasily, she hated confinement, not being able to move about or familiarize herself with the surroundings. Mostly though she hated
sitting still, waiting for something to happen. The wait was always worse than the actual act-
"No!" she whispered fiercely to herself, her good hand pulling at her cropped hair in frustration. "No don't thinking about it!" She needed to distract
herself, otherwise her thoughts would turn self-destructive. Shakily she stood, the clothes just barely clinging to her frame as she did. The material was a
coarse and unrefined mix of burlap and cotton, simple peasant clothing: rough and slightly abrasive to the skin. But it at least allowed her to retain some
sort of dignity, even if she had been stripped during the battle. Shuddering Inphyy hugged herself, the experience had been humiliating and now she was in the care of the tormentor. But he had not taken part, he had only commanded it. It didn't change anything. Still her tormentor. It was his sick idea... Yet I feel safest in his embrace. The gods must be fucking with me. There's no other explanation. But was the albino goblin really her tormentor? Was he still that after he had held her when the healer left? When he had forced her to talk about--Inphyy shook her head to drive the thoughts from it and started walking to the door, now that she was sure she wasn't going to collapse.
Much to her relief it was unlocked and she quickly left the small room. Wandering around the small house briefly, finding only a few other rooms attached To the main room, namely hers, a kitchen a bathroom and another bedroom, Dwingvatt's, where he'd been praying. The house overall was unimpressive, there was rudimentary plumbing, a fire place here or there and a old wood stove. She walked around the house three times, the last time stopping at Dwingvatt's door, wondering if he was inside or if he'd left. Which though didn't make sense. She was a prisoner, who in their right minds left a prisoner unattended? Giving them free reign at that?
For the briefest of moments she considered trying to find her sword or to summon the Orb Spark to her. But then again once she got her sword what would she do? Would she escape quietly? Would she have to fight the whole village? Could she even wield her sword given her broken wrist? Where would she go if she did escape? Back to the human settlements? It would take her months to reach them, they were so far, clear on the other side of the continent almost. No supplies either. Inphyy made a soft noise of frustration and put thoughts of escaping into the back of her mind. Quietly she opened the door to Dwingvatt's room, having learned to move about silently to escape Aspharr when they were younger, but the white goblin was not there. Feeling encouraged by his absence, she entered the room and looked it over, so much had not been visible in the early morning. Several trunks lined one wall next to his bed, each with their own strange set of symbols and a heavy padlock. There was one however that was not locked. And it sorely tempted Inphyy. Perhaps she could at least learn something about her captors while here.
Inphyy knelt by the trunk, carefully opening it. She jumped back as she did. Two wolf heads were staring up at her from inside the trunk. But then she realized that hey weren't actual heads, but just skins. His cloak, it�s his wolf cloak. The one Dwingvatt had worn in battle, but it seemed achingly familiar. Delicately she lifted the folded cloak out and placed it on top of the trunk next to the one she was going through. Looking back into the chest again, she saw several small boxes and a leather bond book with a crest etched into its front cover.
"what?" Inphyy whispered softly, she clumsily lifted the book out of the chest with her good hand and placed it in her lap, opening it. A series of unfamiliar symbols greeted her on the first few pages, then broke down into a listing of box flow charts. The charts continued for pages.
A genealogy! His entire family's genealogy! Inphyy realized with a gasp. But suddenly the pages turned blank as the charts stopped. Frowning she flipped back a few, there were only two offspring and one had a black mark by its name. But if this is up to date, he should have a sibling somewhere... the human thought. But then a cold chill ran through her. I killed his sibling. she choked on the obvious revelation. I took away his only family. No wonder he hates me. When they took my father from me in battle I hated them, but I barely knew him. I went for revenge because it was expected of me. But Dwingvatt... she left the thought unfinished and bit her lip as she flipped through the last few pages of the book and much to her surprise found pictures. They were hand drawn with what appeared to be couples, families and children. The last picture in the book was that of two male goblins, one obviously older than the other, both with dreadlocks, the older one hugging the younger one and they seemed to be on the verge of sprawling forward. The older one had a wolf cloak on his shoulders. Inphyy's heart was going so fast she thought it would explode, normally she pushed back the faces of those she killed. She locked them away. But here. A connection. The only one-
"Ahem."
