To live life without regret. A dream that many chase.
![[Image: acacio22.png]](https://cdn.discordapp.com/attachments/739644738445246604/966733435232223272/acacio22.png)
The time spent following the siege of Naysien's Coat had aging Astor quiet in the politics of Osrona. Present only when needed from family, most of his days were spent within his manor. In an office, sat at desk with papers meaningless to him piled high and ignored.
Acacio leaned into high backed seat, plush velvets supporting his weight as his single arm kept him afloat with elbow pressed to armrest. Thumb spun along dark band of greyed arcanium that rested on his ring finger. Eyes of blue, they watched it spin. Whispers spilled from his lips to an audience that wasn't present to hear. A conversation with himself. With this ring.
A ring that he had been champion of since the age of sixteen, this very same conversation one he had countless times. It was just as common as his blonde curls that rested atop his head at this point. But, this time? It was different.
He was a Dragonslayer. He had done it. Lived to his great ambition, slain a great beast. The Astor had lived his desires since his youth. He had no regrets. Or, at least that is how things should spell out. Though, as he continued to spin thumb against his ring he'd find its grip on his finger loosening. As he told himself what he was. As he told himself that he was a Dragonslayer, the ring that was bound to nobleman began to rise. It began to leave from his finger which it had never budged from for nearly two decades. Something he had tried to remove many times, but found no luck.
Dark mist that rested within the gem of his ring, it began to spill out and the scent of the Occult would stain the room as it filled with seemingly never ending mist. But, these were the least of Acacio's worries. As the ring clattered to his desk his mind was filled with the memories of his past. With all of the actions he took in his goals to reach the title of Dragonslayer. They assaulted his mind.
The attack of Mei Alder.
The attack on Baleford.
The execution of Pandora.
The slaying of Vjara.
The taunting of Naysien and slaying of their child.
Injuring countless Drakanite, most of them for life.
Slaying innocents in his goal of bringing destruction to the Ebonblooded. Both Osronan soldiers and the enemy.
The execution of countless Drakanite criminals by noose.
Memory after memory came rushing back and he lived through them all again. From deep within the manor the screams of the Astor echoed as sweat raced down his body and his hand tugged at his curls of blonde, he tossed in his seat and the papers stacked high atop his desk fluttered around the mist filled room.
His curse had lifted, he was a Dragonslayer.
At what cost?
Without this voice whispering in his head he'd relive these memories, each and every dark thing the Astor did to have his dreams realized as he was driven forward by this influence within the ring he carried. It was too much to bare.
Acacio reached for his ring, striking at papers still remaining as he attempted to find it within the black mist that stunk of the Occult and other dark magics. Screaming out, he'd finally come to find it, forcing the dark band back onto his finger. The mist within the room racing back into the gem.
His screams. They ended. He stared down to his ring in a sweat.
Who was he? What were these regrets?
Acacio leaned into high backed seat, plush velvets supporting his weight as his single arm kept him afloat with elbow pressed to armrest. Thumb spun along dark band of greyed arcanium that rested on his ring finger. Eyes of blue, they watched it spin. Whispers spilled from his lips to an audience that wasn't present to hear. A conversation with himself. With this ring.
A ring that he had been champion of since the age of sixteen, this very same conversation one he had countless times. It was just as common as his blonde curls that rested atop his head at this point. But, this time? It was different.
He was a Dragonslayer. He had done it. Lived to his great ambition, slain a great beast. The Astor had lived his desires since his youth. He had no regrets. Or, at least that is how things should spell out. Though, as he continued to spin thumb against his ring he'd find its grip on his finger loosening. As he told himself what he was. As he told himself that he was a Dragonslayer, the ring that was bound to nobleman began to rise. It began to leave from his finger which it had never budged from for nearly two decades. Something he had tried to remove many times, but found no luck.
Dark mist that rested within the gem of his ring, it began to spill out and the scent of the Occult would stain the room as it filled with seemingly never ending mist. But, these were the least of Acacio's worries. As the ring clattered to his desk his mind was filled with the memories of his past. With all of the actions he took in his goals to reach the title of Dragonslayer. They assaulted his mind.
The attack of Mei Alder.
The attack on Baleford.
The execution of Pandora.
The slaying of Vjara.
The taunting of Naysien and slaying of their child.
Injuring countless Drakanite, most of them for life.
Slaying innocents in his goal of bringing destruction to the Ebonblooded. Both Osronan soldiers and the enemy.
The execution of countless Drakanite criminals by noose.
Memory after memory came rushing back and he lived through them all again. From deep within the manor the screams of the Astor echoed as sweat raced down his body and his hand tugged at his curls of blonde, he tossed in his seat and the papers stacked high atop his desk fluttered around the mist filled room.
His curse had lifted, he was a Dragonslayer.
At what cost?
Without this voice whispering in his head he'd relive these memories, each and every dark thing the Astor did to have his dreams realized as he was driven forward by this influence within the ring he carried. It was too much to bare.
Acacio reached for his ring, striking at papers still remaining as he attempted to find it within the black mist that stunk of the Occult and other dark magics. Screaming out, he'd finally come to find it, forcing the dark band back onto his finger. The mist within the room racing back into the gem.
His screams. They ended. He stared down to his ring in a sweat.
Who was he? What were these regrets?