Acantha listened to his story with unwavering eye contact. Even when he wasn’t looking at her. She saw the fury in his eyes when he finally looked at her, and her own eyes were full of respect. She slowly nodded when he summed up his story. She calmly processed in the information given to her. His story was a long harsh one of betrayal. Yet, she understood it so well.
Acantha slowly picked up her wine glass and swirled it as she formulated her words. She took a sip of it and returned it to the table before she spoke. “No.” She began her answer simply, “That is not a deal breaker. Why would it be? It is your history. It doesn’t have to define who you are today, but that does not mean it has never happened nor does it mean it has not stained your background the way it has.” She rested her hands on the table, her clearly scared left hand over her right. “I cannot fully understand everything you have gone through, but I do understand parts of it.”
“I was wanted for a long time as well, for piracy and terrorism as well. Although I do not believe I hit the number one spot.” She continued as she decided to tell him her story in return. “I can see how mine has a happier ending.” She commented and attempted to decide on a place to start. She decided to start from the beginning, “Being born into a revolution is a strange experience. It is equally tragic and frustrating. Tragic because I did get to have that childhood people wish for.” Acantha paused briefly, “The area I was born in falls on the border of what is known as simply slave lands to the map of Acrema. The Empress and Emperors of old never bothered to name it and simply used it for labor. The revolution started here.” Acantha glanced off in the restaurant. She talked about how it started, when the first attack was lead because people were starving. She didn’t remember this, her mother had only begun to date her father.
“However it is frustrating because no one will teach a child to fight when everyone else around them is dying.” She continued on to tell him about a pirate lord named Eden. How he taught her how to sword fight and use magic. How he gave her a long scar on her leg beating her down with a broadsword. She moved on to tell about when her mother’s town was burned to the ground. How they barely got out. About sword training with her father, and riding lessons from her mother. Anything they could do to make her a fighter since she’d done it herself. Acantha paused briefly, her eyes looked a little distant as she shuffled her hands, “When I was twelve I had my hand cut off. Simply because I refused to believe in a man who wasn’t even equal to the mud on my boot.” She talked about how it had happened. Seeing her father get beaten within an inch of his life and watching a motherly figure of her father’s crew get their throat sliced before all hell broke loose. Those who survived managed to gain refuge in a clinic.
Acantha changed topics and talked about how she became the captain of her father’s ship after the attack. She fought everyone on land and sea, wherever her crew and her were needed. “I have had two titles in my life. The one I am known by now was given to me after the revolution ended. When we fought it I gained the title Lady of the Land and Sea because I was so heavy in the fighting.” She continued on to talk about how she left the ship to start leading the revolution. How so many died beside her. She talked about how she was blinded in her right eye by Vervain, the man she was determined to kill.
“After four more years we lead a revolt against the capital city. When I got the chance I made the strike. I didn’t care who fell against my blade, but I made to him. And when his head rolled against my boot I watched the life drain from its eyes before I kicked it off the balcony and into the courtyard.” She finished off simply. Acantha sighed and looked down at her hands before looking at Aaron. Her eyes held a fire in them, but it was more muted, more tired.
“We are cut from similar cloth. It is nice to talk to someone who understands what it is like. Instead of one who simply repeats what has been written in history.” She reached to take another sip of her wine.