"Well, here we are," Bolion remarked, "Essyrn."
He dismounted Orrin, and made directly for the center Hut, leaving his horse to wander around the blackened farm. Disappearing inside the shadowed hut, which was roofless but still integral, regarding the scorched stone walls, he sat down amidst the ash, and pulled out his bowl, setting the incense, but not lighting it. He also pulled out his flask, and sat up against a wall.
Whispering to only himself, Bolion said, "'Ana huna, ldhlk aismahuu li harq."
Della swung off her horse's back and lead him after Bolion and Orrin. She hovered outside the hut, shifting her weight awkwardly.
She waited patiently and patted her mount's neck. "You need a name, my lad," she murmured almost absently.
Bolion emerged from the hut after several minutes, ashy, but otherwise the same.
"Can you help me gather some wood please?" He asked Della, and motioned vaguely towards the low hanging trees dotted around the farm.
She nodded and briefly made sure the horses were tethered before setting about the task.
"Does it make it better?" she asked suddenly, not looking at him.
"What?" He asked, confused, "Does what make what better?"
He had a small hatchet, procured from his saddlebags, and was in the midst of hacking into a shrubby tree. All the while he watched Della intently, taking note of her strange manner.
"The..." She waved her hand. "Whatever you were doing in there. Does it make it...better?" She huffed. "Hurt less, I guess."
Bolton registered her question, and chuckled, "No, not really. I just want to build a fire, and consequently, wood is used for that. I was sitting down, nothing more." He continued to hack away, felling the small, dry, tree (for he had picked one long dead) and began to work on sectioning off the branches and trunk into smaller bits.
"Hmph." She didn't buy it, but she let the subject drop. She tossed the wood she'd gathered into pile near him and moved to check on the horses.
After chopping his wood into more manageable sizes, he began to carry and stack his wood in the center of the stone hut, forming a sizeable pile. When he was satisfied with the arrangement, and had moved his bowl accordingly, he called Della over.
"I need your help again." He said, arms crossed and watching the hut, "Can you light it up? Normally I labour away for a while, but seeing as you're here..."
Della moved closer with without a word pointed a finger at the wood. A spark leaped from her fingertip, blue-white, and ignited the kindling with a small crackle.
She knelt and started rummaging through her pack. "The new horse needs a name," she noted aloud, more to say something than because she thought it really needed to be addressed.
"Is the new horse a boy or a girl?" Bolion inquired. He sat on his haunches, and watched the blaze begin.
"Gelding." Della eyed him and Orrin, frowning. "I'm not sure I like him and Orrin traveling together, but a mare would have just been asking for trouble."
She huffed and scratched at her head, mussing up her hair around her horns. She yawned, a long day starting to set in. "I'll just call 'im Rain for now," she decided. "Poor thing's probably had a dozen names in his lifetime."
"A name changes. Purpose, however does not, and if he's a good horse, I don't think it matters what you call him." Bolion commented, turning his head to Della. He took a swig from his flask, a motion practiced and rigid. There would be much of that tonight.
Della rolled her eyes "Suuuuuure you don't drink," she drawled with a meaningful nod to the flask.
"I don't." He said matter-of-factly, "Orrin however might get edgy. Was never cut, because the Lord's horses had to be the fastest. The testosterone made them more competitive, and they had their own separated stables anyway. And he," he swung the flask vaguely towards Orrin, "was the best. Also quite violent when need be."
Bolion scrambled to his feet, and picked up the individual incense sticks, dipping the tip of each in the bonfire. After lighting them he placed them delicately in the bowl, and watched them smoulder. His eyes grew wet, but tears didn't come, and he drank again, a long swig that drained half of the remaining canteen.
Della frowned but didn't comment, just gave a whistle toward the horses. Orrin ignored her, as she'd expected, but Rain clopped over and nuzzled at her outstretched hand, obviously expecting a treat.
"Sorry, lad," she murmured. "Just don't want you two getting into trouble." Her eyes flickered over to Bolion. "How long do you plan to stay here?"
"A night." He said tersely, staring into the flames. There was a silence, and he continued, "You know, that I'll live to be one hundred and forty years old? If I don't get killed beforehand that is. One hundred and forty!" He exclaimed it with amazement, but seemed almost bitter.
"And the oldest of them was thirty seven." He bit out, motioning to the blazing hut, "And I'm almost that old!"
Della blinked.
Huh. Maybe this was why he didn't drink.
"I'm...sorry," she offered slowly. She cast around desperately for something to say, andfor some gods-forsaken reason what popped out of her mouth was, "Adrien was barely twenty-two. It...doesn't seem fair."
She honestly didn't know how long she'd live herself- probably not as long as her companion though.
"Life isn't." He muttered angrily, and finished off the small flask, and threw it at the burning hut. The flask struck the stone and bounced harmlessly to the side, but the sound cleaved through the roar of the flame. Orrin spooked, and stood in panic, but Bolion didn't take notice. Standing quickly, bowl in hand, he let loose a roar of anger and pain, sending the bowl flying violently at the walls, splintering the incense and cracking the bowl in two.
Bolion clenched his fists, and stared at the broken bowl. He slumped back down, hands on his knees and head hung low. "Fuck!" He shouted, to no one in particular, "Tiba lakum jamiea!"
Rain spooked, skittering sideways, and Della shot backward, eyes wide. "H-hey, calm down," she said quietly, then winced.
Well. That probably wasn't going to help any.
Warily, she got to her feet and approached him. She raised her hand, hesitated, then held her breath and reached out to touch his shoulder, silent.
Bolion glanced at her hand and scowled, but didn't remove it. He still did not cry, although his eyes were reddened. He stood, and stalked over to another hut, this one unlit, and laid within, upon the overgrowth and ash. He rested, slouched on the wall.
After a time, he called, "I wasn't there. I should have been there, and I wasn't there." He was defeated, and drunk, his words slurred ever so slightly.
She frowned, approaching slowly, like he was a wild animal. Gods, she had so not signed up for this.
"It seems to me like you can't blame yourself for that," she murmured slowly. "That's not your fault."
"But see, I was there, and I left! And by the time I came back..." he motioned to the homestead around them, "It was gone. They were gone... And I wasn't there." His scowl had deepened, anger still evident in his tone, "Even if I had died with them, at least I would have been there!"
"Hey!" She knelt in front of him, scowling. "What good would that have done anyone? Then you'd just be dead!"
She shook her head and looked away. "I tried that way, alright? It's not like it does anything for anyone but yourself."
"Yeah well it's not like there's really anyone else left to consider, now is there?" He defended, but then puzzled, went on, "What do you mean, you tried?"
He sat up slightly, ready to stand, although he was only adjusting for comfort.
Her expression shut down. "Nothing. It's not important. Look- do you really think your family would be happier or something if you'd died with them?"
"They're dead!" He fought her, exasperated, "I don't think they can be happy!"
He got off of the floor, awkwardly sliding up the wall, and wobbled slightly as he stood. His scowl morphed into a grimace, "I don't risk my life because I think it's fun, Della."
"Gah!" Della threw her hands into the air in exasperation. "I never said you did!"
She huffed and turned her back to him, stomping back to the campfire and grumbling under her breath.
His drunkenness clouded his judgement, and he went after her, "Where're you going?" he growled, seeing her leaving as a personal sleight. In his anger, and stupidity, he grabbed wrist, "Hey!"
Caught off guard, Della hissed like a wildcat and swung around, hand raised with a ball of electricity gathering in her palm.
She managed to catch herself in time and froze, panting as she looked down at him. "Let me go, Bolion," she ground out.
Bolion from several days ago would have listened, in fact wouldn't have done it in the first place. Even Bolion from a few hours previous would have been rational, but Bolion now was drunk, angry, and thick headed. Besides his emotional trauma, when drunk, his orcish heritage bore it's teeth and reared it's head. The first night he'd gotten truly drunk was the same night he'd learned to kill a man with a glass barmug. A deep, very inhuman growl emanated from his throat, and a snarl spread on his face.
"No." He snapped, and tightened his grip. The little voice that would traditionally yell at him to be reasonable was throwing up in the bathroom, and so he pushed, and bitterly viewed Della as somehow antagonizing him, despite the reversed reality.
For the first time in years, Della felt a little thrill of fear run through her. "I said let go!" she demanded, trying to tug her wrist free. Magic crackled to life in her palm again. "Don't make me do something I'll regret you pig-headed merc," she hissed, silver eyes flashing.
Bolion deigned to release her, instead closing the gap between them, sandwiching his grip between them,and stared into her eyes, searching for something he didn't seem to find. He never left her eyes, and after a tense few seconds, pushed her and her hand away from him a tad roughly. It was only then that he saw the lightning in her palm, and flicked his eyes back up towards hers. He snickered lightly, and stalked back towards his overgrown hut, muttering to himself something about unfairness.
She growled as he got a closer, a feral sound that was nowhere near human.
But then he released her and stalked back into the hut and she blinked, surprised. "What- oh hell no!"
She stomped after him. "What the fuck do you think you're doing? You don't get to throw a tantrum like than and then walk away like nothing happened!" She cuffed him on the back of a head in what was strangely almost a maternal gesture, scowling.
As soon as the hand hit him he tensed. After a second's gauging, he spun around, backhanding Della across the face, and on the return gesture caught her under the jaw. Stepping towards her, he let his arm go slack, only slightly, then flexed and straightened, picking her up and throwing her out of the hut, by her throat, all within the span of a few seconds.
Still standing in the doorway, he grunted, turned back into his hut, bent over and threw up.
Completely stunned, Della rolled a few paces before laying on her side, gasping. Her jaw ached, heart racing, flashes of memories she'd rather not have racing trough her mind.
No. fuck this, it didn't control her. Snarling, she got to her feet and shouted a spell, throwing a hand toward the hut.
A net of bluish-white electricity formed around the hut, effectively forming a cage. Still growling quietly, she made her way back to her bedroll and curled up, nursing the hurt carefully.
Bolion finished vomiting, drawing a hand across his mouth. He walked towards the net, and extended a hand to it, intending to push it, but got shocked quite painfully. Jerking his hand back, he stared at the net and decided that full on shoulder bashing it was the best course of action.
Taking a few steps back, he ran at the prison, and ashen he hit it, it stretched a little bit, then electrocuted him so badly that when it flexed back towards the hut he simply fell backwards, partially into his own vomit, fully unconscious. His head hit the ground with a thud, and any hope of waking up in the next five hours was gone.
He came back to consciousness slowly, and his head hurt immensely. One part alcohol, two parts violence contributed to a throbbing for migraine, and a bath in bile. He pushed himself up onto his hands, and looked for the way out, which was still electrocuted.
"Della!" He called, then groaned and pressed a hand to the side of his head, and much more quietly said again, "Della."
She'd been awake for an hour now, having fed and watered the horses and put a salve on her bruised cheek and jaw. When he called her name, she stalked forward to stand on the other side of the net and arched an eyebrow.
"Do you need something?" Her voice was pure ice.
"I'm sorry." He said quietly, then in absence of anything else, "I don't drink for a reason." He shifted awkwardly, and winced, then looked down. He had crisscross burn marks on his clothes and skin, and his right shoulder had first degree burns on the skin, a hole burnt through the shoulder cloth.
"I fucked up, alright?" His tone was bitter, but whether at her or himself he didn't know. "And I need to clean this shit off of me, so let me out. Please." The last word was added belatedly, admittedly as an afterthought. Normally his consequences for drinking were self imposed, and he didn't have to plead with himself when he wanted out.
She stared him down. Then, slowly, she raised a hand and clenched her fist. The electric cage flickered away.
"If you ever strike me again, I will stop your heart," she warned, then put her back to him and walked away.
Bolion couldn't help but narrow his eyes, and vowed to finish the job if he ever fought with her again, heaven forbid. He was still a tad drunk, but most of the effects had worn off. He stripped off his ruined shirt, and began to walk. He walked out of camp and down the road, for perhaps a mile, bringing nothing more than his trousers. He soon found what he was looking for, a small pond a mile or so south of camp, and stripped down. He slid into the water, the cold making him flinch, but soon relaxed.
You really fucked up this time bud, he thought to himself, and began to think over his options.
After a few moments, Della followed. Finding him was easy, and once she had she tossed a small tin jar toward him.
"Put that on your burns," she said briskly. "It's enchanted. Helps things like that heal fast."
"Thanks." He muttered, and set it down on the bank as he soaked. He called to her, before she left again, "You need to cover up. We're in Essyrn now."
"I thought you wanted me not to cover up in the city," she pointed out dryly.
"What?" He screwed up his face, confused, "Yeah, but no. Different kind. Wear a turban and a skirt. Unless you're the Shah's men, or a priest, black robes get you shanked."
She waved a hand at him as she made her way back to camp. "Right, I'll get on it."
Bolion walked back into camp an hour later, still shirtless, but now much cleaner and salved up. He undid his back, and took a jacket out from within. It was leather, double thick, and the sleeves stopped just before the elbow. The front couldn't be done up all the way, and so it was really more of a vest.
He gathered his little belongings, and mounted Orrin. "I'm ready. Are you?"
Della had fashioned a sort of turbin out of her tunic, covering her horns if a little ungainly in appearance. She still wore breeches, but now her torso was clad only in a breastband.
Her cheeks were very blue. "Let's just get this over with," she grumbled as she mounted Rain.
"Great!" Bolion said with enthusiasm that didn't fit the scenario, "You'll blend right in. How's your Essyrni, by the way?"
He led them on Orrin down the same path he had walked before, except that he didn't stop a mile down this time. He went on, and for miles, there was nothing but landscape, as most of the settlements were within the desert, and they had only just breached the vague border between Adela and Essyrn, The Moraki not fifteen miles from where they had rested. In fact, they could even see it once they topped a hill, and yet again, Bolion beheld the stretching expanse of beige, orange and red that went on for as far as the eye could see in any direction. He still was a tad overwhelmed when he came back to it after being away.
"Oh, fuck off," Della grumbled as she urged Rain to follow. She felt exposed and vulnerable and she did not like it.
She couldn't speak a lick of Essyrni, and she told him so in the same irritated grumble that seemed to have become her default tone these last few days.
"When does the oasis start?" she asked after a while of traveling in silence. The endless expanse of sand was making her...twitchy.
"Desert center," Bolion replied, "Which is about two hundred miles south of here. The caravans have water, and there are wells, if that's your concern. Also we might have to sell the horses to the first caravan we come to."
He rummaged around in Orrin's saddlebags, and found a wineskin filked to the brim with water. He unscrewed the cap, all the while letting Orrin steer himself, and drank deeply. He turned in saddle to Della and shook the skin at her, "You want some?"
"Sure." She held her hand out for it. "Why aren't we traveling with a caravan again?" she grumbled to herself as she guided Rain with gentle touches from her legs.
"Because we haven't run into one." He said rather plainly. He sat comfortably in his saddle, but worried that they wouldn't make good speed on the horses. Camels were preferable. He continued, "If we do, I'll try to secure us a job, but they might not need us."
"This place is too damn hot," Della grumbled. "Why in the names of all the gods to people live here."
She was honestly just being ornery at this point- if she was truthful with herself, she was still a little afraid of her companion now, eyeing him warily. It was easier to channel that into irritation and snark than to admit to the uneasiness.
"Adela has too many damn dragons," Bolion retorted, a wry smile painting his face, "Why in the names of all the gods would anyone raise livestock there?"
While the alcohol had given him a migraine, the arid desert winds and deep heat had begun to clear his mind, and he could feel himself tanning. Oh, he loved that feeling.
Della hissed at him halfheartedly and did her best to shade her body with the stupid, gods be damned "turban".
"I'm going to bake like a loaf of bread out here," she grumped. The bluish tinge to her skin seemed to become more prominent the longer she was exposed to the sun.
"You'll be fine. With luck you'll turn a nice blue, and without it, you'll turn pink. Either way, I'll enjoy listening to you grumble about it the entire time," He finished his sentence in a playful, but accusing manner. All the girl seemed to do was grumble. Granted, recently she had more reason to, but still. It made sense why she kept to herself.
"Fuck you," Della replied in a tone that was strangely good-natured. "Considering you decided to toss me around like a rag doll last night, I'm allowed to grumble a bit," she added pointedly.
"Hey I said I was sorry!" He defended himself, but was earnestly feeling pretty dickish about the whole thing. He turned his head to her and asked, honestly concerned, "How's your jaw doing by the way?"
She waved him off. "It's fine. I mean, you try something like that again and I'll make you wish you'd never been born, but it's fine."
She glanced over at him. "How are those burns?"
Bolion made a face, and said, "Peeling. It's like a sunburn but ten times worse," As he spoke he lightly plucked the vest off of his raw shoulder, and peered in, "Yeah it's gone down a few layers too. Probably going to scar up like a waffle."
He paused a second, and grinning mischievously, continued, "I'm just glad I decided to throw you out instead of through the wall. Not gonna lie, I was actually considering it, but I guess I didn't really want to hurt you... that bad, anyways."
Della curled her lip and glared at him. "You know, I was gonna apologize about the burns, but now I don't think I really care enough," she muttered.
Bolton let out a laugh, and replied, "Don't apologize. I earned these, and I'll acknowledge that."
There was a silence, but he changed subjects, "Do you think you overpaid for Rain?"
She shrugged and patted her mount's neck. "Nah. He's a good boy, been putting up with a lot. A good horse is worth his weight in gold, far as I'm concerned."
Rain tossed his head as though he knew she was praising him and she smiled. "A good horse saved my life once," she added easily. It seemed once she was talking about animals, she could be quite chatty. "Never really paid much mind to cost after that."
"Well Camels cost about a horse and a half out here, and not saying that he's a bad mount, but if we get hit by a sand storm or go a while without a lot of water he'll drop like a fly in a fire. And I don't think that the sand will be good for either of them," he patted Orrin's neck as he spoke, "It's too deep. We're actually going to a bazaar, to get some supplies, so we should sell the horses while we're there."
Another shrug. "I'll defer to your judgement out here."
Bolion smiled to himself, and pounced on the opportunity, "Well, we could always eat the horses, burn down the bazaar and take the all the camels and supplies we need free of charge. We could start a trading company with the resources! Think of the profits!" He grinned slyly, "But that's just my judgement of the situation."
Della started, stared at him with wide eyes, then scowled.
"Oh haha," she snapped. "I hope to gods you're good at your job, with all I've put up with from you," she muttered grouchily.
"I could tell you that I'm fantastic, but I doubt that'll convince you." He replied, "But I guess I'm good enough for our employer, so you'll have to suffice with that."
He stood another drink, sparingly this time, from the skin and tossed it back to Della.
She caught it one handed and took a swig, then tossed it back. She fell quiet, either contemplative or just zoning out as she stared around at what seemed to her to be a never changing landscape of sand and heat.
The sky rotated slowly, the sun rising high, and then lowering, blue shifting into red and the heat of the desert leaving the sands. Bolion dismounted Orrin after riding in the dark for a few minutes, their way lighted by the stars. The entire galaxy was visible, a stripe of light peppered with dark flecks breaking the pinpricks of white and red that made up the stars of nighttime.
"I love desert stars," Bolion said to Della, his eyes all the while locked on the heavens.
She'd been glancing up every few moments, rather fascinated despite herself. "Guess its real clear out here," she murmured as she dismounted.
"There's a legend that the gods had a great battle," Bolion explained, "and in their monumentous rage tore the heavens asunder. And that the white stuff, the star clusters, were the flashes of heaven, holes in our world through which we could see a place we were never supposed to." He sighed, reminiscing to his childhood, "But that's just a legend, as far as the astronomers are concerned. I still like it though."
"Hmph." Della didn't comment, just set about making camp, but she seemed oddly thoughtful as she went about the familiar motions.
"Whatcha thinking' about," Bolion asked rather childishly, his standard demeanour showing again in his behaviour. Coming back to the desert was good for him. It made him feel comfortable in ways riding a horse with two people, one of which was a tailed blue lady, did not. Nonetheless, he'd noted her relative silence, and unless she was very angry with him, he couldn't see a reason why she should be.
She glanced up at him out of the corner of her eye. "What? Oh, nothing. Just..." She shrugged and shook her head. "Nothing. I'm tired, that's all."
She spread her bedroll out and started tracing a circle in the sand with her foot, marking out a place to start a fire. Her tail flicked, trapped against her leg by her breeches and she fidgeted uncomfortably.
"Are you getting a dress for that?" Bolion inquired, speaking plainly about the twitching bulge in her pants. He snickered to himself as he thought the words, thinking of a very different kind of pant bulge. He unrolled his bedroll next to the now resting Orrin, and laid on the ground stretching out, running the sand through his fingers.
Della made a face at him and rolled her eyes. "I suppose I'll have to. This is just so uncomfortable."
She fidgeted a little more, then gave a small growl of frustration. "Fuck this," she muttered, stripping off her breeches before climbing into her bedroll.
She certainly wasn't used to just lounging about in her smallclothes, but it was preferable to having her tail all scrunched up against her leg.
Bolion's eyes widened, then he grinned, and let out a low whistle, "Should I be paying for this?"
As soon a second the words left his mouth, he ducked under his arms in anticipation of something, he didn't know what. He'd just come to expect a retaliation at this point, but hey, that's why he bugged her.
Della gaped at him, then growled, flushing almost azure blue. "Oh fuck off!" she grumbled, reaching for the nearest object to chuck at his head- which happened to be the water skin.
Not the most effective projectile, but at least it made her feel better. Still blushing, she ducked into her sleeping roll in an attempt to cover herself.
Bolion laughed innocently, and picked up the water skin. "Thanks, the show was making me kind of thirsty."
He leapt over the sleeping horse and hid behind him, sure that she wouldn't throw things if injuring one of that animals was a possibility.
"You-!" She dove for her pack, then realized he was using the horse as cover and sat back with a low growl.
"Coward," she accused. "Some merc you are."
He only laughed more, his sides beginning to hurt. Calling back over the horse. He said, "My face is my only pretty asset. I can't have you busting it up now can I?"
He snuck back around the horse, hands above his head the entire time. "Don't kill me!"
Della snorted at him with yet another roll of her eyes. I swear, traveling with him I'm gonna get them stuck up there.
"I won't kill you if you don't look at me," she retorted.
"Ah, but the eye is naturally drawn to beauty, is it not?" He said in a mockingly noble accent, trying to give off as pretentious an air as he could. He laid cautiously down on his bedroll, still watching her in case she decided to throw something at him again.
Della made an obscene gesture in his direction and rolled over to put her back to him, evidently trying to ignore him as she started to drift off.
"Goodnight Dell," he said as he mimicked her motions, and settled into his own roll. He just hoped that the desert was kind, and didn't hit them with a storm in the middle of the night.
"...Night." She was asleep fairly quickly, utterly oblivious to the world she was so deeply asleep.
A night dreamless was a gift, and Bolion relished it. He slept deeply, and woke early, for the first time in a while truly rested. The sun was high when he woke, and the heat already dry and baking. He had been preparing some dry rations, when a touch of curiousity struck him. Della was still fast asleep, and he'd been dying to try something a second time, however the opportunity had never presented itself.
Now was the opportunity, be he was apprehensive. The negative consequences could be larger than he was willing to acknowledge, but his curiosity dug at him until he lay down the jerky and dried fruit that he'd been sorting into daily portions, and walked over to Della's Roll, and tried to guess where the tip of her tail would be. He peeled back the blanket where he'd guessed, surprisingly close. He paused again, weighing the consequences, and telling himself that he could back out now, and she'd never know. Then impulsively, he gently picked up the very tip between his thumb and forefinger, and massaged it in a circular motion, watching intently for her reaction.
Della was in the middle of a strange but pleasant enough dream involving flying trout and a talking fox.
When Bolion grabbed her tail however, she found herself floating closer to consciousness. But she wasn't quite there yet, still dozing. A small sound slipped passed her lips, something between a whimper and a sigh.
When his fingers started rubbing, her spine arched and she whimpered again, then moaned quietly. Her hips squirmed and she blinked fuzzily, lips slightly parted as she drew in a sharp breath.
Bolion smiled, pleased that he'd been right in his assumption. He quickly released her tail and went back to rationing out the foodstuffs, pretending as though he'd been there the entire time.
"Morning Sunshine!" He said sarcastically, shoot a glance her way.
Panting lightly, flushed and confused, Della sat up quickly and looked around. "Wh-what-?"
She swallowed and ran a hand through her hair before remembering she was wearing her stupid turban-tunic.
Gods, what on earth had she been dreaming about?
She shook her head and tried to adjust the mess on top of her head. "Gods, it is too damn hot," she groaned, reaching for the water skin- then remembering she'd chucked it at her companion's head the previous night.
"I said good morning. It's a common practice among the living." He joked, and tossed her the wineskin. "We should be off soon. What're you freakin out about?"
She caught it and took a swig, muttering, "Morning."
Her tail twitches under the bedroll and she shot it a quick glance. That usually happened when she was on edge, but she'd thought she'd had better control over it.
"I'm not freaking out," she added quickly as she got to her feet and pulled on her breeches. Her tail, already sensitive, flicked in protest and she drew in a sharp breath before wrapping it firmly around her leg.
"You okay there?" He asked, holding in a laugh, "And yeah, you're twitchy."
"I'm fine! I just..." She trailed off and suddenly squinted at him suspiciously.
"What did you do? You're acting far too pleased with yourself."
"I haven't done a thing," he said in mock offense, feigning innocence, "That you'd naturally assume my behaviour is a result of your personal lack of control over your tail is simply astounding. I'm hurt, Deloria. I'm hurt."
He rolled up his sleeping mat, and packed away the daily rations. As soon as he turned away from her a smile cracked across his face, and he roused Orrin from his sleeping position.
"Come now, we're burning moonlight. Up and up!"
"Who said anything about my tail?" she demanded suspiciously as she set about packing up her own supplies. Still grumbling, she moved to Rain and slung the pack over his withers before mounting up.
"It was twitching around." He said hastily, and changed the subject, "Well we should be off."
He mounted Orrin, swinging up onto the saddle, and set off at a walk. He adamantly refused to meet her gaze, because he knew if he did, he would break. Once he started laughing, he wouldn't be able to stop, and he would be found out.
Well...it had been, she supposed.
Still eyeing him warily, Della urged Rain into an easy pace alongside Orrin. "How far should we get tonight?" she asked, still watching Bolion out of the corner of her eye.
"We should hit the Bazaar." He replied, "If you follow a path, or rather a vague direction, everything kind of lines up. Nothing is too far away."
He said nothing after, but his eyes flicked back once, and he said, "What were you dreaming about, Dell?"
She jerked slightly in surprise, making Rain toss his head in protest as she tensed up on the reins. "What- what do you mean? I wasn't dreaming about anything in particular," she replied quickly.
"Well you did sit bolt up when I said 'Good Morning'," Bolion pointed out, "And you were all blushy, and you did that thing you do when you're overwhelmed where you run your hands through your hair. I can only assume you had a funky dream."
"I do not blush," Della lied through her teeth. "It's- it's just hot out here, that's all."
She almost moved her hands to run through her hair again, then caught herself and snapped her hand back to the reins. "It was...just a dream. What, you never have weird dreams?"
"No, I have them, but I was just curious is all." He smiled a tad smugly, and said nothing more for a time. The desert had a way of calming the incessantly talkative side of him, and so he rode, simply taking in the sights, sounds, and feeling of the journey.
Della was nowhere near as serene, panting desperately in the desert heat and grumbling complaints to herself every so often. Finally, she gave a sharp cry of frustration and tore her makeshift turban off her head.
"I'm not wearing this until absolutely necessary," she declared, glaring as though daring him to argue.
Bolion turned back, eyes wide and smiling. Greatly holding back laughter, he said, "Then don't wear it."
He turned back towards the road, and muttered something about crazy people and foreigners.
Catching a few snippets of his comments, she made a rude gesture at his back and rolled her eyes.
"Not my fault you people feel the need for ridiculous fashions," she muttered. "...I miss my cloak."
"We don't always wear those things, but your insensitivity surrounding your horns and the desirability of your ass appendage means you need to cover up, and dark cloaks are bad here." He said, shooting a condescending look at her, "You know that."
He rode on for a few moments, then apprehensively piped up, "Of course there's an alternate route, but I doubt you'll spring for it."
"Ass appendage?" Della resisted the urge to throw something at him again- then her ears perked up.
"Alternate route? What alternate route?"
"Two actually, one of which if we get caught could be lethal and jeopardize the mission, the other much safer but less to your liking. I'd assume anyways," he said, and began to explain, "If you really want to keep your robes, we could pose as religious workers, or temple guards, but that requires either great knowledge of religion or extreme quantities of luck."
Here he paused, because he didn't want to propose something that he knew she'd bite his head off for, but every opportunity was one worth at least thinking about exploiting.
"We could..." he said hesitantly, "Go down the path I normally choose, wherein I feign being a trader. That way you could wear sufficiently concealing clothing, and you could let your tail fly, but you'd have to act the part of a particular kind of slave. Otherwise it's sackcloth and shackles, but certain slaves are treated very well, and as such, you could do some snooping without much hindrance."
Her interest was piqued. "Snooping is always good." She tilted her head at him and urged Rain a little closer so she could better see his face. "When you say a particular kind of slave- are you talking about a concubine?" Her eyes were calculating, obviously mulling over the idea.
"Yes." He said, suddenly uncomfortable under her scrutiny. He'd honestly been expecting a much less rational response, but he still didn't really understand Della or her behaviour. "A concubine."
"Hmm." she sat in quiet for a while, weighing the pros and cons of the idea.
On the one hand he was right- she'd have plenty of excuses to snoop around, and it was unlikely anyone would accost her or attempt to capture her for the slave markets if she was already "owned".
On the other hand... Her eyes flickered to Bolion and narrowed. "Alright," she said after a moment with a sharp nod. "But you touch me without my permission and I'll geld you."
"Yes, well you've proven yourself adequate in the art of pain." He said nervously, "Don't neuter me okay? I'm going to have to play the part too you know." He veered a little away, but then thought of something.
"What would you prefer? Personal Concubine, or a promised payload of sorts? As in I, the slave trader, have been asked to provide a certain kind of woman for a customer."
She debated that internally for a few moments, worrying at her lower lip. "Ow!"
She'd been so lost in her thoughts she hadn't been paying attention and her fang nicked her lip. She winced and licked at the droplet of purplish blood.
"Personal concubine," she mumbled as she sucked on her lip. "I don't want people trying to make you a better offer for me."
Bolion's eyes widened slightly as he watched, and he tightened his jaw. You are going to need the most self control you've ever had in your life around this girl, he thought to himself.
"Alright." He said, and then more quietly, "Let's hope it works."
"Hey, I can play a part," Della defended herself, assume his last comment had been directed at her. "You'll just have to keep me informed about the kinds of customs I should know. Like, I can wear my cloak, but what would be expected of me?"
"You can wear a cloak. A red one. Slaves have different colours based on their purpose. Your head should be free and your waist should be cinched. We might need to cut a slit for your tail." He said the last part as he leaned back and looked for it, then remembered ahe had pants on, "Essyrni culture is all about showing off your possessions. Having a tailed girl is better than having a normal one, so that would be something someone with a tail would have to wear. If you didn't it would be weird, like having diamond jewelry but keeping it in your bag instead wearing it for everyone to see."
She snorted. "My tail is a diamond necklace. Got it." Arching an eyebrow, she asked curiously, "Why does it have to be red?"
"Concubines are traditionally virgins. Something about the appeal." He said, "The red hides the byproduct of fucking a virgin."
Della's eyes widened and she almost choked on her tongue. "Um- right. I hope you realize that will be acted. I mean- I'm really not." She arched an eyebrow at him, ignoring the way her cheeks flushed to almost teal.
Bolion couldn't help but snicker at her reaction, and replied, "Don't worry Della, I don't think anyone's going to be checking downstairs to see if you're authentic."
Her eyes narrowed. "If they try something I'll bit them," she growled, fangs flashing.
"They might like that." He retorted, and rode on, eyes on the stars above them. He wasn't just taking in the view, but also navigating by them. By his estimate, they had about ten miles to the first permanent Bazaar. There, they would purchase camels, supplies, and now a Concubine's robe.
Della flinched. "People are sick," she muttered, frowning at Rain's neck as they road.
She couldn't help it- she started to think of Adrien. Of what he might think of her now, her life, this job. He'd be so disappointed...or he'd think it was hilarious. For a moment she imagined she could hear his voice in her head.
"A merc, Dell? An assassin? You? Please! You've got the ferocity of a two week old kitten!"
Her hands clenched on the reins and her horse skittered nervously under her, jerking his head in protest. "Oh!" She realized what she was doing and forced her grip to relax, patting his neck. "Sorry, m'lad."
"What?" Bolion asked, twisting in the saddle. He'd only half heard her words, and thought she'd addressed him.
"Nothing," Della replied quickly. "Just...talking to myself. How far are we?"
Not a subtle change of topic, but fuck it.
"To the Bazaar?" He replied, "Ten miles or so. You're a little crazy, you know that? It's endearing, don't get me wrong, but still crazy nonetheless."
"Cr- what do you mean I'm crazy?" She frowned at him.
Some talk coming from a man who'd drunk himself into a violent stupor barely two nights ago.
"Only a tad crazy mind you. Just enough to get you out of tight spots in extraordinary ways, but also enough that you talk to the animals you use as objects, not as companions." He said to her, "You do realize we are either selling or eating these horses right? I was only partially joking about that bit."
Her jaw dropped. "We are not eating them!" she exclaimed, sounding almost panicked. "Sell, fine, to someone who will look out for them. But no eating!"
All color had blanched from her face and she leaned forward to hug Rain's neck. The gelding snorted, blissfully oblivious to the conversation.
"Fine we won't eat them," he sighed, "But horses are a great source of protein you know, and they're not the smartest animals, so I don't think it'd be too much of a loss."
"They are smart!" She scowled at him. "Animals are just as smart as people sometimes, just in different ways."
She huffed and hunched her shoulders, glaring at Rain's neck as they rode.
"No, Ravens are smart. Monkeys are smart, and if you want a smart steed, a Moose is one of the most intelligent." He argued, "But horses are not the most intelligent. They are actually quite plain, mentally."
"You ever seen what a trained warhorse can do?" she countered quickly. "They're problem solvers. That seems intelligent to me."
Rain bobbed his head as though agreeing with her and she smiled, patting his neck.
"You ever ridden a moose?" He retorted, confident that was all he needed to win the argument.
Della laughed. It was actually a nice sound, when it didn't have the bitter edge to it. "When would I have had the chance to do that? Have you?"
"Why yes! Hubert was a great steed, and fierce too!" Bolion shared, and he smiled, remembering his once companion. It had been years since he'd seen the moose, but he had no doubt if he took a vacation to Serendipity he would find him again.
She laughed again, shaking her head. "When on earth did you have occasion to ride a moose? And why in the name of the gods would you call him Hubert?"
"That, is a tale for another time. As for his name, I will remember a moose named Hubert over a horse named Rain, now won't I?" He answered, smiling.
She rolled her eyes and shook her head at him, but she was smiling as they continued along in relative quiet.
It had been about an hour since their last words, Bolion preoccupied with navigation and the scenery. Soon on their horizon, he saw what he had been searching for, a collection of tents and lights, just south east of their path.
He adjusted course accordingly, and signaled to Della to do the same, by way of a whistle and pointing.
"The Bazaar?" Della questioned as she steered Rain to follow after him. She urged her mount forward so they were riding side by side. "That's an awful lot of people," she noted with some trepidation.
"Do not worry, my beautiful desert flower," he said, putting on a sleazy sounding voice. It was one he'd heard a used weapons salesman use once, and had stuck with him since, "There shan't be a concubine of higher standard than you!"
At this he laughed and folded up a small star chart he'd been looking at. He turned back and honestly answered, "You'll be fine. We get you some robes, stash up on supplies and we can be gone before moonrise tomorrow."
Della screwed her ace up at him. "You do that far too convincingly," she informed him dryly- though she had to admit his antics helped to take her mind off her nerves a bit.
"Alright- what should I do in this place? How should I talk, act, y'know?"
"I don't know, be seductive. You can't act foreign because you are foreign, and that's good enough, at least for now." He said without confidence. After a moment's thinking, he replied, "Don't look at people's eyes. You're a slave. Even a well treated slave is still a slave. Also you can't buy things directly. You can ask, but no money touches your hands."
Any issue she may have had with that was hidden in her expression. She was suddenly all cool professionalism.
"Alright, I understand. How should I address you- like, Master or something?" Her calm exterior cracked a bit as she crinkled her nose in distaste at the idea.
Well- that and "be seductive". She'd never been very good at that, but she supposed she'd have to try.
"Al'amr. It means the same thing, more or less, but it's Essyrni." He said, "It actually means Guardian, or Superior, but the use is the same."
"Al'amr." She rolled the word around in her moth, trying to mimic his accent with marginal success. She arched a brow at him. "Guardian, huh? You gonna protect me on this job?" her tone was teasing, but it had lost some of that bite she normally used with him, more playful and less cutting.
"I can try," he replied, "but chances are you'll be protecting me before I get the chance."
Della chuckled. "You're probably right," she replied with a shameless smirk. "Do try to be useful though, won't you?"
"Oh, ho ho. I am insulted!" He said haughtily, but then raised a finger, and waggling it in the air finished, "But for every desert flower there is a cactus below. I have my uses, just you wait."
Della laughed again- her first real laugh in a while, a pealing sort of sound that made the air tingle with a gentle, pleasant buzz of electricity.
"Wait- so in this analogy you're a spiky, stumpy plant?" she clarified, silver eyes glinting. "How is that useful?"
"Okay," he began, his hands becoming active as he began to speak, "First of all, cactus juice is delicious. Second of all, they're great projectiles." He couldn't help but laugh as he spoke, but went on, "And when the flower blooms, the cactus is so spiky, that none can get to the flower. A perfect bastion of flora, the cactus."
"Drink a lot of cactus juice, do ya?" She tilted her head as she looked at him, lips curved in a crooked smile.
"Okay. So you're the cactus, I'm the flower- we use the pretty petals to draw our target in and then...use the thorns as projectiles? Is that the plan?" She was half teasing, but as she spoke the words she realized it wasn't a half bad plan.
"Well I don't think they'll come crooning if I put on a dress." He said sarcastically, "But I mean literal cactus throwing. Thick gloves and fear, that game is. As a game plan, not bad though."
Della blinked at him. "Cactus throwing...is a game?" She shook her head and grumbled, "I'll never understand you desert folk."
As they drew closer to the Bazaar, her spine stiffened a bit and she jerked her head at him. "Well, whatever our plan is, we should probably start practicing soon."
"I've been doing this for years. You're not the first concubine I've brought into this bazaar." He said, the smile slipping from his face, and in it's stead a grim face set in. His form changed too, the straight backed awareness that hallmarked him replaced by a slouching tiredness.
When he spoke, his voice was bitter, and oddly gravelly, "Come now, Desert Flower. We'll get you some proper Concubine's robes."
That made her pause. Any levity she'd had disappeared and she eyed him warily.
"I thought you didn't like slavers," she murmured, tone carefully blank. "Why would you be bringing concubines to any bazaar?"
Despite her cool tone, she settled herself on Rain's back to sit a little more daintily- not a word that was usually applied to her- and she arched her back a bit so her form pressed more obviously against her clothes.
"This is a supply stop Della," he said, "When you free a slave who knows nothing of the world or how to live in it, you stock them up, and deliver them to a safe haven. But on the way, a freed slave attracts attention. How do you solve that issue?"
He shot her a look, questioning her tone, and prompting her to answer.
Della shrugged, apparently unconcerned now that he'd clarified. "Hey, can't blame a girl for being cautious," she said easily, then added, "We still don't really know anything about each other. For all I know you could've been planning to sell me off, complete the job, and get my pay as well as your own."
She glanced at him sidelong. "I mean, I don't think you would, but I'd have to be stupid not to consider the possibility."
"Well," his sleaze voice turned back on, as if by the flip of a switch, "You would sell for quite a bit!" He shot her a wide smile, naturally shifting back into the boisterous personality he was comfortable with. He spoke up again, saying, "And what do you mean you think I wouldn't? Am I not mysterious or dangerous enough?" He slouched, a slight pout playing on his face, "I'm totally mysterious and dangerous."
"Oh, you're dangerous," she chuckled, though her eyes were a little flinty as she added, "I've got the bruises to prove that. And you're plenty mysterious, what with your jabbering in Essyrni and riding moose and all that."
She shrugged and looked ahead. "I just don't think you're cold-blooded. Not the way some mercs are. You've got a conscience, whether you want to admit it or not."
"Ah that depends on who I deal with." He challenged, but his expression was one of grim acceptance, "For instance, I like you. You'd probably be dead right now if I didn't."
"Fair enough." Della shrugged. "I mean, you could try," she added with an arched brow. "But the point remains that I don't think you would. Even if you didn't like me all that much, you know we have to work together- for this job at least."
"I guess that's motivation enough by itself." He replied, and reassumed his scumbag façade. He took notice of Della's pose, and commented, "I hope you realise that Conc Robes are silky, but thin; stuff's going to ah... protrude."
Her cheeks flushed but she made an effort to seem unbothered. "And? You told me to be seductive, right? I'm doing my best over here," she grumbled. She had to resist the urge to bite her lip again- a nervous habit she'd though she lost years ago.
Bolion shrugged, saying, "Just making sure you know what that entails. Oh yeah, and if anyone grabs at you, please don't murder them. I'll take care of it."
His face was pained, like this was a problem he'd dealt with before. But hey, maybe he had. He tilted his head towards her, continuing, "If you hit them for it they'll know you're not what you seem to be. Fear is a way of life for these people, and if you're on the bottom of the food chain, you're afraid of everyone, no matter what they do to you."
The blood drained from her face. "That's disgusting," she snarled, voice low and dangerous. Rain felt her agitation and tossed his head nervously.
She took a breath in an effort to calm herself and relax her grip on the reins a bit. "Got it. Don't attack if someone grabs at me." The words were almost spit out, as though they tasted bad in her mouth.
"It is what it is. There are some who wish to change that, but even their struggles can only have so much effect." He shrugged, and gave her a sympathetic look, "But you'll have to trust that I'll take care of it."
"Fine." She let out a sharp breath and tried to relax a bit more. "Fine. I...trust you." The words tasted funny, too long unused.
Not wanting to dwell on it, she shook her head and muttered, "We're getting close. Should I lag behind a bit or something?"
"You should be fine where you are. That's a very preferential thing, being head of the pack," he answered, and true tiredness coming into his voice. They'd been riding a lot, and without break for him. His journey was twice as long as hers, this being the return journey for him.
"Alright." Della lapsed into quiet, running over what he'd told her in her head so she could better play the part she'd been given when it was required of her.
They soon came into the bazaar, the entrance marked by a high standing tent, that extended into a wall, all based around a small watering hole. On the way there however, the path was lined with tents and men yelling their top dollar at you, despite the hour of night.
Bolion dismounted Orrin at the gate, and led him to a stable tent, paying the keeper a generous amount of coin and a mean look to ensure his mount's security. After that, he beckoned Della to follow him, and took off into the maze of fabrics and people.
Della dismounted with a pat and a few murmured praises for her horse. She was going to tell the hostler to take good care of him, then remembered Bolion's advice and quickly dropped her eyes to scurry after him.
Hoping she looked subservient enough, she found herself drifting a little closer to his side and sort of huddling into her clothes as though trying to escape the occasional stare. Her horns seemed to be attracting attention.
Bolion made a beeline for his relatively trusted clothing provider, the one he visited on the occasion he came here with companions. The man there was trustworthy, and knew how to keep a secret. While he wanted to make it there quickly, which would entail him taking the lead, the group of thugs probably on supply leave in front of them worried him. He gently took Della by the arm and moved her just ahead of him, in full view.
Just because she wasn't for sale didn't mean people would acknowledge that. He'd seen women taken from the streets and nothing more than some coins flung at the owner before the kidnappers were gone. Was he worried about that here? No, but caution was always a wise choice.
"Hey, what are you-" She snapped her mouth shut when she remembered she was supposed to be a slave. Her eyes snapped fire at Bolion for a moment, then she ducked her head and allowed him to push her along, trying to focus her attention on her feet.
Gods, this place makes my skin crawl. A small part of her wanted to call down a bolt of lightning just to see how people would react. That would give them something to stare at.
"I'm making sure you don't get snatched," he whispered angrily in her ear. Nonetheless he loosened his grip, "Look around you Dell. This place isn't friendly."
He sighed, and couldn't help but soften his tone for her, "The shop is only a little ways away, and there you can act as you will, as long as you're quiet enough. Please don't do anything illogical right now."
"I get it," she hissed back out of the corner of her mouth. "Instinctive reaction, alright?" She glanced up at him, then lowered her eyes again.
"Just don't make eye contact, right? And keep my mouth shut."
"More or less." He replied, and now that they were out of the throng, he released her entirely. The tent he was looking for, an orange one with a tall roof, was just beyond around a corner, not far at all.
Luck at that time chose to abandon him, and a man behind them near fifty and drunk as the day was long slapped Della's rear and slurred an innuendo involving a reference to "a good licking". Bolion sighed angrily through his nose, hoping to avoid conflict on this run through, but no, it seemed to find him every time he was here.
"Fucking great," he muttered. He moved Della aside, grabbed the man by his hair and with his free hand punched him in the throat. Tossing the wretching old man away from him, he moved back to Della and pushed her forward gently from the small of her back.
"Come on," he urged quietly, anxious to be gone "Let's go."
Della's eyes went wide and she instinctively turned to snap at whoever had assaulted her. She caught herself at the last moment and changed the motion into a wide eyed stare, attempting to appear as though she'd just been startled and not incensed.
Bolion's reaction genuinely surprised her though. Her eyes were very round and she gaped at him for a moment, then nodded as he broke her out of her stupor with a hand on her back.
"R-right. Right behind you..."
Bolion opened the flap to the shop, and urged Della inside. Once they were both in, and he was sure that no one continued interest in them, he turned and asked her, "Are you okay?"
The shop they had entered was cluttered with different outfits and clothes, some hung, some draped across furniture and eachother. There seemed to be something for everyone and their grandma, with tastes ranging from highest quality silks to serving rags and sackcloth shoes.
"I'm fine." She was glaring at the tent flap, arms wrapped tight around her middle as though to protect herself. "What did he even say? You know what- scratch that, I don't want to know."
She shuddered and shook her head, trying to put it from her mind. "If our mark is the only person I kill on this job it'll be a damned miracle."
Bolion's brow furrowed, and he sat on a stack of clothes, hand under chin in contemplation. After a moment, he glanced up at Della, looked her up and down, and said, "You know, stuff like that is going to be a bit more commonplace than either of us would like. Are you sure you want to go through with it like this?"
Her eyes narrowed at him. "I can handle it," she replied stiffly. "I'm a professional. I just...may need to hit something once we're done with all this. Hard." Preferably with the odd blast of magic thrown in.
He put his hands up, feigning innocence, "Hey, just making sure you're okay with it. Now let's get you some slut clothes."
He stood up and waded through the clutter in the shop, leaning around to get a better look at the back. He called a greeting, and soon a very thin man with balding white hair and a long beard peeked out from behind a curtain deep into the tent. He stuck his arms in the air and called an excited greeting back before jabbering off something in Essyrni, that Bolion replied to in an equally rapid response.
Before long, they'd secured a red silken dress, tail slot and all, almost Della's size. The old man approached Della, and made to lift her arms and examine them when Bolion clarified, "He needs your measurements."
She snorted at the term- though she supposed it wasn't entirely inaccurate- and trailed after him as he made his way through the...well, she guessed it could be called a shop.
The appearance of the proprietor startled her a bit, but she was honestly proud of herself that she managed not to snarl at him, instead falling back on her new default: fixing her eyes on her toes as though they were the most interesting thing in the world.
Her head snapped up again when the man reached for her arms and she looked at Bolion, then nodded slowly. She glanced at the old man and raised her arms for him, body near vibrating with tension.
The Old Man, who could be best described as spidery, or skeletal, ran his fingers delicately across Della's figure, a measuring tape appearing and dissappearing in his fingers as if by magic. After about two minutes of those motions intermingled with little sketches on a piece of paper, he finished and stepped away before rattling off some quick Essyrni at Bolion. He returned the words, and added a thanks in common, before turning back to Della, who was practically vibrating.
"What's happening to you?" He asked curiously.
When he stepped away Della sagged a bit in relief, her arms snapping back to their hugged position, tight around her middle.
She blinked up at Bolion. "What do you mean?" Her jaw had gone so tense she winced a bit when she moved it to speak. She frowned and rubbed at the hinge of her jaw.
"Nothing." He avoided answer, and changed subject, "Do you want to set up camp outside the Bazaar or would you prefer to stay inside. There are several places we could go in here to stay the night."
Della huffed. "That depends- would have any sort of privacy if we camped in here?" Her tail twitched and she winced as it strained against the fabric of her breeches.
"Well there are a few back rooms, it's free, and we wouldn't have to come back for the dress in the morning, but it might not be as secure as a hotel. We're not running from anyone though, so that might not be a large concern." He said, shifting his weight, and gazing into the hallway where the Storekeeper had scuttled to.
"Yeah, but..." Her face flushed as she tried to think of how to tactfully express her concern. "Is that guy gonna...expect anything?" She gestured int he direction the shopkeeper had gone. "Y'know, if I'm supposed to be a concubine and all..."
Gods, her face was hotter than the desert sand.
"He knows you aren't." Bolion explained, smiling at her assumption, "He's one of the only people here I'd trust farther than I could throw. He's a regular contact."
He sat back down, fidgety, but still in the mood for wisecracking, "Unless of course you feel the utmost need to repay him. I'll warn you though, he doesn't hold interest in women."
"Oh thank gods." Della relaxed slightly and allowed herself to lean back on the balls of her feet. She gave Bolion a dry look and rolled her eyes. "Trust me, even if he did, he's not exactly my type."
She huffed and glanced away, muttering, "Besides, I thought... Like you said, having a unique slave and not showing her off is like hiding a diamond necklace, right? I thought you might expect me to..." She waved a hand airily. "Be a unique slave. In which case I would not have been comfortable spending the night here."
"Well, yeah, but not with other people." He scoffed, though not at her. Rather at the idea. He elaborated, "Why would someone with a rare personal concubine let other people try her out? You wanna test ride? No. That's weird."
"That's not what I-" She groaned and covered her face with her hands. "You know what, never mind. It doesn't matter what I meant. Point is, we don't have to worry about it."
She cleared her throat and glanced around. "So...we got any place to sleep?"
"Pick a pile, or a room. Enjoy your privacy while it lasts, because after this it will be few and far between." He answered, and became confused at her manner.
Only after puzzling out her meaning did his eyebrows go up, then back down as he nodded to no one in particular.
"I can be pretty dense sometimes," he muttered to himself, and glanced up at Della, "Yeah, you'd be right, but unless you're a very... uh... vocal person, I don't think that's really a problem people will consider. Even so, that's easily enough faked. We might need cover our tracks though."
At this he returned to his pondering pose, hand propping up his chin, brow furrowed, and staring off into nothingness. That was a problem much less easily solved, but all of the solutions he could see were a tad distasteful. On the other hand, in the name of the job, he would do things he didn't want to, or would not do under normal circumstances. He'd done it before. Now was no different.
She was perfectly fine until her said the word "vocal". Her cheeks went azure and she bit her lip, reopening the small cut with a wince and a soft hiss.
