Stroking his finger through his hair a few times, Tarith looks up, meeting the girl's eyes. A low pleasant spark tingles at the back of his mind, but his caution still remains at the forefront of his thoughts. 'She has offered to help, and at present, I can not see another coarse of action.' Glancing over at the carnage Tarith shudders. 'At the least, it will allow us to get away from this sickening mess' Turning his eyes back upon the mer-girl he says in a low voice, “Let's move to the other end of the ship. Then I want to talk to you. I. . .I can not make a decision for Darkon, and it seems that you are asking him and not me.” Without waiting for an answer, Tarith scoops the boy up gently into his arms, trying hard to ignore the scent of blood coming off the little one. Making his way along the railing he places Darkon on the deck, his back presses into the corner of the railing at the prow of the ship. Reaching forward with one hand he brushes a blood soaked lock of hair from the boy's face. A sound from behind causes Tarith to turn, rising half to his feet. |