A short scene from the story about Tarek's past I'm writing.
“I met a Banite warpriest years ago. The first servant of the gods I ever fought that used their power to inflict evil on others. He was a northern tiefling, like you. When I saw your horns in the tavern, for a moment I thought you were him.”
Elsinore leaned back, her red skin darkening. The tiefling barbarian grimaced, her sharp canines briefly more pronounced.
“I would hope you find more differences between us.”
Tarek considered her for a moment, his golden eyes frank and evaluative. The aasimar nodded slowly.
“I do.” He says at last. “But you too are a fighter and killer. Is a warrior for peace different from any other kind?”
“You must believe so.” Elsinore noted, leaning forward, her infernal eyes a similar shade of gold to Tarek’s own. “If you have fought for the light and your faith as long as you have.”
Tarek doesn’t initially answer, a rare feeling of self doubt lodging coldly in his heart. For a moment, he cannot look at her. He starts when Elsinore’s hand grasps his own, and he once more is trapped in her gaze.
“…I can only hope so. Sometimes I feel like it’s all I’ve ever known.”
Elsinore nods, her hand briefly gripping his in comfort before pulling away. For a long time they sit together, two children of the light and dark, comfortable in eachother’s silence.