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Lash came into the sitting room, looking at Enver. He did not return her gaze, but he could quite literally sense how she looked worried, as she saw his dinner still on his plate in front of him, untouched.
Trubadin had made him some pork, grilled inside some cabbage leaves with a rather spicy sauce. Enver knew it was spicy just from the smell. After all, he had not even tried it. The meal had come with some boiled potatoes, that he had not touched either. By now the food was long cold and hence…
“Saer, you need to eat something,” Lash said.
He was quite aware of this fact. He was also aware that he was technically speaking hungry. His stomach was rumoring around, but he just could not make himself eat. He just couldn’t. Just thinking about it – about the sensation of it – made him shiver in disgust.
Lash sighed. “I don’t get it. You know you will eat sooner or later. And I… Why won’t you eat?”
“I do not feel like eating,” he said, staring at the same page of the book, he had been staring at for at least two hours now.
“You must be hungry,” Lash said.
“Maybe I like being hungry,” he shot back, making her sigh again.
“I don’t get you, saer. I don’t…” She sighed once more, before grabbing the plate and moving it from the table. “Should I heat it up again?”
“No need,” he said. “I… I do not feel like eating.”
He had not to proof anything to any nobles anymore. Before he had been forced to eat on formal events. Because people would see it as strange if you did not eat. Eating, to most people, was seen as a social thing to do. People would eat together, and if you did not eat with them, people were going to assume you were planning on poisoning them. Enver had understood that, so he had eaten with those other people.
However, these days there was nothing social about it. And he did not care about anyone enough to even try and eat. Why would he? He would probably never attend any sort of public event ever again. So, really. Who cared? Who would care?
He grunted, looking at that stupid page, frustrated that his mind would not just focus on it. He wanted to read. He did. He just found it nearly impossible to do. For seven months now he had been trying to read, and yet he had been unable to do it.
He hated it.
He hated everything.
He had a slight headache, and could feel a fluke of dizziness. Undoubtedly a side effect of the lack of food. He had not eaten in over a day. Yet, despite eating so little, somehow he still did not loose the weight he had gained in the first three months of his imprisonment. He had not gained additional weight during the last four months – not really – but it had not gotten better. It made him want to eat even less. He hated this body, too. It had always been weak and useless.
Had he not been that weak, he would never had gotten into so many bad situations. Yeah. Had he not been that weak, things would have been easier. So much easier.
He closed his eyes, trying to fight off the dizziness. But instead he felt, as if he was sitting on a rather unsteady base. He was swaying just a bit, or felt as if he was doing so. He was not certain.
Maybe he should lie down.
Darn it.
And just as if his life wanted to show him, that things always could get worse, the doorbell rang.
“For fuck’s sake…” he hissed, knowing fully well, that there were exactly two people in the world to disturb his not really existent peace: Lord Ulder Ravengard, and the dumb bard, who was responsible for his misery.
Lash’s voice told him, his luck really was horrid today. “Tav. I have not seen you in more than a tenday!”
Hells. Why? Just why?
Enver still did not understand it. He did not understand why that idiot hero came by. His best guess was, that it was all an attempt to taunt him. What other reason did someone like fucking Avariel have to pay him a visit?
“Yeah, I have been busy,” Avariel said with a sigh. “We had a lot of trouble with the Zhent recently. It was a whole headache.”
“With the Zhent? You go up against the Zhent?” Lash asked.
“I mean, someone has to. They… They are bad people. Or… I guess many of them are. Enough that someone has to do something about it, and…” The man broke off, and Enver could just assume that he shrugged or something. Then the bard lowered his voice. “How is he?”
“Enver? He is… Well, as usual.” Lash, too, was lowering her voice. “He has not been eating.”
“Well, I might just have the thing for that.” Something was clanking. Something like pots or items like that.
“Try your luck, but you know…”
“I know…”
Enver would have given quite a few things to just disappear from the spot. Anything to not have to deal with Avariel’s fake niceties. Anything, really. He would give a hundred gold at the very least for that. And yet, there was sadly no mage around to fulfill his wish, and so a moment later the door to the sitting room was opened.
“Hey,” Avariel said, smiling widely again.
“You really won’t leave me alone, will you?” Enver grumbled.
“You really insist on going through the same motions each time,” Avariel countered. “Yes, I really am trying to be nice to you. Yes, I know you do not believe me. No, I am not doing this to make fun of you.” He sighed a rather exasperated sigh.
“You are right,” Enver grumbled. “I do not believe you.”
“Yeah.” Avariel went over to sit in the armchair. “I am well aware of that.” He was carrying a fabric bag with himself. “And I do not know what I can do to make you believe me.”
“Nothing.”
Enver really did not understand it. He had tried to kill the man three times already – that was after the guy had stopped their plan. And still the man would return again and again. He had not tried to fight Enver. In fact, he had not even fought back, when Enver had tried to kill him. But at the same time he would come back here again and again and again, no matter how often Enver told him, that he did not want to see him ever again.
Now the guy sighed, and looked at Enver. “I… I heard you did not eat again.”
“Why do you care?”
“Because…” The man stopped short, and gave another sigh. “Look, I can see you are miserable, and I feel it is my fault.”
“Obviously it is your fucking fault, Avariel.”