"I didn't- I just thought- I've never done a job like this before, okay?" she muttered. Her tail tried to flick in anxiety and she yelped as the constraining fabric of her breeches held it in place uncomfortably. "I figured faking it would be fine."
She tilted her head at him, eyes watching his pensive posture warily. "What do you mean, cover our tracks?" She really didn't want to think about the specifics of that.
Bolion stared at her like she was insane, for a solid minute, before saying, "Do you need to take off you pants? There are plenty of accommodating cloaks and shawls and skirts you could wear here."
He then began rooting through the pike next to him for anything, even a blanket, all the while saying, "Well it's not a particularly clean ritual Della. You've been married, I can trust you know that. How to ensure that isn't the downfall of our ruse is a problem."
She glowered, relenting to her tail and stripping out of her breeches to let the appendage have room to move.
"I'm aware it's not...clean," she muttered. "I just figured- I mean how athletic would people expect use to be? Rumple the sheets a bit, maybe tear some holes, use some water- who'd know the difference?"
She snatched up the nearest bit of fabric- which turned out to be some sort of sarong- and wrapped it around her waist.
"The smell is my concern." He said, and turning around with a skirt in hand, saw her already clothed. He looked the skirt up and down, a detail paisley designed version of what Della had found. He shrugged, stood up and walked behind a curtain. Reappearing a minute later, lungi on and flowing, he gave it a little shake.
"This is comfy, and very liberating," he said, surprised, "I think I found a new favourite clothing item."
"Oh gods." Della wrinkled her nose and shook her head. "That's- alright exactly how authentic are you expecting this performance to be?"
She chuckled a bit when he reappeared, surprised. "Well, it looks good on you. You should keep it," she said easily. Her tail curled around to flick delicately back and forth by her ankle as she sat, legs curved to the side.
He reassumed his position, and replied, "Well think about it this way. A slaver and concubine roll into town, and don't get it on. Not out of the ordinary, but if someone, anyone, decides to inquire, or follow us, and there's no convincing evidence of the deed at all for the entire journey, rather an attempt to make it seem like something was happening, it'll look suspicious." He sighed, and rubbed the tiredness out of his eyes, "It's just something I would catch on to, and then the only next logical question is what are they hiding, and before you know it, poof! Plan gone wrong, we're imprisoned or dead, target is still alive."
He was silent for a while, before piping up again, "I just don't know what to do."
She groaned again and let her head fall back on her neck with a sharp sigh. "Great. That's just great. So what are we supposed to do?"
She growled quietly to herself and ran her hands through her hair. "Trying to cover me up is just a disaster waiting to happen. If you act like I'm a slave for sale- gods, if someone grabbed for me when they thought I belonged to you what would people do if I had a price tag on my tail?"
Her shoulders slumped a bit, but she shook her head briskly. "I don't know. Is this something we have to deal with now? I'm beat."
Bolion reclined further on his pile of clothing, and let his head fall back onto the relatively cushiony jacket behind him.
"Nope. We could plan now, or we could just wing it when we get there. If the latter is chosen by popular opinion, I'm going to sleep."
"Good." Della huffed out a breath and just flopped onto her side, her head pillowed on folded arms. "I'm complete exhausted. How much sleep can we grab before we should be moving again?" She yawned and raised a claw-tipped hand to cover her mouth, lashes fluttering against her cheeks.
"We can go nuts." He said, "Also now that you're out and about, how about we stay travelling by day?"
"Fine by me." She arched her back in a quick stretch and flopped back onto the floor. "Wake me only when absolutely necessary," she grumbled as she closed her eyes.
"Alright," he answered, and looked up from his reclined position. He decided to go fetch a blanket from somewhere within the tent, and spent a good deal of time searching for the right one, and then further procrastinated with quick conversation to the Storekeeper, before returning to his little clothing pile.
Della's tail however, was on the floor in front of him. While he could have easily stepped over it, he decided to push it out of his way with his foot before sitting back on his pile and wrapping himself in his new blanket.
Already dozing, Della made a small sound in the back of her throat that was rather like a yelp mixed with a moan and flinched away from him when he scooted her tail across the floor with his foot. She shifted slightly in her sleep and curled a little tighter, instinctively trying to preserve heat.
Bolion reacted oddly to the noise, and her general response. He wanted to do it again. Like a child poking a beehive with a stick, the odd curiousity born of implied danger was virulent within him. He unwrapped himself slowly, his conscious thoughts telling him to sit back down and go to sleep drowned out by the impulsive nature of his personality.
You've already done this, it said to him, and you got away scot free. Why even try it again?
He didn't bother to listen, however, and found the tip again, with his finger, and traced his way lightly up the tail until he was certain he'd found the base, right where it would connect with the spine. He then proceeded to poke it.
Della's back arched and her lips parted slightly. A soft mewling sound escaped her and her hands curled into fists for a moment. Her lashes fluttered as though she was dreaming. Tiny crackles of electricity sparked from the tips of her horns, dying before they even touched the ground.
"Ooh," Bolion whispered to himself, "Curious."
He wrapped the blanket protectively around his arm, although that probably wouldn't halt any lightning, and squeezed the base, a few inches from the connecting point. He sprang back silently, partially due to the carpet flooring, but also because he'd been unconsciously tiptoeing, as if feeling that he had to be extra stealthy to avoid detection.
"Nng!" She tossed her head back, mouth open slightly as she suddenly panted. Her heart skipped a beat and heat washed through her, crackling energy lighting up her whole body.
Literally. The magic was tangible, it wouldn't shock anyone, but blue-white tendrils of light flashed across her skin for a moment, following the pattern of veins through her body. Della whimpered softly and pressed her legs together in her sleep, her tail swishing back and forth.
Bolion was taken aback, unsure of his decision now. He didn't want to hurt the girl, but was tempted to go further than he'd already gone. What halted his hand was the unintended consequences they both may suffer because of it. After a moment's watching his sleeping companion, and thinking over his actions, past and future, he decided to do one last thing.
He rested his fingers on the base of her tail, and gently but firmly dragged them down to the tip, more or less stroking the whole length of it in one go. His face had gone from childlike curiosity to apprehensive anxiety, but his curiousity had the better of him, a firm grip he found hard to release himself from.
Della whimpered, then moaned quietly, her tail whipping from side to side unconsciously. The glow that had lit up her skin flared brighter a moment, then started to fade.
In her sleep, she curled in on herself a little, her tail curving over her thigh slightly. Lips still slightly parted, her brow furrowed and she mumbled something that might have been a name.
Freaky, Bolion thought to himself. He was well aware he was now treading in dangerous territory. Mayhap a some things should be left alone. The one difference now was that he was afraid. He didn't know how she would react to further poking and prodding, or if she woke she would freak out. He didn't have any history with anyone like her in this regard. He was walking in blind.
Might as well commit... he thought half heartedly, trying to trick himself into believing he was still curious enough to push forward. Now hesitantly, his hands hovered above the base of her tail, almost jittery. Fuck it!
He gently took hold of her tail, and with both hands, began to stroke down to the tip. He had no clue what he was doing, but if it worked the first time, doubling it and applying again would work better right?
Another ragged moan was dragged from her lips and Della's back arched, her tail curling up in a gentle arc. Sparks danced along her horns and she gasped, waking with a start.
"Ah- haahh..." She panted and looked around, eyes wide but still distinctly hooded by sleep. The lines d light tracing her skin flared butbstwadiy started to fade. A shivery sort of heat raced through her body and her chest heaved with pants.
"Wha- what...?"
Bolion froze, hands securely inside his blanket cocoon now, but his face was the picture of wide eyed confusion. He just watched Della, very unsure of what to do.
"Uh..."
Very fucking articulate. Come on dumbass think! What are you doing?!
Della slowly seemed to become more awake. She blinked, gradually focusing on Bolion in front of her. "What...the hell...happened?" Irritation began to seep into her tone and she wrapped her arms around herself, glowering.
"Lightning veins?" Was all he managed to get out, and looked a fool the entire time. He was at a loss for words, unable to excuse himself from the scenario but unwilling to explain why it had happened in the first place.
She blinked. "What-?"
The color suddenly drained from her face and she jumped to her feet with a noise somewhere between a squeak and a growl. "Lightning veins?" she repeated angrily, fists clenched at her sides. The fact that she was still in her smallclothes seemed to have slipped her minds.
"Can I ask why you were molesting me in my sleep?" she hissed through clenched teeth, voice dangerously low.
He stood with her, apprehensive but not defensive.
You fucked up diphsit! his conscious screamed at him, What did I say? Did you even listen?
"Yeah, lightning veins," he said sheepishly, although that probably wasn't needed at this point.
At her accusation he grimaced, "I don't think that qualifies as molestation," but a weak excuse it was, and he continued, shrugging, "Curiousity, mostly."
"Curiosity." She was almost whispering, but there was a low growl embedded in her tone. "You were...curious."
She stalked forward suddenly, snapping her hand out to grab his wrist and jerk him forward. "You still curious?" She was livid. She yanked his hand to her tail again, letting his fingers brush the base of her tail.
Her eyes fluttered closed and her lips parted, a soft mewl escaping her. She leaned into him, reaching up to wrap an arm around his neck. "Is this what you wanted?" she breathed, leaning in until her breath teased his lips.
With an angry growl she tore away again, shoving his chest. "Don't ever touch me without my permission again."
"No," he said, she not an inch from his face, but he doubted she heard him, and before he could say any more, she pushed herself away and spoke again.
"Della, I'm sorry," he apologized, but even he knew it wouldn't do much to save the situation.
"You're sorry?!" She whirled on him, teeth bared. Her eyes were suspiciously bright, jaw clenched as she held back a sudden onslaught of tears. "You don't- do you have any idea-"
But he didn't. Of course he didn't. All of the anger seemed to drain from her and she slumped back into her place. Her tail curled into her lap and she wrapped her arms around herself.
"Just...leave me alone."
The Storekeeper came peeking around the hallway corner, but at a desperate wave from Bolion his eyes widened and he disappeared within it again. It wasn't the first time someone had an emotional breakdown in his little shop, and probably wouldn't be he last. Perhaps it was the incense he burned.
Bolion meanwhile, was slightly confused, feeling guilty, and more than anything else, very, very unsure of what to do. He didn't want to do anything regarding Della, but at the same time didn't have a lot else to do. So after awkwardly shuffling in place for about thirty seconds sat hesitantly on his pile of clothes, and awkwardly waited in silence.
Della put her back to him and curled up again, her tail securely tucked over her hip and into the curve of her body. "Sleep while we can," she said shortly, not even bothering to look at him. "Let's just get this over with."
Her voice was thick and she sniffed, covering her face with her hands in an attempt to muffle the sob that caught in her throat.
"Do you need anything first?" He asked, berating himself for even trying to speak to her. Unfortunately, he did things without thinking often, and his softer side was predominant in his personality, which led to scenarios like this. Total emotional mayhem, and yet he still would ask in they needed anything. A dense merc with a big heart.
"No."
Gods, it was so obvious that she was crying. She hated it. "Please, just...let me sleep." She sniffed and curled a little tighter, as though trying to shut out the world.
"Alright." He said quietly, "Alright."
He however, did not return to sleep. He got up and walked through some of the back rooms, really uncomfortable with the idea of being in the same room as Della at that particular moment. He finally settled into a room dedicated to carpets, and passed out as soon as he laid back onto the soft and plush exterior.
Della's sleep was restless the remainder of the night. She woke early and sat up slowly, flgkancing around. When she didn't see Bolion, she sighed and got to her feet, slowly pulling on the crimson dress they'd purchased the previous day.
Bolion was at the same time sleeping like a rock in the next room, sunken into the assortment of plush carpetry. Light had begun to seep through holes in the canvas above him, but even they on his face and eyes didn't wake him. He'd been exhausted the night before, and now, his body had sent him into a deep R.E.M., one he'd recover from in maybe an hour.
Not really sure what else she should do- she couldn't very well walk around the bazaar on her own, not fbshe waa playing the part of a slave- Della made her way through the shop in an attempt to locate her partner.
She growled out a low breath when she found him, rolling her eyes. She nudged his side with her toe. "Oi. Wake up."
Bolion muttered something about toffee and rolled further into the blankets, wrapping himself up in one. He was dreaming about a fight he'd had years ago on the streets of Essyrn, but instead of ending, it went on endlessly, and never tiring or bleeding, he fought for what felt like hours. Della's nudge shook his world, making it seem less real. He cocooned himself to unconsciously preserve his dream state, whether or not that was his intention.
"Bolion." Della nudged him again, swiping a hand under her eyes to remove any traces of tears that might remain. "Come on, get up. We've got a job to do."
Bolion's eyes cracked open, but barely. It took him a second to register what was happening, but when he saw Della his eyes widened. He said nothing however, and sat up in his cocoon.
"You know right then was the perfect opportunity to murder me in my sleep, and you just missed it." He joked, although no smile accompanied this one.
"True." She shrugged. "But then I'd have no guide to get me through Essyrn. Now com on."
She put her back to him and moved back through the shop, adjusting the robes slightly as she walked.
Bolion sluggishly got up and out of his carpet mess, dropped some coins into the hand of the shopkeeper on the way out, and lifted the tent flap to be blinded by the morning sun.
"Fuck! Ah!" He covered his eyes with a hand, unexpectant of the intensity of the sun's rays. It also happened to be that he looked directly at the sun upon waking out of the tent.
Della coffee quietly, though honestly she'd had a similar reaction when she'd first been exposed to the light.
"A little sensitive there, Al'amr?" she asked innocently, waiting patiently for him with her hands clasped in front of her body.
Bolion shot Della a glare, through squinted eyes.
"You knew about this!" He accused, pointing absurdly at the sun, "Somehow! Your fault."
Grumbling under his breath he stepped out into the street and stretched his arms out high above him. His disgruntled behaviour wasn't an act, however, it was just his morning behaviour.
He looked at Della, concubine clad, and said, "Let's go sell the horses."
"The sun?" She arched an eyebrow and said cuttingly, "Yes, I did in fact know that the sun rose in the morning. Forgive me for not warning you, Al'amr." She bowed her head, the perfect picture of servility as she trailed after him.
"Should I perhaps shield the horse trader's eyes as well? Or do you think his slaves will be better suited to such tasks?" she asked, tone perfectly innocent but eyes glaring daggers at him.
"Well hmm, let's think," he retorted, equally biting, "The horse trader doesn't have any slaves, but I happen to have an incompetent one. Perhaps I could throw you in with the horses and get an extra hundred silver marks for it!"
He slipped just a bit into character. His angry disposition as of this morning, and the testosterone fueled dreaming had left him just a tad grumpy. He only had to change some mannerisms here and there, the rest coming he quite naturally. They walked past the same drunkard who'd harassed Della the previous day, but upon seeing Bolion's resting bitch face he scuttled away quickly, leaving his half finished rum on the ground where he'd been laying.
Della's eyes flashed dangerously and she lowered her voice to hiss, "The only reason I haven't charred your ass is because we have to keep up this stupid charade."
At a more audible volume, she said demurely. "Forgive me, sir. I'll try to do better."
Bolion snorted at her threat, replying quietly, "No, you haven't fried me because without me you'd be lost here."
After returning to the stable tent, and reclaiming their horses, Bolion began speaking rapid fire Essyrni with the stable-master. They argued back and forth, jibber-jabbering over the best prices and vendors, all of it ending with Bolion yelling something angrily at the man, and the man replying in kind. As he walked away however, Bolion was smiling. That had been one of the best conversations he'd had in weeks. He'd have to be sure to thank the stable-master on the way out.
Completely lost in the desert-folks' language, Della just waited with the horses until what she assumed was "haggling" was done. She gave Rain and Orrin fond pats and a few praises murmured in their ears before moving to follow Bolion again.
"Bring the horses Della," he said, and began to push his way through an ever amassing crowd. He turned back and said much more quietly, "We've got to go quickly, the girl I want to sell these guys to is only here for a short while."
"Yes, Al'amr." She took the horses' leads and followed after him, the very picture of obedient.
The throng of people was almost comforting to Bolion, their screaming and shouting in Essyrni like a reminiscent lullaby. It was an environment unique to his home, and so he loved it. It did however, impede their progress, and the shoppers at the Bazaar had as much a concept of personal space as did the slave Della was supposed to be. As such, it became much harder to reach the stall Bolion wanted to sell at. If they didn't get there before two hours past noon, the merchantess would pack up and leave, their best chance gone before they could even try it.
Della felt like she was constantly on the verge of hauling off and clocking someone- they were all just so close! She tried to keep her focus on the horses, making sure the crowds weren't too overwhelming for them.
"Are we nearly there?" she ground out, practically seething with irritation.
"No." Bolion growled, his frustration coming out in his voice. This crowd was too thick to get through, but it was the only way to where they needed to go.
"Any ideas?" He asked after a few minutes, truly desperate. He saw no way out of this problem.
She arched an eyebrow, then sighed and held the horses' leads out to him. "Stand back," she muttered, slipping past him.
A few flicking motions with her fingers and a murmured phrase was all it took. Lightning crackled into being, flashing briefly between her fingertips before leaping to strike a relatively open patch of ground in front of them.
No one was struck, but the noise, light, and heat was enough to scatter the crowd. "Come on, hurry," she snapped at Bolion over her shoulder as she started to dart through the brief opening.
Bolion took the reins and shuffled as much as he could to the side in the cramped space. Once the flash happened he was slightly stunned, and then scowled. While her way worked, he didn't want to draw attention. He could've just punched some people and yelled a lot, and achieved he same effect. But apparently subtlety was off the table.
He threaded his way through gap and followed after her, holding out the reins like she had several seconds before.
"Thank you," he muttered, and took off in the direction he was told the Merchantess's booth was in.
Della just grunted in acknowledgement and took the reins, settling into what was becoming a habit of following behind him again.
"Only idea I had," she muttered by way of explanation.
"Well it worked didn't it?" He replied, eager to move on from the subject before his dissatisfaction came out. There wa nothing they could to change the past now.
Just down the street was a woman with leather wrappings from head to toe, and a deep hood covered her face. All around her were different kinds of horses and ponies, a few camels, and one giant lizard, large enough to be ridden. The lizard was a bit away from the rest, dozing on a rock in the sun.
"Ooh, goody," he said sarcastically, "Giant scaled rat."
"I dunno." Della shrugged. "It's kinda cute. And it's probably easier to care for than a horse." She jerked her head at the merchant. "We giving the horses to her?"
"Trading. That's why I wanted to come here." He explained, "All other places buy and sell. She trades. No shortchanging when money isn't even involved."
He approached the woman, and inquired to her methods, in Essyrni. After a short conversation, he extended a hand towards the horses, welcoming her to test them. She came over, and thoroughly examined the beasts, checking everything from dental health to riding them around a little bit. After almost twenty minutes of familiarizing herself with the horses, she came back to Bolion and said something in quiet tones, before pointing out several of her stock, including another horse, three camels, and the giant lizard.
Bolion nodded and thanked her, before coming back to speak to Della, "She says that's Orrin by himself could be traded for any singular mount in her selection, but paired with Rain we can only choose two of the five she pointed out, which are that horse," he pointed to a chestnut mare, "any of the camels, or... the giant lizard. Apparently though, he's a three man speed mount, or a two man travel mount, or a singular trader's mount, and is much larger when spread out. Which means if we wanted him we'd be trading both the horses for the lizard, as opposed to two camels or a camel and a horse."
He crossed his arms and looked over their choices indecisively, and prodded, "So? Thoughts?"
Della held the horses as the merchant looked them over, simply standing by with her head bowed when she tested them out. She kept herself small and quiet, listening to Bolion describe their options.
She shrugged after a moment. "I've only ever ridden horses. I wouldn't know which is better... But if we're thinking about the logistics of feeding and care and whatnot, wouldn't one animal be easier than two?"
"Yeah... but they eat goats. Whole." He wrinkled his nose at the thought of one of the giant lizards unlatching it's jaw and swallowing a dead goat. He'd seen one eat the remnants of a person once, and it scarred him just a little bit. "Otherwise, it is probably the best option. They're much larger than horses mind you, kind of like small dragons. Size wise, at least. About as smart as rock lizards, the lot of 'em."
He grimaced as he watched the thing spread out on the stone ignore had made it's bed. He shuddered, and shook his head, before saying, "Alright. Lizard it is."
She shrugged again. "Like I said, I don't really know anything about these animals. It's your call."
When he decided on the lizard, she turned to their horses with a sigh and gave them little pats and murmurs of thanks and farewell.
"Right." She hefted her pack a bit and eyed the creature. "How do we...do this?"
Bolion called the hooded Merchantess over for a second and relayed Della's question as his own, before getting his answer in the form of a low whistle that came from within the Merchantess's hood.
The giant lizard raised his head, and flared a red neck crest at the noise, turning his head like a bird to see the Merchantess fully with one eye. He stood up and slithered down from his stony perch, coming to stand before them, in his full oversized glory.
"20 hands at the shoulder," the Merchantess said to Bolion in common, "And he can stand on his back legs and run up to 60 kilometres and hour. Fearsome sight that, but awe inspiring too."
"We'll take him," Bolion exclaimed, in false courage. He was actually very afraid of the beastly thing in front of him, but the speed and size would help them nonetheless. At that the Merchantess took the reins from Della, and debagged them, but took the saddles. She proceeded to secure the bags on the lizard, whom she claimed was called a Red-Frilled Giant Monitor. He wasn't native to the desert, but more the jungles to the south-east. But they apparently were like camels in the respect that they could carry water for a long time, and lost little of it due to thick and scaly skin. His name was Erthas, after a small breeder on the border of Kishahn.
Della kept her eyes downcast as the merchant spoke, but she absorbed the information eagerly, gaze constantly flicking to their new mount.
"Erthas," she murmured once his name had been relayed to them. She was a little nervous to actually get closer to him, but after a few moments took a sharp breath and moved forward, a flat palm extended as she would to a dog or a horse.
The lizard eyed her in silence, but didn't seem to mind when she came closer and moved around to the bags secured to his back. She dug around for a moment, then returned to his head with an offering of dried meat rations.
His head jerked down and a long tongue snapped the food out of her palm, making her squeak, then laugh. She glanced back at Bolion, for the first time since the previous night the anger gone from her eyes. "I like him."
"Just pray he doesn't eat you..." Bolion muttered, and hesitantly approached Erthas. The large lizard jerked his head around in a very avian fashion, large orange eye focused on Bolion. His eyes were at least the size of a cantoloupe. Bolion held a hand out in front of his mouth, and waited uncomfortably as Erthas' tongue snaked out and flicked around, catching his scent.
Bolion drew his hand back faster than he normally would, and he could've sworn he heard the Merchantess giggle, but when he turned around she was the picture of professionalism, tending the horses.
Scowling, he mounted Erthas. "Scaled rat..." he muttered to himself, and beckoned Della up as well.
"He is not," Della retorted, swinging up onto the creature behind Bolion. "He's kinda cute." She patted the lizard's side before wrapping her arms loosely around her companion's waist.
"Yeah, in the same way a crocodile could be cute," Bolion retorted, but nonetheless took the reins, which were fastened just below Erthas' jaw. He flinched slightly when Della touched him, and shivered despite himself. Last night still hadn't left him, and while the memory would remain for much longer, the physical discomfort of it all wash fresh for him.
He called a thanks to the Merchantess, who in turn waved at them. Now the crowds parted much faster, the giant scaly beast coming at them enough to deter even the staunchest loitering.
"So."
Della shifted uncomfortably and attempted to settle herself more securely on the animal's back. "ARe we just...gonna pretend last night didn't happen?"
"What is there to recognize?" He questioned, "You have issues you've made clear you don't wish to share. I apologized." His face was emotionless, in exception for his eyes which were grave and cold. He didn't really want to talk about it, and he was trying to show that.
She frowned, resisting the urge to cuff the side of his head. "Yes, but... I want you to- I want there to be an understanding-"
She growled in frustration and shook her head. "Do you know- what happened? When I was asleep, and you were...being curious?"
"Lightning Veins," he said quietly, "presumably weird dreams. It seemed like that."
"And that's...all?" She stared at his back. Was he dense, or just being polite. "Aside from my magic, I didn't seem to...react in any particular way?"
Bolion sighed, and said, "Della, what are you trying to get me to understand? I'm well aware of the physical effects it had on you. That's one of the reasons I did it. If it affected you mentally somehow, I'm not omniscient."
He twisted just enough to look at her, and his expression was a pained one. He said, "I've apologized, and I can do so again if that's what you wish, but I can't take it back." He returned to staring forward, indignant and exasperated, "What's done is done. Nothing can change that now."
"That's what I'm talking about." She cleared her throat. "The...physical effects. Can you understand why I reacted the way I did just from that? It was...very personal. Being...touched that way-"
Again, she cleared her throat uncomfortably. "Whatever I am, the- the non-human part of me...it taps into an instinct. Before your little, shall we say, experiment, the only person who'd touched me like that was...was my husband."
If she could have distanced herself from him she would have, but there was only so much room on the lizard. "I don't need another apology, Bolion. I just want you to understand why I reacted the way I did."
"I assumed as much," he said, scowling, and straightened his posture, "It doesn't really matter to me why you did what you did. You've given off the impression that you're uncomfortable with intimacy and you've also told me enough to be able to understand why."
He said nothing for a short while, simply letting the time pass. They were nearing the commodities section of the bazaar now, and they'd soon have to dismount. He said, "I wasn't surprised really. Highly uncomfortable, yes, and flustered, for sure. But was it unexpected? No. That's the thing Della, I always thought somewhere in the back of my mind that I would be caught at some point. I just never thought that it would happen in the moment in which I could be caught."
She shook her head, rather baffled. "Then why did you do it? If you thought you were gonna get caught, and you knew it would make me uncomfortable- why?"
More than frustration, there was a bit of hurt in her tone that she couldn't seem to hide, no matter how much she tried.
"I don't know," he admitted, "I guess it was one of those things where the impulse to do it is simply because you shouldn't."
He also said, "I have a tendency to act stupid around pretty girls."
That struck her quiet, at least for a few moments. Eventually, she muttered, "I'm...not saying I'm not still angry about it. Because I am. But- I guess I know you weren't...there wasn't malicious intent or anything."
She huffed and cast around for something else to say. "Look, let's just- truce? So we can get this job over and done with?"
"Della," he said, twisting in the saddle again, but this time almost fully, "How long do you think this job is going to take?"
His eyes weren't angry, but annoyed, and his face reflected it. The recent topic had him perturbed, and the mention of finishing their mutual agreement as fast as possible irked him for some reason.
She met his eyes with a small frown. "I know it's going to be longer than a couple of days," she muttered. "I just mean- you know. Let's try to be professional for the time we're together, that's all."
She wasn't exactly sure herself if that's what she'd really meant, but it was as good an excuse as any. She ducked her head a bit, looking away.
He watched her incredulously for a few seconds, before tightening his lips and resuming his position. He was tense, and angry, although he didn't know why. Maybe he had anger issues. Either way, as a result, he was very stiff and rigid in the seat, and his method or steering Erthas wasn't gentle, persay, but efficient. It wasn't that he was being rough, but he wasn't sparing what he considered a giant scaled rat's feelings either.
"What does that even mean?" He asked after a minute or two of silence, obviously confused, and just a bit exasperated.
"It means-" Della huffed, not sure herself what she was planning on saying. Her eyes flicked over him.
"You're too tight on the reins," she told him quietly, leaning forward and slightly around him to put her hands over his and try to loosen his grip slightly. "Reptiles aren't exactly sensitive, but if you jerk up on his frill he'll probably get pissy with us."
She let out a long breath.
"It means...I'll try not to...overreact like that again. I'll try to understand why you act the way you do. But I'd ask that you extend me the same courtesy- no grabbing me in my sleep again."
For a second, his grip hardened further, but only for a second, and he relaxed. He edged away from her slightly, but relented to that as well, slouching rather grumpily in place. He spared a glance her way, and became tight lipped, and he breathed heavily, but shallowly, as if it was hard for him.
"If it weren't for the job, for the necessities of it, I don't think I'd be sleeping in the same room as you," he said honestly, his disdain for the idea painfully clear, "You can trust I won't be touching you for any reason that isn't necessary from now on."
Hurt flashed through her, hurt she hadn't expected. She pulled back from him, pulling her hands back to hold onto her own thighs in an effort not to touch him.
"Of course. I understand," she murmured, voice suddenly very low.
Of course. Of course, he'd said it himself- it had just been curiosity that spurred him to touch her, nothing more. Why would it be? She withdrew into herself more, feeling more insecure than she had since she was fifteen and some village boy had told her she was a silver-flecked freak. Part of her hated him for bringing that out in her.
Another part wondered if she'd ever really left it behind.
Bolion glanced back at her, just turning his head, but said nothing. Only his eyes flicked up, and he turned back to the road. As much as he hated the entirety of that day up until then, he didn't intend to hurt Della. But his words could cripple, and he knew they had.
He suddenly stopped Erthas and dismounted. They'd pulled up next to a stall, selling meat and dried fruits, and the stall next to that one had flatbreads. Handing off a few coins to each, he'd sufficiently restocked their food stores and began packing them into the bags on the back when he said quietly, "Drive the Lizard."
He looked up at her and his face showed regret. As oddly angry as he'd been, and irrational it was, he was still himself. He got one foot into the third stirrup, the saddle to which it belonged currently being used as storage, and extended a hand in motion to the main saddle.
"Yeah, sure." Della slid forward to take the reins, settling herself in the main part of the saddle and getting a feel for the animal.
She glanced back at what he was packing. "That enough to get us to the city?"
"No clue." He said truthfully, "I've never ridden a Lizard before. Travel time is a mystery to me."
He swung up into the second saddle, and faced a problem he hadn't for a while, and one that was related to a very fresh issue. Rather awkwardly, he said, "Where are we putting your tail Dell?"
She started, then sighed and moved her tail to wrap over her thigh to give him room. "This is fine," she muttered, not looking at him.
"Alright." He said, and for a second debated how he was going to sit, deciding finally to just shove his hands into the pockets of his vest. Fuck. Today sucked.
"If you remember the way out of the bazaar, turn south-east from the gate, and just go that way. We'll adjust course when we stop," he advised, and reached back for a bag of lamb jerky he'd bought not moments before. Bringing some to his mouth, he bit in. It was tough, but sweet and spicy, overall not too bad. And it would last. After autopilot eating about half of the bag, he caught himself on his nineteenth piece in a row, and stopped. He reached around Della's arm, brushing it with his own, and waggled the bag in front of her.
"Jerky?" He asked politely. How else could he say it? Their interactions weren't exactly chummy at this point.
Della nodded in silence and steered Erthas in the direction of the gate. She kept herself straight and carefully separate from Bolion; if it was possible, she felt even more uncomfortable around him now than she had when they'd first met.
She wasn't fully paying attention to the path ahead of them as she guided their mount according to his instructions and they just rode in quiet. When he offered the food, she actually jerked back a bit from the bag, startled into the present.
"Oh. Um, thanks." She took a piece and nibbled on it absently, beyond that not really acknowledging him.
Bolion blinked groggily, head laid back on the supplies behind him. He remembered deciding to recline a few minutes after they'd left the main gate. He must've fallen asleep again. Maybe that was a bad habit of his.
He straightened up and stretched his arms high above him. As he did, his spine popped and his elbows cracked in kind. He let out a groan, and focused on his surroundings. Sand. More sand. Then there was Della. He decided it was better not to say anything, and simply sit out the remainder of the ride. Perhaps he would stop the trek in an hour, or two, to realign them on their path to the capital.
She felt him stirring and half glanced over her shoulder at him. "You awake?" It was mostly a rhetorical question, but she was sick of just steering the damn lizard in silence.
He sighed. Apparently silence was an option fully exhausted. He sat up straight, and inhaled deeply.
"It would appear so," he replied, just a little sarcastic, "Does Erthas ride well?"
She shrugged. "He's comfortable enough. hasn't fought me really. You want the reins again?"
"Are you tired of them?" He asked in response. He didn't really want to, but if she wanted a rest he was willing to take them. This gods forsaken lizard thing was not his ideal mount.
"Oh, no I don't mind." She tried for a polite smile, but wasn't really sure if she managed it. "I just figured...y'know, you know the terrain better than I do..."
"It's sand Della." He said totally deadpan. He cocked an eyebrow, and leaned to the right, getting a look at Della without having to touch her.
Her cheeks flushed a bit. "I meant, the direction we're going," she muttered, refusing to look at him.
Bolion gave her a strange look, and sat back up in his seat. He muttered something inaudible under his breath, but piped up afterwards, saying, "Well if you want to switch we'll have to stop and I'm going to check the maps."
He continued, "It could be a while."
"I don't mind steering," she said patiently, though she was obviously putting in effort not to snap at him. "Can't you just look at the maps while we ride? Things will go faster- I promise I won't let you fall," she added, a bit of bite re-entering her tone.
He snorted, and pulled his feet out of the stirrups, and crouched on Erthas' back. He then sat on the large pack that held most of their items. After rummaging for a second inside the first backpack fastened to the side, the one that held his maps and nick-knacks.
Unfurling a map that detailed the position of the Bazaar, two or three optional route-based pit stops, and the Essyrn City main Oasis.
"How long was I asleep?" He asked Della after looking up from the large canvas in front of him.
"A couple hours." She indicated the position of the sun with a jerk of her head. "Not long enough that I thought it was really necessary for me to wake you."
"Does Erthas go as fast or faster than a horse, would you say?" He quizzed her, more for the sake of travel planning than any desire to deliberately be annoying. He'd been asleep, and thus needed some sort of information to gauge their travel correctly.
"About the same, really. But I haven't been trying to open him out, and I'm not sure what his endurance is," she replied, cool and professional. Her hand skimmed down to pat the lizard's scaly hide as she spoke though.
"Alright, well by my cartographing, we're a good twenty miles from the nearest oasis southbound." He said as he examined the map. It was a rough estimate, but that's all he really needed for this ride. It was partially memorized at this point anyway.
"If you think he's up for it we can try to push there," he continued, "Or we can make camp before we stop."
"Alright, Erthas, whaddya say?" She leaned out over his neck and scratched under his frill. The lizard made a sort of crooning sound and she smiled.
"He seems fine. I mean, he hasn't been flagging or anything, but I'm not really sure how to tell if a lizard is getting tired." She shrugged as she sat back. "I suppose he'll let us know if he's too tired to keep going."
"I'd be more worried about him dehydrating," Bolion advised, "He is a Jungle Monitor after all. Maybe we should go to the Oasis?"
He also was thirsty, but their water supply had gone faster than anticipated, and he hadn't stocked up enough on water at the Bazaar, other things occupying his thought at the time.
"Alright." Another shrug. "Which direction? It all looks the same to me."
"Swing east a little," he said, and went silent over his maps. As much as he wanted to, he hadn't anything more to say. He felt somehow that she didn't want to speak with him anyway.
Della nodded and guided their mount eastward. "I'm assuming I'll know when to stop?" she tossed over her shoulder. "I mean- the start of the oasis, right? Or do you want to go in further?"
"An Oasis. Not the Oasis. This one is small, a rest stop, more or less." He muttered over the fold of his map.
"If memory serves, it's just a pond and a little grove, nothing more." He continued.
"Alright." Again she fell quiet, still mostly trying to get a feel for their mount as she guided him over what felt like endlessly rolling dunes of sand.
An hour and a half passed, and still no Oasis came into sight. One waterskin remained, full but Bolion knew it would go all too fast.
"Della," he called from his perch on the supplies, "have some water."
He held out the leather bag, and despite himself waggled it behind her.
"Hm?" She blinked and twisted around. The heat was getting to her, making her fuzzy headed and bleary eyed. "Oh, thanks." she took the waterskin and drank deeply. She hadn't realized how thirsty she was.
"You doing alright?" He asked, "the first trip through the desert is always the hardest, because you can't recognize your own tells."
He'd adopted wearing a wide brimmed hat he'd taken from back in the clothes shop. "You wanna hat?"
She chuckled dryly. "I appreciate the offer, but I'm not sure I could," she muttered, gesturing to her horns with a wave of her hand.
Her skin seemed to have flushed robin's egg blue in the heat and she fanned herself absently.
"Nonsense." He said, and rummaged around on the pack that made his seat. After a time, he pulled a large sun hat with a tall crown from within.
"Try it." He insisted, placing the hat loosely on the top of her head.
"Oi." Della had to reach up to hold the hat in place on her head. Eventually, she found the tie and managed to make it serviceable.
"...thanks." She rolled her neck, reaching up with one hand to massage her shoulder with her fingertips. A soft purring sort of growl rumbled in her chest. "Gods. How much farther to this oasis again?"
"Maybe a half an hour?" He said flakily. They should be able to see it by now, by nowhere on their horizon was the block of green that marked it among the shifting of the sands.
"I could go for a full shiatsu, goddamn." He muttered to himself, and laid back on the packs, "Shall I steer the lizard now?"
"Shiatsu?" She peered back over her shoulder at him as she repeated the foreign word.
"Oh- uh, sure. If you want." She pulled up on the reins gently and Erthas started to slow. "Easy boy, good lad," she murmured to him, patting his neck.
"Oh," he laughed, and explained, "It's a Yoreiqi deep tissue massage. I was just lamenting."
"You've never been outside of Adela have you?" He asked, genuinely curious.
She shook her head, frowning slightly. "Not really, no. Never had much opportunity, really."
"I guess not." He said plainly.
He dismounted Erthas, and realized he didn't have any shoes on.
"Oh shit," he said, wiggling his toes in the sand, "I think I left my sandals at the Bazaar."
Della chuckled, she couldn't help it. "Alright, hold on." She twisted and dug in her back for a few moments, coming up with a few clean linen underthings. "Here," she said, tossing them to him. "Just...wrap those around your feet or something until we can get you more shoes."
He caught the linens, and looked back up at Della, smiling.
"Brassiere slippers," he said through a snicker, "Are the weirdest thing I'll ever have to wear on my feet." He wrapped them around the balls of his feet, and his ankles, but left the heel and toes of his feet open. They almost looked like normal foot wraps. Almost.
She shrugged and smirked, apparently unconcerned. "Hey, don't wear 'em, burn your feet. Doesn't make a difference to me," she said easily as she slid back on the saddle. She gestured toward the front of the saddle. "Take it away, captain."
"Aye aye Bo'sun, an' secure the cargo for send off!" He said in a lazy sailor's growl, and swung up into the first saddle. He urged Erthas into a steady run, himself eager for the Oasis. Erthas' snaking motion was very different from any horse, but Bolion decided he liked it better.
"Now," he said suddenly, "Would be the time to catch some rest. If we intend to bunk at the Oasis, One of us will have to take watch for half the night, then we'll switch. Keeping guard isn't mandatory, but I'd heavily advise it. Raiders hit Oases all the time, and having one of us awake is an advantage."
"Whoa!" Della's body jerked slightly as they broke into a run, but she settled herself quickly enough. She had to grab Bolion around the waist to keep herself steady though.
"Alright. Guess I'll grab a nap then," she muttered. It took some finagling, but she eventually managed to lay back enough to be comfortable without feeling like she was going to fall off.
Another hour passed until he found the outcropping of dark greens on the horizon, to the west. They had gone too far to the east, and had missed the visual cue. He changed course and hurried their approach, but took care not to jostle Della too much.
Upon arrival, he saw that the close knit group of palm trees surrounded a murky looking pond, and wrinkled his nose. Disgusting as it may have been, water was still water. He slowed Erthas to a stop, and dismounted, before waking Della through a quick squeeze on her knee.
"We... have arrived," he said extravagantly, and began to unpack.
"Mmf." Della sat up blearily and looked around. She yawned, rubbing her eyes before she moved to help him unpack.
"Well, this is...lovely." She grabbed her pack and started digging through it absently.
"Isn't it?" He said in a snarky tone, "Would you prefer first watch, or shall I?"
He undid his personal pack and took out his bedroll, setting it next to a palm trunk. He moved on to work on Erthas' saddle and the food stores.
"I just slept, I don't mind taking watch," she answered with a shrug. She pulled her bedroll out and laid it flat over the sand. She moved toward the water and dunked her hands in, splashing a bit of the water on her face to wake herself up properly.
She mimicked the whistle the merchant had used to call Erthas and his head snapped up, tongue flicking. He slid across the sand toward her and cocked his head, bird-like. She unfastened the rest of the packs from his back and gave his shoulder a little pat.
"Good boy. You get some rest, alright?" she told him as she set herself with her back against a tree trunk to keep watch.
Bolion slid a hand into his personal satchel, and pulled out a little ukelele he'd gotten from a Thanati man several years back, when he was working on the docks. He'd learned a few songs, but played around with the notes more often than actually played music. He couldn't sing too well, and it didn't come to him naturally. He wasn't elven enough it seemed. On the instrument however, he could play a rousing tavern tune or a sad lament on the spot, just by combing the sounds of certain songs. Most of them had a similar structure anyway, so recreating one slightly differently was no problem for him.
He did that now, playing off of a tragic ballad that traditionally told the tale of a king who died waiting for the perfect queen. It had always seemed a little odd to him that that specific song was the first he'd learned. He however found it depressing, and decided to speed it up a little and change some notes to make it more lively. Away he plucked at the strings, for almost half an hour, just playing the music to a poem whose words he did not know. The sound of them, light and lively rang through the grove and flew low across the dunes.
Anyone within a mile or two would hear the clear notes well enough to track their position, but Bolion didn't fret. He knew most of the attack routes in this part of the country, and none came here this time of year.
Della started slightly when he began playing and glanced over at him. She frowned a bit, not sure if drawing attention to their position was such a good idea- but he didn't seem at all concerned, so she decided not to say anything.
She thought she recognized the tune, though it was a bit faster, more upbeat than she remembered. She found herself nodding along as he played, absently drawing nonsense symbols in the sand with her bare toes.
Almost unconsciously, she started to sing under her breath. Her voice was a little thin and quiet, nothing spectacular, but it wasn't bad either. She didn't remember all the words- wasn't even sure if it was the right song- but she sang anyway, adding nonsense words for what she couldn't remember.
"Come all ye fair ladies, hey nonny nonny oh. For the king would see you dancing...la da da de da. Away in his fine castle, hey nonny hey nonny oh..."
Bolion glanced over at Della when she began to sing, but didn't stop playing. He listened to her sing, just as she listened to him play, and while the day stretched long and the sun began to set, it seemed to stand still for him.
It was nice.
He was ready to play the fourth riff in the song for the second time when a rattling hiss broke into their melody, and he faltered. He held a hand across the strings, and saw that Erthas had been the one hissing, and his frill had raised up. It was wavering quickly, almost vibrating, and Bolion's confusion only heightened when he rose from his laying position to a low but defensive stance, and his hiss loudened. For a second, Bolion panicked, but seeing that he was looking in Della's direction. He glanced at Della, and then saw the reason why their giant lizard had become angrily roused.
Slithering up and out of the sand not five feet behind Della was a rattlesnake big enough to be a python, fixated on the tailed girl. His eyes widened, eyebrows shot up, and he paled.
"Della, don't move." Bolion said quietly, "Keep your tail still, and don't move a muscle. I'll come to you."
He didn't think she'd seen the snake yet, being distracted by Erthas and all, but as soon as he set down the Ukelele, a rattle crackled in challenge to Erthas' hiss.
"I'm coming to you."
Della's voice cut off and her head jerked up. "Erthas?"
She'd been around predatory animals long enough to know a threat display for what it was. For a few moments she thought it was directed at her, but then realized if he might to strike he would have done so by now.
Confused, she started to turn her head to look at Bolion when he spoke, then froze. He'd told her not to move, and he sounded serious. She almost clapped a hand over her tail to keep it from twitching unintentionally, but stopped herself at the last moment.
"What is it-" The rattle cut her off and she swallowed, blanching. Oh dear.
Thirteen feet.
That was the distance between Della and Bolion, and he had to clear that before the rattler covered five. He was so screwed. He began to slowly, almost invisibly rise. It was painstaking and useless, because by the time he got to his feet that way the window of opportunity would be gone and maybe so would Della. He didn't know what to do. If he moved, the snake might strike, and if she moved the snake might strike anyway.
He was at a loss, until Erthas hissed and flittered his frill, reinvigorated. He rose in halting motions, and the Rattlesnake shifted her focus like lightning, head jerking to watch Erthas' display. It was then that Bolion sprung up, and forward. He used his left leg like a spring, propelling himself out of a sitting position and onto his right, clearing maybe four feet, and then leapt another six. In the middle of his second leap the rattler twisted and shot out for Della. Bolion landed and dove the remaining four or so feet, leaping over Della as the Rattler reared and struck at what would've been her shoulder.
Unfortunately for the snake, Bolion had shoved her aside in his dive, and the rattler struck the tree in her stead. That only slowed it for a second, and then next sequence was in slow motion for Bolion. He scrambled upward into a sitting pose, and the Snake recoiled her head, sighting and striking again for Bolion's shin. He drew his leg back, but not fast enough, and he felt the lower jaw of the rattlesnake scratch the bone just above his ankle.
The upper jaw didn't clamp down however, as when Bolion had sprung for Della, Erthas had sprung for the snake. He had pounced on it, and had bitten the thing three feet from it's head. Now, like an iguana, he flipped and spasmed, shaking and flipping the snake with him. In doing so he ripped the lower teeth out of Bolion's shin, and the four inch fangs only grazed his ankle before he even had the chance to cry out in pain. Erthas beside him wrestled violently with the snake, but it seemed he would come out on top, being the much larger combatant.
Bolion couldn't have cared at that moment, tears springing to his eyes as his right leg began to bleed profusely and the deep scratches began to both burn and go numb at the same time.
Everything seemed to slow down for a moment, then speed up again in less than a second. Della felt Bolion's weight hit her and take her to the sand, knocking the breath from her body. Desperately, she tried to twist onto her feet so she could leap from the snake if it attacked again.
But the snake wasn't aiming for her now. Her eyes widened as she saw Erthas rip the thing's head away from her companion's leg. A small cry caught in her throat and she just stared for a moment, completely frozen.
The rattler gave a dying, gurgling hiss and she snapped back into the real world.
"Oh shit!" She dropped next to Bolion, twisting his leg a bit so she could see the wound. Already it looked ugly, the skin puffy near where the fangs had gone in. "Oh shit!" she repeated, ripping frantically at the edge of her crimson robes and tying a tourniquet tightly around his leg as quick as she could. "Wh-what do I do?" She looked up at him with wide eyes, hands fluttering.
She wasn't a healer, damnit! She knew how to destroy, not fix.
Bolion laid his head back and tried to block out the pain. The teeth of the rattler's lower jaw weren't venemous but they had ripped through the skin all across his inner calf, and along with the bleeding, his muscle twitched involuntarily and that only made it worse.
"I don't know..." he croaked, and his breath caught in his throat, "I-I can't-I don't know. I can't feel my foot."
"Okay." She tried to remember how to breathe. "Okay....okay." She ripped off another strip of her hem and started trying to bandage his leg. "Just- just try to hold still, alright?"
She didn't need to drain any poison or find an antidote, which simplified things a bit, but she still didn't really know what to do. She couldn't even judge how heavy the bleeding was because her damn "virgin" robes were designed to hide blood!
"Bol? Talk to me, yeah? Stay with me here," she muttered, glancing up. Gods, she didn't know what she'd do if he lost consciousness.
"I am very awake right now!" He told her, and winced as she applied another strip. He couldn't do much at this point, and decided to lay still on the ground. He let his head fall to the left and saw Erthas eating the remains of the rattler.
"Good boy," he whispered, and reached out at the lizard, who was much too far away for his touch. His heart was beating fast, but he felt detached. With his other hand, he grasped Della's arm.
"I'm sorry," he said, and his grip relaxed a little, "I didn't really mean what I said. At the Bazaar. I was afraid, and I'm so sorry," he paused, and his eyes dropped, then met hers again, "In case I don't get the chance to say it later."
Erthas seemed content with his meal, but Della vaguely noticed him glance in their direction when Bolion reached out for him.
She jerked slightly when he grasped her arm and stared at him for a moment, frozen again. "Sorry...?" she repeated dumbly, too panicked to remember what he was talking about.
In case I don't get the chance to say it later. Her heart jumped up into her throat.
"No no, don't talk like that!" She continued binding his leg frantically, reaching for her pack and pulling it close so she could dig around for her salve. "You're gonna be fine, alright?"
Aha! There it was. She pulled the little tin out and peeled back the fabric of the makeshift bandages so she could spread the salve over the wound, wincing as she did. That had to hurt. "And you know what, I don't forgive you," she babbled, trying very hard to focus only on her task. "So you better stick around, alright? I want a proper apology, none of this deathbed crap."
She tried to keep her voice firm, but it shook slightly and she held her breath for a moment, trying to force herself to calm down.
"Well I don't intend on dying! But I'm not going out knowing there are things that I could've resolved but didn't!" He said defiantly. His entire right leg had gone numb now, more from pain than venom. A flare of fire ran from his pinkie toe to his right hip when she rubbed the salve into the wound however. She must've hit a nerve. He couldn't help but tense up, and released her arm so his grip wouldn't dig into her while she tried to patch him up.
"Sorry, I'm sorry, I know this must hurt like a son of a bitch," Della muttered. She redid the bandaging to the best of her ability, making sure it was tight enough to stop the bleeding.
She glanced up at his face sidelong. "Alright. If you want to resolve things- what exactly are you apologizing for?" Maybe talking would keep his mind off the pain.
"I..." he took a deep breath, both to ease the pain, and also to steady himself, "I was angry with you, for something where I was in the wrong. I was cold to you, and I said things with the intent to hurt you, whether or not I succeeded the intent was there, and for that I'm sorry," he said, watching her intently, "I was wrong, in what I did. If you're not willing to forgive me I understand that, but at least now you know."
Della was quiet a few moments longer, pitting a bit of pressure on his leg in the hopes it would slow the bleeding.
"I forgive you," she murmured eventually, still not looking at him. She gave a quick little shake of her head and lifted his leg slightly to finish tying off the bandages.
"That's the best I can do- we need to get you to a real healer as fast as we can."
"It's like, ten miles to the nearest settlement," he said, "This wasn't supposed to happen-" he flailed one of his arms at nothing in particular, "-out here!"
He glanced down at his ankle for the first time since watching the Rattler bite into him. His eyes widened, and a scowl fell on his face. He took Della lightly by the elbow with one hand and with the other lifted the tattered shred of one end of his lungi, where the snake's teeth had torn the material.
"It ripped my fuckin' skirt!" He snapped, but not at her, "I just payed for this! Unbelievable. Incapacitate my leg and rip my tendons, sure, but why couldn't my clothing be left in peace?!"
Della gaped at him. "You're a mad man!" she exclaimed after a moment. "You're worried about your shirt? You could have died, you looney!"
He still might die, if infection set in. No, no she wouldn't think about that.
"Come on." She grabbed his arm and wrapped it around her shoulders, trying to get them both to their feet. "Erthas."
She whistled and the lizard looked up, the serpent's tail hanging from his mouth. He slid over the sand toward them and she looked at Bolion. "I'm gonna get you up on him, but you have to navigate, alright? I have no idea where we're going."
When she hefted him up he saw stars, and the one good knee he had buckled, but only for a second. He resorted to hopping on his left leg while he lifted his right like a limping dog.
"Well, yeah!" He said, not done with the topic of his clothing, "I can heal, but my skirt cannot."