Inphyy jumped and turned, seeing Dwingvatt standing in the doorway.
---
Dwingvatt pushed open the door to his house, glad that he had left it unlocked and placed a basket of spring berries he'd gathered on the table. Some plants had flourished during his absence, mostly weeds though in the small patch of land next to his home. The white goblin sighed. The few hours he'd spent away from the house had been therapeutic, but not enough. He wasn't ready to deal with Inphyy. Even with his healer's instincts, there was more than just fixing the physical wounds. She was a living creature. Not a plant. She had secrets, emotions, and had most recently attempted mass genocide on his race. Come to think of it he would rather deal with a plant than her at the moment. As plants had none of the above issues. Yes plants were preferable at the moment... Reluctantly he looked towards the room that the human was sleeping it. Was. The door was clearly open and the girl not inside.
//Shit!// he swore and stood, his eyes scanning everything immediately. The door to his room was open.Oh shit please don't let her have found my swords. Or worse. Hers.. He moved silently and eased the door open the rest of the way and almost laughed in relief. She had found his genealogy. Of all things, she was absorbed in his history than trying to escape. Or perhaps she did want to. Or didn�t' think she could.
"Ahem," he cleared his throat, making her jump and turn around visibly flinch when she saw him.
"I-I was just-" He didn�t' wait for her to finish, but activated his Orb Spark and was next to her and snatching the book out of her hand before she could finish stuttering. Again she flinched back as if expecting a blow. He glanced at the page she'd been so engaged in. It was the picture of him and Dwinga. For a moment he thought he would lose the battle with the urge to backhand the human. Instead he closed the book and put it and the cloak back in the trunk. Inphyy had scrambled out of his way as he did.
"I'm sorry," she whispered. That did it.
He whirled around on her, his yellow eyes narrowing.
"You're sorry?" he growled. "You're sorry?" he moved towards her and she backed away, shooting desperate glances at the door. He stepped between her and her path of escape and forced her backwards against a wall.
"Do you have any idea how little your shitty apology does for me?" he yells at her. "It�s not going to bring my brother back! 'Sorry' doesn't make it better! You fucking murdered the only family I had!" he felt tears burning at the corners of his eyes, but he didn't care. He grabbed her by the front of her blouse and began shaking her.
"It�s not like losing a soldier in battle or someone uncaring distant family member! Don't you get it! We actually cared about each other! He was all I fucking had!" It felt good to finally truly say it to her. Like a poison was being pulled from his body. Tears were traitorously falling from his eyes as he stood there gasping for breath, his hands trembling as he clutched her blouse. She was staring back at him, tears falling down her face as well, but more out of fear then anything probably.
"Fuck," Dwingvatt snarled, releasing her and pushing the terrified human away from him. She stumbled backwards and he turned away from her.
"Then you had to go snooping through my stuff," he muttered, his hands trembling and balled into fists. "Get out of my room." He heard her moving but then he stopped.
"Your brother," she asked, her voice trembling. "What was his name?" The question shocked Dwingvatt, he turned around looking at her suspiciously.
"Dwinga. His name was Dwinga," his eyes narrowed. "Why?" The human bowed her head as if summoning up the courage to speak.
"He's the only one I remember. All the others-" her voice choked and she put a hand over her mouth for a moment then kept talking. "All the others, their faces blend together in a chorus of screams." She put her hands over her ears as if she was hearing them now, shaking her head violently. She looked at him tear trails staining her cheeks and her entire body shaking.
"A-after he and I fought, what happened?" she asked in a whisper.
Dwingvatt did a double take at the question. Didn't she remember? She had been there, unless he was blocking it out.
"It appeared as though you had forgotten the woman and her welp. You looked at the sky," Dwingvatt recited, the memory had haunted him for years. "You gazed at the sky, a mournful look on your face as if you were silently begging something of the gods. Then as if in a trance, you walked off into the smoke and flames. He looked at her quizzically. Surprisingly he didn't feel the urge to strangle her anymore. She nodded at what he said, as if slowly processing it. Then she turned and left the room.
Dwingvatt stared after her in utter confusion. But he had little time to dwell on it as there was a scream from the main room.
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War of Attrition