Today I wrote some more plot, I'll leave some of that here so you can get curious about it.

I also found a very beautiful song: Venticinque Aprile

I'd like it to be the main theme of the game, we'll see. Thanks for the artist by the way.

Here is the small piece of writing:

"I finally find the proper tools. Yesterday night, after having tied him to the bed and given him the medicine, I took care of his wounds. Ironically. He could still kill a bunch of us, but I have to cure him now.

Of course. Never think that elves could even do that kind of things on their own, no. They want me. I'm {i}expendable{/i}.

I sigh. I turn to the darkling, and I suddleny feel all my body paralising.

My eyes find themselves landed on two raging, small rubies, embedded in that anthracite face.

He's looking at me.

And he's...

Furious.

(pause, click)

But he's not talking.

Or doing anything.

He's just... trying to kill me.

With his {i}stare{/i}.

Oh.

Well.

I feel my body slowly relaxing. It had responded istinctively when the darkling's eyes catched mine, but there's nothing to fear at all. I sigh again, releasing the stress.

I realize that the darkling's body too has started moving from his own breath lifting his naked pectorals and torso. He's definitely awake.

v "How did you wake up?"

My voice is upset as I hold his gaze, frowning from slight irritation.

v "I just gave you the strongest somnipherum I had. You're supposed to be asleep. Don't make me waste my time, all right?"

There, I see him growl and make a new move for the first time.

My body feels weak and fragile, just for that simple movement.

Maybe, seeing him savagely killing a bunch of people I knew, has its toll on me.

I snort, giving him a contempt gaze. This beast doesn't deserve my fear.

v "I'm not working for myself, all right? I'm cleaning your woulds. For which you should be grateful."

Let's do this quick. The sooner it is, the sooner I can just get away from this prick.

I lean in, to check out his abdomen. The body of this darkling is carefully shaped in muscles. No part of his body is left neglected, as if he'd had a perfect training all his life. The darklings are very harsh when it comes to expectations, especially among the men, but this one should really be one of the best trained. At least seeing from this body. His abdomen slowly lowers together with his breath, and then lifts up again, with the muscles languidly following the lines of his body while they relax.

...

I try to concentrate on the bandages. I work on them and try to take them away."