When Erthas came over, he said, "Yeah alright. How are we gonna do this?" He asked as he examined the saddled lizard. He was tall. Very tall.
"That...is an excellent question."
She sighed and glanced between him and the lizard. "Alright. Do you trust me?" She guided him to lean against the animal's side, sucking out from under his arm when she wa sure he was stable and tilting her head as she looked him up and down.
He was certainly solid, but not too big. She could probably do this.
Bolion eyed her warily. He responded, "I did, until you asked that question. What exactly are you planning, Della?"
He was suddenly reminded of being thrown over her shoulder like a rag doll. He looked at her again, newly apprehensive.
She gave him a droll look. "I'm gonna give you a boost and you'll have to jump with your good leg, throw your bad one over his back. I need you to trust my timing though, and jump when I say, or this is just gonna be a mess and you'll hurt yourself worse."
"Oh...kay," he said cautiously, but ran through it once in his head, how it would work, and nodded. "Okay, yeah. Let's do this."
"Alright." Della nodded determinedly and moved forward. She ducked to cup his good foot in her hands. "This is gonna suck, you're going to have to stand on your injured led for a second before you kick off. Just get through this and I'll make sure you stay on, alright?"
"Yeah, I know," he said, and looked back at Erthas, then down at Della. He stood still for a second, simply breathing, and said , "Yeah okay. Let's go."
"Okay." She took a breath. "Okay. One. Two. Three!"
Though she was stronger than a human would have been, Della still grunted with the effort as she boosted him up, leaning into Erthas's side slightly to brace herself.
Bolion tapped the ground for only a second with his off leg, before springing up with his other. In that second, lights flashed behind his eyes and the strip of fire Della had ignited not moments before returned. Amidst the pain, he somehow managed to secure himself on the secondary saddle, and swung his left leg over Erthas' back. His right hung limply on the side, and he could've sworn it began to bleed again.
He swore violently in Essyrni, cursing snakes and pants to damnation before spouting angrily that he didn't like sand, and how it got into undergarments. But now he was up, and he was fine, relatively.
"Thank you," he called down to Della, exhausted, and offered a hand.
Della rolled her eyes and waved his hand away. "Just keep yourself on," she told him briskly, vaulting onto the lizard's back from the ground easily. "Here, let me see your leg." As she adjusted her seat, she glanced down at his leg and twisted so she could pull his wounded leg up into her lap and tighten the bandages.
"Alright. Just hang onto me and tell me where we're going."
Bolion slung his leg back down into the stirrup, and hugged Della around the waist. He was suddenly very light headed. Somewhere in the back of his mind he hoped that the snake hadn't popped an artery.
"Just south. Straight south, we'll find a strip of buildings, no larger than a village," he said, "Hurry, I'll be fine."
"Alright. Hold on." Della held the reins in one hand and put the other over his arms around her waist.. She clicked to Erthas and gave him a little tap with her heels- honestly it was the biggest cue for speed she'd ever given him.
The lizard suddenly sprang forward, racing across the sand so fast his feet almost didn't seem to touch the ground. "Gods!" Della yelped and held on a little tighter.
When Erthas lurched forward Bolion tightened his grip around Della, and closed his eyes. He held his right leg tightly to the Lizard's side. The speed had slammed his leg into the saddled ribs of Erthas, and his head throbbed with the pain. He saw lights again, and put his forehead down on the back of her shoulder, muttering violent nothings to ease his pain.
"I'm sorry, I'm sorry," Della mumbled as they rode, unable to do anything else to ease the pain. She urged Erthas to go faster, trying to cover as much distance as they could as quickly as possible.
Nine miles flew past on the back of Erthas, wind whipping and feet flying.
Of course, maybe they didn't, and it was Bolion's pain-induced delirium that muddled the passage of time. He did, however, look up from Della's shoulder in time to see the very village he had told her to aim for, twinkling in the night. Night? The sun must've fallen on their ride, and he hadn't noticed.
Even though he was practically dying, bleeding from his leg and numb along his swollen foot, the next thought he had was the farthest thing from that.
Muttering in the slur of a tired man, he spoke into Della's ear, "We forgot our stuff at the Oasis didn't we?" He turned his head back to look at something he knew wasn't there, and said quietly, "My Ukelele..."
"It's- it's okay." Della twisted to glance at him over her shoulder. "It's alright. I'll get you to a healer and I'll go back for our supplies, okay?"
Erthas came charging into the little village and she pulled him up short, wincing as the lizard came to a screeching halt. She jumped from his back and reached up for Bolion. "Alright, come on, lean on me."
Erthas' jerking halt sent Bolion violently forward, and if he weren't already practically cuddling Della he would have rammed into her. When she left however, he lolled down and snapped back up, already twisting his leg over Erthas's saddle.
"Gimme a second," he asked as he used one leg to awkwardly hop off of the stirrup. Now safely on the ground, he extended an arm around her shoulders and used her as a support before hobbling into the centre of the village square on mostly borrowed legs.
"Easy, easy." Della looked around at the people who seemed to be cautiously approaching from their homes. "Please, we need help- a healer, someone fetch a healer, quick!"
She tried to lower Bolion to the ground, lifting his leg into her lap and murmuring apologies the whole time.
Bolion groaned when she lifted his leg, but otherwise stayed silent. The ground was soft. He wanted to go to sleep. Erthas laid down next to them, and Bolion saw that he had a bloody streak all across his right side.
For a second, Bolion was concerned that his lizard friend had been injured in his wrestle with the rattlesnake, but then realized that is was his blood on the steed. It was on the cusp of that revelation that he decided now was the time for sleep, and he closed his eyes, resting his head back into the dirt and sand.
Della's eyes widened. "Fuck! Bol? Bol!"
A few of the villagers shuffled closer, one carrying what looked like might be a medical kit. She snapped her eyes up to them. "A healer. Are you a healer?"
"Yes, girl." The elderly woman tilted her head as she looked them over. "What happened?"
"A- a snake. Massive rattlesnake." Della babbled out as much of the story as she could, moving back so the healer could lean over him and get to work. She moved toward Erthas, patting the lizard absently when he nosed into her side, probably looking for treats.
Bolion swam through a deep blue gelatin, like molasses, but the colour of the ocean. It was dark, and shadows swam around him, twisting and tunnelling in the gloom. But he still pushed forward, stretching and pushing against the ever increasing pressure around him, unintelligible bass booming through him like voices distorted far below his natural hearing range. His entire body was on fire. Literal fire. The tongues of flame locked up his arms and ate away the gel, taking shape in front of and around him, the female form of... Deloria? Her features were plain in the blaze, but he didn't know why she was there, or why she was burning away his protective gel. His dark, shadowy cocoon. Why?
Bolion's eyes slid open, and the first thing he heard was Della babbling endlessly and he saw a blurry form in front of him but his limbs still felt as if he were incarcerated in sludge. His eyes fluttered once and then closed again.
Here he was, yet again. Deep blue encircled him... then, fire...
Della she Erthas were shuffled to the side as the healer barked for Bolion to be taken to her home. Della tried to follow but was quickly stopped- there wasn't enough room, she was told, and did she have the coin to compensate their healer.
Without looking she reached for her pack- then remembered she didn't have it. "I- I don't have any money." She swallowed as the man blocking her from the healer's but frowned and crossed his arms. "Our camp- we left all our supplies, if you let me run back there-"
"Not a chance." He shook his head gruffly.
"Buts it's all we have!"
The man grunted and beckoned another villager forward. "Grab a few men and fund their camp, bring back their supplies." He eyed Della sidelong. "That way we know she won't just run off and leave us with her lame friend. Which direction?"
Della pointed. "A straight shot, we camped in that little oasis."
He nodded and spoke to the man he'd called forward again, but she wasn't really listening to him. She leaned back against Erthas's side and started, realizing he'd been streaked with blood. She sighed and knelt to grab a handful of sand, starting to rub it away. The lizard crooned and closed his eyes, apparently content.
Three times had the woman of fire come. Three times had she burned away his prison, and three times he had been reincarnated into this shadowy realm. He had ceased swimming and simply floated, knees tucked to his chest and arms tightly slung around them. Shadows passed and swam, black veins and translucent skin all he could see amidst the deep blues. He began to shiver, and only tightened his grip further.
Outside his comatose dreams Bolion had been fed an herbal remedy to ease his swelling and clot the bleeding, but an allergic reaction had resulted in his saliva foaming up. He began to convulse, twitching and seizing rapidly and violently in place while the healer worked to slow the affects of the herbs and also wrap his wounds.
Della had cleaned Erthas, mostly, and was barred from most of the village by suspicious faces and wardens at every door. It was the healer's hut that held her interest though, and finally she just couldn't take the waiting anymore.
Leaving Erthas to curl up in a patch of warmth cast by the now rising sun- gods, had they been here all night?- she strode purposefully toward the house Bolion had been taken to.
"Hey-" A hand clapped onto her shoulder and she growled. Her head snapped up, eyes flashing silver, and sparks danced along her form.
"I want to see my friend. Now let go or I will make you."
The man released her, eyes wide, and she darted into the hut. Her eyes widened at what she saw. "Oh gods..."
In an instant she'd somehow crossed the space to stand at Bolion's head, holding his shoulders in an effort to keep him still as he seized. "What the hell happened?!" she demanded, snapping her eyes around the room.
The Healer here was a shrewd woman, short and wrinkled, her skin like tanned leather. She squinted at Della, and said in a commanding voice that betrayed nothing of her physical form, "Allergic reaction. No other explanation. Leave. You are underfoot, Djinn."
The hunched old woman continued applying a pale green paste to the inside of palm gauze, and wrapped his wound in the leaves, before securing them with cloth bandages. At the snap of her fingers and barked word a child placed honey-coloured liquid in a bottle on her waiting palm. She pressed her fingers to the top of the bottle, turned it bottom up, and righted it again. She then wiped the foam from Bolion's lips and spread the golden syrupy substance on his tongue.
"No."
Della chose not to question whatever the hell a "Djinn" was. She tightened her grip on Bolion's shoulder and glared at the healer. "I'm not leaving him alone like this."
The already squinted eyes of the woman narrowed, but she said nothing more; She continued to apply layers of cloth and fastened them tightly with little stitches applied by an assistant. This task was made all the harder by the still lightly convulsing Bolion.
At this point, the Healer grunted, and said, "If you are going to stay, take this," she handed her the bottle of golden liquid she'd used earlier, "and steadily feed it to him. Only small amounts, no more than five drops every two minutes or so. It should slow and eventually stop the seizures. Apply it any way you wish, as long as it gets in his mouth, if you don't want to touch his tongue. Hurry, go!"
"A-alright." Della took the bottle and dripped a few little droplets onto her finger, trying to slip them into Bolion's mouth. One of his convulsions clacked his teeth together and she withdrew her hand quickly.
Okay. This might be more complicated than she'd thought. She looked from the bottle to Bolion and tried again, managing to get a few drops in this time.
"Come on, you stupid merc, work with me," she muttered absently under her breath. She held his head steady and stroked two fingers down his throat, hoping to get him to swallow.
Bolion's eyes fluttered as he swallowed involuntarily, and it seemed like, for a minute, the seizures would calm, but then again they came, albeit longer in between and less violent. The froth that had begun to coalesce had stopped, and his eyes closed again.
The woman in fire had become clearer every time she burned away his world. Her features, once vague and almost generic were sharp and unique. She was Della, and that was indisputable. Why she came, or what the shadows were, he did not know. All he could say for certain was that even when the woman in fire burned away his darkness for light, the light did not welcome him. He felt secure in the darkness. The shadows were his, and he knew them intimately despite knowing nothing of their form. The warmth and heat she brought clashed with his reality, and even though she was a bastion of life among the barren expanse, she was an unwelcome one.
Every few minutes Della continued to feed Bolion a few drops of the honeyed liquid at a time. She was murmuring to him under her breath unconsciously, mostly nonsense phrases meant to soothe, but occasionally things like, "You're not allowed to go comatose on me, you idiot."
Without quite realizing it, she'd bent over him on the table, his head cradled in her hands while her forehead rested against his as she continued to attempt to soothe him.
Time had no meaning here. He had lost count of the many fires and shadows he'd seen. All he knew was now that the cycle was inevitable. It simply was. He could not fight it, but only embrace it, for if he fought, it would inevitably happen again. This time, when Dell came in her flaming form, he quite literally embraced her, and let himself burn with the shadows around him. He would not fight it anymore.
Generous amounts of the amber liquid had calmed his spasms, and now all he needed was rest and nourishment. When they were sure he was not going to seize up again, they lifted him from the table and placed him on a reed mat on the ground. He had a pillow, and a ratty blanket, but he was more or less recovering. The table was removed and villagers filed into the tent. In their village if an injured man or woman recovered it was a sign of the gods, and if they died, it was a foul omen. So they sat and watched, waiting with Della for Bolion to awaken.
Della stepped back to allow them to move Bolion, but once he was settled on the mat she was kneeling beside him again. Exhausted- she'd been up the whole night- she sagged onto the mat beside him, barely able to keep herself awake as she watched his face for any sign of change.
A man entered the hut carrying their packs and she glanced up. The villagers who'd been sent to their camp had evidently returned. She took their things with murmured thanks, digging for her coin purse so she could pass over payment to the healer.
She laid Bolion's pack beside him. "Hey." She touched his shoulder lightly, voice barely even a whisper. "They found our stuff. Your- what's it called?- the ukelele..."
The fire ate him away, and beyond he saw light, pure light. It, however, began to fade...
And it took shape, the shapes of crowded villagers and predominantly, Della. She was saying something about a Ukelele. Oh, right. He'd forgotten his Ukelele at the Oasis, but if Della was right, they (whoever they was) had brought it back, along with his other possessions.
"Della?" He asked, and tasted a bitter liquid all over his mouth, "What the hell is happeneing?"
"Oh thank gods!" Della threw her arms around his shoulders in a brief, tight hug. She pulled back quickly and shook her head, dragging a hand down her face.
"You were- you had some sort of reaction to whatever the healer gave you, you kept convulsing and-" She took a deep breath. "H-How so you feel?"
For a second he just stared stupidly, thinking that he was still in the shadowy, fiery dream, and that she was here to burn him away again. He came to realize that he was in a healer's tent. He sat up and his face twinges slightly at his leg, but otherwise he was undeterred.
"I'm... okay," he said, and glancing at Della, asked, "Are you?"
A collective sigh fell from the waiting villagers, and they began to disperse. While Bolion was confused, all they cared for was that the gods watched over them and approved.
Della smiled, and for probably the first time since she'd known him the expression positively lit up her eyes so they seemed to glow silver.
"I'm fine," she assured him. "Down a few coins for that healer, but it's not like we couldn't afford it. Erthas is fine too, fat and happy off eating that snake." She tilted her head. "You sure you feel alright? You were out for a while."
"Well my leg is dull but in pain, and I'm a little light headed but mostly, yeah. I'm alright," Aftera second his brow furrowed, and he asked, "I had a seizure?"
As he spoke he slid himself up against a support beam, and sagged against it. His breath was deep and he felt extreme exhaustion. At most he'd be a few minutes awake before he'd sleep again.
"Do we have any food, any water left?" He asked.
"Yeah." Automatically she moved forward to brace him as he leaned back. "Insorta had to hold you down so the healer could work." She twisted to reach for her pack and pulled out her waterskin and a rationed bit of jerky.
"Here." She handed them over, watching him worriedly.
"Thank you," he said hastily before taking the skin between his lips and draining it in one go. He immediately began to wolf down jerky, and stopped only momentarily to ask in a concerned but food filled voice, "De snahk didn' ge' oo?" Upon hearing himself, swallowed and tried again, "The snake didn't get you?"
He began to look her over and check for cuts and bite marks, like a fretting mother over her child.
Della chuckled quietly and tried to push him back into a more reclined position. "Really, I'm fine. You knocked me out of the way, then Erthas pounced right on it."
She tilted her head at him, frowning. "That was a stupid thing to do, by the way. What if you'd been poisoned?"
"Then you wouldn't have been." He said matter of factly, and took another bite of jerky, "Even with Erthas pouncing, the snake would have bitten you before he could stop it. Better me than you."
She stared at him for a moment in silence, eyes rather wide."But- why? Why better you than me?"
She was genuinely confused, apparently unable to comprehend why he would put himself in danger for her sake.
He simply gave her a sad smile, and held her gaze for a few seconds, before turning away. He took another piece of jerky and started eating it when he unbound a pocket on his pack, and withdrew a map.
Della frowned and started to open her mouth to press him, then snapped it shut.
"We're not done talking about this," she grumbled. "I'm dropping it for now because you just woke up. What are we looking at?" She scooted closer and leaned in so she could see the map.
The map was effectively bare except for several dots, in two different lines, and a few off in random places. There was also a compass rose in the top right corner, and a black and grey striped line that denoted mileage.
Bolion pointed to a small dot with the word 'Ansjel'ahm' above it.
"We are here," he said, and pointed to a dot with a crude star behind it, "That is where we need to be."
He was going to say further, but was approached by the Healer from before, who said, "You must not move until tomorrow the earliest, and so you must stay here. Accordingly, my assistants and I will leave you two unattended. Please do not... exercise, while you are guests here. Thank you for your payments, and may you be blessed." She bowed slightly and left, taking three others with her.
Della glowered a bit when they were told not to "exercise", but she knew it would be pointless to correct the woman's assumption.
"Thanks." She nodded to the healer. "Ah- if I gave you some more coin, could you feed our lizard?" She hadn't actually given him anything to eat, and she wasn't sure that snake would be enough.
She glanced at Bolion and the map again, trying to figure out how many miles they had left to travel.
"He will be fed for ten silver marks and pampered for thirty," she replied, stopped at the doorway.
Bolion resumed his explanation, pointing at the star spangled dot, "This is Essyrn City, and from there we ask around for the estate we're looking for."
She sighed, then tossed the woman thirty silver pieces. "Here. He probably saved our asses out there, he deserves to be pampered."
She glanced back at the map, rubbing at the back of her neck with a sigh. "Alright. What's your best guess on how long it'll take us to find our mark?"
"Maybe a week or so?" He said, unsure, "It really all depends on how much information we can gather without being detected and how fast."
He adjusted his position, sitting up slightly, and winced again. His leg was killing him. "Would you come over here a sec?" He asked, extending an arm to Della for support.
"Oh! Sure, of course." She darted closer and ducked under his arm for support. "Are you trying to stand?" she asked, frowning. "I'm not sure that's such a good idea right now."
"No, just sitting up a little." He said, and with her help propped himself up. He rolled up the map, placing it beside him, and laid his head back against the beam. "I am so exhausted," he said, "I'm going to sleep now, so if there's anything else you want you should say it before I'm out."
"No, you should rest." Della hesitated, unsure what're do as she helped him lay back. "Do you...want me to stay?" she ventured cautiously after a few moments of silence.
"What do you mean, stay?" he asked, tilting his head to look at her raven hair, "Stay here? In the tent?"
"Um. Yeah." She cleared her throat awkwardly. "I mean, I could just...hang out in here. If you wanted. These people have been giving me weird looks, anyway."
Bolion chuckled, and said, "Where else would you go?" and closed his eyes.
After a time of silence, so long that it seemed he had fallen asleep, he said, "I wasn't spewing deathbed crap. I meant what I said, and I'll stand by that now. I cannot stress how much I acted like a child, and I need to make it up to you. What can I do to show you that?"
Della stiffened a bit, surprised. She'd thought he'd been asleep. "That..."
She cleared her throat again and shifted uncomfortably, wondering if she should pull away from him. "You don't need to make anything up to me," she murmured. "I believed your apologize. Besides-" she shrugged with a quick, sharp little laugh- "Not like it's the first time I've heard something like that."
"It'll be the last time you ever hear it from me," he said, though not to her as much as to himself. His arm retreated back to his side, and he then said, "You can leave if you want to, or stay if that is your wish. I'm afraid I won't be very entertaining if you do stay, though."
She rolled her eyes. "You don't need to be entertaining, you're healing." She glanced at him, eyes flicking up and down his form. "You sure you don't want me to...I don't know, get anything?"
"You've gotten me to a healer and participated in saving my life. What else can I ask of you now?" he said quietly, for it was only them two in the tent. He went silent again, but not for nearly as long this time, "I am simply tired Dell. I am very, very tired."
"Then go to sleep." She stood carefully, doing her best not to disturb him. "I'll, um...I'll go check on Erthas or something. I'll be right outside if you need m- anything."
She moved toward the entrance to the tent, worrying at her lower lip.
He watched her leave under heavy lidded eyes, and for a second, he considered calling her back. Ultimately, though, he let her leave, her discomfort more than apparent to him. The thing that perturbed him, however, was why she was uncomfortable. He couldn't figure out why. And that he couldn't figure out why made him uncomfortable in and of itself.
So there he sat, staring at the tent flap, puzzling out his companion's mind. Eventually sleep took him, but his dreams were turbulent and random, structureless. He awoke three hours later, the swelling in his ankle paining him enough to pull him from his dreams. He hesitated, but relented to his better judgment, and called Della from within the tent.
Della had found Erthas, lazing contentedly a bit outside the tent, in a large patch of the now steadily rising sun, and plopped herself onto the sand next to him with a sigh. He glanced up at her, the tail of some sort of creature- she honestly didn't want to know- hanging from his mouth, and she patted his side absently.
"Yes, you're a very good boy. Eat your treat, you deserve it." She glanced back at the tent and huffed out a breath, closing her eyes. She just needed to rest for a minute...
Bolion's voice calling her woke her with a start and she scrambled to her feet. The sun was high in the sky now, beating down on her, and she hissed at the sudden intrusion of the light. She hurried into the tent.
"What's wrong? Are you alright?"
"I don't want to sound bitchy but the swelling in my foot woke me up, so there might be a problem there, might not be, either way I need pain meds," he rattled off, barely taking a breath in between the words. His ankle felt like knives had been pushed under the skin, and he couldn't move his leg to check it. Hence Della.
Her eyes widened. "O-okay." She popped her head out of the tent and called quickly, "We need the healer- maybe."
Darting back in, she knelt next to him and frowned at his ankle, hands hovering, not quite sure what to do. She glanced up at his face. "Um- the pain. I'll get you something for the pain." She leaned over him to grab her back, essentially sprawling across his lap as she hunted through the bag, muttering to herself.
"Della," he said when she called for the healer, and then when she panicked at his ankles he said again, "Della..." Only when she effectively threw herself at him to search for something in her travel pack, did he grab her shoulders, and said sternly, "Della! I'm not dying, I just need painkillers! Calm down, alright?"
"I'm calm!" She stared up at him with wide eyes, a small flask clutched in her hand. "I- I'm just not a healer, damnit! I don't know how to do any of this!"
She gestured wildly with her free hand before shoving the flask at him. "Poppy milk. It should numb the pain a bit, but only take a swallow or two."
He took the flask and placed it aside, saying "Thank you. You wanna sit down? We've got some room."
Plucking the flask from the sand again, he undid the cap and followed her instructions, downing a mouthful and a half, but no more.
"Are you doing alright?" He asked, earnest in his concern, "I mean, I get the circumstances but you seem a bit on edge."
Della settled back so she could sit facing him, her knees pulled up toward her chest and her arms wrapped around her legs. "I'm...fine," she mumbled.
She ran a hand through her hair with a sigh. "I didn't know what to do," she admitted quietly after a few moments. "If we hadn't been so close to this village-" She trailed off with a shrug and looked away, frowning.
"Don't think about 'ifs'. I know it seems a bit hypocritical coming from me but dwelling on possibilities rather than moving with change is a foolish way of living," he said, shifting as the pain in his leg, and the feeling in his fingers numbed.
"You did what you could and I'm here because of that," he continued, "So I don't see what the point in negative thinking is. Not now, anyways."
"Hmph." Della nodded but didn't seem convinced, letting her chin rest on her knees. She felt very young and useless suddenly.
"Guess you're right," she mumbled. Her eyes flicked up to him and she blew a lock of hair out of her face. "That poppy will make you sleepy. Try not to fight it, your body probably needs it."
Bolion laid his head back, and for a second was content to stay there, but then shot Della a curious look. He asked, "How old are you?"
Despite their travel together, and the various experiences they had shared, he didn't know that. Hell, he knew how old her dead husband had been the night of his death, but he didn't know this. That irked him greatly.
She blinked at him, surprised, and replied automatically, "Twenty-three."
She rolled her shoulders back and tried to sit up a little straighter. She'd never felt all that young before, but suddenly she felt like she needed to prove that her age wasn't a factor in what she did- obviously it hadn't bothered her employer. As Solaria had said, she'd made a bit of a reputation for herself.
Glancing away, she asked quickly, "Why? Does it matter?"
She didn't want to think about her reputation.
"No, just curious," he said quietly, "It's just that I didn't know. You don't act your age, and that's a good thing. All the twenty-something girls I know are way too bubbly and hopeful. It's a tad annoying."
"But at the same time age is weird for me." He said, "I'm... ah, thirty-five? Yeah thirty-five. Jeez I missed that birthday. I don't feel thirty-five, though, and I'm not thirty-five physically the way a human would be at my age."
Della snorted. "Yeah, no kidding. You act like a toddler," she pointed out, but her arched brow and the levity in her tone made it clear she was teasing.
She shrugged again and tilted her head to rest her cheek on her knees as she looked up at him. Her hair fell in her face a bit, catching on her horns, and she blew it away with a quick huff. "I've known plenty of twenty-somethings who weren't all that bubbly. Where I'm from, most of the girls my age would've had a gaggle of little ones by now."
She frowned a bit and looked flicked her eyes away.
Bolion laughed at her jab, waving it off as if it were something thrown at him. "A dignified toddler, I'd say."
"Is that a desire of yours?" he asked, not willing to leave the topic but also seeing the need for stimulation in the conversation, "A gaggle?" He couldn't help but giggle a bit at the word in reference to children. It simply wasn't something you'd hear down south.
Her instinctive response was to shake her head. "No, of course not."
Silence.
"Yes. Maybe. No. I don't know!" Della made a frustrated sound in the back of her throat and glowered at nothing in particular. "I don't even know if I could-"
She cut herself off and glanced at him, biting her lip, the figured- well, to hell with it. "I've...been told that half-breeds," her lips curled around the word as though it tasted bad, "are sometimes...y'know. Sterile. I may not know what my father was, but Ma was human. Which means I've got about a fifty-fifty chance of even being able to have kids," she muttered with a shrug.
It was something she'd told Adrien, when he'd first proposed. She knew he'd wanted children, and that he would have made an amazing father. He'd told her it didn't matter, that all he needed was her, and the rest could work itself out.
Idiot...
"I hear that," He said, "I've never the desire for little ones myself, but the exact same problem presents itself. In my case it might be a bit of a boon though, y'know, no accidental pregnancies. On the other side of the coin, though it means the possibility of no heir. I've never tried for children though, so I can't say."
He went silent, thinking, and after quirking an eyebrow up and flicking his eyes at Della, he said, "You can always adopt if that issue presents itself. Homeless children are aplenty no matter where you are, or so my experience says."
She rolled her eyes and snorted. "Yeah, because my line of work is so conducive to raising a child."
With a little shrug, she hunched over a bit to trace absent patterns over the ground with a finger. "Honestly, I never really though about it before- before Adrien. I think...if I was ever going to...do that, it would've been with him."
She glanced up at him again and quirked an eyebrow. "Is having an heir so important?"
"The best little mercs are the ones raised in the trade," he said in response to her first comment, but at her question, he replied earnestly, "Yes. No. Yes and no. The bloodlines of Elves run long, and who am I to break them. Alternatively, the lines of Orcs utilize blood in a different way, and are much, much shorter. Infinitesimal by comparison. It depends which side I wish to represent more in life. Orcs suck. Elves are dicks. I," he said then, flourishing a hand fancifully, "then by nature's law suck dick."
She snorted, covering her mouth with a hand. "Idiot," she accused, almmost fondly.
Her head tilted a bit to the side and she hesitated a moment for asking. "Actually...do you? I mean-" She waved a hand airily. "Prefer men?"
He laughed lightly and said, "No, I am firmly attracted to females."
He leaned in just then, and put a hand in front of his mouth as if to hide his words from someone invisible, and whispered, "But between you and me, that Storekeeper is pretty sexy."
Della chuckled again and rolled her eyes at him. "You should have been a player, not a merc," she laughed lightly, crinkling her nose at him.
Concern quickly worked its way back into her expression though and she stilted her head at him. "How are you feeling? Do you think you should be resting still?"
"I feel numb," he said truthfully, "Numb and tired, but then I'm always tired. Alternatively, how are you? Surely this is a bit stressful for you?"
"Nah." She waved him off with a quick smile, though there was still worry in her eyes. "I mean, it was stressful, but seeing as you've apparently got a firm hold on your sense of humor, I guess you really are alright."
"So let me ask another question," he said, "Why mercenary work? What about it drew you of all people? No offense or anything, you just don't seem too violent in disposition."
As he spoke he began to tap his leg with his hands, drum beating a rythym absentmindedly.
Della went quiet, once again letting her head rest on her knees. "I don't really know," she admitted after a while. "I just..."
She laughed bitterly. "I guess you destroy a village and you start to think...well, why not be a monster? Everyone's just gonna call you one anyway, may as well give them a reason."
"You're only making it worse for yourself, you know," he said, sighing, "If you're afraid of people judging you as a monster prove to them that you aren't. You can do that, at least. Let them think what they think, and if they come after you for it, make sure you have friends to fall back on. That's basically how I lead my life, and it's worked this long."
"I did that." She wasn't looking at him, staring at her feet. "For twenty-one years I did that. I made friends, I hunted for my village to feed people when they didn't have enough to feed themselves. I trained their horses, their dogs. I used my magic to keep us safe. I watched their children, and I protected them."
Her voice shook slightly but she kept going. "Then one year the harvest was weak. Rain wouldn't fall. And one fucking man came strolling through town, took one look at me and decided I was a demon, I'd caused all this misfortune." She shook her head with a sharp laugh. "It didn't even take a day. A day, Bol."
She finally looked up at him. "They were going to kill me. Not because I'd done anything to them, just because of how I looked- it made it easy to believe I was evil. I was good to them! I tried! I just- I just wanted-"
Her voice choked off and she got to her feet, turning her face away and trying to get herself under control. "Forget it. Doesn't matter anymore."
"I can't chase you," he said, a sad tone in his voice, "So please come back. Sit down. It matters just as much now as it did then, because you still carry it with you. So come over here, and we can talk, please."
He did his best to shift his legs closer to his chest, but only managed the left one. It suddenly occurred to him that he might be crippled from this injury for the rest of his life. At that, he shrugged. It was worth it.
She stood still for a few moments longer, then sighed and sat back down. Her body was twisted away from his slightly, arms wrapped tight around her middle and head tilted slightly forward so her hair fell in her face.
"There's nothing to talk about," she mumbled, scowling at the ground.
"And yet here we are, talking," he retorted, "You can't keep shutting down every time this topic comes around. Please come over here."
He tilted his head to the side, and let his right arm fall limply to the ground.
With a sigh, she shuffled a little closer. "I was just making a point," she mumbled. "You asked, I answered- that's why I'm a merc."
"What did you want?" He asked, unwilling to let the subject go, "What was it they deprived you of?"
She shook her head. "I just wanted to live," she murmured. "Just...be there. With him. Live our lives, maybe raise a youngling or two. I never wanted... I didn't want to hurt anybody. I didn't..."
"I suppose you don't want to do that with anyone else?" He asked, trying to understand her, understand what she wanted, "I'd normally suggest to try again, but in this scenario that doesn't really apply."
She laughed, sharp and bitter. "No. That's not- that's not it. That's not what..."
A soft growl rumbled in her chest and she threw her hands up, then quickly wrapped her arms around herself again.
Bolion leaned forward, and reached out, his fingers only just brushing Della's arm. He watched her intently, and gestured for her to continue, and said, "We've got all night..."
She flinched away from him instinctively, eyeing him warily.
"Losing Adrien felt like my heart shattered," she said bluntly after a moment. "But...but it was why. And who."
She glanced up to meet his eyes. "They were my friends, Bol. Neighbors, people I'd known almost all my life. And they turned on me in a day- not just me, but Adrien too, and he was human!"
"That was simple mindedness," he said, drawing his hand back, "They had a bad crop and needed an out. They believed whatever they were told." Something in his voice became hard, "That made them weak. Adrien knew you for who you were, and he saw through the flimsy excuse provided by fear. That makes him better than they ever could have been. It makes you better than they ever could have been."
He was silent, for a while, then said again, his voice still stern, almost resentful, "Some people can never be shown a world outside of their own. That's one of the reasons I do what I do. Those people are worse than the monsters they preach about." His voice dropped low, and he said more to himself than her, "They don't deserve to be here..."
Della shook her head. "I didn't want to kill them," she said softly. "I just- I just wanted to stop them. I wanted to protect my husband."
She sighed and let her forehead rest on her knees. "And I couldn't even do that right. After... After, I just figured, if they wanted a monster, I'd give them one."
"Maybe you didn't want to but you did, and I think you're better off for it. They were just going to kill you, or at least try, at that point," he said, his mind wandering a darker path, "Because they'd already killed Adrien right? He died protecting you. You avenged him."
She couldn't see it, but he was emphasizing his words in movements. This ideology was a quintessential part of him, and on occasions where he got to speak about it, such as now, he became a little zealous.
Della shook her head again. "I hope some of them got away," she murmured. "I was...out for a while, after my magic went wild. Some of them might have gotten away..."
She sighed and looked up at him. Her eyes were rather moist. "I miss him," she mumbled, not sure why she did.
Bolion's expression, hardened by resent and a grudge, softened. He could understand that loss. He'd had a long time and many conversations with friends in which he could confuse, but she probably hadn't.
"What was he like?" He eventually asked, the edge gone from his voice, a much softer and sympathetic tone in it's place.
"...Kind." Della smiled softly, staring at the ground. "Brave, stupidly brave. And strong- he did smith work, I guess he kinda had to be."
She closed her eyes. "He was a good man. He didn't deserve what happened."
"They rarely do..." he said, thinking not of Adrien, but rather all of the members of his family, and families like his. There had been many across the years, but all shared the recurring theme of tragedy.
Della didn't say anything else, just continued staring at the wall of the tent with her arms wrapped around her legs.
Bolion had nothing to say. What could he say? She was in a place where the only one who could help her was herself. So he hung his head, and closed his eyes. He stayed like that for a time, but eventually, he raised his head and watched her as she sat there.
She was quite sure how long she sat there, but eventually she murmured without looking up, "You should probably get some more sleep. If we're lucky, you'll be healed enough to ride tomorrow, at least a bit."
Little beknownst to her, Bolion had already fallen asleep, in the very same position he had been watching her in. He didn't snore, and his breaths had been laborious for some time beforehand, injured as he was. He had only drifted off a minute or two before she had spoken, and the silence between them had fostered his deep sleep. Only when she spoke, did he re-awaken, with a slight mumble and a groggy blink.
"Wha?" he asked, the world still coming into focus.
Della snorted. "God back to sleep," she told him, getting to her feet.
"M'kay," he mumbled, laying his head back and closing his eyes again. If felt like he hadn't even woken in the first place. He muttered something else, and went back to sleep.
Della shook her head at him and moved back out of the tent. She settled herself just outside the entrance, bracing her palms on the ground behind her and leaning back with a sigh.
Gods she was so tired. Her eyes started to drift closed. Maybe she could just rest for a minute...
Silver rays shone down onto the red sand, dulling the colour to a light blue-gray. Bolion's eyes snapped open, rustling wind between the reeds waking him. His leg was numb. He flexed it cautiously, and felt no pain. Perhaps the poppy milk had worked better than expected. Experimentally, he rose into a crouch, testing his healing leg. So far so good. Then he stood, and his leg twinged oddly.
I suppose that would've hurt if I could feel it, he thought, and hobbled over to the tent flaps, which were pinned back. He placed a hand on the heavy canvas, feeling the roughness of the material before sitting down awkwardly next to Della, shuffling his way down onto the ground. He sat there for quite a long time, looking at the stars, innumerable pinpricks of light in an inky abyss. The dry chafing of grass stalks against one another brought him peace, as did the silence it accompanied. He'd slept for hours, into the night, and it seemed so had she.
"Della," he mumbled, trying to wake her but still preserve the silence around him. He twisted and reached out to her, and grasping her shoulder lightly, began to rock her to and fro slowly. "Della, it's time to wake up."
"Mmph." She frowned and batted at him sleepily, eyes still closed. "Jus' a minute...one more minute..."
The rattling of dry grasses suddenly registered- oh, right. She was in the desert, not at home curled up in her own bed. That wasn't Adrien's hand on her shoulder.
She jerked awake and twisted to look at him. "Bol?" Her eyes suddenly widened and she scrabbled to look him over, feeling for injury. "Are you alright? Why are you moving? What timeis it?"
"Uh..." Bolion took a second, glanced at the sky, and replied, "Night. It's night."
He grinned, enjoying being concerned for. It wasn't an everyday thing for him.
"I'm fine, for now," he said, "I can't feel a thing, so if I'm in any sort of pain I'd be the last to know." He gently pushed her away from him, content to wiggle his toes, as if that were confirmation that he was healing just fine.
"Stop that." Della frowned at him and batted his shoulder- not hard, but enough to show reprimand. "If you can't feel anything then for all you know you could just be making it worse!"
She stood and rolled her neck with a sharp sigh, wincing as stiff muscles protested. "Look, I'll see if I can find the healer to check you over. It's not that late..." She glanced up at the sky, trying to get a more accurate reading of the time.
"No, no, don't wake her. You've been asleep for hours," he said, "We've slept through the entire day, you and I, with the exception of about an hour."
He drew his remaining leg up as close as he could to his chest, accidentally locking her in position. He didn't notice however, the movement being reflex. "You could be right..." he yawned, slouching slightly and propping himself up on his hands, "But how bad could it be, really. I don't think the bite severed any tendons, or severely damaged the muscle. It was mostly torn skin down to the fat layer, I think. I'll be fine in a day or three, tops."
Della sighed and at beside him again slowly. "Yeah. Maybe." She frowned at him a bit. "Why are you even out here? You can't possibly be doing anything productive- I should get you back to bed." She moved to take his arm and stand, silently offering herself as a crutch so he could walk without putting too much pressure on his leg.
"I dunno, I got bored of sitting alone in that monster of a tent," he said, "Wanted to see what you were up to. Turned out you were sleeping. I was looking at the sky, and I noticed how long we've been here. Technically we weren't supposed to come here, but the situation mandated it. We've been here for a day and a half and that's a day and a half out of schedule."
He took her arm and unsteadily rose on one leg. Little triumphs. Bolion leaned much more heavily on her once he was standing, but only really used her for balance.
"We should leave before the sun rises."
She frowned again. "You're crazy. Who cares about schedule, you need to heal." She tried to steer him back into the tent, muttering about males and their stubbornness under her breath.
"Hey!" He exclaimed, "Schedule is important. The faster we get there the faster we finish the job, the faster I can heal. I know that logic doesn't work but damn it I'll make it work!"
He protested, trying rather unsuccessfully to anchor his foot in the dirt. Even in his failure he managed to change their course, hanging oddly off of her like a child in tantrum.
"Lizard!"
"Oh my gods- Bolion!" Della staggered as she suddenly had his weight hanging awkwardly off of her. "Quit acting like child-!"
Erthas suddenly rounded the tent, head cocked and lamp-like eyes blinking at them. She glared at him and muttered, "Traitor."
"Haha! Fate has spoken!" He crowed, slipping slightly from Della's grip, causing him to scramble for a grip on her arm. He was dangling from her arm now, and it painted a rather ridiculous picture.
"Bol- oh sweet spirits!" She could feel him slipping further out of her grip and made a desperate grab for him.
Unfortunately, he was just too heavy, and hanging too awkwardly from her. They both went down and she found herself collapsed on top of him, the breath knocked from her body.
"Uff!" Della blinked, stunned, then quickly tried to scramble back. "Shit, I'm sorry! At least I didn't land on your leg-" She twisted in an effort to see his injury, almost falling sideways again.
One minute he was dangling, and the next he was bent awkwardly on the ground and Della was on top on top of him.
"Hello," he said, laughing, "Calm down. You're going to hurt yourself checking my injury!"
"Oh shut up." She snorted at him and managed to disentangle herself. She held her hand out to him, trying to right him so he could sit up properly. "Does anything hurt?"
"I told you Del, I can't feel a thing past my knees and elbows, and even then it's kind of dull," he said, sitting up, "I think I had too much flower milk."
As he sat up, his back cracked, and he pulled a face of surprise. Twisting his neck oddly, he felt the vertebrae pop as well, and upon further stretching, his back popped again.
"I think you chiropracted me," he chuckled as he stretched rather oddly, seeing as he was on the ground.
Della jumped at the sound and stared at him, eyes wide. "That doesn't hurt?" she demanded, looking horrified at the odd positions he'd contorted himself into.
Oh gods, what if the poppy milk had dulled his sense of pain completely and he'd really hurt himself? She darted forward and rolled him onto his side, passing her hands down his spine to search for injury.
"Hey, I'm not an invalid!" He protested as she's rolled him over, and arched his back with a yelp when she ran a finger down his spine.
"Cold hands! Cold hands!" He yelled, trying to twist away, "Damn woman are you a fucking icicle?!"
"What- stop that! You'll only hurt yourself," Della protested, grabbing his shoulders in an attempt to keep him still. She wound up straddling him, glowering down at him with her hands planted firmly on his shoulders. Her tail lashed behind her like an irritated cat.
Erthas seemed to watch the whole scene with some amusement, head tilting from side to side and his tongue flicking out every so often.
"Not my fault it gets cold out here at night," Della huffed, brow furrowed. "Now. Are you going to hold still if I let go?"
"Why, so you can run your ice hands down my spine again?" He accused, "No! I'm going to hobble over to my lizard, and ride away! He will be my legs."
He laughed, a little giddy, both because he couldn't feel his hands ir feet, but also because he was tired and it was chilly. He put his hands on her hips for support and tried to rise, saying, "Now if you'll excuse me, I need to mount my glorious steed."
Erthas meanwhile had been tracking a centipede, and shot out his tongue, picking up the insect and a healthy amount of dirt. The front of his snout was dusted red, and a rattling sneeze escaped him with a very non-glorious neck spasm.
"Oh like hell you are." Della scowled and grabbed his hands off her waist, pinning his wrists above his head in an obviously well-practiced hold. She flinched slightly when Erthas sneezed, shooting the massive lizard a dry look.
"Alright, fine. We can leave tonight, you stubborn idiot, but you've gotta let me help you or you're just going to make things worse for yourself!" She glared down at him. "And I'm not giving you anymore poppy milk once this dose wears off."
"Oh, but I love poppy milk!" He pouted, though he couldn't hold the face and broke into a cheeky grin, "It numbs the pain greatly, and without it, I think that I should die!"
He feigned a dramatic voice, and looked off longingly into the horizon, or at least where he thought it would be.
"How cruel you are," he said, turning back to Della, "that you deprive me of my only comfort in this world! How cruel indeed, and deceiving, for you wrap your cruelty in gentle beauty. For shame, Deloria, for shame!"
Della's cheeks flushed azure in the starlight and she glared at him. "Oh, knock it off you great lump," she muttered, finally releasing his wrists and sitting back. She kept him pinned, but shifted her weight so he could move her if he really wanted to.
She gave a sharp whistle for Erthas and the lizard jerked his head before lumbering over to them. She reached up to scratch at his nose, brushing some of the dirt away. "Alright. I'll help you mount up, but then you need to rest, alright?"
He sat up, and rested his forearms on her thighs. He will couldn't really feel his fingers, and wiggled them without the corresponding sensation. Weird. A shiver ran up his spine.
"Could we ride like this, you think?" He teased, before relenting, and saying, "Yes alright mom, I'll go to bed once we're off and out of here."
The sorceress jerked slightly and tried to lean back from him, but his hands on her thighs kept her still. She frowned, shaking her head at him. "Why on earth would you want to?" she grumbled, sliding back off of him and carefully avoiding his injured leg.
She growled playfully at him and grabbed his arm to pull him up. "Call me mom again and I'll bite you," she warned, flashing her fangs.
"Yes mom," he said monotone and straight-faced, but a mischievous look in his eyes, "So are you going to launch me again, or do you trust my now almost capable self to get into my own steed?"
His eyebrow arched, a challenge issued on his face. He was tired, but he was also chaotic and goofy. While he himself had pushed for them to leave, now that she agreed with him, he felt the need to procrastinate and delay their departure. Whatever he could do to exasperate her, even if he didn't see that as his motivation. It was fun, watching her playful frustration.
Della growled again and glared at him. "I should let you get your fool self up there on your own," she muttered.
With a sigh, she moved to help him stand and grumbled, "But I'll get up and pull you up after me, alright? Oh! I almost forgot."
Without warning she leaned in and bit the curve of his neck. Not hard enough to draw blood, but her fangs definitely pricked at his skin. She pulled back with a smug smile. "I did warn you."
Bolion's face became one of surprise, and his mouth shifted from an O to a grin. He slid a hand up to his neck and rubbed at the spot she'd nipped at him, muttering, "You actually bit me."
He laughed, and walked almost normally over to Erthas. He limped slightly, due to his leg not being able to extend fully. He assumed that was a quick stitch of the tendons, and he'd have to stretch his leg to fully regain his flexibility once it had healed. He hoped that was all it was, and not that he'd forever limp. One can't be very intimidating if they hobble like an old man.
"I told you I would," Della replied with a shrug. She swung gracefully up into the lizard's back and reached a hand down to him once she'd settled herself. "Alright, now come on. Use your good leg to jump, I don't wanna be your crutch for the rest of this job."
"Think about it though," he said, taking her hand and stepping into the stirrup with his bad foot before pushing off with his good one, "We bust into the target's private chambers, the three legged, two armed two headed, one tailed menace, a sword in one hand and a guava in the other!" He righted himself onto the saddle and put up his hands like he was having a vision, "Magnificent, Majestic, Unbeatable! Together, you and I could rule all of Essyrn!"
Della grunted and shook her head at him. "You're mad," she informed him calmly. "Where are we even getting a sword."
She leaned over Erthas' neck slightly and added, "Come on. Holld onto me so your numbed ass doesn't fall off the lizard."
"Alright," he said, wrapping his arms around her waist, and a smile she couldn't see spread across his lips, "Mom."
"We make a sword, a lightning sword! Or we can get one in Essyrn, which is due southwest from here, by the way." He pointed out past her, just to their left.
She twisted to glower at him. "I will but you again, is that what you want?"
Trying to ignore how much like a mom she actually sounded, she steered their mount in the direction he indicated and gave him a light tap with her heels to get him moving.
"I don't know, I kind of liked it," he said, grinning the same mischevious grin that seemed to be plastered to his face whenever he irked her, "Are you a closet vampire? Is that why you're grumpy? You haven't dined on the blood of innocents in a week?"
"Kinky bastard," Della muttered, ignoring the flush that rose to her cheeks. "Oh, and what makes you think you would qualify as blood of innocents, hm?"
"Compared to the cruel, poppy withholding vampire, I am the innocent," he argued, "I give people their pain drugs and don't suck the blood from their veins, even if they like being bitten."
"I'm not giving you more poppy." She glowered at him over her shoulder. "Gods know you're loony enough without it, not to mention how badly you'll hurt yourself if I let you keep taking it."
She elbowed him lightly in the ribs. "And, if you keep making smartass vampire comments, I'll bite you somewhere you won't like it."
"And you call me kinky!" He said, feigning shock. It wasn't entirely feigned, truth be told.
"I'll be fine. The Orc in me is hard to kill, and the elf lives forever. I'm indestructible," he said, using one hand to dust off his shoulder, "Did I ever tell you about the time I got stabbed in the chest? Two inches in, missed a lung and half an inch farther, I would have been heart-shanked. But I lived. I even have the scar to prove it."
He pulled back his vest to show an ugly gash an inch long, the white knit of scar tissue, and silvery too.
Della just snorted at him and rolled her eyes, though she listened when he spoke about the scar.
"Who on earth did you piss off to earn something like that?" she asked bluntly, head tilted slightly as she glanced back at him.
"A woman," he said, and while his tone was humourous, his eyes flickered darkly for a second, before returning to their mirth. Though, it seemed a bit forced, this time.
"AmalÃa...I didn't something I really shouldn't have, and, well..." he sighed, a sad look shadowed over his face briefly, "Let's just say I fucked up monumentally. I deserved every inch, and more, honestly..."
"Ah." She let that sit for a moment. "I feel like I should be surprised, but honestly..." she trailed off with a shrug, trying to joke.
"Yeah," he said dismissively, and tightened his arms snugly around her waist. He still couldn't feel his fingers, but he could gauge pressure relatively well. He just couldn't tell you what he was touching felt like, or if he was really touching anything. But he could feel the resistance it caused when he came into contact with whatever it was.
The stars twinkled brightly against the murky sky, and that was his last memory before sleep took him, the exhaustion finally overcoming his resolve to stay awake. As he slept his head fell on Della's shoulder, and he slouched but sat relatively well, supported by his companion.
Della felt like maybe she should say something else, but before she could form words properly he'd passed out against her back. She huffed out a breath and glanced at him over her shoulder, then shook her head and turned her eyes forward again.
She kept Erthas at a steady pace until the sun began to rise, finally slowing him a bit. She twisted and prodded Bolion's side. "Hey. Wake up, we should check the map."
Bolion woke with a mumble, a lifted his head groggily before squinting at the sun's wanton rays.
"Maps? We have maps," he grumbled, settling his jaw into the hollow between her neck and shoulder sleepily, "Why do you want more maps?"
A tingle ran down her spine from the close contact and her tail curled up, inadvertently curving back over his leg. She squeaked and snapped it back around to settle safely in her lap.
"We're not getting more maps, I need you to look at the one we have and make sure we're headed in the right direction," she muttered, resisting the urge to settle back against him- or shove him off the lizard, both were equally likely at this point.
"Oh. Yeah... alright," his train of thought had left the station without him, and didn't do anything over the next few seconds as he processed the order.
Belatedly he withdrew from Della and twisted around in his saddle, looking for the map bag he kept secured on the top of the pack. After finding said bag, he drew a rolled sheaf from within and opened it. While he auto-piloted the motions, his sleep addled brain finally caught up, and confused, he asked, "Did you touch my leg just now, or am I still dreaming things?"
A faint blush rose to her cheeks and she coughed. "Um, no. No, I'm just...sitting here. I think you're still sleep-addled."
She cleared her throat again and twisted slightly to look him over with a concerned frown. "How you feeling? Poppy still effective?" It shouldn't be, at this point, and if it was she'd have to...
Well, she'd figure something out.
His eyes narrowed skeptically at her oddly suspicious answer, but he decided to let it go. The feeling in his limbs had returned, though the tips of his fingers and toes still felt a little tingly. He told her as much, and added, "Based on the sun, we need to adjust about 45 degrees west, or thataways."
He pointed off to their left, where the dunes reddened in colour. Whether that was an effect of the sun or the composition of the sand, he couldn't say, but he did know he liked the aesthetic.
"Alright." Della turned Erthas in the direction he indicated and spurred him forward. Once she was sure they were on the right track, she twisted around gracefully to sit facing her companion.
"Okay, give me your hand," she ordered, holding out her own hand to him in the very small space that existed between them.
