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Back when he was living in Daein, Sothe only killed when he or the people important to him were threatened. He stole, sure, but that was nowhere near as bad as taking a life. But to survive in the life he lived, both were necessary; just one was easier to accept than the other.

It wasn't so bad when he was around his 'family', living in the slums, he mainly stole food, and occasionally money. But this was a war he was involved with, stealing was only half of the work now, the other half…Well, he could be called a trained killer.

This lifestyle, it was tough. Not in the sense that he was unskilled, but more of, after every battle, he would be covered in the enemies' lifeblood. Even though he tried to hide it on the outside, when he was alone, Sothe often found himself breaking down.

For a long time, he could barely stand it; after every battle, he would find himself shaking and shivering, wondering if he was still a good person, even though he killed everyday.

That changed when he finally talked with Volke for the first time; their conversation had been surprisingly deep, and personal. Sothe had finally found someone who would actually take the time to relate to him, and comfort him. The thief didn't know why the elder was actually talking to him, but he did know that it was the only thing keeping him sane.

To have the man holding him at night, and in the mornings, and speaking astonishingly comforting words was like his life support.

A/N: A random drabble that popped into my head…Vague, raw, really short, probably boring. But I was wondering . . . It would have to be tough to be in a war, especially at Sothe's age. 16? I don't really know. Still.

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