Avariel just looked at him, and once again, his gaze was so soft, that it was almost hard to not believe in the truthfulness of his intent. “I guess.” He picked up the fabric bag, getting two things out of it. “Well, I brought you food, you know? I… The daughter of some friends had her birthday. We had leftovers.”
“I don’t care.”
“I know,” Avariel said. “But…” He paused, clearly looking for the right words. “I don’t know if some part of you feels guilty and is trying to punish you for what you did, or if… I just don’t get it. Why do you insist on being miserable.”
There it was again. The anger flushing through Enver’s body. He got up. “I do not insist on being miserable, I just happen to be miserable, which is fully your fucking fault, Avariel. And I hope you know that. If it had not been for you and your stupid little friends coming and… and ruining…” He stopped, swaying now. He was dizzy. Sweat was on his forehead, and for a moment he felt almost like blacking out.
Worst of all, Avariel noticed this. He got up, gently pushing Enver back into a sitting position. “You really need to eat and drink something,” he said softly. He put the bag onto the table, getting two clay puts out of it. “Look. I have brought you some cake. And some casserole. I am sure Lash can heat you that up.”
Enver wanted to reply something. He wanted to, but his breath was fairly flat, while his head was still spinning – or felt like that at the very least. “I don’t… I don’t want to,” he muttered.
“You are dizzy, because you have not eaten enough,” Avariel said softly. “I know that. Had that happen to me a couple of times, too.”
“I don’t care,” Enver muttered.
“You say that…” Avariel looked at him. “But you don’t want to die, do you?”
Enver opened his eyes, staring at the man. “Maybe I do. What do you say to that, Avariel?”
Avariel just sighed. “You don’t believe it. Otherwise you would have killed yourself long ago.” He got up. “I will bring this to Lash to warm it up.” He took one of the clay pots and left the sitting room again, leaving Enver just to sigh.
He just could not understand Avariel. And he could not understand, why the guy did even try to act like this.
It was humiliating to them both.
It felt at times almost as if the asshole felt bad about bringing Enver in that situation, but of course that was not going to be it. Because Avariel was a self-righteous hero. And self-righteous heroes were not going to feel bad for bringing a villain into this situation, were they now?
Enver leaned back on the sofa, as the world around him was still spinning.
He really wished he was not cursed with this stupid body. He wished he could just get out of it. He hated to have to maintain it. He hated the food most of all. He had always hated eating, but these days it was just getting worse.
Humiliating. It had been humiliating to eat that bit of casserole. Sure, the taste had not been bad, but the texture had been. Well, every texture was. The truth that nobody talked about was, that every food, once chewed, would turn into the same disgustingly mushy texture.
Enver remembered that even as a kid he had tried to swallow his food whole, pouring it down with lots of water. He also remembered his mother complaining about it a lot.
And that all had been before Raphael and his stupid mind games.
He shivered still, remembering those. He had just been a kid when he had ended up in Avernus – and that devil had toyed with him so much, whenever he would get bored. Making him think that he was swallowing living insects and other stuff.
The memory alone was almost enough to make him sick.
He shivered, and tried to focus once more on page he was trying to read. Trying.
Avariel had not stayed that long today – thank the gods – but this did not mean that Enver got to actually focus on anything. Because other than unwelcome guests his own mind was his biggest enemy these days. It would just bring up old memories and other things, rather than allowing him to do anything constructive. Well, as constructive as his life was ever going to get again, given he would never once leave this house again, was he?
A knock on the door made him grunt. “Yes?” He knew it was Lash. After all, the two other staff he rarely ever saw. He did not even know what had moved them to stay working at his household, but it was clear that they did not particularly care about him.
“You still did not eat the cake,” Lash noticed, as she entered the room.
Enver looked at the table. Indeed, there was still the piece of cake standing, that Avariel had brought along. A piece of some sort of apple tarte by the looks of it, with what seemed to be some sort of crunchy top.
Crunchy, yeah. But he knew that once chewed this too would just turn into mush.
“I don’t want it,” he muttered. “You can have it.”
Lash looked at him, considering this for a moment. “You know, if you starve yourself for days at a time, and then eat so much at once, that is not good for you, right? That cannot be healthy.”
“I did eat, what else do you want?” he grumbled.
“You barely ate enough. Not given that… When did you even eat the last time?” Lash asked.
“I don’t care.”
“But I do, saer.” She sighed. “Look, I do want you to be… Well, if not healthy, at least as healthy as you can be. And… You do need to eat.”
“I don’t care.” He did not even look at her – just past her. He hated the way she was mothering him like some sort of hen or something. She was younger than him, for fuck’s sake.
“Do you really not care whether you live or die?” she asked softly.
“I don’t,” he grunted.
“Saer…”
“Look, I am paying you to take care of the household,” he said. “Not to act like some sort of mother hen. I am fine, alright? So just… leave me alone.”
“But saer…”
“That is an order,” he said.
That made her sigh – though in the rather annoyed way. He could see, how she clenched her fist, but in the end she just hook her head. “As you wish, saer. Call me if you need anything.” With that she turned around and left, while he remained sitting on that sofa.
He stared at the book, then at the piece of cake.
For fuck’s sake. He just… He hated everything. But most of all he hated, what he had become. The same thing he had always been. A loser. Someone not worth of anything. Not even respect.
He had failed. And sooner or later, he would fail again.