"Ask me to dinner first!" He said pompously, but nonetheless placed his hand palm up in hers, "Your hands are still ice. Why am I doing this, by the way?"
He was smiling, but his eyebrow was arched in curiousity and preemptive skepticism.
"Oh shut up. Apparently I have bad circulation," Della grumbled. Despite her gruff tone, her hands were gentle as she wrapped her fingers around his and closed her eyes. She summoned the barest thread of magic, calling a few sparks to dance from her fingers to his.
Hopefully that would wake up his nerves a bit. "Alright, now let me see your leg. How's it feel?" she asked, leaning down to look at his calf. One hand braced on Ertha's spine to keep her steady as she swayed slightly with the lizard's gait.
He felt a slight spike in the tingling of his fingers, but nothing more.
"What are you doing?" He asked again, unsatisfied at her lack of response. Meanwhile, he lifted his right leg awkwardly out of the stirrup and crossed it over his left, anchoring his right hand on Erthas to support himself.
The leg itself was still bandaged, and the leaf smell mingled with blood and the foul herbal concoction the Healer had pasted onto his wound. He twitched as the leg twinged, a slight bolt of pain stretching from his ankle to his hip, though only for a second.
"Alright, I guess. I'm not doing window acrobatics or saving your life with the power of parkour any time soon," he said, examining his own leg as ignored it were a foreign object, "I can feel it more now, but whatever she put on the actual opening has either dulled the pain or closed the wound, because it is nowehere near the excruciation it was when I was getting it patched up."
"Alright, well that's good." Della skimmed her fingers over the bandaging, crinkling her brow in thought. "I- I don't know how long we should leave this. Should we re-bandage it soon?"
She took his hands in her own again as she talked, pressing the centers of his palms with her thumbs lightly. "It's also possible the poppy is still dulling your sense of touch. How's this feel?"
"I can feel the pressure, and the temperature, dully," he answered, "My fingers are still tingling. Toes as well. Like a numb tingle, really."
"I'd leave the bandages on a while longer, a day maybe, so the salve really gets in there. Past that, I've no clue. I guess we just rebandage as soon as we take it off, it we deem rebandaging required. I don't really know though," he said, and shrugged to punctuate his statement.
"Gods. How does neither one of us know any field medicine?" she muttered to herself, prodding at his hands a bit more before releasing him with a sigh.
Gracefully, she swung back around on Erthas' back, folding her arms over his neck so she could rest her chin on them.
"I normally don't get hurt," he said, "Giant snakes aren't an everyday thing, at least not for me. People are much squishier, and much slower. Most of them don't bite..."
At his last words he grinned to himself and flicked at Della's hair playfully. I forgot how fun this was, he thought to himself and made a game of flicking the tips back and forth across her back between his numbed fingers, trying to catch them without his sense of touch. His fingers fumbled often, which concerned him, but otherwise it was a pleasant time waster.
"...What the ever loving hell are you doing?" Della asked in exasperation after a few minutes of endless hair flicking. She lifted her head slightly and peered over her shoulder at him, eyes narrowed. "Why are you so fascinated with my hair?"
"Hair of all kinds is fun to play with, first off," he explained, grin stretching as he tried to make an excuse on the spot for his behaviour, "And secondly, you've got elf hair. Well not really, but it's like elf hair. It reminds me of my biological mom, a little bit. You can't expect me not to play with it. It's ingrained in me Della, in my bones. It's a fact of life at this point."
"Elf hair?" She blinked at him. "The hell does that even mean? It's just hair, Bol, gods." She shook her head with a soft chuckle.
"And to be honest it's weirding me out a little how much you keep likening me to a mother. Your mother," she added under her breath. "I'm twenty-three for gods' sakes, I don't need a grown child."
"It's not my fault you look like my mom, and act motherly," he said defensively, "Sans horns and tail, of course. And yeah, elf hair. The texture and colour, and it's all silky. Who has silky hair, except for elves and royals? I certainly don't."
As he spoke he plucked a lock from the rest and ran it through his fingers, watching the light play off of the iridescent raven colour.
Della felt a shiver run down her spine and resisted the urge to pull away from him. It seemed to calm him down, and it wasn't like he was hurting her or anything.
"Yeah, well, I'm no elf. Or royal. And I highly doubt your mother was blue," she muttered.
"What's wrong?" He asked, noticing the shiver. He let her hair fall back, withdrawing his hands unconsciously. Other people's discomfort, unless made intentionally made by him, was best approached carefully he had found.
"Nothing. Just not used to people touching me," Della responded bluntly, keeping her eyes ahead. Again she had to fight the urge to lean away from him, even though he'd stopped playing with her hair.
"Speaking of that," he said, readjusting uncomfortably in the saddle, "Once we get to Essyrn, as you know, we need to act our respective parts. How're we going to cover our tracks?"
He hadn't afforded much thought to the subject, given the recent circumstances, but now it nagged at him. The ever approaching dilemma was a small but necessary detail, and one that could baring down their operation. The only issue, was that neither parties involved were comfortable with authenticity, and achieving athuneticity otherwise was hard for various reasons.
"Well..." Della had actually given that a bit of thought, though she rather wished she hadn't. "Couldn't you just..." Cheeks flushing, she waved a hand in an airy gesture beside her head. "Take care of yourself? And we could pretend we'd...y'know."
"Yeah, that's a solution..." he said, trailing off into thought. Factoring that in, he was simply stacking the components of their plan together.
"So how do we get into his house? We'll have to adjust when we get there but what exactly are we going to do to kill this guy? I doubt he goes anywhere without bodyguards, and I don't know about you, but I'm not a zealot. Dying for the cause is not my style."
"I think our real issue is the mage," Della replied. "Solaria said he's always guarded, but we can work around shifts of guards. It's the personal mage I'm worried about- fighting magic with magic can be volatile at best."
"Can you set wards?" He asked, waving his hands around like that would spur magical symbols from his finger tips, "Y'know magical shields and such invisible to the eye? They could be very useful against a magician."
Della snorted. "That's healing and defensive magic. I'm an elementalist. I could do my best, but it probably wouldn't be invisible, and it'd be just as likely to shock people spontaneous as do any real good."
She shrugged, "Besides, any mage worth their salt can detect those sorts of things, even if mumdanes can't."
"Mundanes... That's a bit of a misnomer isn't it? I don't feel very mundane. I can't make my hands catch fire, sure, but I'm going to outlive a good chunk of humans. That has to count for something right?" He ranted, half forgotten his own question.
She laughed and shook her head. "It's not meant as an insult. It's just what some people call those without magic, that's all."
She twisted to face front again, drumming er fingers absently against the back of Erthas' neck. "My mother used it a lot, guess it just kinda became habit."
"So magic runs in the human side of the family?" Bolion asked, peeking around at Della's face. He'd assumed her gifts were a side effect of her parentage.
She nodded. "I know, seems weird, right? People usually assume I got it from dad- but if he had magic, I never saw him use it."
"And you have no idea what your other half might be? The non-human side, I mean? It's just aesthetic changes, there are no abilities or anything?" He asked, curiousity reappearing for the subject.
Della sighed and shook her head. "I really don't know. Da never talked about it, and I don't think my mother even knew." She shrugged, adding, "I'm stronger than a human- faster, better senses, that sort of thing. I'm pretty sure I got that from him."
She let herself flop over Erthas' neck with a huff of breath. "He didn't really look like me, though. I mean- horns, tail, claws, yeah, but he was red. Sorta orange-red, like a dying ember, y'know? And his eyes were gold, not silver. He kinda glowed sometimes. I used to be jealous," she chuckled quietly.
"Maybe he was a demon?" Bolion suggested, "He kinda fits the description. Or some sort of fey. There are many, many, different kinds of fey."
He went silent, racking his brain for any sort of creature that matched Della, or her father's description. Other than his previous suggestions, there were Djinn; a kind of desert spirit, gargoyles; but those were usually golems, and dragon shifters. He said as much, thinking aloud, and along with that he added, "You don't have any scales, or fur or anything right? Y'know, that I haven't seen?"
Another sigh and she shrugged again. "No, 'course not. I honestly don't know, Bol. I never really had the chance to ask. I was really young when they disappeared, and it never seemed important. He was my father, y'know? Didn't matter what else he was back then."
"How did they disappear, your parents?" He probed, though with good intention, "You lived alone for a while, right?"
Della's shoulders tensed a bit but she answered, "I honestly don't know. Da went hunting one day and...didn't come back. My mother tried to find him, but she didn't come back either." she was quiet a moment, then added, "I moved into the village then. It seemed...safer than being out on my own. Shows what I know."
"And you never went looking for them?" He asked, curiosity mixed with incredulity. He would've gone with Della's mother, if not before, had the circumstances been his. Even in childhood he wanted to know how everything worked, and would explore far beyond what was considered safe to get his explanations.
She twisted to glare at him. "Of course I did. And I'm a damn good tracker, and I couldn't find a trace of either of them. After three weeks, I gave up. What choice did I have?"
She shrugged and looked forward again. "Maybe they didn't want me to find them."
"Maybe they were taken?" He suggested, "If your father, seemingly not of this world, up and vanishes, maybe he was... collected. Then your mother comes looking for him quickly after, and whoever took him saw that he had left an imprint. You were kept isolated in the woods, remember. You were a secret child."
He shrugged, but his conspiracy wheels were turning, and he wanted to find an answer. Perhaps when this job was done he'd go to northern Adela for a visit.
Della laughed, shaking her head. "Or maybe they just abandoned me. Or they died. Sometimes the simple answer is the right one."
It was nice to think maybe her parents were still alive somewhere, and that they hadn't just left their problem daughter to fend for herself. But it had been almost a decade, and they hadn't tried to find her. Either they'd left for good, or they were dead.
It was easier to think they were dead.
"Can we stop talking about this? We have a job to do, we should probably focus."
Bolion frowned sadly. She'd given up, he saw now, a long time ago. Nonetheless, he dropped the subject, instead picking up the end of her sentence, "Actually, we've got about an day's ride to the start of the Oasis. When do you think we should stop?"
(OOC: When do you want to time jump? I think soon, otherwise there'll be no time left for a jump.)
[Yeah, I was thinking the next post or so?]
"Big guy here seems to be doing alright." She patted Erthas' side. "I say we keep going as long as we can, cover as much ground as possible."
"Then I'm going to catch another nap," he said, slouching back into the travel packs and closing his eyes. He could always go for sleep, and now that he was healing, he needed it more than ever.
"What, I don't ever get to sleep?"
He seemed to be out already. She huffed and rolled her eyes, settling herself more comfortably on the lizard's back.
Della really had no idea where they were going, but she followed her companion's direction over the next few days as he guided them to Essyrn.
...Two Days and Four Hours later...
"Go fuck yourself." Bolion snarled at the toll man.
They had arrived at the Oasis not an hour before, but arrived they had. And yet they were still not within the city. Just outside of the Oasis, a barbed fence had been hastily put up, and the only access was via a small but heavily guarded entrance. Said entrance was operated and protected by a group of northern merchants, no doubt looking for a quick buck. If they'd been on foot, Bolion would have just hopped the fence and hidden in the city, but his leg wasn't fully healed, and Erthas couldn't jump over the five foot wire barricade.
So they had gone all around the Oasis, a procedure that took almost an hour in an of itself, and yet they had come to nine other entrances, all guarded by the same burly men with the same long blonde hair and thick, full beards. They had come full circle, and Bolion had finally decided to accept the toll.
That was before he had been told that the price for entry was fifty gold marks a person and one fifty per mount; and before they'd bargained for Della, who was curled and sleeping behind him on the passenger saddle.
"Who's your boss? You don't look smart enough to put up a racket this big," he snapped, irritation spilling over into his voice. Barricades and tolls had never been in this ever shifting city, and it greatly unnerved him; He was near furious, but with Della dozing, he didn't dare start a fight. He did however reach behind him to Della, and squeezed her calf, saying "Wake up Dell. We're here... almost."
"Mm..." Della stirred and halfway uncurled herself, lifting her head. "Wha- what's goin in?" she mumbled with a yawn, glancing around.
Wow. How long had she been out?
"Nothing's going into anything, as far as I'm concerned," He said wryly, grinning. He raised his voice, "These cuntburgers are trying to charge me for entering my own city!" He shot the men a venemous glare as he spoke, eyes narrowed and tone biting.
She snorted. "These what? Is that even a word?"
She sat up and instantly transformed, remembering the role she was supposed to be playing. She slid her arms around Bolion's waist and peeked around his side.
"Can't we go in?" she murmured- she wasn't supposed to speak out of turn, so she directed the question to Bolion with a soft pout for their audience's benefit. "I'm so very tired..." She yawned and stretched in a way that showed off every curve of her body.
"It's a word now," he muttered, his grin slipping into a sneer, "They're charging fifty gold marks a head and one fifty for Erthas. That's minus the goods taxes I heard them talking about." He went silent for a minute as she stretched, then added, "They offered to buy you so I could get in. I don't know if tempting them is the best idea."
Meanwhile, one of the tollmen, a tall but lean man with a tangled mane of blonde hair, let out a low whistle, and a few others hooted alongside him. Another gate guard called out, "We work for a man above your station, Prettyboy! You talk to us or to no one!"
"Hmm." She tilted her head, a considering frown on her face. "...Would you be able to get me back? If you traded me to get in?" she asked quietly, pressing a little closer to his back and resting her chin on his shoulder as she spoke to seem less conspiratorial and more...concubine-like.
"Maybe..." he said, leaning into the curve of Della's body as he spoke, "There's always the chance I couldn't, at least not before they do what they want with someone who's supposed to be a concubine. My leg isn't as good as it should be, and without that I'm pretty useless in all honesty."
Della considered that a few moments.
"Is it worth it?" she asked quietly after several long moments of quiet. "If- if there's no other way in...I could do it. I could probably get myself out before anything happened."
Bolion frowned, and twisted his head to look at her, "I don't see another option, at least not now, but at the same time I really don't feel comfortable with the alternative. There are too many things that could go wrong, and I can't perform to the best of my ability. If I can't trust myself to do something I can normally do, how can I trust myself to do something I normally might not be able to? I don't know. It's your call, ultimately. At most, it could delay us a few days... or you could permanently be a sex slave. But you know, ideally, it could at most delay us a few days."
She quirked an eyebrow, hoping she seemed more confident than she felt. "Please. You think I can't get out of something like this myself? I normally work on my own, y'know."
Granted, she'd never tried to pull anything like this- but did they really have another option.
She shrugged and sort of nuzzled into his neck to hide the movement of her lips as she murmured, "If they try to force me, I'm going to fight back. Worst case scenario, I blow my cover and you have to finish the job on your own."
Bolion curled his neck at her touch, her chin tickling. He shifted Erthas just enough to take their right legs collectively away from the eyes of the toll men, and slid a hand over her thigh. Under his fingers was a thin stiletto dagger, a needle of a blade, but sharp enough to puncture leather and hard enough to crack bone.
"Alright," he said quietly, "I'll be back for you." He withdrew his hand when he was sure she'd collected the knife, and sauntered Erthas over to the tall blonde men.
"Take her. And remember my face, you asshats. I don't want to have to pay in women every time I enter and exit the city!"
Della curled her fingers around the hilt of the dagger and tucked it away inside her robes. "Thank you," she murmured. Her fingers wrapped around his for a moment, pressing a small stone into his hand- she'd retrieved it from her pack when he was maneuvering Erthas.
"This will get warmer the closer you get to my magic." She hesitated a moment, then slid off the lizard's back.
She faced the "toll collectors", head bowed and hands clasped demurely in front of her body. Alright, she could do this. She just had to get through a day, maybe two. She could do this.
"Get with the cargo, whore," one of the toll men commanded, flicking a thumb towards a sizable pile of packs, goods, and now that he pointed it out, other people. Various dark skinned women were laying under a propped up tarp, nearly motionless, trying to escape the heat.
Bolion meanwhile passed through the throng of northerners, sparing only a glance at Della before continuing on to the collection of buildings that spanned the horizon like a curtain of tents and roofs.
Don't kill him. You're a slave, pretend to be a slave, Della repeated silently to herself as she moved cautiously toward the other women.
Did they speak Common? She knelt slowly and tilted her head, her hair tumbling around her face. Damn, she'd forgotten to tie it back. "Um- hello?"
Several of the women, of which there seemed to be around fifteen, lifted their heads to see the newcomer before reclining again under the tarp.
"Hello honey," an older woman, among the group at least, spoke. She was around thirty or so, and had dark brown skin, chocolatey and rich in colour. Her voice was deep for a woman, but she sounded parched and dry. She then said, "Pick a spot, dear. We don't go in until nightfall."
"Ah- thanks." Della hesitantly sat, knees drawn up toward her chest. "Well...I suppose we wait then, huh?"
She drummed her fingers on her leg, tail swishing back and forth slightly as impatience started to set in.
"All day..." another woman chimed in drearily.
"...Every day." Yet another finished, swatting angrily at a fly that seemed to be pestering her.
"They keep us for entertainment, until they sell us, or kill us." The Dark skinned woman said, her tone one of disdain but also checked fear. She had seen more than one angered tollman vent his rage onto one of the girls.
"Keep your head down and don't complain, and they'll probably ignore you," she suggested, before saying, "But then again maybe not, given the tail."
She scowled. "Why is everyone so fascinated by the tail?" she grumbled to herself.
Anger rose up in her chest, cold and calculating anger that she was sure would settle in her rib cage and reside there until every last one of these bastards had tasted lightning.
"Don't worry about me," Della added a little louder. "I can take care of myself."
"Isn't that why you're a painted lady, hun?" the dark skinned woman asked, "The tail, and skin colour?"
A woman with caramel coloured skin and dark green eyes raised a hand from across the pile, and said, "It's why I am!" As she spoke, a tail the same colour as the rest of her skin, but with darker stripes along the spine flicked up and lazily hung in the air. Upon closer examination, it could be seen that she had a slight sheen to her skin, caused by thin and almost invisible scales. She smiled at Della, revealing a set of serrated teeth.
"We're like twins! Maybe they'll bunk you with me, if I'm lucky," her smile was genuine, despite the circumstances, and she spoke of her imprisonment like it was another fact of life. But then again, for these women, it was. They were property, and they knew it.
"Painted lady?" That's what they were going to call it?
"Hm." She didn't really know how to respond to the other woman, so she just offered a small, tight smile. "No. That's not why I'm here."
"It's just another term for the trade, Hun," the dark skinned woman replied, "I'm Oshe, and the tailed one is Elenwen-"
"Ellen for short!" The other woman piped in.
"-so what do we call you?" Oshe asked, shooting Elenwen an annoyed glance.
"D-"
Shit. Giving her real name probably wasn't smart. "Danika," she improvised quickly. "So, when will we be...heading into the city then?"
"Sunset darling, sunset," Oshe said tiredly, sparing a sympathetic look Della's way, "Though I wouldn't wish too hopefully for it to come. The men have their way when sun down comes, whether you want to oblige or not."
Elenwen laid her head back on a sack of potatoes, and sighed under the heat, "So who was the weirdo who brought you in? What was he?"
"Half elf," Della replied, hoping that would be enough to satisfy their curiosity. "A merchant. Apparently I was just the price to get through the gate."
"Probably more, honestly," Elenwen replied, propping her head up in her hands, "You're so exotic, you're probably double, I dunno, maybe triple what they're asking. How did a merchant end up with you? Does he sell slaves? Does he buy slaves? Did he steal you? What's the other half? What's he like-in bed, I mean-"
"Enough questions, Ellen! You'll talk the poor girl's ear off!" A woman (barely a woman in honesty, for she seemed around 18-19) with pale skin, blonde hair, and a sionidyaki accent stepped into the conversation. Her attire made Della's look conservative, composed mostly of small squares of crimson fabric and thin golden chains draped over her in place of missing clothing. Every time she moved she shimmered, and it took little imagination to discern what laid beneath.
"I'm Sigurn," she said to Della, extending a hand, "I came down south with those brutes, and I've been with them the longest. If you need anything, or you get into trouble, I can help. Or I can try at least."
Della blinked, trying to sort through the questions. She chuckled quietly and shook her head, though internally she was screaming, and took Sigurn's hand politely. "Thanks. I appreciate it, but I can look after myself, really."
And the rest of them, if she could help it. Glancing at Elenwen, she added, "He doesn't deal in slaves, normally. I was...personal." That was proper way of putting it, right? "He didn't steal me, we just sort of...wound up together."
Well. Not really a lie. She decided to skip the question of what he was like in bed- both because she had no way of answering it and because thinking about it was making her uncomfortable.
Sigurn shrugged, and slid down onto the sand in between Della and Oshe, but said nothing more. After that, and all the remaining girls had taken their curious looks, the group collectively fell into a sluggish melancholy. For some, like Sigurn, this was a never ending cycle, and one best dealt with by letting the current take them wherever it went. Resistance was futile.
For others, this was new, and they were acquisitions, much like Della was. The boredom and fear among them was palpable, but they too eventually succumbed to the nonchalnt air that permeated around the tarp and supplies.
Every few minutes or so, one of the tall northern men would come and sit among the women, both for the shade and the companionship. It seemed that Sigurn was a favourite between two of the men, and they came often, even if only to have her around. Oshe too, had sat with various toll men, doing nothing more than curling up to them and whispering sweet nothings while they escaped the heat. Elenwen was the personal comforter to the lead man, the one Bolion had spoken with. Out of the thirty something northerners, he was the largest, the tallest, and had the longest beard, and the thickest beard. When he came to the tarp, only once, he sat before her, and she wrapped her tail around his chest, all the while unbraiding his hair and re-plaiting it. Not a word was shared between them, so it seemed a routine that they personally shared.
"Elenwen was raised for him," Sigurn said to Della quietly when the man, whose name was Aardan, had left, "She was actually born to be his mistress, and they've been together for almost five years. No one else touches her, or they die by his hand."
"Uh-huh." Della was watching the whole process with a small frown. "That's...sick."
She shook her head and looked away. "She's a person, not a show dog. She should be able to make a choice."
If a woman chose this life, who was she to judge? But being raised into it- that just seemed wrong.
"And where are you from that slaves get to choose?" Sigurn scoffed, looking at Della like she was crazy, "If your master is kind enough to treat you as he treats his guests, then he is a rose among thorns. They are better than we are, Danika, and unless they free us, they always will be."
"And Elenwen loves him," Oshe butted into their conversation, offering her two cents, "She has never tasted independence or freedom, nor does she desire them. She is happy in complacency. It is all she knows... I was taken, myself, from a Thanati sugar-cane plantation. I was taken in a raid on my village before then, when I was young."
"And I did this to keep my family from all sharing this fate, or fates similar," Sigurn said, "But even then, we were peasants. Those men are cousins of a chief, and their sons and brothers. Nobility, among our people."
Della shook her head, but kept silent. There was no nobility in people who treated others as goods to be bought and sold.
"Doesn't matter. I won't be here long," she said with a shrug. "If you all are content here, what can I say?"
Sigurn and Oshe exchanged a glance, before quickly crowding around Della. There faces had turned very serious, and their postures hunched in anticipation.
"How are you getting out?" Oshe asked, but Sigurn spoke before Della could, saying, "I've been paid for. My family is safe. I don't want to stay here, it's just that escaping is impossible. If you run they hunt you down and kill you, or worse."
"I want to go back to Thanatos!" Oshe said, the desperation in her voice saturating her tone. At the first sign of possible escape, their lax behaviour had snapped into a wide eyed plea for freedom.
Her eyes widened. "Shh." She glanced toward the toll men, then muttered quickly, "I can't tell you much, alright? But if you make a scene none of us are getting out of here- but listen, I promise I'm not just gonna leave you all here."
This was stupid, she shouldn't be putting their job at risk with this.
But she couldn't just leave them either.
Oshe nodded slowly, then returned to the pile with the other concubines. Sigurn, however, did not, and stayed, keeping a hard eye on Della.
"How? Tell me!" Her voice was quiet, but biting. She wanted freedom if it was given, and would not be left out, "I haven't been... used yet. If I can escape with that, I might still marry. But I need to know how I'm getting out. I will not have freedom dangled in front of me only to lose it again!"
Della leveled cold silver eyes at her. "If you want out, you have to trust me," she said evenly. Her heart clenched guiltily, but she knew the more these women knew the more at risk they would be.
Sigurn stared at her for a moment, searching Della's eyes for something. She spent no longer than a minute staring, but it felt like ten the way she probed Della's stern features. Eventually, she broke contact, and wrung her wrists anxiously, before turning heel and walking a tad too stiffly back to the supply stash. One of her regulars had stopped by, and she sat with him, clinging like she was holding on for dear life.
-------------------------
Bolion dropped the telescope lens from their camp, and collapsed it before placing it back inside his saddlebags. He was just outside a gap in the wall, and had been setting up a tent there for the night. The closer he was to Della, the faster he could retrieve her. It seemed she had been stirring up the local whores, and he frowned. Extra trouble he hadn't accounted for.
"Don't fuck up..." he muttered to himself, and shared a glance with Erthas before scratching the great lizard's head soothingly. Soon, something would happen that he could not turn in their favour. He could feel it. Soon.
With nothing more to do but wait until their "keepers" decided to move them along, Della curled up on her side and closed her eyes with a sigh. She may as well attempt to get some rest before things got hectic.
Oshe woke Della with a shake, and a grim expression. It had been three hours, and not only had the sun shifted, giving Della a slight tan, but their group had begun to pack up. The Women were either packed onto camels in claustrophobic groups of three, or chosen to sit personally with particular men. Elenwen rode with Aardan, and two others shared similar arrangements, but the remaining fourteen girls, including Della, were herded towards their large humped mounts.
The last camel only had to hold two, and so Oshe and Della were grouped together for travel.
"Would you prefer to ride as the master or passenger?" Oshe asked quietly as they approached the tall and sandy beast. The Camel eyed them curiously, before stretching it's neck out tall and snorting at the air.
Della stumbled to her feet and yawned, then moved toward the front of the camel with a quiet grunt. She patted the animal's side lightly and climbed up onto his back, reins in hand.
"C'mon then, let's move."
"So where are you from, dear?" Oshe inquired, "Not to pry, just to pass the time. It's a ride, that's true, and I already know the other girls so indulge me. And while we're on the topic, what are you really doing here?"
"Adela, originally." No harm in telling the truth about that, right?
She was quiet for a few moments, then added, "I really don't know if it's a good idea to talk about that, alright?"
"You're no slave," Oshe said, a hardness entering her tone, "Your manner shows that enough. And let me just say there are only two reasons a person pretends to be a slave... So are you running, or hunting, dear?"
Della shook her head. "Look, if you really wanna get out of this, stop asking me questions. It's just not gonna do you any good, alright?"
"Why is that?" Oshe asked in a low voice, "Think now, hun, that if I can see through your ruse, perhaps your captors can too? Trade with me here. Tell me what you're up to and I can hide you a little bit better."
Della's eyes narrowed. "I don't appreciate threats, veiled or otherwise," she said softly. "And what makes you think they'd take your word?"
Bolion followed nearly two miles behind the caravan, keeping pace easily with the great reptile beneath him breaking little more than a trot. In equivalent anyway. He didn't think Erthas had ever moved in a way one could truly equate to a horse. The winding, slithering strides were as unique as his appearance, or even his rider for that matter.
The toll group had been replaced by another nearly identical, northern men and prostitutes almost down to the number exactly the same. But Della's group had left the city, and even the outer limits past the wall. It seemed that the northerners had a separate camp that served as a headquarters.
Snapping back out of thought at the faint crack of a riding crop far above, he resumed his pace, and watched ever vigilantly the last camel in line.
Soon.
-------------------------------------------
"Well you're not exactly normal around here, and neither was your master, for that matter," Oshe pointed out, "I am. My owner was. That alone gives me some sway. And you hold yourself with a pride and self assurity I've never seen in a woman before. That's definitely not normal. Not for what you're supposed to be, anyway. Your situation doesn't add up either. As a slut, you'd be a diamond among coal. The guy who pawned you off would have a caravan, and wouldn't give up you. He could pay the toll for twenty people and not break a sweat. That guy wouldn't have had to pawn you for entrance. The thought wouldn't have crossed his mind. The Elf-boy who dropped you off is not that guy.
In a lightning move, Della twisted and grabbed the other woman's wrist, razor claws pressing hard against delicate skin.
"I don't want to hurt you," she said quietly, calmly, "but I need you to back off." Ignoring the guilty way her heart jumped into her throat, she murmured, "I won't be here long enough for any of this to matter. And if you just let me do my work, none of the rest of you girls will be either."
She pressed a little harder, claws threatening to break skin, then released Oshe and turned forward again, the quiet exchange lasting hardly more then a few seconds.
Oshe froze, the determined look in her eyes replaced by a submissive fear. The grip was one often used as a warning, though not often by tailed concubines. Her natural disposition was to bow her head and avoid eye contact, which she did only after sitting petrified of the woman in front of her. Fear amplified the already odd features, and Della's silver eyes, twisting horns and serrated canines held a new, dangerous light to Oshe.
"Yes Al'amr," she said obediently, and withdrew her arm, rubbing a hand on her wrist subconsciously.
Oh great.
Feeling like the most wretched creature in existence, Della muttered without turning around, "No, please don't do that. I'm no more your master than any of them. You own you, no one else. You're not property, Oshe."
Her voice was gruff, but the tone was sincere. She couldn't quite force herself to look at the other woman, sensing the fear radiating off her- but she hadn't had any better ideas to stop questions that were better left unanswered. Threats and lies had become her default.
"Yes, Danika. I am." Oshe replied to her, "I am and have been property for many, many years. And the way you act, the way you are, it proves that you are not. I may have once been free, but you are now, in spirit if not body, and that is why I call you Al'amr. Even like this, you are greater than I. But do not worry, I'll ask no more questions."
Oshe wrapped her arms loosely around her own hips, and kept her head bowed. She withdrew to herself, and said nothing more.
Wonderful.
Della felt like the queen mother of all bitches, but honestly this was probably best, right? The less the other girls knew, the less liable they'd be if something went wrong.
Still, it didn't help the guilt tugging at her heart.
"Della," she said abruptly after some time. "My name isn't Danika. It's Della. Don't...tell anyone."
She fell silent again, frowning at the landscape ahead of them.
Oshe glanced up at her words, and said quietly, "Okay... Della..."
Though Della could not see her, turned away as she was, not to mention the curtain of hair that hid her face, Oshe smiled. What was hidden behind it was anyone's guess, but she smiled nonetheless.
----------------------------
"What the fuck are you talking about?" Bolion muttered to himself as he watched through the looking glass. He had seen the entire exchange, even if he hadn't heard it, and an alarming one it was.
"Don't blow your cover," he said to Della, though she couldn't have possibly heard him, "Don't get attached, don't bitch out... One day is all I need. All I need."
Della was- if not content, at least resigned- to ride in silence as long as she could manage it. She did her best not to make eye contact with those around her, keeping her attention fixed ahead of them as they moved.
The sun broke over the dunes, bursting into their camp with all the light and heat that gave the desert it's reputation. Night had fallen quickly after Della's company had reached the outcropping of stone that served as a natural wall to the Northerner Camp. It was large, fitting four large tents, enough to house twenty men or more apiece, and thirty small single man tents with it's vaguely triangular shape. Della had been taken with Elenwen to a separate group than the rest of the girls, but she still was only a tent row over from Sigurn, who slept not twenty feet from her.
The Operation was huge. Nearly two hundred men, twice as many slaves and more than half of them concubines were either permanently stationed or filed through the camp every day. Certain groups guarded the makeshift fort, but many simply had toll stations to keep up, and came here on their off days only to be replaced by a squad much like themselves.
Della had been thrown in with fourteen other tailed women, two of which shared very similar physiques, though they had traditionally white eyes, with deep brown irises and lavender skin. One had small, barely visible horns, and her other had none at all, as far as could be seen.
Bolion stopped Erthas a half mile from the stone exterior. He watched the guard in and out, and saw no way to infiltrate without being seen somehow. Perhaps he could make his presence known, and Della could escape, coming to him... maybe.
To say she was overwhelmed would be an understatement.
Della did her best to keep her eyes down and her mouth shut, hoping her manner passed as subservient rather their calculating and observant.
She couldn't stay her. She'd give Bol untilt he next morning, then she was getting it one way or another, contract be damned. The whole place made her skin crawl.
Long hours passed, and Bolion had no clue of what to do. If he were to simply walk in, even if that were to work, he would surely be seen by a member of the group who he'd bartered with, and discoevered. Otherwise, the only way in was to scale the wall, and to do that without drawing attention would be impossible. The only real approach was a loud, fast, and violent one. That would be a last consideration though.
For now he only waited, hoping an opportunity would present itself.
----------------------------
The sun rose high over the tent tarps, and luckily for Della, hers was backed by the great stone walls. The stone was cool to the touch, and all fourteen women seemed glued to it in an effort to escape the heat. The two lavender girls had turned out to be Djinn, a species of demon/human hybrids that had eventually evolved into their own individual Demi-demon. They asked once or twice what kind of Djinn she was, and how her horns had grown so large. Djinni men found large horns and thick tails attractive, they said, and she had to spill her secret so that they could become more attractive.
Sigurn shot looks from her penn to Della almost by the minute, unable to communicate but desperately wishing to. Four hours past sunrise, she broke silence however.
"Danika!" She called warily, keeping watch that no men lingered nearby, "The camp is alive with rumour about you! I advise caution, but otherwise I cannot say. I do not know if these things they say ring with truth, but heed my warning. Bad things may come your way."
Della had. Wen doing her best to fend of questions and escape the heat, and she jumped slightly at the sudden call. She turned and tilted her head.
"Rumors?"
"Yes, rumours," Sigurn replied, genuine concern evident in her voice, "They say you are here on some secret errand, perhaps to bring down the camp. I heard that someone will come for you soon, but not everyone says so... tread with caution, Dani, you might need it more than you may think."
She nodded once. "I appreciate your concern. Thank you."
Sigurn offered a weak smile, before returning to her solemn position surrounded by other aryan women, none much older that she. They had been combing each other's hair, for lack of any other activity, and it was this that she occupied herself with.
Until the Old Man came, that was. Down the tent alley, silver haired and grizzly, marched a man who looked more like a bear in pink skin than a human. Behind him strode many, maybe fifteen blonde haired northerners, all of them taller than six feet, and none of them in any way describable as anything but warriors. All of them wore beards plaited with silver and orange glass beads, so that when they turned their heads their chests seemed to sparkle. Pale green tattoos of impressive intricacy adorned the arms and scalps of several of them, for those who kept their heads shaved. The Old Man was taller than all the rest, and surely older, for his eyes had crow's feet and his brow was tattooed not by ink, but by deep lines. Whether they were born of worry, or anger, it was hard to say, though his resting expression (which could be best described as "Fuck Off") leaned towards the latter. His arms were bare past the bicep, and were thick like the trunks of sapling oak, but unlike the rest of his troop, he wore a prominent gut that protruded in front of him wherever he went. His hair was receded past his forehead, leaving the top of his dome exposed, showing a complex triangle based tattoo in place of the hair that undoubtedly once rested there. The remaining locks, platinum and cascading down his back, had little bells tied into them, and were braided with actual platinum, giving them a metallic sheen that was at first confusing to the eye.
Tall, menacing, and proud, they walked with purpose down towards the tent Della had been drafted to, pushing aside any foolish or unobservant enough to stand in their way. It was only when they got close enough for scrutiny could it be seen that they had warhammers and hatchets among them, eased from belt loops and at the ready. They did not go for Della's pen, however, and stopped at Sigurn's first. The Old Man asked some inaudible questions in a low voice, and though Sigurn kept her head down and said nothing, another girl, perhaps even younger than she, pointed a wary finger across the alley at Della. Not Della's pen, or in the general direction of Della, for there were other women with her, but directly at Della.
The group of men collectively shuffled and turned their heads towards her, whispering little things among themselves. The Old Man put up a hand, and the whispering ceased immediately. He kept an iron gaze on Della, and approached the fence that held her. He stopped before it, and said gruffly in a heavily accented voice commanding and stern, "Della, of Adela! Step forward."
----------------------------------------------
Bolion exhaled a fluttering breath, and repeated the mantra: Don't look down, Don't look down
Over and over he said this, and his fingers were sore, and his arms were fire. The walls were tall, but he could have climbed them easily. It was staying completely motionless while a watchman examined the spot where he'd accidentally knocked a pebble loose and sent it clacking down the rock face, that was killing him. Four minutes, had he hidden in a shallow depression in the stone, depending entirely on the strength of his fingers and a willpower he later accredited to an intervention of the gods. And gods will it, once this douchebag stopped staring at the fucking rocks and turned around, he would kill him, and find Della. Then they'd ride away romantically into the sunset to go murder some more people.
But for now, he simply had to wait. And wait. And pray, and curse, and wait some more.
Don't look down, Don't look down
Della's head snapped up. Rather than shrink away from the men, she set her shoulders and raised her chin, silver eyes cold and hard.
She stood and moved forward, unconsciously placing herself in front of the other women in her pen in an almost instinctive gesture of protection.
"What do you want?" she snarled, ignoring the way her heart had started to race. How did they know her real name?
"The truth." He snarled back, "Who are you, truly? Why are you here?" He stared at her with icy blue eyes that pierced deep, and seemed to cut right through into the soul.
"And don't you lie. I will know," he said, his face bleak and his tone grim. Within the pack of blonde warrior men, shuffled a much smaller, much darker figure. Hard to see as it was, the identity couldn't be discerned, but they (whoever they were) were definitely there.
Sigurn watched fearfully from in between the legs of her kinsmen, and placed a hand on one of the fence poles. Her fingers clenched and her knuckles went white, so strong was her anxiety about the event. Across the alley, Elenwen shuffled a little closer to Della, both in a show of support and a move for protection. Della radiated strength, and the other women could feel it where they themselves had none.
"What do they mean, Danika?" She asked quietly, "What truth?"
-----------------------------------------
The knife slid out from under the watchman's jaw with a wet, squelching sound. The handle had become slick with blood, and Bolion's right hand was warm with it. Several minutes later, he had taken the garb of the watchman, a tad too large for him but a disguise nonetheless. He dumped the body over a part of the wall where it would fall among deep and jagged rocks. From above it was nearly impossible to see the final resting place of the watchman, save for a smear of red far below.
With his new attire, he leaned over the inner side of the wall, searching for any sign of Della. He couldn't see anything for a few seconds, but then looked straight down. There, below him, was his scantily clad companion, surrounded by other scantily clad women, facing off what looked to be a very angry group of giant beefy Vikings. He missed all the fun.
He decided to wait, and only intervene if the circumstances grew dire. You know, in comparison to the currently dire circustances.
Della's lip curled, exposing a flash of fang in an instinctive show of force, a threat. One predator telling another to back off.
"What does it matter who I am?" she snapped. "I am here now, am I not?"
"It matters because I say it does," The Old Man replied angrily, "because your identity, and through it your purpose here could be very dangerous."
The dark shape among the tall men shifted further through the throng, as if trying to escape.
"Bring her out damn it! Stop shuffling around, you're not getting out of this, whore!" He barked into the crowd. Someone grabbed the shadow by an elbow, and threw her out into the fence. Oshe sprawled in the pebbles and sand, her shoulder colliding with the hardwood and crudely wrapped wire. There she lay, conscious but eyes shut tightly and head turned from Della, trying for all the world not to make eye contact.
"This one tried to sell you out, probably thinking that she'd get a reward and never see your hide again. Thing is, there were two problems," he laughed darkly, "the first being if she was wrong, it'd be her head on the block. So we'd bring her along anyway, to make sure she wasn't lying. Secondly, we don't like traitors around here. Whether or not we're the ones being betrayed. Unfortunately for the both of you, you responded to that name."
The Old Man knelt crouching in front of the gate, and grabbed Oshe by the hair, tugging her head up. Oshe let out a yelp of pain, but still wouldn't look at Della, instead keeping her eyes zealously on the dirt.
"So if she's right about that, I can only assume the possibility of the rest of her tale being right is high," he snapped his free fingers twice, and three other women were brought out from Sigurn's pen, including Sigurn, "Tell me what you're here for, or not only will you and her die, but so will they. And remember darling, I've got more than enough sluts to spare these ones. Don't think for a second I'm bluffing."
Della's heart sprang into her throat.
"Stop." She stepped forward, holding her hands out pleasingly. "She didn't do anything wrong, she doesn't know what she's talking about."
She didn't look at Oshe, keeping her eye contact with the leader of the men. "She only knew what I told her- and who's to say that's true? She was just trying to protect this camp, you can't punish her for that!"
"She was hoping for a reward," The Old Man corrected, "Asked how many silver crowns she'd get when you were caught. Besides, it doesn't matter to me. I'm really here for you."
He stood, and dragged Oshe screaming by the hair with him. She didn't kick, though, or resist, rather digging her nails into her palms and making all the effort in the world to study the ground beneath her.
"Why are you here?" He continued, as if torture and interrogation were common with him. Then again, they probably were. He asked again, "What is your purpose, and what are you? Some Djinni hybrid?"
Della took a single step forward, casting a quick glance at the women huddled behind her. "When I say so, you run she hissed."
Electricity sparked at her fingertips, leaping between silver claws. She raised a hand and smiled dangerously.
"What are gods, that they made Devils so much stronger than Mankind?"
Lightning arched from her fingers, arching to strike the leader of the men in the chest. She bared her teeth, eyes flashing darkly.
It was a bluff- she had no idea what she was, but she knew taking out all these slavers would be too big a job even for her. She was hoping to scare at least some of them off.
The Old Man cast a wary eye on Della, before throwing Oshe aside and drawing his axe. He had a long bearded axe, with a wicked edge, and was brandishing it with what seemed a deadly familiarity. For all of that however, it made no difference when hundreds of magical volts of electricity ripped into his chest. He fell to his knees, and his beard was singed, but he raised his head before a northerner not three feet from him fell to the ground with a cry of pain.
The group stepped away from him, only to see the last few inches of an arrow shaft embedded in his shoulder. Nearly fifty feet above, Bolion strung and loosed another arrow from one of the longbows that the watchmen would have used. The second shot glanced off of a buckler, and was redirected harmlessly at the dirt, but fear of attack from above had already been cemented. The group scattered for cover, jumping into the pens with the women to avoid being fired on. Oshe was still outside of Della's pen, and she lay on the ground, perhaps unconscious. Sigurn and the two others who had been pulled out were forgotten, but they too ran to Della.
The second to last shot of the initial volley had impaled a northerner with red tinted hair and a scruffy beard clean through the calf. As soon as he'd gone down he'd been abandoned, and another shot came arcing down, piercing the boiled leather of his breastplate. The shot had also gone entirely through, and the man coughed violently once, spewing blood, before letting his head fall back limply into the dirt.
[Ummm...Della basically just shot a lightning bolt into Old Man's chest- I thought there might be more of a reaction?]
Della backpeded as the arrows started coming, doing her best to keep the women back and out of the fray.
Magic crackled at her fingertips and she shouted a spell, erecting a wall of electricity around the pens. "Don't touch it!" She called to the women, rushing forward to deal with the men who'd managed to jump into the pens to hide.
[Sorry, I think I read that sentence wrong. :P]
Bolion couldn't see any more targets, and so decided that a descent would be a better option. The inner walls were slightly sloped, making the camp seem like it rested on the rim of a bowl to one far above. He took advantage of this now, and slid down the side of the wall, the slight angle keeping him from falling to his death, but not by much. If he didn't nail the dismount, there'd be a very handsome splat on the ground next to Della's pen.
[Haha, np!]
Della vaulted into the closest pen. "Get back, all of you!" She shouted at the huddled women, ligthtning flaring from her fingertips as her eyes darted to the few men who'd tried to hide among their "cargo."
The jagged shale ate at the leather soles of his shoes as Bolion flew down the rock face, more than once unbalancing him to dangerous effect. His ride was breakneck fast, but was also wild and hard to control. Ten feet from the base of the wall he drew himself inward in an awkward horizontal crouch, before springing off with nearly as much momentum as he'd had going down.
Immediately after essentially leaping from the wall, he curled tightly into a bad approximation of an armadillo and braced for a crunching impact that sent him rolling into the electrified wall of Sigurn's original pen. He managed to unpretzel his limbs and push himself into a sitting position before the shock burns of the pen and the dense blunt trauma he'd just experienced to register. He groaned and then winced, the breath he'd taken flaring a sharp pain in his side. He knew that feeling, and figured he'd broken a rib or two on the way down. His snakebitten ankle was numb again, but now had the unsettling slow warmth of blood cascading across his skin. Internal bleeding, perhaps just under the skin layer itself.
Fuck.
--------------------------------
Terrified and angry, Jölm hefted his axe menacingly(or so he hoped) at the lightning fingered whore, ready to turn her lithe muscle into butcher's meat if she dared even to look at him. It was then that he realized he was caged by some strange magical barrier, and that she was indeed staring straight at him. Two others from his party, a stocky man with arms long and hairy like an ape's whose name was Gersieg, and a tall (even by their standards) silver blonde muscle bound behemoth of a warrior, Nils, had escaped into the same pen. The grouped together like lions closing in on their prey and as one approached Della, now the only thing between these men and the near two and a half dozen prostitutes and concubines that lay behind her. But they weren't going for the girls. They had malicious eyes only for the woman they thought the harbinger of their doom, and they were not in the mood for taking prisoners.
Della laughed.
Her eyes burned silver as she stared the men down, mouth twisted in a wicked, mocking smirk. "Come on now, sweetheart- surely you're smarter than this? Back down and no one else has to get hurt."
Small sparks danced across every inch of visible skin, giving her almost a halo of electricity as she cocked a hip and waited, apparently unconcerned by the weapons brandished at her.
Jölm hesitated unsurely, a falter in his step giving away his misgivings about attacking the witch woman. Gerseig snarled and shoved him forward, pushing past him when Jölm lost his footing in the sand and sprawled before Della. Armed with nothing but a club, Gerseig swung wildly towards his much smaller opponent, sparing no force or mercy on the girl who he saw responsible for the death of their leader.
Outside the pen, however, the Old Man pushed himself from the dirt with a grunt. The blast had sent him to his knees, and now he felt dizzy and slightly nauseous, but he had survived worse. He would survive now. The groans of a small man about ten feet to his left snapped his hazy wandering gaze into a sharp focus. Who was this man? An accomplice of Della, the southern witch? No matter.
"He will die..." the Old Man muttered under his breath.
Della heard that. She snapped her gaze toward the Old Man, waving a casual hand at Jolm and Gerseig. Lightning arched from her fingertips, cracking into their chests and striking them down.
"Bol?" She blinked, dumbfounded, then darted forward. "How are you still alive?" she growled at the old man, gathering a ball of electricity between her hands.
"Don't you know?" Bolion called over the Old Man, thinking she spoke to him. A giggle escaped his lips as he said, "I'm indestructible!"
The Old Man snarled again, jumping up onto his hands and knees and propelling himself forward like a mad beast towards Bolion. He threw himself at the half-elf, a much smaller man in comparison, and Bolion barely managed to shove himself out of the way before they collided. Nonetheless, the giant man clipped Bolion on the arm and sent him tumbling and grunting back into the pen.
"You bloody fucker-ah!" Bolion swore, clutching gingerly at his ribs, pain twisting his face into a slightly less attractive masterpiece. He hissed out between clenched teeth, "Della! Get rid of him, please!"
The mage threw herself forward, planting her body between Bol and their assailant. "With pleasure," she growled, and threw the ball of electricity that had been gathering between her palms directly at the old man.
The Old Man took the hit directly in the chest, a ripple of pain and fire stabbing through his veins as the electric ball burned a hole through his clothing and charred the skin on his sternum. He stopped, paralyzed, and twitched once or twice, then fell rigidly towards the earth, like a statue fallen in position. His muscles then fell lax and he went limp, looking as dead as any of the others around him.
Bolion cackled, only for it to be cut short with a grunt of pain and a fit of coughing, before sliding back into a low giggle, "I hope you go to hell you old codger!" He eased himself into a sitting crouch, then stood, his hand still holding his ribs on the right side. He smiled mischievously at Della, and asked, "You miss me?"
Her heart clenched as she saw the man fall, lips parted as she panted lightly. For a moment time around her seemed to slow down, and Della could swear she heard the lightning crackling through her own veins.
Murderer.
Bol's voice pulled her out of her temporary stupor and she drew in a sharp breath. She turned to face him, and felt an almost reluctant smile curl her lips. "Gods, you know what? I did."
She moved forward and wrapped her arms around him before she'd had the time to realize what she was doing. "You fucking idiot, did you jump from the wall?"
"Not exactly," he laughed, "I slid down the wall first, then I jumped. Best mistake of my life. Glorious entrance."
He returned the hug with his one free hand, sucking in a shallow breath as his ribs twinged. They'd be fine. Probably. That was when he saw the fucking herd of women behind her, and also Nils. The giant northerner was wide eyed and tight lipped, having seen three of the best fighters left in this camp dispatched in around five seconds. So he simply stood there, and did nothing.
"Who're your friends?" Bolion inquired, "We're not taking them all are we? Are we?"
"Oh- hahaha, weeeell..."
Della swallowed, then gave him the best smile she could muster, all wide silver eyes and fluttering lashes. "I mean, how hard could it be to at least get them out of here, right. There has to be somewhere they can go."
She glanced over her shoulder at the women, then at Nils. Her eyes narrowed. "You. You gonna try to stop us?"
"Uh...no?" Nils replied, unsure of his options at this point.
"We do have the problem of distance though," Bolion carried on, ignoring the northern man, "It took you just over a day to get here from the city, and that was on camels. Not to mention this camp still has about two hundred Viking looking dudes traipsing around, almost all of the guaranteed to know that we're here now. You killed the alpha, but what to do with the pack?"
Sigurn approached from the crowd, and pointed at Bolion, saying, "You're the trader, the half-elf who sold Danika... or Della? Either way, you're that guy!"
Bolion raised an eyebrow, and asked Della quietly, "Danika?" Before replying to Sigurn, saying to her, "Half-elf yes, trader no, sold Della no. Might I ask who you are?"
"I'm a whore." Sigurn said dryly.
Bolion gave her a blank stare, and replied, "Fair enough, but what's your name."
"Sigurn. My name is Sigurn," she answered.
"Simmer down. The girls are alright," Della murmured, touching his arm lightly. "Danika is...a long story." She frowned and passed her palm gently over his side.
"Alright. You definitely broke some ribs. Where's Erthas?"
She glanced to the women, then to Nils. Gods, this was a bit of a mess...
"He's outside the walls, at my camp about half a mile away," Bolion replied, "I wasn't expecting a caravan's worth of people on the way out..."
Sigurn took advantage of his silence to deal with another problem. She gestured a hand to Oshe, still unconscious, and said, "What about her? She's concussed, and broke her skull, I think."
At this, Bolion remembered his leg, and pulled up the lungi to about mid shin on his left leg. His foot, fully throbbing, had grown purple and black, the splotch of his ankle rimmed with dark red. The bleeding stemmed to have ceased, but the actual wound may not have closed.
"And this thing just healed too," he complained more to himself than to Della.
Meanwhile curious individuals who had fled from the battle had begun wandering back to see if it had swung in their favour. Sigurn noticed this, and said anxiously, "We don't have too much time either."
"Gah." Della raked her hands through her hair. "Alright. Alright, one thing at a time. How do we do this? We need to incapacitate the men, as many as we can."
