Board Thread:Role Plays/@comment-25363089-20170729033202/@comment-30379057-20170913183705

"...I don't kill. Not anymore." Darian looked up at her. "Look, it wasn't right of me to raise my voice like that, but I'm so sick of people always seemin' to look down on us. I'm not particularly blamin' ya for anything, if I did, I didn't mean it." He huffed. "I promised myself I would keep my emotions in check, my PTSD. A lot of people asked me 'why bother becoming a Huntsman if you have this disorder?' and that is a good point, question is, I'm not quite sure. But Huntsman and Huntresses like ya were my childhood heroes, and becomin' one was my goal. I was told that my dad was one, even though I hardly knew him. That being said, I was determined to become a Huntsman... no matter what it takes." He shrugged.

"Hell, I don't even think I am a true Huntsman yet. And about that hellish place I've been held at, I would appreciate it if ya were to help, but now that I think about it, ya got other things to do, right? I can do it myself, just to prove to myself that scars can heal and to others that there's someone watchin' over them. No other kid deserves to go through what's happenin' down there. But those people holdin' them... dear God, it makes me wanna puke just thinkin' about 'em. Even after everythin' that happened, everyone that died, I never thought I would feel such a thing as this. I don't even know how to describe those sick bastards or this feelin' I have towards them. It's so foreign but there's only one word that comes close; hatred. It makes me fucked in the head... excuse my language."

He brushed a hand through his hair and turned around. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry for botherin' ya guys, for asking all these stupid questions, for wasting your time, and in general just bein' a little prick."