She looked around at the women. "How many of you can use a weapon?"
The Djinni girls both immediately raised their hands, and one said, "We can fight with bows and knives."
A few more hands, totalling seven out of the thirty some who had basic weapons training. Then Nils stepped up, "I can fight. If it comes to that, my loyalty lies with the side I think can win, and so far you-" he jabbed a finger at Della, "are the most dangerous person here."
Bolion frowned playfully, and scoffed, feigning hurt, "Well."
"Okay." Della nodded sharply. She looked to Nils. "Help us scavenge some weapons, arm the girls that know how to use them."
She turned to the women and took a breath. "I need you all to trust me, just for a little while longer. I promise, I'm going to protect you to the best of my ability."
Finally, she turned her attention to Bol. "You. Sit your ass down and let me look at you." She raised her voice a bit to ask the women, "Does anyone have any training with field medicine?"
Lowering her voice again, she murmured to her companion, "I need a distraction. Long enough for me to store up a lot of magic, then release it in one massive spell. I don't want any of these people getting hurt, but we need to use them."
"This is a scenario we seem to be getting into far too often," he remarked, sitting back on the sand, "You'll be fretting over my injuries for the rest of the bloody mission at this rate. It's a scratch and some broken ribs, I'll be fine!"
He dropped his voice so that only she could hear him, "I know that's ideal, but the truth is if we stand and fight here, a sizeable chunk of our fighters will die. I am not in fighting shape. If it were me and Nils, and you, sure. Now? I don't know. Just... don't get attached, to any of them, okay?"
[Sorry about the delay, my computer decided to hate SotE suddenly]
Della snorted and ran her hands over his ribs again, trying to feel the breaks. "It's more than just a scratch and you know it ."
She lowered her voice and leaned a little closer. "I know. I know, but I have to protect these people, okay? I just...I need a little time, just enough for me to get the spell working."
She decided not to tell him that casting the spell meant he'd probably be carrying her out of there.
"What is this Hail Mary spell anyway?" He asked, "Am I going to need to take cover for it, or what?"
He propped himself up a little, watching Nils pick up knives, swords, and spears from the ground and hand them to the few fighters they had. The Djinni girls had each found short bows and worryingly sparse quivers.
He flexed his foot, twisting it this way and that, and gauged it well enough to walk on. Tying it tightly with some cloth ripped from the Old Man, he bound it until he was satisfied. His ribs, under Della's hands, were beginning to swell, but he paid it no attention. He needed a weapon.
"Alright, what am I doing in this scheme? You seem to have a plan," he asked Della, ready for another fight.
She sighed and let her hands just rest on his chest for a moment.
"I need you and Nils to lead the charge. Be big, and loud, and keep as many of the girls as you can safe. I'll be right behind you guys, but I need you to make sure my concentration isn't broken while I'm casting the spell."
She glanced down and frowned at his injuries. "And when this is over, I need you to see a proper healer, alright?" With a small huff, she got to her feet and wrapped his arm around her shoulders, trying to pull him with her.
"All of you, come here," she called, gesturing to the girls and Nils. "Get close. I'm going to give you a bit of protection before we head out there."
Not completely a lie.
Hormund gathered his men in three principle groups;
The First Wave's role was the battering ram. Twenty men to crash into their defenses, and hopefully cause some casualties. This opposition was dangerous, but small. If the first wave did their job right, and he hadn't underestimated his enemies, the battle would largely be over before it began.
The Second Wave consisted of one hundred and twenty men. Their job was simple, and most usually effective. To overwhelm the enemy.
The Third Wave, the hammer to the first two waves' nail, was the thirty best fighters remaining. After the renegade group of whores and bandits, for that indeed was what his scouts had called them, had been beaten down, if any still stood, the hammer would break them.
He scowled at the other side of the camp, and raised his war horn to his lips. Flicking a hand to the first of his three captains, he let out a deep wail from the horn and called, "To the death!" A siege's worth of men answered the call in turn, and their voices rang through the camp like thunder through a valley.
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Bolion turned a head to the horn, and Nils stopped in his tracks, face grim. The women either took positions by Della, or anxiously drew their weapons. The Djinnis knocked arrows, and Sigurn, who hadn't raised a hand earlier, swore under her breath. She stepped out of the cowering group, and frost began to climb up her arms of it's of volition. She nodded at Della, and took an apprehensive breath as her fingers hardened into crystallized version of themselves, ready to cast battle magic.
"Hurry up and do what you've wanted to," Bolion urged, "We really haven't much time."
Della took a shuddering breath and closed her eyes. "I know, I know, give me a minute," she muttered, fists clenched so tight that blood dripped from her palms.
Magic gathered around her, electric blue and crackling as it danced over her skin. She snapped her eyes open and a single spark jumped from her to each member of their little group, sinking into the skin of their brow between their eyes.
It wouldn't hurt, but may cause a small tingling sensation down the spine or in their fingertips. Panting lightly, Della looked up at Bol and nodded. Her eyes flicked to Sigurn. "You, stay with me. I just need you to keep them off me for two minutes, alright?"
She looked back to Bol. "You've got this, yeah?"
It struck her that she had about a fifty-fifty chance of making it out of this alive.
Oh, what the hell.
She grabbed his face and leaned in to kiss him, harsh and quick, then released him with a small push toward the entrance. "Don't you go and die on me."
Bolion stood staring at Della, his brain doing a reality check on recent events. She tasted like charred something, and he was sure that she'd shocked him a little, on his lower lip. Then he smiled, a smaller grin compared to his normal teasing one, that grew slowly as he processed what had happened. To Nils, and the girls, however, he was frightening: A pale-eyed Orc-elf with ripped clothing and bloody smears on his cheeks smiling like a maniac. His smile faltered, though, and a shadow fell across his thoughts. What happened if he died? What happened if she died? It was a very real chance, and one they were taking now. What if he died because of her? It seemed a selfish thought, but it stemmed from a fear of loss. He'd never had to work with anyone in situations like these before. He'd never forged those bonds. He hadn't had anyone to lose for over a decade and a half, and now he did. What if she didn't survive, and he couldn't find the strength to go on even if he did fight his way out? A frown, uncertain and afraid took the place of his grin. For Nils, who saw the full range of emotions on Bolion's face, that was more sobering and frightening than a war-crazed maniac ever could be. It meant that Bolion had very little faith that he would survive today, and it made Nils question his own decision.
Bolion busied his now troubled mind with find suitable arrows and a blade that he could use. Nils prattled off defensive formations to the girls, and the Djinnis climbed up onto the stone walls behind them, using the advantage in height to scout their enemy arrival. One of them called, "Twenty men, maybe more are advancing through the tents toward us! They've broken from the main force and are on their way!"
Sigurn shot a glance at him before turning to Della and asking, "What will you be doing that I need to cover you? My magic is more defensive than offensive, and I can manage it, but not against large numbers for too long."
Della stared at Bolion's back for a moment, then shook herself and glanced at Sigurn, trying to process what she'd said.
What had possessed her to do that? Sure, the possibility of imminent death was definitely a factor. But she'd also just sort of...wanted to.
Was that bad? Oh gods, Adrien... But Adrien was dead. Would he have been angry with her, if his...spirit or whatever could have seen that? Hurt, sad, betrayed? Gods, she felt like she'd betrayed him.
No. No, she didn't have time for this. She took a sharp breath and focused on the other mage. "I need you to trust me, just for the next three minutes," she murmured. "Those sparks I sent to all of you will protect you from what I'm about to do, but it's...it's not going to be pretty."
She took a breath and closed her eyes, letting her arms fall to her sides, palms facing out. Another slow breath and she opened her eyes. Sparks surrounded her in a zipping, crackling halo and her eyes glowed with power.
When she spoke, her voice almost seemed to echo, as though the power had multiplied into a separate person.
"I'm going to raze this place to the ground."
"What?!" Sigurn asked incredulously, "What about the other people? All the other girls? The ones in the rest of the camp... that's like three hundred and fifty people!"
Sigurn blanched, then sat down where she stood, trying to calm down. It was a lot of extra collateral for the survival of their group. She took a few deep breaths, trying not to let the impending northerners and now this new plan to overwhelm her.
"That's... wow," She looked up at Della, and asked, "Really?"
Meanwhile, Nils had outfitted the others with little pieces of scavenged leather armour, and weapons picked up from his fallen allies. Their fighting force was tiny, and their skill as of yet untested. Nils sighed, and tightened his own armour. At least he'd go out fighting.
Bolion had managed to scrounge up about twenty arrows and had found the wall guardsman's bow from where he had dropped it. In the recent chaos, he'd ignored the heat against his chest but now that his mind was on other things, his attention was again brought to the burning sensation against his chest. The stone Della had given him about three days ago, to be used in finding her, was hanging from a leather cord and secured with wire around his neck. Then he remembered their exchange.
Turning to Della, he called, "Do you still have the stiletto?"
He didn't get his answer, however, as soon after he said it a northerner with a war hammer leapt from the shadows of a tent nearby. The Northerner swung in a wide arcing blow, aiming for Bolion's head, but Bolion dodged the swing with a staggering sidestep. An arrow shaft embedded itself in the man's chest fired from the bow of one of the two Djinnis, but now more men came flooding through the tents and over the fences.
Sigurn jumped to her feet, casting a frosted globe around her and Della. It muffled all the noise of the outside, and immediately a club cracked on the outside. Sigurn shot Della an affirmative nod, and closed her eyes, focusing on maintaining their defenses.
Della met Sigurn's eyes. The weight of the lives she was about to take and the lives that depended on her was clear in her gaze.
"I know," she murmured. "I'm going to try, Sigurn."
She closed her eyes again. She barely heard Bolion's question, as as their attackwrs swarmed in the noise of the battle faded further and further away from her mind. All that was real was the feel of magic curling through her veins, the sound of it pulsing in time with her heart.
Burn them.
Her eyes snapped open and her head flew back. The silver of her eyes glowed white and her mouth opened in a soundless scream.
A storm of lightning arched out from her body, tearing apart their enclosed in less than a moment. The magic raced through the air, striking down anything in its path.
Except for the people touched with Della's magic. Those it spared.
The magic was explosive, but it dwindled the further it got from its caster. The camp was destroyed, but people further from the blast had the possibility of surviving being struck.
Body lit up with magic, Della floated in the air like an avenging angel, a demon, her hair whipped around her and her tail lashing behind her.
Then, suddenly, she dropped to the ground, motionless.
About a minute had passed between initial contact and the blast. Bolion was in the middle of stabbing a man through the gut, in a tight and deadly embrace, when the sound hit him. It was like a raging inferno punctuated by the crackle of lightning and the screams of dying men. Everything around him was cast either in blinding light or deep shadow, the source burning like the sun from behind him. He was frozen in shock, the noise tearing into his mind like few things could. He had flashing visions of a burning farm, and the smell of ash.
It was then that he realized he no longer held a man in his arms. His blade, a long knife, was wavering with the movement of his hand in the air. Where there had been a man, there was now just embers and ash on the ground. Bolion faltered for a second, his mind trying to comprehend what had happened. Then he looked around. The members of their party were fine, at least so it seemed, but the were the only things standing amidst the blackened sand. Scorch marks spread outward from where Della had been, and nearly the entirety of the camp was literally razed to the ground. In fact, now that he looked closer, the sand around Della and Sigurn, who looked quite shaken herself, was glassed. It had been subject to such intense heat and light that it had melted and cooled into a blackened shining surface.
"Holy shit..." he whispered taking it all in. Everyone was dead. Everything was gone. There weren't even bones left among the embers and flakes of ash. Bolion glanced at Nils, who was just as wide-eyed, and said again to himself, "Holy shit."
Sigurn turned to find Della limp on the ground and began to panic again. She waved her hands frantically over Della, dropping to her knees before her and looking at her very frightened. She had no idea how to deal with this. Bolion came and knelt beside her, checking for a pulse, and calling Nils.
"I'll go open the doors, and see it any camels survived outside," Bolion explained, and then began calling shots, "Take Della and follow me."
To the Djinnis he gave the task of rounding up the rest of the girls and getting them ready to go. He took Sigurn personally aside and had her help him with the doors, to get her hands busy and to take her mind off of its own panic.
Della was completely limp. She was breathing, and her heart still beat- far too rapid and stuttered, but it beat- but if it weren't for that, she would have appeared dead.
Locked in her own mind, the mage was screaming. She was tied to a pyre, her world burning around her, her husband dead at her feet, and she was screaming.
After several minutes, they had gathered and saddled some camels that had survived the blast from outside the wall. The animals were spooked and had required some calming, but after bribing them with food and comfort, they managed to load everyone on. Bolion had gotten on of the Djinnis to fetch Erthas, and with the help of Nils, secured Della in the front saddle. Bolion sat in the second and acted as a sort of cradle, keeping her from falling off, and steering as well.
Like that he led them quickly from the decimated camp to his own little tent and campfire. A few pelts were rolled out, and soon everyone had a seat or skin to lay on. A few drifted to sleep immediately, the stress of the day dealt with by shutting down. Nils began to speak with Sigurn in a foreign tongue, at least foreign to Bolion, about something that was worrying to the both of them if body language was any indicator. Oshe had been brought back, still catatonic, and now lay by the fire.
Bolion kept Della in his tent, on his travelling furs. He himself sat by the entrance and ate quietly to himself while he waited for her to wake. The tent wasn't a large one, intended for military use and a single occupant, so with Della curled on the one side, Bolion had only a small space to sit, but he would rather sit in a cramped tent than wait outside anxiously.
Della woke gradually, and in starts. Her eyes would flutter open and she'd see a flash of sand, then they'd close again.
Inside of a tent. Darkness.
Bol's back. Darkness.
Finally, she managed to stir herself fully from her strange, waking nightmare. Her mouth opened, then she winced. Her throat felt like it was on fire.
"Wa- water," she croaked out, voice so soft it was barely a whisper. "Please..." She didn't even have the strength to lift her head.
Bolion's head snapped up, startled by the noise. He'd been lolling, drifting between a waking exhaustion and a restless sleep. He didn't understand what it was for a second, but it all clicked when he glanced at Della, and saw her awake. It still took him another second or two to process her request, and finally he picked up the skin that lay beside him, with his food, and moved closer.
He lifted her head gently, resting it on his knee, and put the water skin to her lips, saying, "How are you doing? Are you hurt anywhere... hungry?" He opened his mouth to say more, but couldn't find the words, so he stayed silent.
Della guzzled the water like she hadn't had a drink in days- she certainly felt like it.
"I'm...fine," she managed to croak out. "Just- just need some...rest." She cleared her treat and murmured with marginally more volume, "Wh-who made it out?"
"We did," he said, "Our group I mean. Beyond that... I can't see anyone surviving that. We didn't stick around long enough to find survivors." He swept some hair from her face as he spoke, and took a swig from the skin himself.
"What did you even do?" He asked, "I thought you were a lightning elementist. That was... I don't even know. It worked, but at what expense? That was a lot of people, and you don't seem in better shape."
With a quiet groan she closed her eyes. "Gods. I thought...I thought maybe some others would make it out..."
Her breath hitched and she squeezed her eyes shut tighter. A few tears managed to escape and trace down her cheeks.
"Th-that was-" Her voice choked off. She cleared her throat and tried again. "I'm not sure, to be honest. That was...what happened before. When Adrien died. This time I just...tried to control it."
"I don't you could control that if you practiced for your entire life," He said, "I don't think you saw it, being unconscious and all, but you glassed the sand. Whatever sort of output was happening there was raw power. The people, the ones who weren't protected, they just fell apart... they didn't burn, they fucking disintegrated..."
His eyes glazed over as he spoke, and his breath shuddered. He'd been privy to terrible things, but never something like that. He could still see the moment that changed it all, the stark brightness and deep shadow of everything just blowing away.
He blinked a few times, and looked back down at Della. Brushing away her tears with his thumb, he said quietly, "You did what you had to."
Her breath hitched in her throat and she choked down a sob. She tried to sit up a bit, maybe move her head off his lap, but all she could manage was twisting her head in toward his body.
"I didn't want this," she whispered. She was crying again, quiet tears streaking down her face. "I never wanted this..."
Bolion propped her up so she rested against him, similarly to how he'd secured her on the saddle. It unsettled him how limp she was, the helplessness a trait he had never seen her with.
He held her tightly to him, and said "You did what you had to... and although there was a cost, what you did stopped the future suffering of many more."
Della broke down. She leaned back against him, as much as she could with her horns in the way, and just cried. It wasn't overly loud or snuffling, a stream of near silent tears that seemed to to refuse to stop.
She twisted her head to rest her cheek against his shoulder, gasping quiet breaths. "I'm sorry," she whispered. "I'm so sorry, I'm sorry..."
Eventually, she managed to regain some control of herself and just leaned against him, breathing shallowly.
"You- your ribs. And foot. H-how are you?"
"They're fine. Or at least they will be," he answered, "As for me, though... uh... I'm a little shaken. And I've got more problems than ever to solve, and I was scared out of my mind until you woke up... but other than that, I'm fine, yeah."
He hadn't slept for the last four hours, adding to his total of thirty hours awake. Partially because he was watching and waiting for Della, but also because whenever he closed his eyes, he saw flame. Fields of flame, and in the centre of them a set of small houses engulfed in the bonfire. He didn't tell Della this, but he did say, "The others are like that too. Everyone is a little traumatized, I think."
Della closed her eyes and let out a long breath.
"I'm sorry," she murmured. "I didn't mean- I thought maybe I could control it. I thought some of them might get away..."
She tried to move away from him, but her body refused to obey her. She felt as weak as a newborn, and she hated it.
"You shouldn't be." He said bluntly, "Half of them deserved it, that's true at least. And none of us are hurt, not physically anyways... How long are you going to be like this? I'll not object to ferrying you everywhere, but it would be easier if you could move yourself."
Bolion shifted behind Della, and reached for some of his dried fruit. At this point he was leaning away from her, holding her loosely with his right arm, and grabbing at the food with his left.
"Just...give me a few more minutes," Della muttered. "You could have laid me down, y'know," she added. "You don't have to keep propping me up like this."
She wriggled slightly in an attempt to move away from him a bit, and managed to slump forward, hands braced on the ground in front of her as she panted even from that small effort.
"Hey, you okay?" He asked, hoping not to sound too concerned. He felt that he came across as parenty when he fretted over other people, and through experience he could say they didn't really like it.
"I would've, if you'd asked you know," he continued, ready to step in and support her if needed, "I propped you up because it both made watering you easier, but also because I wanted a hug."
A sheepish grin cracked his somber mask, and he said, "Although to be fair it wasn't so much a hug for me. You're so exhausted it makes dead fish look animated."
"Jackass," she muttered with a rasping chuckle. "I'm...fine. Really, I just need...a second."
Her arms gave out and she collapsed onto her side with sharp huff. "Okay. Maybe I need more than a second," she mumbled, rolling onto her back.
Her eyes flickered over him and she frowned. "You sure you're okay? I'm pretty positive your ribs are broken, and your foot looked pretty bad.
Bolion winced as she fell, and instinctively extended a hand, before retracting it just as quickly.
"Yeah, take your time with that okay?" He suggested, and nibbled on some dried mango, before shaking the bag and asking, "You want some?"
As he held the bag for her, he ran a hand gingerly over the spot where his ribs had cracked, and winced again, this time in response to his own tender pains. He also glanced at his foot, still purple, but now a duller shade than it was several hours before.
"I'll be fine. I've had worse. There was this one time, where I was saving a crazy girl from a giant snake, and it raked this same exact ankle."
Della groped for the bag and glared at him. "Crazy, huh? Who's the idiot who jumped off a damn wall on an injured foot to make a dramatic entrance?"
She managed to get a bit of mango and popped it into her mouth. "Please tell me there's a healer I can drag your ass to."
Bolion's smile widened, and he waggled a finger knowingly, "Ah, no, see you misunderstand me. I jumped off of the wall to save a beautiful damsel in distress. And you were there too I guess, but anyways, the dramatic entrance was simply a side effect of how glorious I am all the time!"
He lay on his side, stretching out his legs parallel to her. He popped another mango slice into his mouth, and once he swallowed, said, "Healers are in the city, if anywhere, and I believe I've already brought up the subject of that distance. Also, speaking of, our new entourage... what do we do with them?"
She groaned and covered her face with her hands. "Fuck, I don't know! Can't we just...give them some coin and tell them to make some better lives for themselves?"
Gods, how had she screwed up this badly? "I'm sorry, Bol," she muttered into her hands.
"Hey! You can't take responsibility for that." He exclaimed, and moved to take her hands from her face. Only when he lifted one off did he feel the scabbed ridges of where she'd cut herself earlier.
"Oh shit, Dell," he examined the gouges, and though they were shallow surface wounds, they had bled their fair share, "I'm not the only one who needs healing..."
He sighed, and led with "We can't give them coin, we barely have bought for us two and Erthas, damn his appetite. But maybe we can entrust them to Nils. He knows his way around, and with the blondie, they should manage, I think."
Della nodded slowly. "That's...not a bad idea. Okay. Okay, that's something to work with."
She sighed and glanced at her hands, still clasped in his. "Oh. Yeah, I sorta forgot about that," she mumbled. She groaned and tried to sit up, managing to get about halfway there before she collapsed back again with a huff.
"This sucks, in case anyone wanted to know," she informed the ceiling, glaring.
Bolion actually laughed at that, and said, "There's the grump I know and on most days have a marginal affection for."
His smile faded slightly, and he then said, "Would you like some help?"
"...Yes, please."
Della was quite obviously pouting, but there was really nothing she could do to actually help herself in her current condition. She huffed and narrowed her eyes at Bolion.
"Aw, just a marginal affection?" she snarked. "Here I thought I was growing on you."
"I said most days didn't I?" He asked, a smirk playing on his features, "That implies that my reactions are different on some days. It's up to situational interpretation to decide which way they swing."
He sat himself up, and thought about a solution to her problem. Putting her whole weight on the tiny tent's poles would collapse it, but she might not be in the hug-support position mood. His final solution was to take her by the hands and pull her into a sort of Yoga-stretching sitting position, and then with his feet swipe her legs to the side and under her, so she sat like a renaissance girl staring wistfully out the window. Because she could support herself with just her one arm, and the joint she would more or less slot into place, it seemed that his plan would work. Nonetheless, he would stay by her load-bearing side just in case she couldn't keep it up, in which case he would be the next best thing.
"Alright," he said cautiously, letting her place her hand comfortably on the ground. If this worked, she could support herself, at the cost of her hand possibly going numb after a while. If not... well back to the drawing board.
Della scoffed as he pulled her around like a rag doll, then blinked when he seemed to actually find a decent solution.
"Well...I suppose this works," she muttered a little petulantly. She huffed out a breath and sort of slumped onto the hand bearing her weight.
"So." She looked up at Bol tiredly. "What now? What do we do next?"
"We wait. We can't do anything until you learn to take baby steps again," he teased, tapping a finger playfully on the tip of her nose.
"Baby gonna wearn to walk, isn't she! Coochie coo!" He managed to get the first words out straight faced, but was breaking out into laughter by the end. It took him a full minute to calm down, as every time he looked back at Della, his laughter renewed. He just couldn't get the thought out of his head.
"Wha- you jackass!" Della growled and tried to take a swing at him, but as shaky as she was all that succeeded in doing was tipping her sideways, then she hit the ground with a soft thud and an "Oof!"
She glared up at him from where she'd fallen on her side. "You are so lucky I can't use my magic right now," she grumbled.
Bolion, who had nearly recovered from his laughing fit, burst into a whole new set. He was out of breath in seconds, and decided to carry the joke. He leaned over her, planting his left hand above her shoulder for stability and tapped her nose again.
"Boop!" He giggled, and said laughing, "Aww, baby's first fall. So sad."
"You, sir," she growled, "are the biggest ass I have ever met."
She managed to find the strength to fling her arm around his neck and pull him down to her, kissing him clumsily.
She froze, eyes going wide.
What had possessed her to do that?!
Bolion had been preparing a retort along the lines of him having the biggest ass she'd ever met, when an unexpected show of force resulted in him snogging her like a teenager in a broom closet.
A confused smile spread on his face, and he pulled away, saying, "Is this like a regular thing now? Because if it is I'm not in opposition."
When she had thrown her arm around his neck, she'd also knocked out the sloppy bun that he'd put his hair in, so now it fell free down the left side of his face, and a little onto hers.
Della stared up at him with her mouth slightly open, eyes wide.
"I shouldn't have done that," she muttered. "I really shouldn't have done that." She swallowed and closed her eyes with a groan.
She didn't exactly take her arm from around his neck though. "I'm sorry, Bol," she muttered. "That was...really inappropriate." And she kind of wanted to do it again. No! Bad, Della, stop that!
She twisted her head to look away from him, huffing out a heavy breath. "Fuck."
"Okay," he said defensively, all the while wearing a nervous smile, "the first time was heat of the moment hero inspirationy. I can accept that. It's common enough. But this..." he straightened up further, out of the reach of her arm, and gestured at the empty air between them, "this is different. This is very different."
He paused, and a shadow of confusion and doubt crossed his features. He was suddenly very unsure of everything that had just happened.
"Maybe... maybe I should go," he said quietly, and made to stand (or in these circumstances awkwardly crouch) and leave.
"No, wait-" Her hand snapped out to try to grab his wrist, then she stopped. She let her hand drop to the ground with a sigh and closed her eyes tight, then opened them again.
"It- it wasn't...exactly...heat of the moment," she muttered. She turned her head to look at the ceiling, avoiding his eyes. "I mean, it was, but...but I didn't..." Another huff of breath. "I didn't want to die without knowing what it felt like to kiss you, alright?"
She closed her eyes and drew in a long breath. "But I still love my husband, Bol. Maybe that's crazy, or it doesn't make sense to you... I know I can't get him back, but I still love him. And this is..."
She opened her eyes and finally glanced at him. "Complicated."
He stopped before the tent flap, tense but listening keenly. He turned just enough that one eye could see her, but so that he could still leave the tent whenever he pleased. As he listened, the confusion fell away, but the doubt did not. Instead, it was paired with new apprehension.
"I can understand that," he said after she had finished. And he could. She was not his first flame, and he had lost them to reasons other than bad relationship skills. But he had never loved someone that way. So at best, he could empathize.
"I can't relate, but I can understand."
Della paused, then forced herself up onto her elbows, gritting her teeth and panting with the effort. "Damn," she hissed under her breath. Then she forced herself to meet his eyes.
"Look. I think we've figured out by now that tiptoeing around subjects like this isn't really good for either of us," she muttered wryly. "So- I like you, Bol. A lot. Gods, you're probably the first person in years who's been able to make me laugh."
She gave a little shrug, then hissed as her body protested. "And you know you're attractive, so I won't say anything there. I just..." She let out a long breath, then flicked her eyes to the ground and murmured, "I feel like I'm betraying him, just by thinking about this. Which is maybe ridiculous- hell, he would have told me I'm being an idiot, and that he'd want me to be happy." She closed her eyes. "But he's not here. And I still love him. And I don't know what to do."
Bolion said nothing for a time, a time in which he didn't meet Della's eyes.
When he finally did speak, he said this,
"When I met you, you were still swamped in the grief and pain caused by Adrien's death. Now I'm not saying you should have moved on by then or something like that, because that's both not what I think, and not what I'm trying to say now. But besides that, it is simply a fact of your life that you hadn't dealt with your pain. I'd like to think I played a role in the beginning of your healing process, but to say by now that you're emotionally and mentally healed is like saying that I still have a family. The truth is that you're still getting there, and I think you're a long way off, but working on it nonetheless. But I don't think you've hit the point where you can let go, or move on, even if you're developing feelings for someone else. Until you can find a way to recognize that you loved Adrien living and will always love his memory, but can accept loving others as well..."
He met her eyes for the first time since he began his speech, and in them was a sobriety, almost a sadness.
He continued, "Until you can do that, you will never be able to have a meaningful relationship, because you will feel guilt for even being capable of moving on, and the other person will feel like they're wearing the shoes of your husband, shoes that they can never fill."
He took one of her bloodied hands in his own, and said quietly, but not for secrecy, rather out of kindness, "And as much as I'd love to have the cure, a magical solution, this is something I can't fix. This is something that you have to deal with, and the only one who can help you past this stage is yourself."
He released her hand and turned towards the tent flap, making it halfway out before pausing, and adding, "Until then, perhaps our relationship should remain a professional one."
And like that, he was gone. He didn't wait for a reply, and didn't come back. He took a seat outside by the fire, reclining on Erthas, who was lounging in the sand. With his Ukelele in hand, he plucked out a haunting tune laced by sadness and underlined with anger, and he didn't play for the others, but for himself. As he did, he watched the flames burn away the firewood into the night and followed the little sparks as they flew up into the darkness and blinked out, one by one.
Della watched him go, his words turning over in her mind.
He was probably right.
With a sharp exhale, she let herself collapse back onto the ground. Gods, she hated this. But what else could she do?
Her eyes closed slowly and, despite the thoughts circling her head, exhaustion seemed to win out.
"Wake up D."
The sun had risen over their camp, though the campers were awake far before. Some hadn't been able to stay asleep. Others hadn't slept at all. Bolion had spoken with Sigurn and Nils, and they'd arranged for the group to go ahead of them while Della recovered. Nils would take the girls to the city, and then they'd trek to the Bazaar, where they'd meet with Bolion's contact. From there, the girls would be ejected into the the freedom system, a network of people who worked tirelessly on freeing the most slaves they could, any way they could.
They'd left, all but Oshe, who had been left for Della. Sigurn had said that they had things to work out, but no more.
Now it was mid afternoon. Bolion had finally decided to wake Della, saying to himself that they still needed to stay on schedule. He didn't really want to, in fact he'd rather let her sleep, but the nagging part of him was right. They needed to get back to the city.
"Mmmnn..." Della rolled onto her side and cracked one eye open. She yawned, then smirked at her companion as she pushed herself up into a sitting position.
"D? Is that gonna be a thing now?" She yawned again, wincing as her body protested movement- at least she could move now, though. That was something.
Carefully, she got her feet. Her legs shook and she swayed dangerously, but after a few moments without falling over she smiled, triumphant.
"Would you prefer I called you by your full name all the time?" He retorted, "Deloria, please fetch the rations! Deloria, our foes come hence! Deloria, thine steed is lagging behind!"
He smiled at his own humour, saying, "See, that sounds ridiculous. Now get over here and try not to wobble like a drunken stilt-walker. There's someone who you need to talk to, apparently."
Oshe had woken last night, shortly after Bolion had entered Della's tent, but had gone to sleep nearly immediately. Only upon her waking at dawn was it discovered that she was no longer catatonic. She now sat by the burnt out fire pit, and refused to meet Bolion's gaze, or answer any of his questions.
She snorted and rolled her eyes at him. "Alright, alright, I get it! Gods, just don't call me that." She screwed her face up in distaste, then sighed and made her way to the entrance of the tent.
She still wobbled a bit, but every step was stronger. Still, she reached for Bolion's shoulder to steady herself and glanced around, blinking in the sunlight.
Her eyes lit on Oshe and her brow furrowed. "Ah." She looked back at Bol. "Why is she still here?"
A thin grin broke out on his face, and he said as pompously as possible, "Well, dearest Deloria, when the slaves departed, their representative, that northerner, the lady Sigurn, said that thee had unfinished business with yonder wench. And so, she deigned to leave the woman as our responsibility. Whatever thine business, Deloria, I pray thee make haste with it."
Oshe glanced up at the two of them, but just as quickly stared angrily at the dirt. She began to fiddle with a twig, snapping it and folding it, and snapping it again.
Della glowered and threw her elbow back into his side- much more weakly than she would have liked, but it was something.
Grumbling about how some people should have pursued a career as a player instead of a suicidal merc, she wove her way across the sand and finally collapsed on one knee a few paces from Oshe, panting lightly.
"So." She arched an eyebrow. "Why exactly would Sigurn think I'd ever want to see you again, hm?"
"Hell if I know," Oshe snapped, "Northerners have a very strict code of honour. She probably thinks we have to work it out, but mind you me, I have nothing more to say to you."
Bolion meanwhile, held back laughter. As much as he enjoyed teasing Della, he felt that this may not have been the best time for anything beyond verbal antics.
He whispered to Della, "Just scold her or something, we don't need anymore dead weight. Besides you can scold with the best of them. Act mommish."
"I will end you," Della quipped back under her breath.
Turning her attention to Oshe, she narrowed her eyes. "Fair enough. Well, I'm sure you were unconscious when all the excitement happened, but I trust someone told you about it?" The question was rhetorical, and she barreled on.
"I'll just put it like this- the next time you try to sell out someone who was trying to help you, I'll make what I did to those slavers look merciful." She smiled sweetly and got to her feet with a groan. "Bol. A little help?" She grabbed for his arm weakly.
Bolion offered his arm for support, though absentmindedly. He hadn't known what this woman had done, and now that he did, his expression had gone blank, but his eyes were thoughtful.
He stood still while Della steadied herself, but watched Oshe intently, to which she now returned a defiant stare. With his free hand, he drew the long knife he had picked off of the slaver from the camp, and flipped it around, catching it between his thumb and forefinger by the blade. Faster than the eye could follow, he threw it, sending an inch and a half of the nine inch blade into her forehead. He then bent over, and yanked it out of her lifeless corpse, and wiped it on her clothes before replacing it in the sheath.
"Alright," he said matter-of-factly, and looked at Della, "Let's begin packing yeah?"
"Gods!"
Della yelped and reeled back, but she couldn't go far- she still needed Bol's support. She stared at him, wide-eyed and open-mouthed. "What- why?"
She couldn't say she felt exactly guilt about Oshe's death. But she had felt sorry for the woman, more than anything else. She blinked at the body, shaking her head slowly.
Bolion shot her a confused smile, saying, "She was a liability. She obviously let something out once with malicious intent. Now she could spread the word about a very powerful mage near Essyrn city, and even if we found her and killed her, it may have already gotten to the target's right hand guy. Boom, doubled - no, tripled defenses. Letting her go was a risk I wasn't willing to take. Just because some people are slaves doesn't make them deserving of mercy. Not always."
He slung an arm around her and under her other arm while they walked back the short way to the tent.
"How much can you lift, or will it just be me packing this time?" He asked, already picking up their packs.
She sighed and closed her eyes a moment. "Yeah. You're right," she mumbled. She knew he'd done the smart thing.
That didn't make her feel much better about it.
At his voice, she shook herself mentally and eyed their packs with a little wariness. "I think I can lift things fine. Actually carrying them any distance might be...problematic."
"Gotcha," he replied, slinging the his bag over his shoulder. He took the liberty od doing the same with hers as well, before asking, "Would you like to get on Erthas now then, or later?"
She bit her lip. "Now? You could always pass me the bags and I can get everything situated." Eyes narrowed, she folded her arms and huffed, "Gods, this whole too-weak-to-move-properly is getting old fast."
"I know. You're so harmless, it's barely even fun to tease you any more," he said, a grin spreading on his face. He jabbed the fingers of his supporting arm into her side as he spoke, careful to poke towards himself, so if she did indeed fall, she would sprawl on the dirt.
"It's like I can do whatever I want," he continued, and jabbed at her other side with his free hand, "The only consequences are empty threats and baby punches."
"Ach! You- No- Stop that!"
Della squirmed and shouted her protests and empty threats, flailing at him weakly. "I'll shock you!" he threatened, glaring, but honestly she was still so magically drained that it would be a miracle if she could conjure so much as a spark.
"You would've by now if you could," he laughed back, "Honestly the tail that keeps hitting my shins is the deadliest part of you right now."
He squeezed her midsection now, a playful smile to compliment his laughter plastered wide on his face.
"Honestly Deloria, if you're going to make threats, sure you can back them up," he advised, "Otherwise you just shouldn't make threats! It gives you a bad reputation."
"Bol- ahaha- seriously, kn-knock- haha- knock it off!"
Della had always been a little sensitive, touches that didn't bother most people setting her on edge and raising the hair at the nape of her neck.
Which meant she was also very ticklish.
She batted futility at his helands, giggling like a schoolgirl and hating every second of it.
"I dunno," he said, suddenly very somber, "this is so fun. Who knows what will bring me joy out in the wastes of the desert, all alone minus a lizard and a travelling buddy. It could be so long until I could do this again," he jabbed at her sides again, as if to punctuate, "and I could very well die of the sadness."
He turned to look at her, "Could you bear seeing me so forlorn? A right shame it would be! And considering that I'm the humour of the party, it would make poor Erthas sad too. He gets me, you know, we have a connection."
Della finally managed to grab one of his hands, attempting to keep him away from her despite the fact that her arms shook with the effort of holding him at bay.
She glowered at him and muttered sourly, "I think Erthas and I might be better off if you'd be a little more forlorn, actually."
Unable to help herself, she stuck her tongue out at him like a petulant child. "C'mon, just help me get on the damn lizard so we can get moving."
"Alas, I've been bested," he groaned, flopping around his captured hand like a fish out of water. But his grin returned. He said, "But I am a strategist, and any great strategist has a backup plan!"
His free hand, the one she hadn't grabbed, was still around her. He jabbed it up into her armpit, and crowed, "Counterattack!"
"Eeek!"
An embarrassingly girlish shriek tore out of her a Della squirmed desperately in his grip. There really wasn't much she could do though, weak as she was, and she wound up sort of slumped against his chest, panting and giggling despite herself.
"I win." He said with an air of finality. He let her go, and made for the lizard, "Let's get you up here, yeah?"
He crouched, and extended overlapping hands towards her, intending to be a footstool. She was strong enough to do most of it herself, he thought. A boost should be all she needed.
"You..." she panted, "are an asshole."
Cursing under her breath, she braced her hands on his shoulders and put her foot in his hands, then used all her strength to throw her other leg over Erthas' back.
"Oof!"
She landed sprawled over the lizard, her legs on one side and her upper body hanging off the other.
"I do have an asshole, yes," he replied, "Or is that not what you meant?" He stood and turned, but at the sight of her, he couldn't help but laugh.
"How did you even do that?" He asked after taking a breath, and walked away. He began to dismantle the tent, whistling to himself. He took out the poles, and folded the fabric, finishing by stowing them all on Erthas, and secured their individual packs as well. Beyond that, there wasn't much. A skin there, a canteen here. Erthas was already saddled for a long journey, as he hadn't de-saddled him before going to find Della.
Now Della was in the front saddle, so Bolion climbed into the back. He had left her as she was, sprawled, and now took the reins from behind her.
"Enlighten me," he said before leading Erthas from their campsite, "Why would you decide to sit like that? It seems really uncomfortable."
"...I hate you," she mumbled. She hadn't moved much, after a few weak attempts to swing her legs into proper position on the lizard's back.
Now that they were moving, she managed to use the swaying of Erthas' gait to at least shift herself so that her legs were on either side of his back, her body slumped forward over his neck.
"The oasis is a nice view from this angle," she muttered, watching the scenery pass by for lack of anything better to do.
"Do you want to sit up?" He asked, smiling as he watched her struggle to get into her seat.
"And watch your tail Hun," he advised, dodging the appendage for the third time since he'd mounted Erthas.
Della glowered over her shoulder at him and purposefully slashed her tail through the air with as much force as she could muster.
"I'm...fine," she grunted, forcing herself up- before she collapsed back against him with a huff. "See? I'm sitting up."
The tail strike had come as a surprise, and caught him across the jaw. If she had been at her peak performance, she might've broken it, or dislocated it and knocked out a few teeth. But in her current state, it was little more than a good slap.
Nonetheless, when she sat up against him, a plan had begun to form. She had sandwiched the reins between them, so he pulled them up and over her head, in the process wrapping his arms around her. He only kept his right hand on the reins however, and used his left to take a good handful of her tail, near the base where he knew it was most sensitive, and squeezed.
"You're right," he said in a peppy tone, "You did it. I'm so proud."
"O-ohhh..."
As weak and out of it as she was, she wasn't at all able to contain the reaction his touch brought; normally she could have suppressed it to a shiver and a squeak, perhaps a small gasp, but as it was her back had arched and that moan had worked its way past her lips.
Della's eyes widened and she flushed darkly. She held very still once she'd sort of collapsed back against him, praying silently that he'd just let it go.
"Oh?" He mimicked, but his tone was of mischievous curiosity, "You know I'm faced with a problem. I'm happy, because you finally followed through with a threat. True pride, honestly, is what I'm feeling right now," he rubbed his thumb back and forth against her tail, "But on the flip side you also slapped me with you ass appendage. That's not very nice, not to mention a gross breach of protocol."
A downright evil looking smile was on Bolion's face and he whispered in her ear, "I think you owe me an apology."
"Ah, ah- mmn!" Della clapped her hand over her mouth and shivered as his thumb rubbed over her tail. Her hips squirmed and she shook her head weakly, though just what she was in denial of wasn't entirely clear to her.
"I t-told you not to do that," she complained, though her voice was far too breathy to carry any real weight. "C'mon, knock it offoohhhh!"
His nail had clipped the exact base of her tail, just where it blended into the small of her back, and her spine arched, eyes wide and lips parted as she sucked in a sharp breath.
"Yeah I know," he replied and shifted his thumb onto the spot that had set her off, "That's why I'm doing it."
He pressed his thumb down, increasing the pressure, and massaged her sweet spot. Then he slid his hand back, and released her tail, taking the reins again. He leaned in by her ear and said, "And I'm still waiting on that apology."
"Oohhh, fuck you!"
She slumped forward when he finally released her, panting. "Jackass," she rasped. "What happened to keeping a professional relationship?" She was still trembling slightly, her hands braced against Erthas' shoulders shaking a bit.
"I think I handled that pretty professionally," he said in defense, "I didn't laugh, spontaneously kiss you, or get aroused. That's pretty good, if I do say so myself."
He sped Erthas up, now more confident in his ability to steer, having both hands on the reins. He also said, "Besides, it's practice. I think I've just found the answer to our authenticity problem."
Authenticity problem?
...Oh shit.
Della peered back at him warily. "Are you fucking serious? You do realize how...perverted that is, right?"
[sorry, my wifi just derped and disconnected the server.]
"Yes," he said, his face dead serious, "Alternatively, we could hire actual whores, which besides being super easy to pick up on, and therefore shady as fuck, has a slew of problems. Now we could go down the route of your suggestion, which unless I don't understand context at all consists of masturbating onto the beds. You'd have to do that too, by the way. The reason I present this as a solution at all is because it makes sense. It also explains away your having a tail, more than just an accessory to wealth. I can just be a creepy fetish man who gets turned on by touching tails, and if anyone happens to walk in on us, we don't have to explain away why we're not naked. I don't particularly enjoy the idea of it but it's the best one I've heard up until now."
He slowed Erthas with a sigh, until they came to a stop, and turned Della by the shoulder so he could see her face to face.
"I'd rather not make you uncomfortable," he said, "but I'm not letting that get in the way of a contract. And I'm not dying for it either. This job requires a certain degree of reality. We've both decided to put it off until the time came, but that time is now, so unless you've got a better option now or before we get to the first hotel, I'm going through with it. I'm all ears."
[Np, happens to me all the time >.<]
"I-"
She tried to come up with a reasonable argument besides "I haven't had a good lay in years and I'm incredibly frustrated" and was coming up blank.
Growling under her breath, she muttered, "Fine, fine. I don't like it, and it makes me twitchy as hell, but fine. Guess it's the best option we've got."
"Alright." He grabbed the reins again, and set Erthas off at a run.
"How long were you out the first time?" He asked, "When you burned out the village? Because when we get to the city it could start causing some problems. Not too many, I don't think, but people will remember us more if you're limping everywhere."
Della sighed and ran a hand through her hair, tipping her head back slightly. "I was unconscious for more than a day, I know that," she murmured. "But I wasn't this...weak, last time."
She shrugged, rubbing at her temples just under the base of her horns. "Maybe it has something to do with me intentionally trying to use that magic? Last time it just...happened. Like I was channel for the power more than anything else."
"It hasn't been more than a day, not yet. Maybe twenty hours, and you've been woken up several times. Perhaps you just need another good rest?" He suggested, but this field was not his expertise.
He was silent for a moment, considering what she had said. He asked, "How did you summon it anyhow? If you weren't emotionally charged, it shouldn't have been possible for you to access it right?"
She nodded slowly. "I...did something risky," she admitted in a sigh. Cheeks coloring, she added, "It was, ah- sort of part of the reason I, y'know. Kissed you. Actually." She cleared her throat. "You know how some people can lie better if they tap into a time when they were really feeling the emotion they're trying to sell? Players do it too, to make a more convincing show."
She shrugged. "I sort of...did that. Remembered what it was like, with-" She couldn't say his name, not like this. Her voice hitched, then she shook her head and plowed through. "I basically tapped into the memories, forced myself to relive it."
"Shit, Dell." Bolion said, and wished he had more to say. Finding words was hard though, and he didn't like that. He always had something to say.
"I...uh...shit."
Eloquent.
She snorted. "That was beautiful, B," she told him wryly as she glanced back over her shoulder. "Just, pure poetry."
With a shrug she faced forward again. "It's fine. Maybe it was extreme, but I honestly couldn't see another way of getting us out of there alive."
Bolion grunted in agreement. It had worked hadn't it? He just worried what effect that might've had on her, knowing how she dealt with her past. This was the closest thing to reliving it, only now her romantic life was newly complicated and the casualty count was much, much higher.
"At least I got a kiss out of it," he tried, not feeling up to a smile, but he did lean into Della. Whether he did it for her, or for him, he couldn't tell.
As snorted and rolled her eyes, but somehow found herself leaning back into him, just a little bit.
Gods, she really hadn't signed up for this. How had things gotten so complicated?
Shaking her head, she tried to focus her attention on something else. The scenery seemed like a good option. "I never would have thought there could be so much green in a desert," she murmured as she looked around at the oasis with some genuine appreciation.
"Life thrives in the hardest of places," Bolion quoted, "That's the motto of anyone who's ever lived here."
They were going faster than the camels had, and so they could make it back in a few hours perhaps. Last night had not been kind to Bolion. He had stayed up almost all of the way through it, catching only maybe an hour or two. Now that he was riding, and he had the human(?) equivalent of a pillow, he began to feel the exhaustion hit.
"D'you think you cou-" his question was interrupted by a yawn, "You could steer? I'm gonna take a nap."
"Oh, of course." She winced a little guiltily as she took the reins. She hadn't even realized how tired he must have been. "How long have you been up, anyhow?" She glanced back at him, a little worry line between her brows.
"Abou-" Another yawn broke through, "Thirty hours give or take, if I'm right. I got a quick snooze in but it didn't do too much."
As soon as the reins had left his hands he wrapped his arms around Della's waist, and laid his cheek against her back. When he became accustomed to the lilting slither of Erthas, his eyelids fell and he was out like a light.
"Gods." Della shifted a bit as he leaned against her and looked forward again. "Guess you deserve a nap," she murmured, more to herself than him.
She kept Erthas moving in a relatively straight line, but she wasn't exactly rushing them at this point. Neither she nor Bolion were up to full strength- it seemed to her that they could take this leg of the trip easy.
For the first time since he'd taken her from the camp, Bolion was asleep. And so it was the first time since the destructive spell that had deeply unsettled him, that he could dream.
He was holding his brother in his arms. The brother that had been killed, the one he would ride to avenge. Where he would leave his family to die.
But now, he didn't know that. How could he have. All he saw was the youngest of his siblings, innocent and full of potential, slaughtered in the one place he should've felt safe. Hot tears slid down his face, cutting lines in the dirt he wore after being away with his uncles. This wasn't supposed to happen. He looked up, and saw the bonfire of his home stark against the night. This wasn't right. He looked back to at his brother, and in his hands lay a burnt corpse, rotten and roasted, the smell making him gag. He dropped it, sprawling backwards and crawling from the terror. The body began to shake, as of with a seizure, twitching and shaking in the dirt, framed by fire and darkness. Bolion tried to open his mouth to scream, but he could make a sound. He choked on his own breath, unable to do anything but watch as the burnt thing that had been his brother sat up, then got shakily to it's feet, before shambling toward him. It couldn't make more than a few steps before it's left leg literally fell to pieces, breaking with a sickening crunch just below the knee. The body hit the hard packed dirt with a similarly wet sound, and began to crawl, eyes locked on Bolion. The crispy sound of his skin sliding across the dirt made Bolion want to vomit, but he couldn't do that either.
Outside of his nightmare, Bolion's face was screwed up in a mixture of terror and anger, and his grip tightened around Della's waist, his nails digging into her skin.
The corpse had grabbed his foot, and Bolion closed his eyes and grimaced as the disgustingly warm hand cracked and bled onto his skin. His brother parted his burnt lips, and rasped out something unintelligible. His voice was like sandpaper, punctuated by a wetness that sounded like he was coughing up blood. Again that horrible rasping, and still he couldn't understand it. Then again, but this time he heard the solitary word.
Her
Then a blinding light from behind Bolion, burning more intensely than the fire not ten feet away cast everything in deep shadow, or otherwise bathed it in intense white light. The sky was dark, but now it shone like midday, and all Bolion could see was his brother being held pulled away from him piece by piece, flaking off into ember and ash, and soon, nothing was left. Then the light faded, but instead of the familiar fire and shadow, all that came was encroaching darkness...
Bolion woke with a start, and a sharp intake of breath, unknowingly giving Della a painful squeeze around the abdomen. He began to panic, his breathing shallow and fast, as he tried to make sense of where he was, and what was going on. He let go of Della, and dismounted Erthas, though it was more like falling than anything else. He landed on his side, then righted himself onto his hands and knees before throwing up into the sand. Accompanying his lunch were tears that he didn't remember crying, but nonetheless they came.
Della started when she felt nails claw into her skin. "Bol?" She twisted, trying to look at him.
He seemed to be having a nightmare. She frowned, slowing Erthas slightly. "Hey, Bol. Wake up, you're just dreaming-"
She gasped as his arms suddenly tightened around her painfully, eyes widening just a bit. "Bol, what the hell?!"
Then he was on the ground, crawling away and getting sick into the grass. "Fuck." She halted Erthas and jumped from the saddle, a little wobbly on her feet but at least able to remain upright. "Bol, what's wrong?" She stumbled toward him, dropping onto one knee beside him and grabbing his shoulder with one hand, the other laying gently against his back.
He was out of food, but he was still wrenching. When the convulsions eventually subsided, he slid onto his forearms and the tears that had previously been accessories took centre stage. He laid his head into his hands and wept bitterly and angrily, paying no attention to Della. In truth he could barely feel her, much less hear her. He was lost in his own pain and guilt, and the outside world could have been falling apart for all he cared.
Della fluttered helplessly, unsure of what she could or should do. For lack of any better options, she just stroked her hand up and down his back, leaning into him just slightly.
"It's okay," she whispered- exactly what was okay, or if it even was, she had no idea, but she didn't know what else to do. "Shh, shh. It's okay. You're okay..."
The tears slowed, but his anger only grew. It wasn't rage. There was no berserker fury here. It was anger yes, but if you were to look a little closer, and dared to peel away the skin, you would see a sadness. A melancholy depression hidden by humour and decent acting chops, but it came out now. His anger was a defense against baring his soul to the world, but now even that last line of defense flickered, and when he looked at Della, his total vulnerability was not only physical. He was terrified, both of losing others, but also himself in the unsurity with which he approached dealing with his emotions. He was angry, fuelled by guilt and a sense of fatal incompetence. And most of all was an overwhelming sense of dysphoria.
"Is it?" He asked, genuine and biting in his tone, "Is it really?"
Her mouth opened but no sound came out. For several long moments she simply sat there, looking at him.
"I don't know," she answered softly. "I don't know, Bol. But I need you to be okay." Her grip on him tightened a little and she unconsciously pulled him just a bit closer, so she was more hugging him than holding onto him to offer support.
"I got you, okay? Just...tell me what's wrong."
He turned back to the dirt, and said, "Nothing you don't know already... well... it's a little different. I've been having different takes on the same nightmare for almost ten years now, so it's more of the same but always changed in little ways that make a big difference."
He told her of his nightmare, everything true to detail. He couldn't have left anything out if he wanted to, because once he started recounting it the words came spilling over each other until he found he had nothing more to say. He looked back up, hoping she wouldn't look at him like a man who had gone insane. That was the last reaction he had gotten, and since then he was more reluctant to share his dreams with others.
Della listened, quiet and still, save for the hand that continued to stroke his back gently. Until he got about halfway through his description of his dreams, when her hand suddenly stilled and her eyes widened slightly.
"So..." She swallowed. "In this last dream...I was the one that...killed your family?"
There was a quiet horror in her voice, and she unconsciously tightened her grip on him.
Then she shook her head and closed her eyes. "Do you know if there's any gift of prophecy in your family? That's what this sounds like to me- albeit a little twisted."
"Well in all honesty, it isn't the first time you've shown up." He confided, and began to recount too his hallucinations from when he was unconscious when he was bitten by the rattlesnake, and the first time she had appeared in his dreams as a terrifying host for his guilt, some weeks previous. Albeit this time he had to dig out the details, still sharp but not as fresh in his mind.
"The common theme is fire, but that's always been there," he muttered, "So I can hardly account that to you. And it's happened before, with other people, but never really to that extent..."
Her question threw him off, though, and he shot her a quizzical glance. He replied, "I don't know. My family was an adopted one. I know about as much about my biological parents and their history as you do your own father's."
She sighed and dropped her head slightly, brow furrowed. "Honestly, Bol, I'm not sure what to make of all this." She curled her fingers to scratch lightly at his back, an unconscious gesture meant to soothe.
Another sigh and she wrapped her arms gently around his shoulders, sitting back a bit so she was almost cradling him against her. "...Maybe we should call it a day. Set up camp- you can try to get some real sleep."
He stood, pulling away from her as he did.
"I don't know if sleep is the best thing right now," he said, making for Erthas. He wiped his mouth on a spare scrap of cloth, and threw it away, before swishing some water in his mouth and spitting it out. He looked to the city, seeing it crown the horizon. They were close enough to make it before the day was over.
"I'll drive." He told her, and took the first saddle, before extending a hand to her.
Della frowned, but she didn't argue with him. She took his hand and swung up onto the lizard behind him.
"If you insist," she murmured, wrapping her arms loosely around his waist. "You sure you're doing okay?"
"Nope." He answered bluntly, and set Erthas off at a run, "But it's better than having another nightmare..." he scowled, a new thought entering his mind, "I'll have to sleep when we get there won't I?"
She blew out a sharp breath and let her cheek rest against his back, between his shoulders. "Yeah. You will."
Her brow furrowed and she bit her lip, thinking. "Y'know...maybe it's nothing, but my mother had some old, folksy nightmare cures. I could...try something, if you like." She shrugged. "They probably don't work, honestly, but it's worth a shot I guess."
"I'm not eating a frog with exactly seven and a half warts, if it's something like that," he contested, twisting his head back to look her way. He sighed, though, and said, "Might as well try it though. I've never really done anything about them. They kind of just ebb and flow, y'know?"
Della arched an eyebrow at his back. "Oh yeah, that seems healthy. Y'know, for a guy who was riding my ass about dealing with my emotional baggage, you seem to have a surprising amount of unresolved stuff yourself," she noted wryly.
"Just because I give sound advice doesn't mean I always follow it," he said in a more light-hearted tone, "It's a lot easier when I'm not the one doing the emotionally taxing things." He gave her a wry smile at the end of that one.
"And just so you know, because I'm honouring our agreement, I'm holding off on so many ass-riding jokes and innuendoes. It's crippling really."
Della groaned dramatically and leaned back, using her grip on his waist to keep her seat, with a long eye roll.
"You get one," she relented after a moment. "One joke, so it better be a damn good one."
"No, the moment's gone," he sighed, resting his chin on his fist, "and really what's the point if I'm allowed to do it? There's no fun in it."
He raised his his free hand to the sky and shook a fist it's way, yelling, "Why me? Why not take Della's humour? There's so little of it already!"
"Oi!" She cuffed the back of his head. "I have plenty of humor, thank you very much," she protested. "Just because I don't have the sense of humor of a ten year old doesn't mean I don't have one."
"Hey, I'm a sophisticated ten year old," he said defensively, "And my humour is great. If I can make a humourless, grumpy lady who lives alone in a town built by the most humourless people I've ever met laugh, and in the first hour alone, I'd say I'm pretty accomplished."
She quirked an eyebrow. "And just who is this lady, pray tell?"
"Oh you've probably never met her, different social circles you know," he said completely deadpan, "But she's a little neurotic, and was super unfriendly for the longest time. It took my best material to get her to warm up to me, and even then it took a while. And she payed way too much for everything, moral fibre like titanium this woman."
Della rolled her eyes and gave his side a good pinch. "You're lucky you're practically an invalid, you know," she snipped at him.
"Fortune favours the bold," he retorted, flashing a wry grin, "Though the bold rarely deserve it."
"True enough." She started to smirk. "But I don't."
She pinched his side again, but that was a distraction as she leaned up to bite his shoulder lightly, dragging sharp teeth against his skin- not hard enough to really hurt, but enough so it was clear she could if she tried.
"Oh, ho ho," he laughed, "Who's the bold one now? You should watch where you put your teeth, it may come back to bite you on the ass."
He tapped his heels at Erthas' sides, sending the lizard into a sprint before tugging on the reins sharply, bringing them to a whiplash stop.
"Ach!"
Della flew back, then forward again, slamming into his back. She swore under her breath and jabbed her fingers into his ribs in retaliation. "You're a child,@ she informed him in a grumble.
Bolion was secretly very ticklish, but most of the time he had it well under control. Mind over matter, simple as that. But his ribs were broken, and so his resolve could be easily swayed.
"Aah-hah-ow!" It was a mixture between a laugh and cry of pain, but regardless he still spasmed, which only made the pain worse.
"Oh!" Della expired, her heart jumping up in her throat as guilt jolted through her. "Shit, I'm so sorry, I forgot/ are you alright?"
She tried to hold his waist to keep him still, skimming we hand up under his shirt so she could feel at his ribs as gently as she could.
"Yeah.. I'm fine," he wheezed, "Kindly refrain from doing that again."
He straightened at her touch, unexpected and very cold. He took a few shallow breaths before relaxing, and saying, "Can you warm that up first?"
She narrowed her eyes at him back. "Oi, the cold is good. It'll help the swelling go down." Still, she summoned the barest thread of magic to her fingers, tingling and warming her hands slightly.
"Hold still, will you? I wanna make sure these didn't get any worse." She pressed very gently against his side. "Okay, bear with me- try to breath into my hand, alright?"
Bolion winced preemptively, but inhaled sharply nonetheless. He immediately counteracted it by saying, "You know that's not how swelling work right? It'd just serve to make me uncomfortable, if anything. And y'know they probably did, when I fell overboard just now. I was throwing up for multiple reasons just then."
Della rolled her eyes. "I know that's not how swelling works- I just want to make sure you can actually breathe, that you didn't puncture a lung or something."
...Okay, maybe that was a bit of a stretch, but she was worried!
"I'm pretty sure if I'd punctured my lung you'd know about it," Bolion smiled at his companion, though she couldn't see it, "There'd be a lot more blood coughing, for starters, and probably a tad more collapsing all the time?"
He took in another breath and held this one, as the hair on his arms and the back of his neck stood on end. That had always happened when he felt he was being examined by other people, especially when physical contact was involved. It wasn't a particularly bad feeling.
"Hmph." Della didn't want to admit he was right, so she continued passing her hand gently over his side, from just under his pectoral muscles down to his stomach, softly probing his ribs.
"Alright," she relented after a moment. "Fine, fine. You're free of my worrying."
Bolion twitched at her touch, a much more controlled version of the spasm from before. Even so, he let out a quick breath from his nose and fought to keep a smile from breaking into laughter.
"Watch your hands, eh?" he warned, casting a glance over his shoulder, "Don't shove 'em around willy nilly! You might touch something you weren't expecting." Ah, the art of the innuendo. It was in the blood that coursed through his veins, and ingrained in his bones.
She glowered at him and resisted the urge to jab his side again. "Oh, really?"
She let her hand drift down to rest on his thigh, smirking. Her thumb rubbed a small circle, drifting closer to the fork of his legs. She drew her hand back quickly enough, though she let it come to rest on his hip.
"Payback's a bitch, huh?"
Bolion chuckled, releasing a breath he didn't know he'd been holding as she'd drifted southbound. Still, he couldn't resist a retort:
"Yeah, I guess you could say that," he said with an impish grin, "but I didn't sound like I was singing with the seals, nor did I end up sweaty and draped across our lizard friend here. I believe payback is supposed to even the odds, not tease them?"
Her nails bit into his skin as her fingers clenched. "You are so lucky your ribs are still hurt," she informed him dryly. "Once you're better, I will be getting even."
"Aha-ow!" His snarkily victorious laugh was cut short by the rather painful sensation of nails digging into his hips. He rubbed the spot on his right where she'd clawed him, edging her hand out of the way. He then said, "I really feel for Adrien. His back must have looked like it was regularly mauled, damn."
They were getting closer to the Oasis. No longer than maybe half an hour now, and they would be inside the walls. Della's clothing wasn't the cleanest, nor the most pristine, but neither were his. Oh well. They'd just have to play the parts of weary travellers. At least that part wouldn't be a stretch.
Della froze at the mention of her husband's name, then forced herself to take a breath and relax.
"No," she replied calmly. After a moment, she added, "Not unless he wanted it to."
Her cheeks flushed and she cleared her throat, glancing away.
Bolion began to laugh and nudged her with his elbow, saying, "Am I rubbing off on you? That was actually funny! We're making comedic progress here."
He'd actually been taking a gamble, knowing full well how she reacted to mentions of her past life, especially her late husband. He'd just wanted to see where she stood, but it had turned out better than he'd expected. She was thawing out from her self-induced social freeze and that pointed to good things in the future, one way or another.
"Hrrmph." Still blushing a bit, she glowered at him and poked the small of his back. "I'm actually quite funny. I've just learned to overcome my dislike of you," she responded sweetly.
"Oh, ho ho," He sighed melodramatically, "I am wounded by your banter. Implying there is something here," He paused to wave a hand up and down at himself, "to dislike! Low blow, madam. Sure, there's narcissism, a childish (but fantastic mind you) wit, and I don't seem to have pupils, which some find off-putting but other than that honestly. I don't know what you could be referring to."
He held a snooty face until the end, where he broke into an easy smile. Then a stray thought crossed his mind, and asked, "Would you mind tying up my hair? It kind of gets everywhere, and I neither can reach it, due to my injuries, nor really want to. I'm driving, see..."
Della rolled his eyes at his dramatic little speech, but she smiled a bit. "Oh, alright, if I must," she huffed, and leaned up a bit so she had a better angle, looking down at him just slightly.
With the ease of long practice, she gathered his hair up and twisted t around, using a quickly procured tie to fasten into a slightly messy bun.
"Thanks, Dell," he said, "But tell me, is my mane silken? I definitely condition it all the time, and never before has it been set on fire, I assure you."
After he'd spoken, he shook his head, and chuckled to himself as the bun bounced back and forth.
She snorted and cuffed the back of his head lightly. "Yes, it's perfectly silky, I assure you," she replied dramatically. "Honestly, the way you carry on about your looks- and people say women are vain. You sure your not ata-ryn or something?" she quipped, using an old Adelan word that described a woman born into a man's body.
Bolion turned full in his seat, eyebrow raised and expression incredulous. He was silent for a second, grasping for something to say, but he had nothing.
"Really, is that how you see me?" he asked, and turned around to prop his elbow on the saddle horn, and take a philosopher's pose. "I don't know how I feel about that."
Della blinked, not sure if he was joking or not. "Wait- are you?" She felt suddenly guilty- she knew some people could be sensitive about such matters.
With a shrug, she muttered, "I was mostly kidding. I grew up in a small farming village- no one was really all that into their looks, y'know?"
"No, I'm not," He answered, "It's just not something you really joke about around here. I was just... off put, I dunno."
He felt like he needed to explain himself a little bit more, but he also didn't want to go into a spiel about Essyrni culture. He settled on, "There's just a definite gender thing here, that's all."
"Ah." Her brow furrowed a bit. "I'll...keep that in mind."
Feeling strangely like she needed to defend herself, she added after a moment, "It's not, back home. In Adela. A thing, I mean. Gender doesn't matter, strength does." She shrugged. "Guess I'm just used to thinking of it that way."
Bolion was quiet for a moment, an oddity for him to be sure, but that was because he was thinking. Then an idea came to him. First, he let go of the reins. He just dropped them. Sure enough, Erthas kept running, and in a straight line.
"Good..." he muttered to himself, and took both of his hands to the saddle horn. Using it as a supporting pillar, he pushed upward, and tucked his legs up so his toes were just above where he'd been sitting. Immediately after he touched down on the saddle, he spun and when he was facing Della, he let his legs slide back down. Now, he was completely turned around, and mighty pleased with himself for doing so. His ribs burned a little, yeah, but it was worth it.
"Would you get the city map for me please?" he asked, "I'd get it myself but, y'know, you're in the way."
"What're you-" Della's eyes widened and her breath hitched with nerves as he spun around. She automatically reached out to steady him, but he didn't seem to need it.
She tried to hide her concern with a quiet snort and muttered, "Show-off." She twisted her upper body to root through the bags and emerged with the map. "Here."
"Aw, you were worried," He smiled and though his tone was teasing, he was genuinely happy. He pulled stunts like that all the time, but usually alone or in the company of people who were less than friendly. Someone being concerned made him feel like he was back home, with someone always watching over him, whether it be his mother and uncles or one of his brothers. His smile became a touch melancholy, but only at the thought of a hand always being there to help you back up when you fell.
He didn't have that now, but that was the the dual boon of solitude. You never had to deal with the responsibility of looking out for someone else, but when life shit on your parade, no one was there to look out for you. Maybe it was time he considered investing in a partner.
"And thank you," He accepted the map, spreading it out between the two of them, using their thighs as a table. It was an angled bird's eye of the city, showing everything like little tiny models, instead of their shapes from above. He pointed out the place where they'd been stopped and separated and then the entrance they were closest to. Through the wall there, was an inn by the name of The Rainbow Snake inside of an old tower. The map was a few years old, but even if the ownership and name had changed, the building would be unmistakeable. And Bolion knew well enough that acquiring a well established inn in the city itself was much more profitable than building a business from scratch. The likelyhood of there being a place for them to rest was high, to say the least.
"Alright." Della looked up at him from the map. "At least we'll be sleeping on a real bed soon," she offered with a small smile.
"As much as that sounds amazing, the prospect of sleep isn't the most attractive right now," he replied, "So back in Zantaric, do you actually own a house, or do you just drift between jobs?"
She shrugged. "I didn't own much of anything, to be honest. Couldn't really afford to." One eyebrow crept up. "Why? You got a secret mansion I should know about?"
"Do I seem like the kind of guy who has a mansion?" He returned her eyebrow, and rolled up the map. Handing back, he said, "No, money has never come in too well, and most don't like renting to me. Mayberry it's the tattoos, maybe it's the murder. Either way, I'm almost always moving around."
"Mm. Yes, that's a mystery," Della said with a quick roll of her eyes. "Alright. So what's the plan? We're just gonna head in through the front gate?"
"Why not?" He said, leaning back and crossing his arms, "What do we, a simple travelling merchant and his tail slave have to hide? We're just passing through, and maybe gathering a little intel on a certain someone. Just don't tell anyone that last detail. We shouldn't be in there for longer than a week."
She shrugged. "Alright, fair enough, Al'amr." She was getting better at that. Her Adelan accent wasn't as strong when she used the term.
She gestured out over their mount's head. "Lead us on, oh great guide of the desert."
"Yeah, I'd have to either do that spinny thing again or stop the ride," he said, "So this is the great guiding right here."
He reclined awkwardly, and put his hands behind his head. It was far from comfortable,but it was between that, sitting straight as a board, or using Della as a pillow. So he reclined awkwardly. It was a waiting game at that point.
"Could you see if you can find my tiny guitar over there?" He asked, pointing vaguely at their stash and wiggling his finger.
Della rolled her eyes and leaned over him to look for the ukulele. "Here. Why do you want it?" she muttered as she leaned back and passed it to him.
"So I can play it?" He said, smiling but confused, "Isn't that normally why people require instruments? Sure, the last time we were both waiting around and I used it I almost died, but I'm sure we'll be fine."
He began to pluck out a peppy but repetitive tune that he soon grew bored of. It was then that he decided to experiment, stitching together unconventionally high notes for an almost haunting sound. It wasn't mournful, persay, but he hit certain chords that would make your hair stand on end and then he would delve back into familiar melodies.
Della rolled her eyes at him yet again, but didn't say anything else as he began playing. Her eyes fluttered closed after a minute and she began humming along, weaving her own quiet harmonies into the melody.
"Did you sing?" He asked, "Before you started murdering for a living? You seem to rather enjoy it."
As he spoke the lilting highs that marked his playing died down, but when he was done they came back as if they'd never left. It was definitely his doing keeping them afloat amidst the other noise. The melodies he relapsed into when he wasn't focusing were simple ones but also those more immediately pleasing to the ear.
She shrugged. "A bit. Adrien liked it, so..." Another shrug and she lapsed into silence, fixing her eyes ahead as her shoulders set slightly.
"What's up?" He asked, "You seem a little out of it."
He ceased strumming and let the sounds fall away, dual curiousity and budding concern staying his hand in apprehension. Della wasn't always the most talkative but when she spoke she usually had something to say. This was unlike her.
She shook her head. "Nothing, I'm fine." She drummed her fingers on the back of Erthas's neck. "Just haven't had a lot of music in my life lately, I guess."
"Metaphorically or literally?" He asked with a grin, but that soon faded. He, like other extroverts, felt the ebb and flow of their surroundings and adapted to it. This quiet, almost awkward ride was getting to him, and his conversation starters were being rebuffed at a rate too fast for him to supply more. He continued to strum, albeit halfheartedly, and kept a watchful eye on Della. Maybe she was thinking about something? Either way it was kind of odd.
Della huffed a quiet chuckle. "Both, I guess," she muttered.
After several more minutes of quiet, she asked bluntly, "How much longer? While novel at first, lizard-riding is really starting to chafe."
"Half an hour perhaps?" He offered, unsure of when the city on the horizon would stop being on the horizon and start being in front of them. In the mean time, he laid back and strummed away.
---------------------------------
Little under an hour had passed when they approached the gate. Bolion had righted himself in the saddle and packed away his Ukelele, adopting the much gruffer and grumpier visage of a slaver. He trusted Della to get into her own role, and prepared a few coins for any border police. But, oddly, there wasn't anyone watching the tall gates. It was empty, and surprisingly so. Usually city security was tight, not... abandoned. It was eerily silent as well, the low hubbub of the city distant. There wasn't even the sound of people talk behind the gate. For all he knew, everyone could have been dead.
Della felt a chill run up her spine at the quiet around them and unconsciously leaned into Bolion's body a little bit. "Is it normally this...empty?" she murmured, keeping her voice so low it was almost a whisper.
But then they were through the gate and her eyes widened as she looked around at the glittering city that existed in the middle of such a desolate place- well, perhaps that was unfair. The oasis was actually quite lovely.
"Whoa..."
Bolion didn't have the luxury of being enthralled by the city's wonders. The gate still perturbed him, but he tried to push it from his mind. Perhaps it was nothing. His gut said otherwise, but coincidences happen.
It still seemed odd that all the guards would be gone coincidentally after a large slaver camp had just been disbanded, but he let it go.
"Welcome to the city, dear Adellan rogue," he said quietly, so that only the two of them could hear, "And gaze on its spleandour. Just don't stray too far, eh?"
She snorted. "Where exactly do you expect me to stray? We're stuck on the same lizard," she pointed out dryly.
"Who knows, you might see a stunning elf-Orc crossbreed with a penchance for Ukelele, and decide to storm off in a flurry of passion and action-adventure style violence?" He said with a totally straight face, "It's a big city, and anything can happen."
Bolion tried to lead Erthas through the streets, but the lizard was quite large and the streets could be easily described as narrow and winding. The tower was a short one, but roughly visible above the rooves and not too far away. It was just a matter of navigation from their current point to their intended one.
Della scoffed at him and cuffed the back of his head lightly. "Are you incapable of taking anything seriously? Is that the problem?" she muttered, but she wasn't quite sure herself if she really meant it.
"I find that taking things seriously when they needn't be so," he replied in a knowing tone, "often needlessly darkens the situation. What's the point of being dark and gritty all the time?"
He shot a look back at her, but he himself didn't really know what for, "When the time comes to get to work you'll find me plenty humourless. If anything I get apathetic in the extreme. Actually, yeah, you've kind of seen it already, in regards to your dark skinned desert friend. It's not a good state of mind to stay in."
She shivered slightly. "Fair enough..."
With a shake of her head, Della leaned around him to get a better view of their destination.
The tower was five storeys, each one housing a few rooms with the exception of the fifth, a ramshackle penthouse constructed of imported wooden walls instead of the limestone of the rest of the building. It almost gave the appearance of a little box hat, dark in contrast to the pale stone. Bolion took a left, sliding from the main street into a much less well lit alley. It was tight, and they took up more than half of the walkway, far too much if the glares of most of the passers by was anything to go on. The emerged on the other end, the sun just dipping past noon time and the canvas shades propped up everywhere they could be. That gave the back edges of the city from about twenty feet down almost an artificial roof, the sun streaming in through cracks between blankets and awnings stitched together to make a canopy of fabrics.
They came around the back end of the tower, still wearing The Rainbow Snake proudly on a swinging sign visible from the main road. Around back a bronze plaque and a common area lined with chairs and tables signified the inn. The kitchens were outside too, and the smell of frying meat and baking flatbreads drifted through the air. Home sweet home. Bolion sidled Erthas up to a horse post, scaring the living daylights out of the actual horses using the thing and dismounted before tying up his reins. He offered a hand to Della, the other kept firmly on the hilt of his long knife. He couldn't help but notice again that her outfit had been ripped and torn in so many places across several different occasions that they barely resembled the elegant sleepwear he'd bought barely a week before. It was like comparing a tattered flag to a newly raised one fresh from the dyers. But like a tattered flag, it still got the message across, if anything accentuating a bit more leg than it had before.
"So, are you partial to heights or do you prefer to sleep on ground level?" Bolion inquired, glancing at the multilevel hotel before them. It wasn't the first time he'd stayed there, but vertical choice was still a novelty to him.
Della took his hand as she hopped off the lizard's back, shushing the horses once she was on the ground.
"I don't really care," she replied with a shrug. "Long as there's a warm bed, I'm happy."
Bolion brought a fist up to his mouth, and grimaced. Serious effort was needed to not jump on that opportunity.
"So many puns," he lamented quietly, "So many innuendoes. Lost." He furrowed his brow and bit lightly on his closed fist. He then closed his eyes and pounded his chest twice with his off hand, before pointing to the sky and saying rather feveretnly, "I will avenge your loss."
Now that he was done performing, he walked around to the front entrance, sliding in between the various travellers and residents using the the side roads. He turned back to make sure Della was following, then entered the tavern that made up the first level of the tower.
"Really?" Della glowered at his back as she followed him. "How do you make that dirty?" She demanded exasperatedly.
"Really?" He asked incredulously, "You don't see how a concubine and a warm bed could be twisted into a dirty innuendo? Perhaps I haven't been rubbing off on you. That's a first class opportunity!"
That earned him a few odd looks, and he grumbled sullenly. His natural propensity to joke was costing them their disguise. He righted his behaviour and stalked up to the bar, which served doubly as an information desk and ordered a room on the third level.
She raised her hands peaceably and widened her eyes, trying to turn his little lapse into simply a master berating his slave. "Alright, alright, I'm sorry," she muttered under her breath, trying not to snicker.
She followed him to the bar and tucked herself beside and just behind him, eyes lowered subserviently and tail wrapped demurely forward around her thigh.
After being handed the key in exchange for a few silver marks, Bolion took Della gently by the elbow and led her to the staircase, pushing her up first.
He whispered to her as they went up, "Sorry. Pomp and show, y'know. Get settled in, I'll be back with our saddlebags. Make it cozy for me will you?" He accompanied her up two more flights of stairs before turning back and going for their equipment, "I like my pillows fluffed, dear."
"Of course, Al'amr," Della replied demurely as they reached the door. Under her breath, she added cheerfully, "Fuck you sideways, Bol."
"Maybe tonight," he goaded, an out of character cheeky grin showing just for her. As he turned back down the stairs it was wiped from his face and replaced with an everpresent snarl. He made it down the stairwell before being stopped at the bottom by a hand on his chest. He was about to flip out, partially in character partially out, before realizing who it was who had stopped him. A tall blond man with thin limbs but a wiry strength in them literally looked down on him. To be fair it was quite easy.
"What're you doing here Alacin?" The man questioned, his tone bored but his eyes hard as stone. Piercingly blue eyes, at that.
"Only on a job Lucian. Lemme go," Bol didn't for a second pretend with this man. This guy was dangerous, and he had the power to back it up. Big time. Break your knees in the back alleys kind of dangerous.
"Why so twitchy, my friend? I'm only enjoying the pub," as he spoke, Lucian waved an arm at the crowd, "Who's the whore you brought in? She's trained well enough."
"Job partner. Is there anything in particular you've stopped me for?" Bolion's face had drained. There were few men of higher standing that he feared, but this one had earned it. He just hoped nothing was betrayed by his voice.
Lucian studied Bolion's face for a second, squinting scrutiny and hard lines before he smiled. It was a humourless smile, but one that belayed no immediate danger. He finally said in a conversational voice, "Take care of yourself. Good luck with your job, but as soon as you're done get out of my city. Understood?"
"Yessir." Bolion answered, looking away from the taller man.
"Good boy." Lucian lifted his hand and walked away, winding through the crowd and out of sight. Bolion thought about little as he went and got the bags. Before he'd realized it, he was back to the door, belongings in hand. He wondered if anyone had noticed he was a little shaken during the whole thing. Then again, probably everyone in the bar knew Lucian's face. They'd probably understand. On that though he nudged open the door and stepped in.
Della made an obscene gesture at the door as Bolion left, then turned to observe the room.
Just an average inn room, as far as she could tell. She sighed and set about tucking their packs away and checking the sheets, making sure they wouldn't catch anything...unsavory, just from sleeping in the bed.
"Did you fluff the pillows?" He asked, a weak smile breaking out a small he swung the door shut. He dropped the bags near the door, pulling out dried foods and some knick-knacks. He found a necklace he'd pilfered from a man in Zantaric, and was reminded of the familiar heat that he'd forgotten at his own throat.
"Do you want this back," he asked Della, pulling out the little stone, "Or shall I keep it?"
"Go fuck yourself," Della returned his greeting cheerfully. She turned to look at him and cocked her head.
"What is- oh, right." She shrugged. "Keep it, if you want. Might come in handy later, yeah?"
She suddenly paused, narrowing her eyes as she looked him over. "You alright? You seem a bit...shaken."
"Saw a ghost," he answered, "There's a guy here who basically runs the undercity. Dangerous guy. He wanted to know why I was here, that's all."
He walked over to the bed, and fell onto it without examining it like Della had first. A soft groan escaped his pillow-framed face, and he lifted a hand in Della's general direction, waving her toward the bed. "Come try it." That's what he wanted to say, but it came out much more muffled, and much less intelligible. He rolled his face to the side, so he could get his words out better, "It's so good. Like a pillow made of pillows and even smaller pillows are inside of those ones."
His brow furrowed as he thought about what he'd just said, and he defended it with, "Shut up, I've never been articulate."
She laughed and shook her head at him, moving forward to perch on the edge of the bed. "Y'know, anything will feel good after days of sleeping on the ground," she chuckled. She patted his shoulder, then flopped down onto the bed beside him.
"...You sure you're okay?"
"No, in reality I was just scared shitless," he told her, the creases on his forehead worsening, "But unless you have a secret talent for shiatsu massages, there's not a lot we con do about that."
He pulled himself further up onto the bed and rolled over, so he faced the ceiling. Then he sighed, and let himself truly relax for the first time in a few weeks. It was as if simultaneously he lost all of the tension in his body but aged ten years. Another small groan, but this time it was an exhausted one. His lack of sleep hadn't yet caught up to him.
Della hesitated, then carefully reached out to lay her hand on his shoulder.
"Well...I don't know about shiatsu, but my husband was a blacksmith, remember? I'm pretty good at working out kinks, of you want me to try?"
"If you're comfortable with it, go right ahead," he said, and turned over again so his back was to her, "I must warn you, the last time I stretched or massaged any kinks out was... uh, four months ago? Yeah, four months ago. Went on a Yoreiqi merchant ship and they had on deck massage hands. Geniuses, those guys."
She snorted. "Look, I'm not saying I've got a cure-all over here, but I'll try to help."
A little warily, she shuffled herself over to pace her hands gently on his shoulders, proving lightly. Despite her claws, her touch was soft, careful to use only the pads of her fingers as she figured out where the knots were and gradually started to apply pressure.
Bolion's eyes rolled back into his head, admittedly a little dramatically and he said, "Thank you."
If anyone had heard him say that besides them, their charade could very well have been up. He was counting on the thickness of the doors and walls to hide it, but it was still in and of itself a dangerous move.
"I'm thinking of getting a new tattoo," he said, "A giant unicorn across my back with the words hope never dies underneath it. Whaddya think?" He turned to smile cheekily, but wondered if she would pick up that he was joking. She's suprised him before in that regard. "The ladies will love it."
Della rolled her eyes and jabbed his spine with two fingers lightly. "Don't sass me, boy. I've got access to a lot of pressure points from here."
She continued her ministrations, her touch at odds with her biting tone.
"So, battle plan," he said, "I'm gonna ask around for a couple of days for any information on our guy. I don't know how, but I'd advise you do the same. I trust you to work with our circumstances. But besides tha-oohhh..." she'd just begun to massage a particularly sore knot around his shoulder, and the tense muscle had given way nearly immediately, "I owe you for this one. As I was saying, there are other attractions around the city if you'd like to catch a few before we have to flee the place."
She chuckled and nodded, though she was pretty sure he couldn't see it. "Alright, noted. I can play the invisible slave to get intel."
A small smirk started to curve at her lips and she pressed a little harder against a knot she'd found under his left shoulder. Maybe she could get a little revenge after all.
Petty? Sure. But it might also be fun.
"Here, does this hurt?" She rolled her thumb in a circular path down his spine- a method she had found through previous experience to be not the least painful and usually earned some...interesting reactions.
Bolion groaned as she applied more pressure to the knot, but it didn't last long. It was interrupted by a shudder, instigated by the pattern she had been making down his spine. It had caused goosebumps everywhere, and his toes had curled at the shivering response.
"What the fuck... what are you doing?" He asked, a creeping sense that he was about to get comeuppance flashing warnings in the back of his mind. He pulled his arms up around to his head, as if he was going to plank, and began to lift his head to look at her.
Della smiled at him sweetly, somehow maintaining an air of utter innocence despite her horns and fangs. "Nothing. Just working out the knots. Isn't that what you wanted?"
Her hand trailed to the small of his back in a feather-light touch, the tips of her nails just barely dragging against his skin. Once there, she ground the heel of her palm into the dip of his back gently, her other hand skimming to rub small circles over the back of his right hip.
"Huh. You know you've got a lot of tension here? Maybe from all that lizard riding we've been doing."
Her drifting touch just barely pricked his skin, but that was enough for him to tense up unconsciously. A loose sense of apprehension is the best way to describe what he was feeling as he shot a narrow eyed glance her way. He could help but grin, and muttered to himself, "What have I gotten myself into?"
Then she pressed into the small of his back, and he almost sat up for how far his spine arched. His narrow eyed glance had become wide eyed, and the inkling of apprehension had become a low panic. He was definitely in for it.
"Watch your hands," he told her, but he didn't sound as commanding as he'd wanted to. Rather he sounded a little desperate.
"Oh?" Della was really smirking now, not even trying to hide it. Her tail swung back and forth in a loose arc, like a smug cat. "Do you really want me to do that, Bol?" she baited teasingly. Her hand ground into the small of his back again, then drifted to his other hip.
Her thumbs massaged slow circles into his skin and she leaned over him a bit to provide more pressure. "Y'know, no one ever thinks about their hips carrying tension. But things can lock right up if you're not careful." Her hand slid down his leg. "And of course tension spreads."
"Yeah, and if you don't stop now something else is going to get tense, if you catch my meaning." He pulled himself up and away from her hands, before twisting around so that he was propped up on his elbows and facing her.
"I believe my hips are quite fine thank you." He was not like himself, in the regard that he normally felt in control of his situation. He no longer felt that way, and it was throwing him off.
"Really?" Della blinked and smiled with an air of puzzlement. "Well, if you're sure."
Her innocent smile turned into a look of pure mischief and she gave his hip a light slap, straying just over the line of where she probably should have been touching.
"Not so fun when you're the one on the receiving end, huh?"
Bolion was caught between a frown and a grin, but he eventually gave out, and a smile spread across his face. He shook his finger at her and said, "Well... ah, you see... fuck. Fine, you win. I'll give you this one. Just... don't, don't do that again."
He shivered a bit, just around his shoulders and the back of his neck. He couldn't tell if he was more tense now or before they had started.
"That massage seems counterproductive." He'd meant that for himself, and wasn't aware he'd said it out loud.
Della beamed, smug as a cat, and leaned back on her palms braced behind her. "Uh-huh. It's weird when you have no control over the situation, isn't it?" she said pointedly, quirking an eyebrow.
Then she chuckled and tilted her head at him. "Counterproductive? Well, I could always take another crack at it, if you like..."
He shot her a confused look, but after puzzling through it he said, "Oh..." then his previously confused expression became highly skeptical, and he asked, "You gonna keep your hands thoroughly above the belt this time?"
His lips parted ever so slightly and he began to run his tongue around his overdeveloped canines, a nervous habit. On the one hand, he greatly enjoyed massages. On the other hand, he greatly disliked the way his last had gone.
"Oh, hey now- did I really go below the belt?" She smirked, then shook her head and relented, "I'll be good. But only if you promise to return the favor. You'd be surprised how tense one can get after casting a spell big enough to decimate an entire slave camp."
"Technically, I don't even have a belt." He said under his breath, but nonetheless he turned over, laying his head on his forearms. He said, "Yeah, sure, I'll pay you back." Then, adopting a high pitched, almost feminine voice, and a cheeky grin, he said, "Be gentle."
"Oh, ech!" Della glowered at him as she started rubbing slow circles over his shoulders again. "Please don't ever do that again."
Bolion laughed, and when he was almost finished, he thought of her reaction again, and laughed some more.
"What, too weird?" He finally asked, shooting back a smiling glance, "Should I-" he lowered his voice and took on a gruff and gravelly tone, "Be manlier?" He took a deep breath in through his nose, and grunted in approval, growling, "Ah, testosterone. Hoo-ah."
"Ach! Lalalalala, I can't hear you!" She screwed up her face at him and poked his uninjured side vindictively. "Has that ever actually worked for you? You sound like a rutting bear!"
"Bears are majestic creatures, I'll have you know," he defended, "And no. No it hasn't. To be fair that's not usually a voice I use. You get the special treatment."
He dropped his voice again, and said, "I fought a bear once. Granted it was a baby bear and it wasn't so much a fight as a playful tackle on the bear's part, and I did lose, but it happened! Never before had I felt so ridiculously masculine. I should start wearing a beard and drinking the blood of my enemies, all the while roasting various kinds of meats and smithing weapons."
Della snorted. "Not all blacksmiths have beards you know," she pointed out, working at the knots that seemed to cluster up toward his neck.
"That's all well enough then, because I can't grow a beard anyhow. A goatee, yeah sure, and a respectable moustache, but not a beard," he mockingly wiped at his eye, "A shame, really."
"Well, that makes sense, seeing as you're still a child," Della replied cheerfully, giving his side a quick pinch.
"Oh, low blow," he chided, but a grin came with it, "And I thought this was a massage. What's with all the poking and prodding, huh? Or is it that you just can't keep your hands off of me, so you get it in as many ways as you can?"
"Oh yeah, you've got me pegged," she drawled. "I want you, Bol, I need you. Oh baby, oh baby..." She rolled her eyes.
"At least you can admit it," he replied, "that's very adult of you, I'm proud. But see, I've yet to peg anything in this room, so technically you're wrong."
He was preparing another sally, when she found another knot that was extremely sore. That was actually the result of a now healed bruise from when he had leapt into a tree and a snake in her defense. While the pain was the good, stress relieving kind, it still hurt. He rolled his shoulder uncomfortably and grunted, before relaxing again.
Della paused. "Too much? If I'm hurting you, tell me." She continued rubbing circles, moving a bit lower over his back, but eased up on the pressure slightly.
In a mulling-it-over sort of tone, she added blithely, "Y'know, for all your talk, I've got to wonder... See, you're reminding me of those lads who claim they've tumbled dozens of women just to cover up the fact that they only company they get is themselves."
She was baiting, and yes, perhaps it was a little petty, unprofessional, but damnit it had been years since she'd even felt playful. She'd take it while it lasted.
"Yeah well for all my talk I don't think I've mentioned actually doing the deed too often. However, leftie isn't my only companion in all the world," he said, "I just don't stick around long enough in any one place to really get there. Dunno if you'd understand that, intimately." He chuckled at his own choice of words, "And no, I'm fine, I'll tell if I'm not, don't worry."
He twisted his neck to the side, looking past her and stretching before a low popping noise came from his neck. He twisted the other way and a similar cracking noise came then as well, before he resumed his forearm pillow position.
"This would be easier if you'd quick wriggling around, you know," Della half yelled, half laughed, exasperated. "Gods- sex aside, how does anyone share a bed with you? Are you always tossing about like this?"
"I'm pretty sure I actually go catatonic, and then practice yoga, for all the positions I shift between. At least according to the people I've slept around," he replied, "But you've spent time with me awake. if I'm wriggly you'd be the best judge of it, yeah?"
"Hmph." She poked his side again. "Well, if you know you're doing it, knock it off- or I could always stop with the massage, if you're that uncomfortable."
"It doesn't work like that." He said, "It's like breathing. You do it autonomously until you think about it and then you do it manually until you forget about it and do it automatically again. I won't do it on purpose, but I might do it without noticing. And I'm sorry in advance for making you think about how you're breathing manually now. And I'm not uncomfortable."
He intentionally thickened his own accent, and dropped his voice into a silky smooth one, but not like the gruff drill sergeant voice he had put on earlier. This one was softer, and didn't sound like he was gargling marbles to do it.
"It has been many moons since I have felt the touch of a woman," he couldn't help but smile ear to ear, and continued, "And I would be a fool's fool to stop it now."
Della groaned dramatically and rolled her eyes. "You are ridiculous, you know that?" she smiled at him, but she was smiling just a bit.
"Yes I do." He replied and began to close his eyes. He was seconds from going to sleep when he forced himself awake, determined to stay in the land of the living. He warned, "I'm drifting dangerously close to a nap. If you want that back rub, you should get it now, otherwise sometime after I've woken myself with another nightmare. And let's be honest, I'm barbaric enough when I'm in a good mood. Imagine an sleep deprived, recently terrified masseuse who alternately breaks backs for a living." He scrunched up his nose at the idea, but nonetheless let his eyelids drift down until it looked like he was half asleep anyway.
She laughed and pulled her hand back. "Honestly, I could probably live without the back rub if there's any chance of spine breaking."
She leaned back against the headboard. "Just go to sleep."
He got himself up, just to go directly under the covers, and said, "Are you sure? It'd be no problem." He slid under two blankets and wrapped himself up in them, cocooning himself so that only his head popped out. He looked like a swaddled baby, or one of those painted wooden dolls.
"Absolutely no problem. Of course now I can't actually reach you much less use my hands, but no problem nonetheless," he said this with a straight face, all the while sitting up in his blanket burrito and looking at her.
Della rolled her eyes and cautious slipped under what was left of the blankets. "Really, I'm fine- logic and physics aside, I appreciate the offer, but I'm fine."
She turned onto her side, facing away from him. "Let's just get some sleep."
"Would you like some of my protective burrito?" He asked, again dead serious. Protective burritos were no laughing matter. He shuffled around inside his multiple layers, unravelling the inner layers to provide better access to the outside.
"I normally don't share, but as I said before," he couldn't help but crack a grin, "You get the special treatment."
"Hmph." She hesitated, then snuggled in. "If you hadn't stolen all the blankets to make it, I wouldn't need in," she pouted.
"Stolen!" He looked affronted, "I utilised the resources provided by this fine establishment. If anything I should chastise you for not taking full advantage of these amenities before I did! Poor spontaneous reaction on your part."
He opened up the blankets to accommodate her and while he missed the cocoon-like security of the burrito, her added body heat was enough to compensate. Barely. Alas burrito, you were young and gone too soon.
Della elbowed him gently. "Shut up and get some sleep, would you?" she muttered as she settled in.
"But I'd really rather not." He said, "I don't want to enjoy sleep for a solid three minutes just to wake up drenched in my own sweat and freaking out. It's bad enough when I'm alone, but now you're here too. I can imagine it won't be too pleasant for you either."
He sat up, and the blankets fell to his waist. Rubbing his eyes with palms, then propping his elbows up and laying his head in his hands, he sighed. Sleep would do him good, but it also stood to do him more harm, possibly.
"Bol." She sat up slowly and carefully laid a hand on his shoulder. "Lie down," she murmured. "If you have a nightmare, you have a nightmare. But you need sleep. C'mon."
She tugged at his shoulder, pulling him back to lay down.
He let himself fall back onto the bed and stared at the ceiling. Outside, it was still mid afternoon, but in their schedule, sleep was long overdue. He laid his hands behind his head, and his brow creased with worry. Perhaps Della was right. Sleeping was risky, but in the end what would be the real consequence? Perpetual exhaustion or mental scarring?
Bolion frowned, and he glared at the ceiling. Those weren't exactly welcoming options.
"Fuck." He muttered angrily, and turned to on his side, away from Della. His face hit the pillow, and he was already drifting into sleep. He had fight the urge to fight going to sleep, ironically enough, but he did and like so many times before on their journey, he was out like a light. Might as well have been in a coma at that point, for how cognitive he was then.
Della sighed and rolled onto her other side, trying to keep her horns from impaling the pillow.
"...G'night, Bol."
Bolion sat alone in their shared room, leafing through a history book about the Essyrni Shahs, and their long lineages. It was quite interesting, to be honest, full of political intrigue that of course wasn't known of until long after the events had taken place and detailed the challenges faced by each and every Shah for the last five hundred years.
He sat on the bed, a light flaxen skirt that hung to his knees when he stood, around his thighs. He'd forgone any sort of shirt, but had adopted a wide brimmed leather hat that now laid beside him on the sheets. He'd bought Della more clothing as well, in a less conservative and more traditional Essyrni style, but it was beyond him if she actually enjoyed any of them. The only response he'd ever gotten from her regarding them was how much skin they showed, or why they were so transparent. He'd given up trying to defend his culture's propensity to nudity, partial or otherwise, and let her complain. He'd also... acquired some kohl, for her use, but it laid untouched on the nightstand beside them. Now that he thought about it, he didn't remember actually telling her what it was or that he'd bought it. He never wore the stuff, but that was uncommon on his part.
He was actually waiting for her now, their belongings packed and ready. They'd agreed to stay one more night in the hotel, and leave early morning on Sunday next. Well, it was an hour past dusk, and she hadn't shown up, so he had begun to read. He trusted her ability to take care of herself and after a week of subtle mingling with lower classes he could imagine that she was squeezing all the gossip she could out of the kitchen slaves or the street urchins. He'd managed to scrape some info out of this place and had visited a few friends, but the guy they were going after was pretty quiet about his information. She'd likely had more luck amongst the slaves than he had with the merchants.
Della practically whirled into the room and slammed the door behind her, leaning against it. She closed her eyes and huffed out a long breath.
"Fuck." She opened her eyes to look at Bol. "If this job doesn't kill me, I might ask you to finish the job," she grumbled as she moved toward the bed. Her fingers drummed against her thigh and she tilted her head at him.
"What'd you find?"
"Dude's loaded," Bolion said, only flicking his eyes up from his book when she came in, then returning to it, "gold leaf on his stationary loaded, but he doesn't run that big of a slave estate. He breeds the biggest and best, then sells them to the Shah for his arenas. Anyone else who hosts professional level slave arenas buys from him too, pretty regularly. On the side he's turning out concubines, albeit at a slower pace. The estate is mainly a spice farm, which is where the bulk of the income comes from. Cumin, Coriander, Dill, Habahan - You might know that one as Cardamom, and most of all, Saffron. There's big money in Saffron farming."
He spared her another glance, asking, "What about you?"
She quirked an eyebrow. "Well, for one thing, you've been out of touch with your homeland politics." She sat on the edge of the bed. "The new Shah's a woman. Inherited the title."
With a sigh she flopped back onto the mattress. "I found out house slaves have nothing bad to say about him, but they've all got suspicious bruises. The women he sells to brothels are well trained and well practiced, I haven't gotten much on the gladiators, and if one more sleazy asshole grabs my ass or my tail, I'm going to blow this whole damn city off the map."
"Really?" he inquired, still focused on his book, "When did that happen?"
"Y'know I'm curious," He said, and a small smile played on his lips, "Is the ass or the tail more common? It seems easier to go for the tail, but the ass is more satisfying. So it's a dilemma, really. Exert more effort and heighten the possibility of being caught, for the greater satisfaction, or take the easier and presumably less dangerous route but get a tail. Now tails are fun, don't get me wrong but more for the reaction; They're just not fun to touch. A good booty, however is always fun to touch."
He looked at her over his book, and asked, "So which is it?"
Della lashed her tail sideways at him, slapping smartly against his leg. "None of your damn business, that's what."
She twisted her head to look at him. "...Tail. I think it's the novelty- most of these asshats can grab some poor girl's rear anytime they like. Tails are less common."
"I don't think I've ever asked, but how far do the bones go in that thing anyway?" He inquired, flipping a page as he did so, "All the way? Nah. The tip is too squishy."
He reached for the box of kohl with his left hand, and held it out for her, "It's kohl. I bought it a few days back and I think I forgot to tell you about it."
"About here." She curled her tail up to rest it against her stomach and gripped it between thumb and forefinger a few inches from the tip.
She blinked at the kohl, then took it cautiously. "What is it?"
He gave her a funny look, and answered, "Eye makeup. Eyeliner, really, used in designing the eye to catch attention more easily. You might've seen it on some of the women. It's popular enough. A lot of upper class men wear it too. I'm surprised you know the political standing of my country when I do not, but you don't know what kohl is."
When she took the small paper box from him, he mimicked her previous motion, and very lightly pinched her tail around the same place she had.
"Here?" he asked, for once letting his book fall slightly away from his face.
Della squeaked and her hips twitched automatically, trying to jerk her tail away. She glowered at him. "Yes, there. Pinch a little harder and you'll actually feel the bone, jackass," she grumbled.
She took the kohl in hand and turned it over. "Do you want me to wear it?"
"It's up to you. You wouldn't wear the one dress I liked, so my opinion doesn't seem to matter," He said, but a cheeky smile lit up his face, "It shouldn't even have mattered that there wasn't any fabric on the chest. It's a common fashion, all the noble ladies are wearing it!"
He let her tail go, running the tip across the back of his fingers as he did so and returning to his book.
She shivered and continued to glare at him. "Common fashion or not, I'm not going to run around with my tits on full display!" She waved a hand. "I don't care if other people do it, that's their prerogative. But they're my tits, so I get to decide who sees them."
She huffed and glared at a ceiling, then muttered, "What if I wear the purple one? Will you drop it?"
He folded the book against his chest, and studied her for a second, "I do like purple... yeah alright. If you want to, you can ask around for some popular styles to wear the kohl in. It's all about designs."
He turned back to his book, but then his smile was joined by a wry look and he actually put the book down, but left his thumb on his page. He shifted on to his side, so he was facing her and asked, "Who does get to see them, by the way?"
"Why? You asking permission?" Della quipped back, one eyebrow going up and her lips curving in a smirk.
His smile grew, if that was even possible and he said, "I'm going to go with yes?"
He had an odd feeling this wasn't going to go well for him. He'd poked the bear before and it had gone awry, but either as a consequence of his confidence or his stupidity, he'd decided to do it again.
A week ago she would have hit him. Hard.
Now, she only slugged his shoulder lightly and raised her other eyebrow to join its twin. "Well, what are you offering in return? It's a pretty sweet view, Bol, I'm not giving it out for free."
"Well I've already bought you a week's worth of clothing, a box of makeup that can be used for work or pleasure," He said, listing them off on his fingers, "I also funded the giant scaly rat, who you seem to have fallen in love with, as if he were an overgrown puppy. Oh-and also, I've provided excellent company on an otherwise dreary journey, and guided our navigation through the difficult and twisting terrain of the shifting sand dunes of the Moraki."
Then he shrugged, "Other than that I've just made a lot of bad jokes and busted myself up in the name of showing off, but that could be seen as free comedic value. People pay for worse, you know."
"Hey, you leave Erthas alone," she laughed. "That lizard probably saved our lives- and he's a sweetheart!"
Rolling onto her side, she propped herself up on her elbow and put on a mock simper. "Oh, well of course you've done so much for me, I suppose that's worth..." She dragged her hand to the neckline of the most modest dress she'd managed to find, tugging it just low enough to bare a bit more of her cleavage.
"A peek?" She chuckled and sat up again, running a hand through her hair. "Alright. What's our next step?"
"Well I've been downright spoiled haven't I?" He grinned, "Our next step is to get out of here. We're supposed to stay another night, but I'm ready to go now, unless you'd rather catch a snooze before we're out of here. I might join you if we do," then he brought his book back up and returned to the slouching position she'd found him in, "Or I might just read my book. It's quite fascinating."
He paused, and frowned. He hadn't ever seen her read. She could read. Right? It was normal enough for little Adellan towns to be illiterate. He shot a skeptical look her way, tight lipped and squinty.
"Are you literate?"
She shrugged. "I wouldn't object to some more sleep, and neither should you."
His question had her head snapping up and she blinked at him. "Yes," she answered. "Not many people were, where I grew up, but yes, I am. My father taught me."
Bolion raised his eyebrows in approval, then returned to his book. It had lost it's appeal, however, and he put a little piece of paper between the pages to mark his place. Laying on the bed, he turned back on to his side, and looked at Della. He wasn't really looking for anything, or at anything. Just at her. The blue was still weird for him. The only blue people he had ever met were Djinnis and she was nothing like them, in personality or biologically. The tails were different, hers being thicker and stronger, that much he knew; and she had actual horns, not the stubby little bumps that marked the Djinni.
It was those thoughts that occupied him while he stared at his companion, although he didn't realize he was staring. He was off thinking, only his subconscious still studying her features.
Already dozing, Della blinked when she felt Bol shift to lie beside her, then narrowed her eyes at him slightly.
"Somethin' wrong?" She covered a yawn with her hand and snuggle a little further under the covers, head twisted carefully to avoid snagging her horns.
Her question brought him back to the present, and he had to register it for a second, looking the fool the entire time. Only after half a minute of wide-eyed confusion did he puzzle out what she had said, and replied, "No! No, nothing. I was just... thinking."
He fell into silence, watching her again. He couldn't place why, but she was right then and there the most interesting thing in the room. Nothing short of an assassin or a marching band would've grabbed his attention at that point.
"Did I disturb you?" he asked, propping his head up with his hand and leaving the other on his hip.
"Noooo." She blinked again and cocked her head slightly, then smirked. "But you are now, a little bit."
She reached up without thinking to cup his cheek in her hand, running her thumb under his eye. "Seriously, what's wrong? Is it the nightmares?" Concern colored her tone, despite her best efforts to hide it, and it was clear in her eyes.
Bolion's heart began to beat faster, but he wasn't aware of it; He could feel it, and what might've been an adrenaline rush. Subconsciously he made note of that, and began to wonder why he was reacting this way. Those background thoughts clashed with his conscious thoughts, which were more along the lines of What the fuck do I do now?.
Ultimately he managed to force out, "Uh... yeah. I mean, no. I... I don't know."
Fuckin' smooth, Champ. He blushed, and for the third time in regards to Della, had no idea what to do. The pointed tips of his ears began to grow hot, and he sat there staring like an idiot while in the back of his mind he raced to come up with something, anything to do. Surely anything was better than this... awkwardness.
"Bol..." She propped herself up a bit, staring at him through eyes narrowed with concern. "Are you...blushing? Or ya just running a fever?" she chuckled after a few moments, letting her hand fall to rest in the bed between them.
"Really though, are you feeling okay?" She tilted her head. "I can brace the grabby hands in the kitchen to get you some water or something."
"No, I'm fine," He said, but he didn't sound it. He sounded like he felt, which was unsure of himself.
He brought his a hand to his cheek, brushing his fingers against the warm skin. This was not a normal experience. Traditionally very Casanova, he was off put by what he could best describe as a teenagery reaction; he hadn't been so anxious and awkward for a long time.
"I'm better than fine," he said with a small smile, "And I haven't had a nightmare since we got here. I think I'm just... out of it is all."
His heart was still beating like a drum, and he could really feel it now, vividly aware of the pounding in his chest. He forced a deep breath, and couldn't decide if he was panicking or really tense. Either one was a bad option. He brought his eyes back up to hers, and thought not for the first time how oddly coincidental it was that they two meet. Aside from the two of them, almost iris-less solid colour eyes were pretty rare. And where his were a bone-coloured off white, hers were strikingly silver.
Della frowned. "Bol, you're scaring me a little now," she tried to joke, forcing a little chuckle. Almost without her permission, her hand raised again to take his chin and tilt his head gently, eyes searching his face.
"You sure you aren't running a fever? You've been sorta out of it since I got back." She sat up a bit more and moved to lay one hand against his forehead and the other against her own. Of course, she always ran a little cold, so it was difficult to judge...
He actually smiled now, and took her hands away from their foreheads, holding them down by the bed. He found her misplaced concern amusing. She had no idea why he was acting like this, and the most logical thing she'd decided on was a fever. He flared his nostrils a little, something he did when he was just on the edge of laughter.
"I'm fine," he managed a much more confident tone this time, smiling comfortably through his words, "Trust me. I was engrossed in a book when you got back. The only difference between then and now is what's caught my eye."
There. That was old Bolion. None of this jittery blushing nonsense. Where had that even come from anyway? He scrunched up his nose at the idea. Here's to hoping that never happens again.
"Oh." She blinked. "Well- what has caught your eye then?"
"It doesn't really matter," he said, and let her hands go, "I'm not going to have her anyway. But I can admire."
He picked his book back up, searching for his page, but he spared a look at her before he returned to the pages of history. What the hell. He'd go for it.
"You are beautiful," he told her, "Not just because you're gorgeous, but that does factor in. You're beautiful because you're independent, and strong, and you can think on your feet. Tie those in with a passable sense of humour, and the patience to get to know me without murdering me and damn I'm impressed. The more I travel with you the more I realize that."
Della's eyes widened. Her?
"I...you..." She sat up slowly, just staring at him. "Are you- are you saying that because you mean it, or because you haven't had a lay in a while and you're hoping sweet-talking me will earn you something?"
She was half joking, but her eyes were serious.
"Why wouldn't I mean it?" He asked, "If I just wanted to get some I could probably go find someone downstairs. I'm being genuine here. I know that's not common, but it happens from time to time."
He turned back to his book and flipped a few pages, getting to the exact spot marked by little note. He glanced up when he'd found the page, and said, "I wouldn't say that if I didn't mean it. I don't say stuff like that lightly."
She was quiet for a long moment.
"...Thank you. Really." She cleared her throat and looked down, tail flicking around to lay in her lap. "When you said, um...I'm not going to have her anyway. That- what did you mean by that?"
She glanced up. Professional, Dell, be professional...
"What do you think I meant?" He asked, but answered his own question for her, "You're still quite attached to your husband. To the point where you feel like anything with anyone else is nigh on adultery."
He turned to look her way, "So, even if I tried, I couldn't have you."
"Bol..." She took a breath.
"I do still love Adrien. I always will. That's not going to go away." Another breath. "Lately though, I've...started to think that- that maybe that doesn't mean I can't...care about someone else."
Della was quiet a moment, then groaned and flopped back onto the bed, covering her face. "Damnit..."
"If you truly love someone, though they may die your love for them does not." He said, "I know that much, but-" he looked at her, and he was confused.
"What? What is it?" He asked, partially confused, partially ready to be exasperated. Every time a woman had done this and he hadn't immediately known why, it was hours if not days of confusion that followed.
"Do you have any idea how long it's been since I've had an orgasm?" Della muttered bluntly, dropping her hands to frown at him. Okay, she wasn't really frowning at him. She was looking at him and frowning.
"It's really hard to make rational decisions that may affect one's emotional well-being when your hormones are screaming at you," she sighed, looking to the ceiling.
"I'm not going to lie," he said, "That was not something I was expecting to hear. From you or anyone else today. And I have no idea how to respond to it."
He put down his book again, silently cursing it for being both intriguing but also a fledgling nuisance. "You've never thought to take care of that problem yourself? It seems like an easy fix, is all I'm saying."
She scowled and her cheeks went from pale blue to azure. "I'm...not very...ahem. Good at that."
She groaned and rolled to plant her face in the pillow. "It's not like it is for men," she grumbled. "It's...more complicated- gods, I don't want to talk about this!"
She shot upright, arms folded as she blushed and glared at the floor. "The point is, I like you- a lot, I'm attracted to you, and my hormones are driving me crazy, all this Adrien floating over my head!"
Despite himself and the circumstances, he let an amused smile slowly spread on his face. There was a part of him that found this whole thing rather amusing, and it was bubbling to the top.
Nonetheless, he would offer advice. That's what friends did, and so he asked, "Well what're you gonna do about it? It would seem that stagnance in the matter would either worsen or have little to no effect, so action is the only course."
"Uh-huh." She glowered at him. "And I suppose you're just asking out of the goodness of your heart. Not like you could possibly gain anything from me making that decision, yeah?"
She sighed and rubbed at her temple. "Look, just- we put on the show most nights anyway, yeah? Why not make it...not a show?" Quickly, she snapped her head up and added, "Not like we'd be making any sort of arrangement or anything- we're still business partners, more or less, I just mean... Can't sex just be sex?"
She was feeling mortified and guilty even just having the words come out of her mouth, but she couldn't seem to stop herself.
"Hey," he said, waving a hand while he spoke, "I'm only human. I mean technically I'm not, but you know what I mean."
He shifted on the bed, sitting up and crossing his legs. The book was again abandoned, but this time he made no move to pick it up. He dropped the smile, and gave her a sympathetic look, "If you're comfortable with it, sure, why the hell not. It's been a while. But if you're not, then no, I won't take advantage of whatever the hell you're going through. And you don't sound so sure to me, in all honesty."
"Honestly?" she sighed, glancing at him. "I think I'm sure. I know that if I sleep next to you one more night or we have to put that while "oh yes, Al'amr" show on again and I don't get laid in the near future, I'm gonna lose it."
She shrugged. "So yeah. Maybe I'll regret this later, but maybe not." Finally, she met his eyes. "I'm tired of keeping my life on hold, Bolion. If I wind up getting hurt...so be it. If I feel guilty, fine. But I'm sick of doing nothing."
"So what you're saying," he said with a mischievous grin, "Is that if I decline your most gracious of offers, and proceed to sleep in the same bed, I'll wake up getting shagged or to the sound of the room service getting shagged? Because... honestly I don't know which would be better at this point. What better way is there to wake up?"
Della's blush darkened a few shades and she twisted to grab a pillow, then chucked it at his head. "You're an ass," she informed him. "Now do you want a tumble or not?"
Bolion took the pillow full in the face, barely having time to close his eyes before it knocked him on his back. Despite his exceptional balance, sitting cross-legged isn't exactly the best for keeping yourself upright. Especially when an unexpected projectile is thrown at your face. Sure, it was mostly his reaction to the throw, trying to dodge it, but he was about a foot away from her, so his luck ran out pretty quickly.
He brushed the pillow off, and sat back up in mock anger. He said, "I dunno. I was pretty ready, but then you threw something at my face. We've been over how that is my only asset in the acquisition of women."
He shook a hand at her, scolding her like she was a child, "I could have died!"
He slid a hand under the last third of her tail and flicked it into the air like he was flipping a table, then turned around and picked up his book again.
She squeaked and swished her tail away from him, curling it onto the bed behind her. "Oh, c'mon," she whined. She got up on her hands and knees and inched a little closer to him.
Her voice lowered to something between a growl and a purr. "If you make me beg for this, Bol, you're going to be in for a rough ride."
He leafed through the book, reading nothing and said, "I'm pretty sure I was already in for a ride one way or another. How rough I don't know..."
He turned his face halfway to her, saying with a sigh, "I dunno. I don't really feel like it. I've got a headache, y'know, and I'm just so tired. Maybe tomorrow." He continued to turn the pages, finding his spot and removing the bookmark.
"This book is really quite interesting," he told her, "History is such an expansive topic. It kinda just goes on forever and I could be reading all night."
Della's eyes flashed, then went cold. "Alright." She moved to the edge of the bed. "Fine. I'm done playing the game. If you want something from me, say so before I make it to the door."
She got up and moved to leave. She'd been stupid. Of course Bol was just messing around with her, that was what he did- she'd been an idiot to think he might be serious. It's not like she could blame him for it; that was his personality. She'd been the one to throw herself forward.
Bolion stared incredulously at Della's back and leaned over across the bed. He took a good handful ignore her tail, then tugged. It wasn't hard, but she would definitely feel it.
"Get back over here," he told her, "You need to lighten up. I'm just playing with you. And you know, just because I'm not a raving hormonal sex machine, doesn't mean I'm not down for some fun."
She almost jumped when he grabbed her tail and clapped a hand over her mouth to swallow a squeak.
She took a breath, then turned to face him, a little warily. "I know you're playing," she sighed after a moment. "I just...wasn't sure which part was real. Y'know, that you didn't want me or...that you did."
Another sigh and Della glanced away, arms wrapped loosely around her middle. "I'm sorta putting myself out here, y'know? I'm...out of practice with this."
He loosened his grip on her tail, letting it slide out of his hand. He was resting on his elbow, laying across the bed and watching her.
He beckoned her over with a gesture, and said, "Come on. I'll make it up to you. Whaddya like?"
Della let out a slow breath, the shuffled toward the bed and sort of climbed onto the foot of it.
"What...do I like?" Her cheeks were very dark blue now. "I, um-" She cleared her throat, glancing away and trying to get a hold of herself.
Gods, this was ridiculous. She was the one you'd started this, really! A small part of her brain was screaming at her to just jump him already, but another part was still wary, afraid this was some long joke on his part.
"You know, for being so forward earlier, you're pretty shy now. How is it you get so hotheaded one second but then you're like a scared puppy the next?" He asked, eyebrow raised. As he spoke, he began to play with the tip of her tail, flicking it back and forth between his fingers.
"Are you still sure about this?" He asked genuinely, "You seem a lot less so all of a sudden."
She shivered, his touch sending little electric tingles through her tail up her spine. With a soft sigh, she met his eyes.
"I'm sure," she murmured, still blushing. "I just...wasn't sure if you were." After a beat of silence, she admitted, "And I'm a little nervous. It's...been a while."
Carefully, she crept a little closer and laid a hand gently on his knee, thumb sliding up to trace idle circles over his thigh.
He tilted his head, slightly offended, "What do you mean?"
He'd began to play with more of her tail, but he stopped. He did let it go, he'd just stopped stroking it. He gave her an odd look, hard to decipher.
"What do you mean you weren't sure if I was? If I was what? Serious?" He was annoyed that she would even consider that. He joked a lot, yeah, but this was different. He didn't know whether to be well and truly offended or just let it go. "Seriously?!"
"Well!" She sat back a bit, throwing her hands up. "Can you blame me? Gods, Bol, only two men in my life have ever expressed any sort of interest in me, y'know, like this, and one of them seems to have a chronic issue with taking things seriously!"
Huffing, she looked away. Her skin still tingled where he touched her tail. "I'm just saying, I've misunderstood before, alright? And that's not a pleasant experience, shockingly."
"Hey! It's a defense mechanism!" He said, pointing an accusing finger at her.
He gave her a hurt look, the mirth gone in his tone. He straightened up, leaning on his hand and less laying, more sitting now. He shook his head, looking at the bed between them and said, "I don't... I don't know."
He looked back up, and asked, "When did you have the opportunity for that? I thought you were pretty abstinent since Adrien died?"
Della sighed and glanced away. "Few months ago," she muttered. "I...got really drunk. I don't really wanna talk about it, alright?"
"You?" He said, "You got drunk? I thought you hated the stuff. Even then, what prompted you to get wasted?"
The barest hint of a smile pricked at the corner of his mouth. He couldn't help himself. He found the idea of Della piss drunk hilarious, are at least the implications it carried. Then there was the way she would've been über grumpy and hungover the next day. Oh, that would've been fun. That also might explain her aversion to alcohol. A little lightbulb, rarely used, went off in his head.
So that's why.
Another sigh and she looked down. "I do hate it," she muttered. "That's why I usually don't drink. I do stupid things when I'm drunk."
She couldn't meet his eyes, so she looked at the wall. "...It was our anniversary."
Whatever hint of a smile had been there faded from Bolion's face. He shifted again, sitting with his knees in front of him and his arms slung around them. He looked at her, even though she was avoiding his eyes.
"So, what, you get wasted and some dude looks at you," he suggested, "You mistake the look for a heated and lusty state and drunkenly throw yourself at him?"
She frowned and finally looked at his face. "Not exactly. Apparently he had a bet on with his friends to see if he could get the freak in bed."
Della looked away again. "I was tired, and drunk, and sad. And he was nice to me. And I was too damn stupid to realize he was playing with me until I heard them laughing." She shrugged. "Not like it was even the first time- you think I had village boys courting me as a teenager? They all played games like that."
She closed her head and ran a hand through her hair. "So forgive me for being a little skittish. I'm not used to this."
Bolion was following, then had a thought. It wasn't necessarily a nice one either.
"So if you didn't know he was fucking with you," he asked warily, "As in you had no clue until someone actually laughed at you, how is it different now? From your perspective, what makes you sure about me?"
He didn't know where that thought had come from, but he had felt a strange need to voice it. His expression was unsure and it mirrored how he felt, but even then he didn't know why. The sheer amount of apprehension he'd been experiencing recently was unnerving and he didn't like being in the dark, much less about his own feelings.
"...Because I trust you. I'm just...fighting a few instincts here."
She looked up to meet his eyes. "Am I wrong? To trust you?"
"That depends on what you're trusting me to do," he said truthfully, "I'm not gonna be around forever. I can't settle down, not with how many people I've pissed off and the kind of work I do. If we go separate ways after this job you could very well never see me again. So if you trust me to stick with you after this is over maybe that trust is misplaced. But if you trust me to mean what I say and not lie to you, then yeah, I'm trustworthy."
Della shrugged. "I never expected you to stick with me, Bol. And I don't think you expect that from me either."
She tilted her head at him. "But I do trust you to be honest with me. And if this is what you want, and it's what I want, then what the hell, right?"
"Honestly," he said, laying his chin on his knees, "I think you want this more than I do. I'm just not... I'm doing this for you. I wasn't lying when I said I wasn't really feeling it, but I'll go along if you'd like."
His ears twitched, almost animal in movement. Someone was in the hallway, deliberately trying not to be heard.
"I also think we're being eavesdropped on." He turned to get off of the bed, and slid the dagger he kept under his pillow out from its hiding place.
"Well." She closed her eyes and let out a breath.
Rejection was never fun.
"That's...well-"
She stiffened when he started to move and lowered a hand, electricity gathering around her fingers. In a moment she was emotionless, watching Bol for a sign to move.
Bolion twirled the dagger into a reversed grip and approached the door on silent feet. The stone of the floor made undue creaking a nonexistent issue, but that wasn't what he'd heard. He'd heard bated breathing, and a shuffle of feet where none had been heard approaching or leaving. Waiting, was the correct term for whatever their listener was doing. Waiting for them, or something they woild say.
He motioned for Della to follow him, and station on the wall next to the door. Someone walking in wouldn't need notice her until it would be too late to defend themselves, especially with Bolion openeing the door. A counter-ambush, he thought to himself, rather pleased with his own tactical decision making.
Della nodded and moved where he directed her, raising her hand with magic crackling at her fingertips.
Bolion swung the door open wide, a tactic used to get a full view of the whoever was on the other side. If done correctly, the intruder wouldn't expect the movement and be slightly suprised as well, opening a window for action on Bolion's behalf.
On the other side of the door, half leaning in sight of the door frame, half behind it, was a young boy. He had been bracing himself on the door, and fell through as soon as Bolion had opened it. Expecting an attack, Bolion sidestepped the falling teenager, barely staying his hand from darting out and stabbing the boy.
"Wait!" Della through her hand out, but Bolion had already stopped. "He's just a kid," she hissed, a little surprised.
Bolion snarled and picked up the boy by the back of his neck, easily hoisting the skinny teen to his feet. When he was upright, however, Bolion didn't loosen his grip, instead growling out something in Essyrni, to which the boy whimpered a reply. Bolion pushed him none too gently towards Della and closed the door.
"He says he wasn't doing anything," Bolion said in obvious contempt, gesturing at the boy. He wasn't much smaller than they were, an inch shorter than Della. He was skinny though, a wiry muscle on a lean frame. Though Bolion wasn't much taller, his heavyset weight and ease when lifting the boy by his neck had given the teen cause for alarm. He tried to hide behind Della, knowing that to run from the wrath of men was easier than to fight against it. This wasn't the first time he'd pissed off someone bigger than he was. It was the first time he'd been trapped in the same room with them though.
Bolion snapped something else in Essyrni at the boy, to which he replied, terrified, "Ayman!"
Ayman, as was his apparent name, was dark skinned and had bronze coloured eyes. On further examination, he also had slightly pointed ears. Some sort of elf hybrid probably. His hair was short and curly, a glossy black and cut close to the scalp. He wore a pair of baggy trousers cinched at both the waist and ankle, but otherwise had no clothing. As of now, he was ducking behind the angry elf man's concubine, hoping to escape with at most a beating.
"What are you- hey." Della sighed as the boy hid behind her and quirked an eyebrow at her companion. "Would you look at this? He's scared silly. What are you saying to him?"
She glanced vet her shoulder at Ayman. "Do you speak Common, lad?"
"I asked him his name," he said, glaring at the boy, "after I asked him what he thought he was doing at our door."
Ayman blinked at Della, before replying in an accent that made Bolion's seem near nonexistent, "Ah...yes." He would meet Della's eye, though his gaze wandered downward. But when he glanced back at Bolion, who was busy staring daggers, he resumed his cowering. He looked like a small child, hiding behind a parent's leg from a stranger.
"Alright." Realizing her tail was swishing back and forth in agitation, Della quickly wrapped it around her ankle. "So. No one's going to hurt you, okay? But tell us what you were doing out there."
"Oh, don't tell him that," Bolion growled, his gaze threatening and locked on the teen, "His wellbeing very much depends on what exactly he was doing outside that door."
Ayman paled, opening his mouth and closing it in attempt to say something. He was hesitant however, and ultimately shut his mouth and refused to speak. Bolion's eyes narrowed, and he reached out touch Della's forearm, asking, "Can I talk to you for a second, please?"
The mage sighed and rubbed at her temples. She could feel a headache coming on. "Yeah, alright."
She shot the boy a glance. "Do not move from that spot, you hear me?"
Bolion led her to the other side of their room, maybe twenty five feet from the boy, and on second thought, returned to the side of the room with the door. He made Ayman stand on the doorless side, and their room had only small windows.
When they had been placed correctly, Bolion lowered his voice until it was scarcely above a whisper, "I don't trust this. I was once told by a wise man to never trust coincidences. I just think it's strange, that that kid," he waved a hand at Ayman, who was standing awkwardly across the room; shuffling and reminiscent of a rabbit caught between a hunter and a wall, he looked for all the world like he would tunnel out of here if he could, "Shows up for all intents and purposes spying on us the night we planned to leave for the target's estate."
He threw up his hands and turned around, before turning back. Despite his obvious irritation, his little spin was quite funny. Waving his hands in the air like a lunatic didn't help.
He sighed, and ran a hand through his hair. He gave Della an exasperated look, "And if he isn't for some reason a street urchin who's been bought by an investigator or some bullshit, then he was still listening to us! What do we do about that?"
Della huffed and closed her eyes, rubbing at her temples. Again. "I know, I know," she muttered.
She was quiet, then sighed and said quickly, "Alright, so easiest option- we figure out how much he was paid- if he was paid- and we offer more."
"I don't exactly have cash flowing out of my sleeves, Del," Bolion said, "And unless you've been hiding a giant bag of money under your skirt the entire time..." he sighed, then, "It's worth a shot. He won't tell me shit. Maybe he'll actually tell you the truth."
She shrugged. "I'll give it a shot, but I don't speak Essyrni. I'm quite obviously a foreigner- do you really think he'll listen to me?"
"Maybe," Bolion said truthfully, "If it were me in his place, I'd side with the foreigner. She wouldn't know the traditional punishments, and because you're a woman you're already less likely to hit him."
While he spoke, he trained his eyes on Ayman. Without Della to hide behind, he seemed even smaller, as if trying to shrink.
"You're effectively a way out for him. He can speak common well enough to answer your questions, and it's not as if I'm leaving the room. I can translate if it comes to that, though I doubt it will."
"Hit him?" She glanced back at the boy. "He's just a kid-"
Of course. What did that matter?
She sighed and turned to their little spy. "Lad. Ayman. I need you to tell me what you were doing out there." She moved to sit on the edge of the bed and patted the spot beside her.
Ayman stared, petrified for a few seconds before shooting a wary glance Bolion's way and sitting on the bed. He kept his gaze on Bolion, just as Bolion watched him. Only after he sat down did he - almost as an afterthought - reply to Della.
"Nothing." He told her, shifting his amber eyes to her silver ones. The whites of his eyes weren't white, but oaken brown. The contrasted highly with the metallic colour of his irises. "I was doing nothing."
She quirked an eyebrow. "Then, what did you hear?" She tilted her head slightly. "I'm not going to hurt you, lad."
"Ah... Uhm..." Ayman lifted his hands in an effort to emote, or somehow explain himself. He settled on saying, "Mumarasat aljins... maybe. Not yet, but... yeah."
Bolion piped in, translating for Della's benefit, "Fucking."
Ayman looked oddly at Bolion, filing away the foreign word for later use, before remembering that he was terrified and quickly averted his eyes.
Della choked. "W-well, um..."
She rubbed at the back of her neck, looking away with a tinge of blue to her cheeks. "Yes, well. That could hardly be surprising, place like this, people like us. Couldn't have been very interesting for you-"
Her eyes widened slightly and she snapped her head around to the boy. "Were you...listening?"
Bolion actually snorted, grimly amused. Ayman sat petrified, wide-eyed and silent. He himself was unsure of how to answer.
The Elf man had assumed the worst and hadn't been far off the mark, so Ayman had thought that the woman was of the same mind. Apparently not. Her shock at the possibility seemed odd to him, but mostly it drew a tight ball of shame into his chest. The anger of the man couldn't have the same effect of the almost innocent optimism of his partner. It made Ayman feel all the worse, and he looked down, unwilling to meet Della's eyes.
"Oh gods." Della buried her face in her hands with a quiet groan.
She'd been expecting some sort of spy or mercenary. She had no idea how to handle a...well, an overly curious teenage boy, apparently.
"Okay, I give up," she muttered, glancing up at Bolion. She looked back to Ayman. "Well, rest assured, nothing interesting is going to happen tonight. So if we let you go, will you just go about your business?"
Bolion, despite himself and the situation, couldn't keep a small smile from taking his features. The scenario was too good, even if it was unexpected. The smile faded as easily as it came, then Bolion snapped something at the boy before moving to the door.
To Della, he said, "I'll show him out." His words were simple and calm, but his tone betrayed something else. He shot an off glance at Della, but this was different than before. His face wasn't that of the friendly, sarcastic, and goofy Bolion. This man, who now stood tense and angry by their door was more akin to the Bolion that had thrown her around like a child little more than a month ago. The only difference was that the blunt drunkenness in his expression and the clumsiness of gait were replaced by a cold and calculating stare, accompanied by a much more sure-footed aggressiveness.
Ayman stood warily from the bed, moving to open the door for the two of them, but Bolion beat him to the punch. Not only did Bolion cut off Ayman's movement, but he shot the boy a glare and shook his head tersely, before twisting the knob himself.
Della met his eyes and an instinctive wariness shivered up her spine.
"Don't hurt him," she mouthed, not sure what else to do. "He's just a kid."
Bolion held her gaze for a moment, his apathetic expression giving away as much of his thought process as could be observed from the fear in the boy and now the apprehensive nature of his friend. If there were any other machinations twisting and turning behind his mask, Della would be among the last to know.
He swung the door open, ushered Ayman out and closely followed him before closing the door quickly behind him. They were gone no more than ten minutes before Bolion came back through the door, opening it and slipping inside. He closed it and slumped against the hardwood, letting his head fall back against the thick oaken door. After a few seconds he straightened up, still resting on the door, and looked at Della. The cold and angry mercenary that he so often pretended to be was still there, though the intensity had somewhat lessened.
She was quiet, hands clasped in her lap and eyes lowered.
"...Should I even bother to ask what happened?" she murmured after a few moments, still not looking at him.
Bolion regarded her thoughtfully, his gaze resting on her. His hard expression softened, if only slightly, and walked away from the door. He'd sent the boy off with a warning and notified a few of his friends about the teen. He'd be watching him for the next week or so, to make sure that Ayman was all that he seemed.
"No," he answered, walking up to her. He lifted her chin gently and gave her a light kiss before turning to walk around to the other side of the bed, "Goodnight."
The kiss surprised her, and Della blinked, frozen for a few moments before she sighed and let her shoulders slump.
"Goodnight," she murmured, letting herself fall back and curl onto her side in the edge of the bed.
Broken rays of glaring light laid on Bolion's arms, golden patches of warmth against the chill of the stone tower. His eyes lazily fluttered open, and he took a few seconds to orient himself. He was confused, first at the smell and then the darkness. He realized, with a mental slap to the forehead, that the darkness was Della's hair and the smell was her own scent.
The warmth on his arm, now that he was conscious, was almost painfully uncomfortable. He began to shift the limb when he felt what it was resting on. He was suddenly aware of the pressure against the rest of his body and backed his head up, craning his neck. He was spooning with his contract partner.
They'd woken up over the past week in varyingly intimate positions, but not like this. What really woke him up, however, was the unrecognized pressure on his thigh. Taking his free arm from around Della's, he yanked the covers back. He didn't know what to expect, but Della's tail wrapped snuggly around his leg wasn't on the list. Bolion haphazardly replaced the blanket, unsure how to proceed. He finally settled on squeezing Della's side gently, firmly enough to grab her attention but softly enough that it wouldn't be painful.
"Hey... wake up."
"Mrmph." Della frowned and wriggled a bit, trying to snuggle deeper into the covers. "Noo," she whined, turning her face into the pillow. "Fi' more minutes..."
She hardly even noticed how closely they were pressed together, really only registering the warmth and comfort and consequently curling back against him tighter.
Bolion sighed, before squeezing her side again and saying, "We're behind schedule."
He was trying his hardest to ignore the soft grinding on his pelvis, but unfortunately, he didn't have much control over that. In addition to the fact that it was morning, his efforts were largely in vain. To say the least, ignoring his bedmate wasn't the only thing getting harder.
"Booool." She twisted her upper body slightly to pout at him sleepily. Unconsciously, her tail tightened a bit around his leg, making her breath hitch.
"We're fucking assassins," she grumbled. "Why do we need to keep to a schedule- oh."
Her eyes widened a bit as she snuggled back against him again and became suddenly...more aware of the situation.
Blushing, she smirked at him a bit. "Morning."
"Yeah... so is this normal?" He asked, tracing a finger on her tail, under the covers as it was, "Because I'm not against it exactly, it's just a new development, is all."
Bolion was trying with all of his willpower to stay casual but wasn't really succeeding. Godsdamnit, this wasn't going to work. After another sigh, he gave in and said, "Technically not, no. We're not fucking assassins yet, we're laying assassins."
Della arched an eyebrow. "Yet?" she noted wryly, feeling suddenly much more alert.
She glanced toward her tail, then flushed and tried to jerk it away. She only succeeded in pulling his leg up against hers, with the way her tail was wrapped around it. "Ah- sorry. Sometimes it...sorta has a mind of its own."
Bolion began to smile but was suddenly reminded of an event that had taken place weeks earlier. His mouth formed an 'O' of surprise before returning to the mischevious grin he so often wore.
"Two weeks ago," He began, "When I was asleep on Erthas, I felt something on my leg. You said it was nothing, but I had my suspicions. Was that your tail?" His grin grew into a cheeky smile, and as he spoke he drifted his free hand across the telltale lump that was her tail.
She squeaked, girlish, and jumped slightly as a shivering tingle ran up her spine. "M-maybe," she admitted, wincing at the stutter.
The mischevious light returned to his eyes, and he said, "Why? Were you experimenting or something?" His hand traced a line up her tail to her hip, where it rested. He sidled back up against her, slotting his chin into her neck, and continued, "I won't get mad at you if you were. I'm just curious."
"I wasn't!" Della protested, squirming a bit. She wanted to glare at him, but she couldn't turn her head properly.
"...I thought you said you weren't really...feeling like it last night," she muttered after a moment. "What's got you so touchy all of the sudden?"
"Yeah..." He admitted, "Well I wasn't. Then, I took the kid out, and I was thinking. My whole problem with it was that it seemed really fast and abnormal. Usually third base isn't a pre-requisite, y'know?"
Bolion lifted his head out of the crook of her neck but slid his arm into a hug, wrapping it around her like it had been previously.
"But then I thought it over, and on reflection, the circumstance wasn't a usual one in and of itself. I... don't want to screw whatever this is up. So if I can, I'd like to try to make it up to you."
She was quiet for a few long moments.
"Make it up to me...how?" Slowly, she turned in his arms so she could see his face, taking care with her horns as she rolled. Her eyes were soft and solemn. "I wasn't trying to make you uncomfortable last night, Bol. I know I was...maybe not exactly thinking straight."
"However you'd like," Bolion replied, "And I can't blame you, not entirely. I haven't exactly been the model of self-restraint since I've known you. And uncomfortable isn't quite right. Caught unawares, might be better for how I was feeling, and definitely how I reacted."
Della sighed. "Look, I- this shouldn't be something you do because you feel like you owe me," she murmured. "Gods, just... Do you want me or not?"
Bolion watched her for a few seconds, silent but thinking. Then he brought a hand up to caress her cheek and kissed her. The hand he had around her moved to her lower back and he leaned into the kiss, running his off hand through her hair and tracing a thumb across one of her horns.
He pulled away, then, and answered her with a question of his own, "Why wouldn't I?"
Despite how blunt she'd been, Della was still a little caught off guard when he actually kissed her. Her breath hitched and it took her a moment to respond, hesitantly reaching up to stroke her fingertips over his cheek.
She shivered at the touch on her horn and stared up at him. "So you...want this? You're not trying to make it up to me or whatever?"
"Yeah, I do. I thought about it, and I do," Bolion stated as if nothing could be more of the truth, "It just so happens that those two things coincide, Del."
Another moment of quiet, then she sighed and closed her eyes.
When she opened them again, they were nearly burning silver. "Okay." She leaned up to kiss him again, sliding her hand around to curl her fingers through his hair gently.
Bolion interrupted the kiss with a sudden smile, and asked, "So what did you think that kid was doing last night?"
He'd noticed too her reaction when he'd touched her horn. He stroked his thumb again down its length, from base to jagged tip. He scrunched up his nose, but was grinning when he asked, "Can you feel that?"
"I dunno," Della huffed, squirming and blushing. "I was expecting some sort of spy or something, not a peeping Tom- Ohh!"
Shivers ran down her neck and spine as he stroked her horn. Her eyes were wide.
Well. That was new.
"Yes," she whispered. "Yes, I can feel that."
Bolion stared at her horns with renewed curiousity. Absentmindedly he began exploring her curves with the hand he'd left on her back, but to her he said, "They're just keratin right? Like fingernails. You must have one hell of a nervous system..."
His explorative touch wasn't limited to the sexual side, and he lightly grazed his fingers across the naturally formed bumps on her crest. As far as he could tell they didn't have any tiny hairs on them and they felt like bone. How she felt anything through them was beyond his guess.
"It's- nng." She closed her eyes and took a breath, willing herself to hold still when her instincts were urging her to do something else entirely. "It's the p-pressure," she gasped out after a moment. "I can't- can't feel it, exactly. I feel the pressure."
Cautiously, she allowed her own hands to explore a bit, skimming over his sides down to his hips gently.
An idea began to form, and Bolion was willing to try it. What he didn't know was how Della would react, so with an impish grin he said, "I hope you'll forgive me for this."
Then he with one hand took the base of her tail and began to stroke it down to the tip, and at the same time mimicked that movement on the horn he'd been experimenting with. But he didn't leave it tat that, didn't allow her to try and ignore the stimulation. He kissed her, both distracting her for the purpose of his curiousity but also because he really wanted to. Whatever had stopped him the night before wasn't holding him back now.
"What- mm!" Della's eyes blew wide and her body arched up off the bed slightly. The shivery, tingly feeling inspired by the pressure on her horns trickled down her body from the top of her head in ripples while the stimulation to her tail sent heat racing up her spine.
Well fuck!
She squirmed a bit, finally allowing herself to kiss him back, one hand cupping the back of his neck while the other slid to the small of his back. That primal instinct she normally tried so hard to ignore surged up with a vengeance and she found herself bucking up against him, a low growl rumbling in her throat.
Bolion let out a victorious chuckle before sliding his hands back to her hips, both lifting and shifting around until he'd managed to get Della to straddle him. It went faster than he'd expected, the buck and sway of her hips helping him make the transition. The tail still felt strange though, sliding back and forth across his knees. He supposed he'd have to get used to that.
"Fuck," Della hissed, clenching her eyes shut a moment as she wrapped her legs almost gingerly around him. His touch to her tail had her so overstimulated that even the barest brush of his body against hers was like lightning.
She flicked the tip of her tail unconsciously, remembered it was still sort of wrapped around his legs, and carefully disentangled it. With a small smirk, she murmured teasingly, "Wouldn't really have pegged you for liking the bottom, Bol."
Her tail waved lazily behind her, feathering light touches against his hips when she curled it back up to her side.
"It has its perks," he said in defense and then added with a smile, "And I like the view."
He lifted a hand and plucked at the shift Della had worn since yesterday. Like his loincloth, they'd kept their clothing on overnight. He took the thin fabric between his thumb and forefinger and pulled it down ever so slightly, exposing maybe half an inch more of Della's bust.
"We gonna get this off?" He asked, "Or are we going to do this through the clothes? If that's a possibility I want to try, I've never done it before."
Her cheeks flushed azure and she almost pouted down at him. "That would be news to me," she muttered with a small eye roll. "Just help me get the damn thing off, will you?"
A simple if artful shrug was enough to allow the shift to pull around her waist and she shifted, trying to wriggle it off down her legs.
Suddenly she paused, feeling a little self conscious, and raised a hand to cover his eyes as she squirmed the rest of the way out of the shift, her other arm moving to cover her chest as much as she could.
"What-" Bolion asked, laughing, "What're you doing?" He tried to peek between her fingers before trying to peel her hand from his face.
"What's the point of getting naked if you're going to hide how naked you are?" He asked teasingly, helping her get the thing past her knees with his free hand. "It's a little late to be shy. Also, didn't you instigate this in the first place?"
She scowled. "I don't have to be logical, I'm hormonal," she grumbled, she grudgingly allowed her other arm to drop.
Her cheeks were nearly sapphire now, eyes locked on his chest to avoid meeting his gaze. "Alright, I'm not gonna be the only one naked," she pointed out with a quirked brow, wriggling back a bit to give him some room.
"Alas, we do not attempt the infamous through-the-loincloth, a move coined by the first Shah of Essyrn. Marvellous man, he was, or so they said."
Bolion hooked his thumbs into the material fastened around his waist and slid it down. The front of the cloth got caught, and when he pulled it off, his manhood sprang back up, betraying his excitement. Then, in true Bolion Alacin fashion, he spread his hands wide and said with a wink, "Ta-daaaah! Tonight only, the tent comes down before the show!"
"Oh dear gods!" Della snorted and had to cover her mouth with her hand. "You are fucking ridiculous, do you know that?"
Well, but at least his humor put her at ease a little. She could meet his eyes now, at any rate.
More curiously than anything else, she leaned over him, one hand braced beside his head, and let the other trail down his chest to his navel, feather light, watching his face through her lashes.
"Yeah, but you knew that," he said, "It doesn't change because I'm horny, if that's what you thought. Ridiculousness is a constant trait."
He began to run his tongue over his lower canines in anticipation, and took her by the hips. His fingers he splayed across her hips, but his thumbs he dug gently into the 'V' of her pelvis. He said then, "Y'know I didn't think this job was going to end up here when I met you in Zantaric. Maybe a new work relationship, yeah, but definitely not this. Not that I'm complaining mind you," he was quick to assure her of that, "It was just an unforeseen turn of events."
"True, I did know that," she chuckled quietly. A soft shiver rippled through her as he gripped her hips and she allowed her hand to slide to his waist, drawing absent patterns over his skin.
A small smile quirked at her lips, showing a flash of fang. "Can't say I was exactly expecting this either," she murmured, and dipped down to kiss him again, allowing her sharp teeth to graze his lip gently.
Bolion returned her kiss and accompanied it with a wandering hand that found its way up to her chest. He gave her a soft squeeze before taking a nipple lightly between his fingers. He bucked his hips slightly as well, prodding her in the process.
"C'mon," he said, "Let's get going. You're making it worse being all naked and sexy and still not fucking me."
"Oh- gods!" She jerked slightly, then gave him a frowning sort of pout and rocked her hips into his in retaliation. "Just- give me a second, will you? It's...been a while."
Carefully, she settled herself against him, testing with a slow roll of her hips. Her eyes snapped shut and she swallowed a whimper, then took a breath and reached between them to start to guide him into her body.
"Ah, fuck." She froze, panting and shivering, as her body adjusted to something she hadn't done in a long time.
Bolion's breath hitched, something usually reserved for his feminine friend, and let his head fall back onto the pillow, "Ooh... yeah that beats leftie..."
He smiled up at her cheekily, before saying, "I'm sorry I'm like this." He then adopted a very gruff and low voice, "Years of working the farm and then avenging said farm have taken their toll on my mental health. I now don't act, or even think like a normal man." When he was done goofing around he adopted the same hold on her hips he'd just given up, and finished what she'd started, pulling her slowly down onto him. He shuddered, but a satisfied smile split his face from ear to ear.
Under his breath he whispered, "So fucking worth it..."
Della almost laughed, but the way that made her shiver and hitch against him had the sound turning into a soft gasp and her hands flew up to grip his shoulders, nails digging into flesh.
"You're such an ass," she panted lightly, then gave a small, quickly stifled moan as he pulled her hips flush to his.
She blinked, staring down at him fuzzily, lips slightly parted as she breathed. "Worth...it?" she repeated slowly. Her hips gave a slow, careful roll against his. "Worth- worth what?"
"Worth possibly stretching your abstinent vagina before it was ready." He answered with a laugh, "Gods I was actually worried when you stuck it in and started shivering. It was just the tip."
As he spoke he slid out and thrust in again, but then let her have control. The biggest reason why he enjoyed being ridden was that the girl got to enjoy herself as much as possible, finding all the right places, and he still had fun too. And he didn't have to do a lot. It was a beautiful arrangement.
He suddenly stopped, and his grip on her hips tightened. When he met her eyes his expression was wary and cautious, "You're sure I'm not gonna get you pregnant? Cuz I really don't want a little me running around in nine months."
She scoffed at him, then gasped. "Nng- fuck, Bol!" She winced a bit, still getting her bearings when he thrust up into her. Warily, she gave another little rock of her hips, sort of relearning herself as well as figuring out how they fit together.
She paused when he spoke again, blinking and trying to focus. "Wha- oh. Yeah, I'm pretty sure." She shrugged. "I was never exactly...careful, before. And we were...fairly enthusiastic."
She flushed and dropped her eyes. Gods, she couldn't believe she was taking about this with him inside her. A pinprick of guilt tugged at her heart and she shoved it away forcefully. She couldn't deal with that right now.
Shaking her head, she gave another roll of her hips, more confident this time. "What do you care, anyway? I thought you said we'd be going out separate ways after this job- Mm! Ohh..."
"Yeah..." he said slowly, "But then I'd feel responsible. Parental Abandonment is kind of a problem for me." He shot her a look that said This should have been obvious.
He let his hands wander behind her, squeezing her ass with one and the base of her tail with the other. The tail was really turning him on, and he couldn't resist the urge to play with it now that the consequences had no negative effect. If anything, they'd probably improve the situation.
"Fair enough." Honestly, she didn't see how donating some genetic material really made a person a parent, but she wasn't going to argue with him.
Particularly not when he was grabbing her tail like that. Her eyes widened and she ducked in a sharp breath. A flicker of magic raced over her skin, the soft pattern of veins in her arms and over her collar flowing faintly for just a moment. She shuddered out a sigh and started to fall onto a rhythm as she rocked her hips against him, slowly at first but building speed.
What happens, Bolion though to himself, If I trigger her lightning veins while we're fucking?
That rogue thought turned into his prerogative, and he slid his hand across the length of her tail until her reached the tip. That was when he rubbed it between his thumb and vigorously, trying for all the world to overwhelm her senses. He contributed to that by drifting his hand down her navel and began to massage in a circular motion on her clit, while she bounced on him. His curiousity was almost outweighing his pleasure and though his breath had grown shallow, he looked for all the world unfazed by the woman straddling him.
"Come on, get the full length in and out," he said between breaths, "It'll feel better for the both of us."
Della gasped, then gave a soft mewling sort of sound and had to pause, shuddering. Bolion's words were fuzzy in her ears and she took a few panting breaths, trying to focus.
Cracklings heat lanced thekugh her whole body with every move, every touch, and slowly she started to do as he said, lifting herself up on her knees before she fell back on him, breath coming sharp and fast.
The subtle glow of magic began to pulse brighter, jolting through her body in waves of blue-white light that almost tingled to the touch.
A prickling, tingling sensation became very apparent downstairs, but Bolion continued his sexual massage nonetheless. He wasn't about to stop, far from it, but he couldn't help consider the possible consequences.
"You'd better not zap my dick," he warned, hoping his words got through. Della didn't seem very cognitive at the moment.
She chuckled breathlessly, leaning over him slightly to change the angle and clenching her eyes shut. "I- I won't," she managed to gasp out. "It's just...tingly. I can't control that part."
Another gasp and her hips stuttered against his, a low, growling groan echoing in her chest. Tension cooled tight in her belly and she whimpered quietly, rasping out, "Close. I'm close..."
Bolion stopped the pattern he'd been burning out on her clit, opting instead to slip two of his fingers in just behind it on a downstroke, and started exploring her from the inside. With his free thumb he resumed the massaging motion. His other hand, which had barely been pinching the tip ignored her tail now took the last six inches or so and began to stroke it, quickly and rather tightly as well.
Letting the movements become autonomous, he closed his eyes and laid back. Pleasure was washing over him in waves, giving him goosebumps alongside his arms and forcing the hair on the back of his neck on end. A low groan escaped his lips and when he opened his eyes they were all but rolled back in his head. He could feel the precum already seeping out.
Della almost cried out, choking off the sound at the last second with a hand clapped over her mouth. She groaned, the sound muffled by the self-imposed gag, and when she opened her eyes they were liquid, glowing silver.
Her tail thrashed against Bolion's grip and she whimpered quietly at the extra stimulation. Her legs were trembling just slightly as she rode him, and after a few more moments she gave a soft cry and grabbed his shoulders, pulling him up against her so she could kiss him as she writhed on his lap.
Her body tensed, eyes blown wide, blue-white light shining hotly under her skin. Her head fell back and she groaned, a shudder rippling through her as the tension snapped and she went boneless against him.
Bolion was wide eyed through the entire ordeal, making a conscious effort to not drop his jaw. This was perhaps the freakiest orgasm he had ever seen, much less been a part of. At the same time, he couldn't really focus on that with her constant pumping. When she pulled him up to kiss her, she clenched, and he couldn't not hold out any longer.
He began throbbing inside her, each time releasing more and more hot liquid. His toes curled almost painfully, and his fingers tightened before going lax. His eyes rolled back entirely, and he adopted much the same position as Della, limp on the bed. Even as he relaxed, the throbbing continued. Damn, it had been a while.
"We... should do this again... sometime," he whispered, "Like... Every day." A small giggle slipped out between his lips.
Della's body jerked slightly and she shivered against him, pressing her chest to his as they flopped back onto the bed.
She chuckled breathlessly and tilted her head to kiss his neck, then nuzzled into him. She was relaxed and contented and very much sated for the first time in she didn't even know how long.
"Hey, I'm game," she murmured a little sleepily. After a few moments, she crinkled her nose and added, "I don't wanna move. Moving means we have to clean up and work." She huffed and turned her face into his chest, grumbling under her breath.
"Yeah," Bolion drawled, "But we do have a person to murder. And even though we're now technically fucking assassins, we do have a schedule to keep. It isn't there to look pretty."
After a quiet moment, he said, "We just woke up and I want to take a nap. Morning sex isn't good for this lifestyle..." It was then that he remembered his fingers were still firmly inside his companion. He slid them out, crinkling his nose at the squelching sound they made. They were covered in the normal fluids, but also a sticky white sheen.
"I need a bath," he murmured to himself. He released her tail, resting his hand on the slope of her lower back. "I've heard that they have something called showers in the city. New technology from Connloath. It's like a pressurized pipe system."
Della winced a bit, then shivered and shifted her hips back slightly as he pulled his fingers out. She nodded in agreement- a bath certainly sounded good. She was now suddenly very aware of her sweat-slicked skin and where she was sort of...sticky.
She sighed and frowned, almost pouting a bit. "That seems...strange. But nice, I guess."
"So," Bolion said, "Are we going to take a nap like this or am I going to be able to clean up? Because I will fall asleep, seeing how comfortable I am right now." He slid his hand down and took a good handful of her rear, squeezing lightly.
"I might have to just take a bath. I don't we have time for me to try a shower."
She squeaked, then narrowed her eyes at him playfully and gave his neck a retaliatory nip. "Alright. I'll head down to the servants' baths," she sighed, slipping away from him. She winced slightly as he slid out of her and sat up slowly, stretching her arms over her head.
"Hey, wait a sec," Bolion said, reaching up to her chest. He took both of her breasts in each of his respective hands, and played with them, squeezing and jiggling. A childlike giggle escaped him, and he said, "That never gets old. Honestly the best part of this entire thing."
"Oh my gods." Della gaped down at him, cheeks tinted sky blue. "What are you, twelve?" she laughed, shaking her head at him. She didn't push him away though, unwilling to break the contact.
It had been so long since someone had just touched her, just because they wanted do, and she wanted to be touched.
"Yes, yes I am," He answered, "And we've just copulated. Five dollar word, that one. So technically that's statutory rape, and I'm a victim."
He pulled himself up, depending on his core strength over any handholds, and planted a kiss on her lips. "Stop it," he said against her mouth, "I don't want to-" He shifted his hands around to her back and pulled her back down onto the bed with him.
"No stop it," he murmured, then kissed her again, barely keeping a smile in check.
"That is not funny," Della protested, but she allowed him to pull her down with him and sighed as she melted into the kisses. Her hands slid up to wrap around his shoulders and she wriggled closer against him, hooking a leg over his hip lazily.
"Alright," he said between kisses, "Level with me, okay? Do my eyes freak you out? The lack of pupils, and everything?"
Despite his sarcastic and easygoing exterior, a few things about his personal image he felt genuinely insecure about. He felt comfortable enough with Della now to voice some of these insecurities.
"Bol." She almost laughed, but he seemed oddly serious, for once. She smiled, shaking her head. "No. They don't freak me out. I have a tail for gods' sakes, and have you seen my eyes?"
She leaned in for another kiss. "You're gorgeous and you know it, you loony."
"But you've got pretty, silver eyes," He said, bringing a hand up to caress her cheek. He drew a thumb along her cheekbone as he spoke, "They're nice to look at. I've got weird, bone jaundice eyes. I actually saw a dude who had the same thing in one of them, except it was because he'd been stabbed on the eyeball. As I recall I've never been stabbed, but if that's what you can draw comparisons to..."
Della listened to him for a moment, then cut him off with two fingers over his lips and a light kiss on his eyelids, first right, then left.
"I think they're perfect," she told him. Her tone was actually sincere, the small smile curving her lips soft and genuine. "I'll admit they were a little off-putting at first, but only for a minute or two, and that was only because o couldn't read them they way I'm used to reading other people's eyes."
She tilted her face into his hand a bit, then twisted her head to kiss his palm.
"I wouldn't kiss that," he warned with a grin, "I've been touching a butt with it."
His smile grew with another sudden thought. They were done, but she was still there and in bed with him, so he deemed the time right. "Tell me how this feels," he told her, before taking the tip of Della's tail and putting it between his lips. He began to suck on the very tip, careful to not drag his teeth against the sensitive skin. He'd had many a painful experience when it came to misplaced teeth.
"You are so juvenile-" Her scoffing comment was cut off and replaced with a confused frowned. "How what feels? What are you- oh holy gods!"
She yelped and her whole body jerked, surprise at the new sensation plain on her face as her eyes widened and her mouth opened in a small "o". A shiver sped down her spine that seemed to almost ripple over her tail, makin it tremble slightly against his lips.
"Fuck." She closed her eyes, shifting her hips a bit as heat pulsed through her. "Bol...unless you plan on going for round two, you might wanna st-stop that," she breathed.
"Nah, I'm spent," Bolion said, before swirling the tip around his mouth and pinching it between his tongue and the roof of his mouth. An odd smile broke out on his face, a teasing but somehow malicious grin.
"Hah- nng." Della squirmed, trying to tug her tail away. "Gods, stop, please. I swear I'm about three seconds from jumping you right now," she painted lightly.
"Y'know," he said, taking the tip out of his mouth, "Usually it's the girl who puts something long and sensitive in her mouth. I'm not opposed to this situation though."
When he replaced the tip he pulled in more than before, letting it into the back of his throat. In addition he began to stroke the length he wasn't willing to swallow, and with his free hand stuck up three fingers. One by one, he counted them off, and when the last finger went down he widened his eyes expectantly at her.
She blinked at him, cheeks flushed and eyes a little fuzzy. "You- you want me to...?"
She glanced down at his lap, then back up at his face questioningly.
"Whel-" Bolion paused to remove the tail from his mouth, "Della, to be entirely honest, I've just eaten the last five inches of your ass-appendage, and you are sitting naked on top of me, so the possibility that I'm insinuating what I'm insinuating is a big one."
Then he placed her tail delicately on his pillow, adjusting it several times to get the desired curl just right. He looked back at her, "But of course, I could obviously just be in some sort of lusty stupor. In fact, I think I might be, so thank you Deloria, for bringing this severe injustice to my attention. I shall go and call for a bath immediately."
She rolled her eyes at him and flicked her tail against his side lightly. "Okay, okay, don't get your feathers all ruffled," she muttered, flushing. "I'm not used to this sort of thing, alright?"
"I could go for a bath though...." Bolion commented, shifting his legs under her. He was feeling the sweat now,surprisingly cold now that his body temperature was dropping. He refocused on Della, "Perhaps we shouldn't postpone round two?"
Now that her tail wasn't being stimulated, she could think a bit more clearly. She shrugged. "Whatever you like." Her nose crinkled. "I certainly wouldn't say no to a bath."
Bolion leaned to his left, where next to the bed attached to the wall were a set of cords. These cords were fastened in place, and led down to the servants' quarters. Each was labeled for a specific purpose, and when pulled, rang a bell for their specific room.
Bolion tugged on the one labeled 'Bathing', and then tugged again to make sure someone had caught what he wanted. They'd be up in a few minutes with a few buckets of hot water to fill the little bronze tub that's lay against the far wall.
"Are you going to stay in the nude when the servants arrive?" Bolion asked, "Because I've got blankets, and you to cover up my bits, but you're showing off quite a bit right now. It's totally in character, mind you."
Della's soft blush turned into flaming cheeks. "I'll just...get under the covers," she mumbled, rolling to the side to do so. It seemed pointless to bother putting clothes on if they were just going to bathe, but she couldn't make herself strut around completely in the buff.
A teasing grin pricked at Bolion's lips, and he said, "What, don't feel comfortable flashing the staff?"
He pulled himself under the same sheets, and light as they were they did their job. Speaking of jobs, he wasn't already thinking on what they'd come here to do. Morning sex was fun and all, but they had come to the city for information. Information they now had.
"I think we might have to get sold," he said, both to himself but also for his companion, "As slaves. To get into the estate. Servant families keep the place stocked, and the farmers are the same. The only personnel flow is in slavery... We might be able to indenture ourselves."
Della wriggled over a bit to give him room, nodding slowly.
"Alright. But how do we make that happen? I mean- I'm sure he's already got plenty of concubines, and what are you selling as? Pure muscle?" She shrugged.
"While I'm glad you think so highly of me, no," he answered shifting to get comfortable with her, "Perhaps the fighting rings, perhaps just general labour and workforce. I just don't see how a slaver and his whore could get into that kind of estate."
She sighed, nodding. "Fair enough. But then we need to figure out how to get close to him once we're inside."
Almost despite herself, she scooted a little closer to him under the blanket, enjoying the comfort of another body in close proximity.
"So," he said suddenly, "Does this mean you'll stop glaring at me all the time? Because as much as I love those pretty eyes, when they're shooting daggers my way it kind of ruins the effect."
Bolion took hold of her side lightly, giving the her a tickling pinch. He'd have to abandon the soft exterior soon enough, with the possibility of servants walking in with his bath water, so he'd try and get in as much as he could before then.
"I don't glare at you all the time!" she protested automatically, then pouted a bit. "That's just...my default expression," she muttered.
"No, see, your default expression is pretty neutral." He told her, his teasing tone out and ready, "Then I make stupid jokes and you start glaring at me like I've made your existence all the more miserable. I hope now that your existence has been made immoderately less miserable, I hope to be receiving some cheerful glances, perhaps even a swoon now and again."
"Oh, you want swooning now?" She whirled an eyebrow with a crooked smirk. "I dunno, Bol, you're gonna have to work for that."
Impulsively, she wrapped her arm around his neck and pulled him to her for a deep, slow kiss, lazy and inviting as her leg brushed against his, their chests pressed so tightly together she could feel his heartbeat.
Gods, she missed kissing. The sex had been wonderful, but this, the simple contact- she hadn't even realized how much she'd been craving it.
Bolion returned the kiss, but left it troubled. He wasn't one for much commitment, and he did flit between partners often enough. As a consequence, his relationships in the last decade hadn't been very long lived, or further than one skin deep.
He'd grown to know Della, though, enough to care for her. Many, many parts of her personality were still a mystery to him, he wouldn't lie, but he was beginning to understand her, maybe even depend on her for certain things. Keeping his ego deflated enough to function like a normal person was one, but to name another was emotional connection. It had been a while and the people he did know, like the innkeeper from Adela, he found himself having pushed away over time. Not too far, but far enough.
"What happens when I'm gone?" He asked, searching her eyes for an answer he knew she couldn't give. He didn't really want to think about it, but his experience had said that postponing a solution was just as bad as never solving the problem.
She blinked. "Gone, like...gone?" She sat up a bit, brow furrowed as she let her fingers brush over his cheek. "Bol, I know this job isn't gonna be easy, but come on. We took down an entire slave operation with barely a day's worth of work," she tried to joke.
"That's not what I meant," he said, "After this job, I can't stick around. Unless you want to go dark with me for a few months I'll be out of the picture. You even pointed out that the plan was to part ways after the job."
Bolion propped himself up on his elbow, mirroring her pose, "And what you're alluding to isn't that impossible. I've nearly died twice in the month I've known you alone. That slave camp was a mix of concentrated dumb luck and your magic. Sometimes I think I'm like the only person here who doesn't have magical abilities of some sort."
He twisted so that he lay on his back, both of his elbows now supporting him. "I know a lot of powerful and dangerous people as well. On a personal level. Some don't like me, probably because of that, but the fact is I don't think I'm going to live until I'm gray and wrinkled."
For a few moments, she was quiet. Then she sighed and laid down beside him. "Then, unless something changes, I think we should just...stick with the plan."
She allowed her hand to come to rest on his chest delicately. "If you want me to...come along when you go dark, I'd consider it. But, Bol, this wasn't-" She sighed again. "I wasn't looking for a commitment from you. I know that's not how you operate."
She shrugged. "I like you. Gods forbid, I care about you. But I don't think either of us has a particularly long life expectancy, and I don't expect our personal choices to affect how much time the other's got left."
Bolion glanced at her, considering her words. Truth be told, there was an easy solution and that was to finish the job and leave. He wasn't sure if he wanted that, though...
"I won't ask you to follow me," he confided, staring at the wall opposite the room, "I don't think it would do you any good, honestly. You should enjoy the time you've got with me then, because give or take a few weeks you probably won't be seeing me again."
Della sighed quietly. She hadn't really expected anything different. "Alright," she murmured, curling up a bit under the blanket.
He sat there for a few moments in silence, either unsure of where to take the conversation or unwilling. He didn't rightly know himself. A rap on the door followed by a hasty entry marked the first of the servants, with his respective bucket. Thrice more men came through their door, dumping their steaming hot buckets into the brass tub, and then retreating back to their quarters below.
The tub wasn't a large one, and the buckets were by no means small, so by the time that fourth and final man had come and emptied his water, the tub was very nearly full. They'd left just enough room in mind for the water displacement, keeping sure to not fill the tub with as much water as they could.
Della turned her head slightly to look at the tub, then back to Bol. "Do you want to go first?"
"That," Bolion began, adopting a grin he didn't wholeheartedly feel, "Depends on how long you're going to be. If you're going to take forever you'd might as well just ask for another bath to be brought up. I am going in for a deep soak..."
Bolion sat up, closed his eyes and shuddered at the idea. Despite the heat of the day, and the region for that matter, steam baths and hot springs were still valued just as much as they were up north. There was a difference between humid, baking heat and a concentrated liquid relax. Bolion might as well have already been in the tub for how vivid he was imagining things, before snapping back to reality.
She rolled her eyes and waved him toward the bath. "Fine, fine, go ahead then."
Pity the tub wasn't large enough to share. Maybe she'd just head down to the servants' baths after all.
"I could go and find those showers I was talking about," Bol said, sparing a glance for Della. His gaze lingered on her curled under the sheets. His face grew troubled, though only slightly, and he said, "What would you prefer?"
She chuckled a bit and sat up, arching her back in a stretch. "I don't particularly care. I'm pretty used to the servants' baths, at this point."
Bolion blinked lazily, sighing into the quiet of the room. He began to register the chill of old bathwater and goosebumps rippled across his bare arms. He was laying back in the tub, his shoulders, head, and arms above the water level but nothing else. He'd fallen asleep in the tub, and upon stretching his legs and wiggling his toes he felt the wrinkles on his feet that formed after too long an exposure.
He was reluctant to get up, but the day was wasting and before long he was up and dried. His trusty lungi went back on, a headscarf and a leather vest to accompany it. He'd yet to see Della. Perhaps she was still at the servants' baths. Maybe she was ready with Erthas. He half shrugged to himself and gathered his things. Hers were still there...
He carried the light travel bags down the stairs, and made for the servants' quarters.
Della had scrubbed herself quickly, trying to get out of the baths as fast as she could. She'd never really been comfortable even changing in front of other people, but she'd gotten the schedule down so she could use the bath when no one else was really there.
Figuring she'd let Bol take his time, she went out into the courtyard of the inn, where the stables were situated. Erthas had been sort of quarantined from most of the more "normal" mounts, and he was currently sunbathing in the center of the courtyard.
She scoffed, shaking her head. "Lazy bastard," she cooed fondly to the lizard, rubbing his eye ridges the way he liked and earning a soft chirping sound of approval.
Bolion whistled a nonsensical tune that died out when he stuck his head around to the servants' baths. They were unisex, and he caught no sign of Della, or anyone else except for an old white guy with a beard that looked longer than he was tall enjoying the hot tub. Bolion resumed his whistling and spun on his heel in the direction of the stable courtyard.
Why she'd left her bags in the room Bolion couldn't say, but he did think to bring her accessories. They should have left this morning, and while knocking boots had been enjoyable their time was best spent on the road. The double hinged courtyard door swung open on well-oiled hinges, and Bolion slung one of their travel bags off his shoulder as he scanned the area.
Her blue skin and raven hair stood out like a pink cactus, but without any of the ridiculous connotation. Bolion, unwilling to stop whistling for the convenience of communication, let out a low cat call to get Della's attention.
Her ears perked up and she cocked her head, glancing back over her shoulder. "Was that directed at me, or the lizard?" she smirked as she caught Bolion's eye. Her gaze flickered to the bags he held. Seemed he was ready to get moving.
"Whichever," he replied, thoughts elsewhere. Witty banter gave way to examining the issues at present, one of which was infiltration. They'd been travelling for some time, but the actual assassination had yet to be so much as mentioned for lack of information on the subject.
After saddling Erthas in relative silence, he mounted and said, "What do you think about the estate? Gaining entry I mean. How long are you willing to commit to this job?"
Della eyed him as she swung up onto the lizard's back behind him. "I...suppose that depends," she muttered, what were you thinking?"
"If I were on my own," he confided, "I'd work my way in and up. I've taken up to a year and a half just on infiltration before, gaining trust, burying all doubt. Then I threw it all away to kill the target."
He spared a glance her way, careful to stay in the middle of the road and led Erthas out from behind the hotel. "I'm not sure if that works here unless you're prepared to go in deep cover. And destroy relationships that you've had to build. Sometimes they carry on after the kill, but not often. It is a very taxing process, and a time consuming one. It would make the actual crime easier, but it has its downsides..."
She screwed her face up a bit. "Well...I guess that would make sense for you, but I don't really ever plan on coming back to this desert. I don't much care if we leave a bit of a mess, or if people remember my face."
"I meant timewise you heartless monster," Bolion teased, "If you fuck it up I still have to live here. We might not have a way to get in short of busting down doors and killing people. Unlike some people in this world, I am not a virtual demigod. Neither are you, last time i checked, but then again I don't know what you are. I'm asking if you're okay with going undercover for upwards of a few months in lieu of a better plan."
A shrug. "Honestly? Not really. I have a life outside of this desert, Bol, and I'd like to get this job over with and get back to it."
Not strictly true, but she didn't feel the need to voice that.
"What life!" Bolion scoffed, "When I met you - about a month ago mind you - you were a bar hopping part time assassin who had emotional issues and a predisposition towards the law. I can understand if you don't want to go under for a job, but I'm going to need a better idea instead of a bad excuse."
He turned in the saddle to give her a skeptically incredulous look. She was being oddly airy recently. It was like she didn't want to talk to him. Why, escaped him. Then again most things regarding her did, until it was blatantly pointed out.
Della glowered at him. She couldn't exactly deny any of what he'd said.
"I don't like it here," she admitted finally. "And I'm not sure how much longer I can take playing a slave, alright? It feels wrong, and I've just barely started figuring out how to be me again." She looked away. "I don't want to lose myself here."
Bolion was silent for a minute. He simply didn't have anything to say to that. His natural instinct won over and he asked, "Is it the sand? It gets everywhere I know."
He grinned a little, before adding, "If it's hitting you that hard you can bail you know. Nothing is holding you here, and I'm seeing this fucker dead one way or another. You can take an extended vacation, and I'll drop by Zantaric with your third of the cash."
Gods she almost wanted to take him up on that.
But she shook her head. "No. If he's as bad as his wife says, I want him gone, and I want to do it. I just... I can't spend a year here, Bol, I can't do it."
"There's a simple fix for that," he began, "You take your clothes, and shake the sand out. It works, believe it or not."
He shot her a cheeky grin, saying "Then we'll need a new plan. One that doesn't involve a long stay. So unless you've got... one..." he trailed off, and the grin was replaced by a wary and confused look. He was facing forward, watching two men as they walked pat Erthas in the opposite direction. Bolion looked like he'd seen a ghost, and he wasn't taking it too well.
She started to snap out a retort, then paused. "Bol?" She followed his gaze. "What is it?"
Bolion sat for a second, opening and closing his mouth in an attempt to speak. He closed it after a few seconds, and sat straight in the saddle. There was a tense air about him, and if Della could see his eyes she'd know they were wandering and unsure.
"Nothing..." he told her, but it was far from that. One of the men who had walked by might as well have been a clone of his eldest brother for their resemblance. It had caught Bolion unawares, and though he knew his brother dead and the possibility of doppelgängers, he was still left in a funk.
"I thought I saw someone I haven't seen for a while. I was wrong."
She frowned at his back. "You sure? You looked like you saw a ghost."
"I might as well have," he said dismissively, before spurring Erthas onward. They would go through the bazaar here before scheduled departure, but shopping in the capital city could take longer than intended. The faster they got there the faster they'd get out.
Bolion sat straight and rigid in the seat, still highly uncomfortable. His entire morning had just been thrown out of balance because of that, and he wore a furrowed brow that seemed a more permanent accessory than his smile. If nothing else of import happened today, he would very well brood on the subject all day.
"Hey."
His mood was setting Della on edge, and she tightened her arms around him momentarily. "Earth to Bol. You sure you're alright?"
Bolion gave her an odd look, and asked, "What does earth to Bol mean? Is that Adellan?"
Her strange choice of words had snapped him out of his trance, but not his general feeling of unease. He relaxed in the saddle enough to enjoy the ride but still wore an almost pained expression. He was confused, more than anything else, and the old wounds that never healed had flared up again. So to speak.
"Ah-" She'd never thought about that before. She supposed it could be a cultural thing. She shrugged. "Like...come back to earth? You know, ground yourself. That sort of thing."
Another shrug and she tightened her arms around him a bit again, unconsciously rubbing her thumbs along his sides. "Do you need a break?"
"A break from what?" He asked, still pondering her phrasing. It was almost... out of this world. He pushed the thought away and continued, "All I've done today is wake up, get it on, bathe, and sleep. It's been far from an active morning, by my usual standards of running for my life and almost dying on a daily basis."
Despite himself, he leaned into Della's embrace, enjoying the proximity. Or, more properly, the lack thereof.
Della rolled her eyes at him. "Fair enough, but you just seem...off. Do forgive me for caring though," she snipped.
"I didn't mean it like that," Bolion replied, "And you know it. I'll be fine steering a mostly autonomous lizard for a few hours."
The hustle and bustle of the city streets swept them to the gates easily, propelled by the constant outflow of satisfied customers, travelers young and old, and merchants both seeking to buy and sell. Bolion had settled into a taut melancholy, ready to spring into action if need be, but otherwise... He was content staring lazily forward. He had given up pondering the probability of a doppelganger's appearance and settled into a murky mood. He was considering buying some comfort food on the way out of the city.
Not knowing what else to say, Della relaxed against Bolion's back as she let her arms rest loosely around his middle, eyes watching the crowds as they moved down the street.
"So. What's your plan? For getting in I mean- what do we do first?"
Bolion adjusted his posture, sitting up in the saddle more, "I'm thinking we offer ourselves as indentured servants to the estate... I'll need to cover up, though. I'm fairly recognizable among the upper classes, at least those who know what to look for. If this guy's wife knew of me, the chances of him recognizing me are pretty high."
He turned enough to look at her, and asked, "You think I'd look recognizable in blonde, with an equally Aryan beard?"
She squinted, trying to picture it. "Probably not? I think it would depend on how well people really know what you look like?"
"I'm more of a figure to most than a definable set of features," He explained, "The Elf-Orc guy with long black hair and white eyes. Pretty hard to miss..." Bolion's eyes shot wide, and he smiled for the first time in a while, "My eyes! I need to cover my eyes, somehow..."
"Can you do that?" He asked Della, "Magic my face all different?"
She blinked. "Um...I can try?" She'd never been much good with illusion magic, but if it was just his eyes...
"I'm not sure how long I can keep it up though, and you'd probably need to stick close to me so I could monitor the spell.
Bolion stopped Erthas by the side of the road and turned around entirely in the saddle, much like he had when his leg was incapacitated. He'd displaced Della's arms in doing so but slipped his hands over hers when he was back in position.
"Can you give me green irises?" He asked excitedly, "I"ve always wanted green irises, at least to see what I'd look like with them."
Another blink, this time taken aback but his exuberance. "I-I can try, Bol, but I'm really not that good with illusions. And I have to channel it through lightning- this could hurt you, if I leave it on too long," she tried to caution him.
A skeptical squint crept onto Bolion's face, but he said, "Try it, I've got a mirror. Then you can take it off, and I'll decide if I want to use it long term. If not, I'll just pay some illusionist to enchant a rock or something. But you my dear, are free, so try at least."
An anticipatory look took over Bolion's features, and he waited with bated breath for her to begin. He was half anticipating a light shock directly to the eyes, but also didn't know fully what to expect.
Della frowned and mumbled, "Alright..." Hesitantly, she reached up to hover her palms in front of his face, murmuring under her breath.
Sparks jumped between her fingers, blue light that gathered and danced around her hands. a few more murmured words and she spread her hands over his face, swiping her thumbs along his cheeks just under his eyes and drawing her fingertips gently down his eyelids. The touch would tingle, but she didn't think it would hurt.
Finished, she pulled her hands back a little nervously. "Okay. Well...I tried."
Bolion's eyelids fluttered open, and for what he could feel, not much different. He did have pupils, of course, like other people, they just seemed translucent. He could still see perfectly fine, and despite the odd sensation on his eyes while she performed the spell, he couldn't seem to find anything out of the ordinary.
"Well?" he asked, "Did it work?"
Well.
He'd wanted green.
She winced slightly. "It's a little...bright," she answered honestly, frowning at the nearly electric green irises he now possessed, or at least appeared to.
Bolion fished a small circular mirror out of the bag behind Della, leaning absentmindedly into her to do so. When he'd found it, without leaning back, he lifted it to his face and took a long, curious look.
"That's an understatement," He said. His pupils were still clear, and his irises looked like they would shine in the dark. Certainly not conspicuous.
"Perhaps this will not work..."
Della's shoulders slumped a bit. "I'm sorry, Bol," she mumbled. "I told you, I'm no good with this sort of thing."
Subtlety had never been her magic's strong point.
"Hey, no," He said, sliding a hand up to one of her forearms, "You tried. It's worth something. If I ever need to freak out someone, I know who to go to."
His backhanded compliment came with a smile, and he hoped she took it well. Her insecurities were usually the hardest hurdles for her, and despite not understanding that entirely, he could try to keep her from being too crestfallen.
"We can stop by a proper illusionist on the way out, after I get some cheesecake."
She offered a cautious smile, quietly grateful that he wasn't making too big a deal out of the failure.
"...What's cheesecake?"
Bolion regarded her with a look of disbelief, "No fucking way."
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The barmaid set down their plates, on each a thick slice of chilled yellow cheesecake, a roll of chocolate shavings and a strawberry to adorn the top of each one. With each came a fork, and lemon-water.
"This is cheesecake," Bolion said to Della, whom he sat beside on a barstool. The restaurant they'd come to was their second last stop, to the illusionist, but Bolion was willing to sit down for it. One's first cheesecake was an occasion to savour. He cut off a slice with his fork, and tasted it, smiling at the flavour. "Yeah, that's pretty good. Not the best I've ever had, but not bad by any means."
Della eyed him with one eyebrow arched, not quite sure why he was making such a big deal out of this. Chalking it up to his eccentricities, she gave a mental shrug and cut off a bite with her fork, carelessly popping it into her mouth.
Her eyes widened. "What in- mother of- what is this stuff?!" she exclaimed around the mouthful. she thought she liked it, but it was honestly hard to tell- it was sweet but a little sour, creamy but light, soft with a hard crust- what the hell?
She swallowed and stared at her plate like it might bite her, licking her lips. Her eyes were still wide, sharp fangs shown through slightly parted slips.
"Um..." Bolion managed through a full mouth, "Cheese? Creamed cheese, I think, with sugar and a bunch of other stuff. I love it." He grinned at her expression. It was like watching a child eat lemons for the first time.
"What do you think?" He asked, cutting off another chunk, eating the cake almost faster than he could swallow it. He'd enjoyed cheesecake many times, and wasn't inclined to taking his sweet time with it if he could enjoy it all now. Besides, if he ate fast enough, he could get another piece before Della was done.
"It's... I think it's good?" She gave him a wide eyed, almost childish look, then tried another bite. Her face screwed up a bit as she chewed, then relaxed as the sweetness spread over her tongue again.
"Yeah. Okay, I like it." Another bite, this one a little more confident.
Bolion smiled, and replied, "Good. You can look forward to eating it more often."
He finished up his slice, popping the strawberry into his mouth and scooping up the chocolate shavings with his fork. "You've never heard of cheesecake before?" He asked, incredulous. It was beyond him how someone could not know of this, the greatest of cakes. He slid his dish towards the barkeep, downing his lemon-water in one go. He would pass up the second piece, deciding instead to watch curiously as Della went through a decidedly large range of emotions for a piece of cake.
Della ate her own strawberry with a soft hum of pleasure. She'd always liked them, but didn't get the chance to eat them often.
She shook her head. "No. I lived in a small hunting and farming village, Bol, and after that I was always on the move. I eat stew and camp rations and not much else," she chuckled.
"That," he said, "Is unacceptable. Stick with me kid, and I'll show you a world of delicious cuisine you never even knew existed."
He sliced a tiny piece off of her cake and stabbed it with his fork before stealing it away to enjoy it himself. Cake was fair game man. First time didn't matter. Even if immediately afterward they returned to stew and camp rations.
"Hey!" Della scowled at him playfully, then leaned in to lick a drop of chocolate off his bottom lip in retaliation, using the distraction to scoop up a bit of the crumbs left on his plate with a finger before popping it into her mouth.
She sat back, eyebrow quirked. If he wanted to play dirty, she could play dirty.
Bolion blushed, despite himself, just at the tips of his ears. She left him wide eyed, and he subconsciously bit his lip after she'd stolen his crumbs.
"Don't play that game here," he warned, "We're in public." His cheesecake addled brain snapped to, and he found himself staring at Della more than he'd intended. His focus had shifted entirely, and considering their location, perhaps not for the better.
She propped her chin in her hand and smirked, perhaps missing the subtle shift in his focus. "So? I'm a sex slave, aren't I? I'm just playing the part."
"Yeah..." Bolion agreed, "Just, ah... don't play it too well, okay?"
His heart rate perceptibly quickened, and the blush crept its way from the tips of his ears down to the rest of the lobes. He turned away, back to his plate, trying to compose himself. He lasted all of a second before stealing a glance at the smiling woman beside him, and it took considerable effort to break away this time. He was trying his hardest to focus on anything else. He didn't want to get... excited, here.
Della's eyebrow slowly crept up to join its twin as she realized what he was getting at. Perhaps she wasn't very quick on the uptake, but it was just such a foreign idea to her that someone could be so easily attracted to her the thought never even crossed her mind.
"Ah." Finally, time for some payback. She smiled. "You aren't feeling a little...anxious, are you, Bol?" she murmured, eyes wide and innocent as she leaned into his side, letting one hand rest on his thigh and the other move to the small of his back gently.
Bolion took a long breath in through his nose, an anticipatory grin wavering on his lips. He gave her a pleading look, and said, "Actually no, believe it or not, just a little worried is all. See, I've already paid off the room."
He turned to face her, and continued, "Which begs the question, what happens if you succeed in this dangerous little endeavour?" His wide-eyed implication was tinged with a vulnerability he didn't like exhibiting.
Della paused, suddenly not so sure playing this game was a good idea. Then she sighed, leaned into him a bit more to rest her chin on his shoulder, and murmured, "I think we can spare a few minutes- what are the chances this place has a back room nobody will be using for a bit?"
"Um... for a few minutes, the chances are high. For more than fifteen, not so much." His response was wary, but he was ultimately okay with doing it in a storage closet. He wasn't about to turn down any sort of sexual interaction, and there was a certain thrill to engaging in public. The fear of getting caught made it all the better, in his opinion.
"The question," he stated with a dramatic pointing of his finger, "Is how to get there unnoticed."
"Well, I hope you're as good as you seem to think you are, cause I guess a few minutes is all we're getting," she chuckled quietly.
Leaning back, she tilted her head to consider it. "Point me in the right direction and I'll slip away. Come find me a minute or two after."
Dear gods she almost couldn't believe she was doing this. What the hell had gotten into her?
"Hey," he said defensively, "I didn't provoke this. I know I can have fun in a few minutes, I dunno about you."
Bolion swivelled on his barstool, leaning his elbows on the bar. He made it look casual, but he was scanning the quiet bistro around them. He flicked a finger down past the bar, where he'd seen an employee take a large pig from just then. If they were lucky it would be a two level store-room, and if not, perhaps they had large shelves to hide behind.
Della nodded when she followed his gesture, snatching up the last bite of her cheesecake before getting to her feet. As she passed him, she murmured, "I swear if you're playing some sort of joke and leave me in there, Bol, I will cut it off."
She slipped away.
Bolion admitted that was a tempting option, but he wasn't prepared to deal with an angry, humiliated, and horny Deloria. He waited a minute or two, watching the waitresses at work. He stood, and made for the storeroom.
He slid inside, watching behind him to make sure no one was watching, and turned around. Not two storey, but plenty of shelf space. It was a long room with plenty of standing storage.
"Where, oh where, is the little horned girl?" He asked, yet to see Della.
Rolling her eyes, Della slipped out from where she'd tucked herself back against one of the shelves, eyes glowing silver and a few sparks of magic already dancing over her horns.
"Just shut up and fuck me," she growled, grabbing the front of Bolion's shirt and pulling into a fierce kiss.
Bolion pulled out of the kiss, only to say, "Yes ma'am." He planted a kiss on her neck, once, twice, then again. He let his hands wander southbound, exploring her body as he leaned back against the wall.
The same excitement he had fought so hard to suppress earlier was far from under control now. He ground her hips against his, and turned his kisses into nibbling, growling playfully in the back of his throat.
Della hissed in a breath and let her hand tangle in his hair, the other dropping to grip his hip as she pressed against him with a soft groan. Not planning on wasting time, she broke away for a moment to tug the tie of the crimson robe she wore open, letting it fall off her shoulders, catch at her hips, then fall to pool around her feet.
Bolion let his eyes wander down, before saying, "I wish my clothes did that. Everything would be so much easier..."
As if to illustrate his point, it took him significantly longer than half a second to get his pants off. He took her by the hips, drawing her into another kiss. He gave her ass a squeeze, and slid a hand up to her breasts. His kiss turned into a playful bite and he thrust against her, his memeber sliding between her thighs, the head just sliding against her.
She leaned eagerly into that kiss, growling again when he nipped at her lips and returning the playful bite by dragging her teeth delicately over his throat. She groaned when she felt the length of him slide against her and gave her hips a little rock forward, grinding against him.
"Bol..." She trailed kisses along his jaw to just under his ear and gave another rock against him, whining quietly in frustration as she really only served to stoke her heat, not sate it. "Lift me?" she suggested, arms sliding up around his shoulders.
Bolion entertained the thought for a moment, and said, "Well... it would be a first. I dunno if I could keep it up for long." Nonetheless, he moved his hands down past her hips and around the back of her thighs, slipping his fingers into the same gap his throbbing erection had occupied.
With a momentary dip to get proper leverage, he hoisted her up, her head several inches above his for a second before dropping her onto his entire length. His eyelids fluttered for a second, the pleasure nearly outweighing his focus on standing, but he kept her upright.
"Oh- fuck!" Despite being the one to ask, she hadn't quite expected him to respond so quickly, and her eyes slammed shut as she found her hips pressed suddenly flush against his. With a low groan and ducked her head into the curve of his neck and shoulder, nails dragging down his back as she pressed closer.
Almost cautiously, she rolled her hips forward against his. She couldn't really move much in the position, but she gave it her damndest effort.
"You're not heavy," he said, lifting her off of him and lowering her again with a moan, "So there's that, but it's not the easiest thing to do." The tickling of her nose and mouth against his neck was distracting, but in the most pleasurable way. He barely noticed her clawing at his back, but he did make a mental note of it for later.
He had firm handfuls of her ass, and repeatedly lifting Della on and off of his length was as much work as it was fun. "What I'm afraid of..." he managed between groans, "Is that when I cum I'll drop you."
Della moaned and clung tighter to him, hooking her ankles together behind his back. "If you do, I-I'm taking you with me," she rasped out, grinding her hips into his sharply every time her let her fall on him.
Twisting her neck so she could reach his lips again, she kissed him hungrily, tracing her tongue along the line of his lower lip before she nipped at it playfully.
"You're going to have to be quieter than that..." Bolion laughed, "Someone's gonna catch us."
Every time he dropped her onto him, she took his full length and it felt amazing. Bolion let his head fall back against the wall, a satisfied moan escaping his lips. Twice in a day wasn't bad, but it was a serious detriment to their schedule. Odd how that was what crossed his mind right now. But at the same time, they did - "Oh- fuuuuck..."
She'd begun grinding her hips again, and it was perhaps the best thing he'd experienced in a while. Cheesecake included.
The mage tilted her head, lips parted as she breathed raggedly but eyes glinting mischief. "So- I take it you like this?" she murmured teasingly, giving a sharper buck with her hips when they were pressed flush together again.
Then he was lifting her along his length again and she whimpered, eyes clenching shut. Some vague corner of her mind recognized that he was right, she needed to be quieter, so she ducked her head and bit the curve of his shoulder gently to muffle a sharp, keening sort of moan.
"Oh!" Bolion couldn't help himself. The combination of her bucking and biting was making short work of his resolve, though to be fair he wasn't exactly trying to last. If he was right, they had maybe three minutes until a curious employee investigated the noises that had to be coming from the door.
They weren't exactly being subtle about it, but they weren't screaming either, so maybe an intent listener would catch on. He was about to regain what little composure he'd had when she came down again, and he had to bite his lip to keep from groaning loud enough for half the diner to hear them.
Della arched her back to press closer, the incessant rocking of her hips combined with the way he lifted her then let her fall quickly bringing her toward the edge.
She honestly wasn't sure how long they'd been tucked away like this, but she knew she couldn't expect it to last. Determined to make Bol fall apart as quickly as she could, she wrapped an arm around his neck to steady herself and reached down between them to stroke what she could reach of his length when he lifted her, continuing the harsh grind of her hips against his every time she fell back.
"Oh, fuck me," she hissed as she felt her body suddenly tense, the tight coil of heat snapping and making her crash her lips against his to muffle a load moan with a kiss as her peak rippled through her, lightning flashing over her skin and in her eyes.
About five seconds before Della hit her climax, Bolion hit his. He emptied himself into her, battling between focusing on staying upright and succumbing to the pleasure coursing through him. As a result, besides relatively shallow breathing, he didn't give any tells.
He was mid ejaculation when her skin began shining, her veins lighting up like lightning. Even though he was balls deep in a beautiful woman, making out and climaxing, the only thought in his head was: I hope she doesn't get pregnant. He watched the lights under her skin fade away, giving minimal attention to the kiss she was giving him and slid down the wall. He tried to angle it as to land as softly as possible, but it wasn't perfect and he hit the ground half a second before she fell on him. The jerking fall pumped him one last time and his eyes rolled back, finally able to focus on only the stimulation. A satisfied moan escaped his lips as the last of his seed filled her.
"Why... why did we do this?" He mumbled head rested against the wall, "I'm so tired now, and... you're all jizzed-up again."
Overly sensitive now, Della hissed in a breath as Bol slid down the wall and her hips bumped against his again, whimpering as she felt him pulse one last time.
"I- I don't know," she chuckled softly, letting her forehead rest against his shoulder, taking care with her horns. "I...don't think we really thought this through."
Not that she was really complaining. She'd gone long enough without sex that twice in a day was actually a form of relief, in a way.
"No... you didn't," Bolion said with an impish grin, "I would have been much more logically inclined, if not for your feminine wiles. For shame, Deloria, for shame!"
He gave her side a playful jab, before straightening up against the wall. He was pressing his ear against it, listening for the slightest sound that could be someone coming their way. So far, nothing, but he couldn't count on that for long.
"First thing's first, we should put a limit on how many times we do this a day," Bolion said with a chuckle, "But second, and more importantly, we need to get out of here without being noticed, or... dripping, in your case. Presumably to the public baths, y'know the ones with the showers I was talking about. Turns out we'll get to use 'em anyway."
Della growled playfully and gave his neck a gentle little bite in retaliation to his teasing.
She sighed when she realized he was right, and her nose crinkled up. Right. Dripping. "Ugh. Why is sex so messy?" she grumbled to herself, sitting back with a small sigh. She glanced back over her shoulder toward her discarded robe.
"Well...how far is it to the baths?"
"A ways..." Bolion said absentmindedly, focusing on the outside, "Fifteen minute walk. Ten minute ride, if you want to ride. I don't know how sensitive you are down there after sex."
Satisfied no one had heard them, Bolion turned back to Della, returning the nip to her neck and following it with a kiss. "How long, you think, 'till someone comes back here?" He asked, brushing his nose against the crook of her neck. He slid a hand up to one of her breasts, tracing circles around the nipple.
"I dunno- do you think anyone heard us?" She glanced around, trying to ignore his touch to her breast but a shiver ran through her body despite herself. "Doesn't seem like they keep anything too important in here- nothing perishable."
She looked back to him and quirked an eyebrow. "You're not suggesting round two, are you? 'Cause I think that's ambitious even for you," she chuckled, squirming on his lap.
Which reminded her that they were still rather intimately connected. She winced, still sensitive, and took a rather shaky breath. "I should, um...get up," she mumbled, slightly flushed.
"What, getting embarrassed after the second time?" Bolion teased, giving Della a squeeze. He leaned back, shifting as to let her remove herself more easily. "No, I don't think we have time for round two, as much as I'd like to experiment."
Despite himself, and the fact that time was of the essence, he placed both his hands comfortably on her hips, and traced the 'v' of her abdomen with his thumbs. He wasn't thinking with the head on his shoulders, to say the least.
"I'm not embarrassed," Della protested in a grumble. She hissed in a quiet breath as his fingers traced over the dip of her hips.
With a reluctant groan she stood, legs just a little shaky. "Seriously, you're gonna have to stop touching me if you wanna actually get anything done today," she chuckled quietly.
"Bah." Bolion scoffed, "Touching you is too fun, and how can I help myself. You're soft and smooth in all the right places."
Bolion made to stand, stopping only when Della began to drip on him. He scrunched up his nose at the milky liquid slowly running down her leg, and the drops that had splattered onto his own. An odd curiousity took hold of him, and the childlike impulsion that characterized his personality joined it.
Without thinking too hard, Bolion extended a hand, took two fingers and slipped them into the standing Della. He hooked them and scooped, digging a glop of the stuff out. Examining it for a few seconds, he scrunched his nose again and flicked it away with mild disgust.
"Can you feel it?" He asked, rotating his glistening fingers a foot from his eyes, "When it's inside you?"
Her eyes went very wide when he reached out. "What are you- ah- oh!" She clapped her hand over her mouth to muffle the sound she made. She was still almost overly sensitive and in her current state the touch was toeing the line between pleasure and pain.
"Y-Yes," she hissed through clenched teeth. "Yes, I can feel it. What on earth possessed you to do that?"
"Hmm?" Bolion asked, looking up at her. He stared dumbly, before saying, "What do you mean?"
Clearly he didn't see a problem with what he had just done. The confusion on his face morphed into a dumbfounded comprehension. Then a wry grin. A giggle escaped, before he said, "I meant the jizz. And, will you accept juvenile curiosity as an answer?"
"I know what you meant," she ground out. "And my answer is the same. Yes, I can feel it. And yes, it feels weird. And I am fucking sensitive right now, you asshat." She almost poured at him, pressing her legs together in a perhaps useless gesture.
"Oh, you can get me back later," he said dismissively, sliding a hand in between her thighs and giving her a playful squeeze before making to stand. He slid up the wall much in the same way he had slid down it moments before, bringing his pants up with him. He pulled them up above his waist, unceremoniously tucking his manhood back in.
"Shall I turn away?" He asked mockingly, "And let the lady dress herself?" He walked past and around her, fixing his vest along the way. He paused behind her, long enough to give her tail a light nudge with his toe, before circling back to where he now stood: just behind her right shoulder, trailing a finger through her raven hair.
Despite herself, Della had to resist the urge to lean her head back into his touch. "You can if you want," she muttered, twisting her head to look at him. "Don't suppose there's some sort of...towel or something lying around?"
She looked around, hoping to find something she could use to clean herself off, just a little bit.
"Uh..." Bolion spared a quick glance around the room, scanning the shelves. He said, "Unless you want to use pickled beans and salted cow bits to clean up, it would seem we're out of luck. Perhaps," and here he paused a wry grin breaking out onto his face, "You'll have to go to the baths, dripping all the way."
He gave her rear an affectionate squeeze before turning to more closely examine some of the spiced meats. If they were a good enough quality, he might snatch a few for their journey. Meat was expensive, and they weren't the richest at the moment.
Della squeaked when he grabbed her rear and slapped at him, but she was smirking a bit. "Oh, fuck off," she chuckled, bending to retrieve her clothes.
There really wasn't much she could do to clean herself other than using the inner folds of the fabric of the robe. She winced, still feeling...sticky, but it would do until the baths.
"Alright. Ready?" She patted at her hair, trying to smooth it down so she looked a little less...like they'd done what they'd just done.
"Always am," Bolion replied, slipping a sausage link into his pants. It was rather large, the ten or so individual took sausages twined together, but he kept them directly in front of his crotch in a sewn pocket.
He found that people were least willing to search in the places they found the most uncomfortable. He also managed a t-one steak before the pocket became too full for anything else. He was already planning their way out, playing a game of chess in his head. They'd sneak out of the door, and walk out like they owned the place. The less stink you made about something the less likely you were to be seen. Once outside they'd mount Erthas, go to the baths, and relax for a day or so. He caught sight of Della, his eyes wandering across her figure as his mind wandered through the streets of the city on their pre-planned route. Her robes weren't really fit to be called robes, seeing as the Yankees were almost transparent. Anyone who stared long enough could see all they wanted to.
Bolion frowned a little at that, unsure of why exactly but knowing that he felt justified in doing so.
Della turned just in time to see him stuffing a handful of what looked to be steak down the front of his pants and arched an eyebrow. "Isn't that...uncomfortable?" she asked, blinking at him.
Then she caught his expression, absently pulling her hair over her shoulder to tie it into a loose braid. "Something wrong?" She winced. "Is it..." she gestured toward her waist and below. "Obvious?"
"Unless someone was analyzing your vagina before we came in here I don't think anyone will notice," he said, "We'll be out of here soon enough. It's just... everything is visible."
His frown deepened, "I don't know. It didn't really bother me before."
He walked past her to look through a crack in the door, scanning the eating area outside for their exact route. He motioned for her to come closer without taking his eye from the door, and said, "Yeah, it kinda is, but it's not particularly uncomfortable. My pants are baggy for a handful of reasons, that being one of them."
She crept up closer to him and peered around his side, flicking a sidelong glance at his face. "...It bothers you now?" she probed quietly, a little confused by his comment.
She glanced at the door again, tilting her head as she listened, trying to discern if the coast was clear.
"It would seem," he answered dismissively, before abruptly opening the door. It wasn't loud, or especially attention grabbing, but it was quick. Bolion had seen his moment: a waitress had spilled a bowl of soup on a customer, and the minor chaos that ensued had shifted general focus to the other side of the room.
Pushing Della from the small of her back, he walked briskly out onto the floor, and without so much as a glance towards the servers, out of the building. "I don't know why," he elaborated on her previous question, now in the relative safety of the street, "It just bugs me a little that you're effectively naked. Which is weird because that's entirely normal, and you've been effectively naked all the time for about two weeks now."
Della allowed him to guide her along with the hand on her back, falling back into the role she'd been playing for a few weeks now. she kept her head tilted just slightly toward him though, listening as he elaborated.
Her brow furrowed slightly. She'd been so focused on how uncomfortable she was with her current attire that she hadn't considered-
Hang on. Why in hell should it bother him? She shook her head, deciding not to question it. Another of his quirks, she guessed. "Well. I don't think I'm gonna be changing until we're out of the city, so I guess we just have to get used to it," she muttered as they approached their ride.
Bolion grunted in agreement, flourishing a hand at Erthas, belly up and sunbathing as he was. The giant lizard had all four legs in the air and one of his hind legs was twitching idly.
"My noble steed, for the lady," he said snootily, trying for all the world to keep from smiling. Erthas was something, even if lizards weren't his thing. He beat out horses for sure.
"You can take the reins," Bolion said, "I'm going to catch a nap."
"Oh, you leave him alone," Della laughed, going up to the lizard to scratch his chest and tummy. Erthas crooned and rolled over onto his side, then lumbered to his feet as she nudged him, murmuring, "C'mon, boy, up."
She nodded at Bol as she swung up onto his back, holding her hand down. "Just don't fall off. Goodness knows little l' me wouldn't know how to survive this strange city all by my lonesome." She batted her eyes innocently, mouth curved into a smirk at one corner.
"Oh I think you'd be fine," he said, taking her hand and swinging up, "You would never go hungry for sure, seeing as you could pay for meals with storeroom romps." He lifted her tail, sliding his leg underneath it and securing himself in the saddle. Once he would have been uncomfortable with the ass-appendage draped over his thigh, but he didn't mind.
He let his hands rest on her hips, fitting his fingers to the same grooves he'd explored with his thumbs moments before. "Let's get out of here."
"Ass," Della accused, but almost fondly. She gave Erthas a little click and a nudge with her heels to get him moving as she settled back into the curve of Bol's body, which felt suddenly easier than it had been before.
"Point me in the right direction, then you can take your nap," she tossed over her shoulder as she moved the lizard out onto the street.
"Down the main road, the one that goes through the whole city," he told her, tracing the mental map as he did, "A large domed building five minutes south of here, just east of the road. Don't stop for the vendors, half of them are thieves and the vending is a gimmick to get you distracted."
A cheeky grin that she couldn't see spread on his face, before he said, "Ass? Why do the random cooks and waiters get ass? Seems a little intimate for a plate of decent southern food."
Della elbowed him. "Take your nap, or I'll put you to sleep," she warned as she turned Erthas to follow his directions.
"If you threaten me," Bolion started, "I'll never get to sleep. I'll constantly be wondering about the horned crazy lady who wants to kill me."
He leaned back in the saddle, against their travel bags. It was an inpromptu chair, but it worked. He snickered to himself, before saying, "Y'know, that would make a great mystery-thriller. A travelling assassin who fucks people, and then hunts them down. It's like the best death sentence ever. Or you get tot choose," he dropped his voice, low and foreboding, "spend one night with the deadly temptress, and pay the consequences, or leave a womanless wanker, but live to fuck another day!"
He laughed to himself, still not napping. He continued, "It really brings a wholeness new meaning to flirting with death."
Letting Erthas's reins go slack as they trundled down the street- there really wasn't anywhere for him to wander off-- Della flopped back until she was pressed against Bol's chest, horns nearly pricking his skin.
"If I promise you'll love to fuck another day, will go to sleep? Because of you keep this up, I'm certainly not gonna be the one fucking you."
"It's not like you won't if you're feeling horny," he said, tracing a finger across the ribbed surface of one of her horns, "Because I'm all you've got as of now. Unlike you, however, I have no qualms with finding a fuckbudy at a pub."
As tired as he was, conversation was fun and he wasn't doing much else. He was resting, if not sleeping, and that's what mattered.
Della reached back at an awkward ankle to tickle his ribs vindictively. "I'd gone three years without getting some before you and along. I'm perfectly content with three more."
"Hey now," He said, suppressing a spasm and grabbing her hand, "Don't tickle me, I'll fall off. Then you'll be all alone, and you'll have to become an actual prostitute. I don't want that, I don't think you want that either."
He kept her hand above her head, grasping it to make sure she couldn't tickle him again. He traced his finger down the underside of the same horn he'd been exploring, feeling along the inner ridges. "I dunno about that. You were pretty desperate to come to me. I mean, look at me: I'm fantastic yes, but not exactly a heartthrob. My talents lie elsewhere, and sometimes I'm so fantastic that some people think I'm an asshole for almost no good reason."
A shiver started at the top of her head and cascaded down her neck and spine like a miniature waterfall. Della glared and wriggled a bit- there was nothing inherently sexual in the way he touched her, or even the reaction the pressure of his hand on her horn inspired, but it did bring to mind the last time that had happened...
"I came to you because we'd been playing parts that required you to get me ridiculously turned on and then leave me high and dry for days," she grumbled, twisting her wrist in a gentle effort to free herself from his grip. "And people think you're an asshole because you say things like "I'm so fantastic"," she added wryly.
Bolion sighed, smiling, and said, "Yeah... I know. That's one of the two reasons I do it, the other being that I'm highly narcissistic. What better way to piss people off than being awesome and knowing how awesome you're being?"
Bolion shot her back a glare, "Stop squirming, I haven't done anything yet. And I will accept full responsibility for assigning those roles. It's not important that they were assigned, I don't think... The important part is what followed, I believe." Bolion leaned over Della, looking down on her. His hair fell loosely off of the back of his head, and he blew at it unsuccessfully. He sighed, resigned to having a hair curtain. Some would say he looked positively brutal.
Della giggled as he leaned over her and reached up to brush his hair out of his face, wrinkling her nose at him as she held it back with her fingers.
"You actually look like a merc when you do that," she noted. "Doesn't suit you."
"No?" he asked, cheeky smile spreading wide, "Don't they say to dress for the job you want? I'm not really looking for a career change."
He looked up at nothing in particular, sneering and dropping his voice to a gravelly rumble, "I need to put on an image Deloria! They need to know I'm a badass!"
Smirking, Della sat up and twisted a bit to kiss the tip of his nose, patting his head. "Yes, yes, you're very fierce," she said blandly, eyes glinting, before turning back around to take the reins up properly again.
"See," he started, swiping back some of his hair behind his left ear in an almost feminine fashion, "I know you're being sarcastic, but that really gets me going. It's like my ego is a ballon and your nonchalant comments inflate it endlessly."
Bolion was left leaning against his saddlebags, and his chest and midriff were no longer warmed by Della. Sure, she was cold by normal people standards, but it was night and a chill was in the air. Anything was better than nothing. He pushed off of the bags, sliding his hands around Della's waist and leaning his chin onto her shoulder. Eyes closed and comfortable, he tried to sleep. His success was limited, and he remained droopy eyed and sluggish, but awake.
Della glanced at him sidelong before rolling her eyes and giving a little click to Erthas, urging him to change his gait slightly so their ride evened out.
She figured she'd let her companion sleep as long as she could- hopefully later he'd return the favor.
The baths were a luxurious affair, large domed buildings containing gigantic wading pools and heated public springs. The showers were arranged almost like cubicles, row on row of single cells, reminiscent of a monastery's barracks.
Bolion had settled into a light snooze, just groggy enough to be of entirely no use to Della, but still close enough to consciousness to awaken when their arrival eventually occurred. He'd gotten plenty comfortable, leaning his cheek on Della's shoulder, effectively using her as a pillow. His dreaming was muddled and incomplete, and even with the constant heat of his riding companion, there was a coldness to him. He was uneasy, asleep or awake.
"Bol." Della shrugged her shoulders in an effort to wake Bolion. "C'mon, up. We're here." She slid off Erthas's back, arching her back and reaching her hands over her head in a long stretch.
Bolion barely responded to Della's movements, pushing off of her hips and sitttng up straight for a few seconds. She slid down, and he sat independently for several seconds more, before he began to slip off in the same direction. His eyes widened, but it was too late to recover, and he managed a strangled grunt and a flail in the direction of the saddle before dropping from the horse entirely.
He fell like a stone, thudding into the ground heavily. Bolion rolled off of the shoulder that took the brunt of the fall and onto his back, groaning. He arched his spine, grimacing, then went slack.
"Fuck."
"Gods!" Della skirted to the left to avoid her falling companion, then blinked down at him. "Fuck. You alright?"
She offered a hand, torn between laughter and genuine concern. "Well, that was graceful."
"Like a dancer, yeah?" Bolion swung an arm up to meet Della's, missed the first time, but caught it on the return swing. "That's gonna bruise."
He got clumsily to his feet, bracing against her for a second while he gained his bearings. Once steadied, he stood independently, but only just barely. The grog of sleep wore away quickly enough, and the cloudiness with it. He gestured toward the bathhouse doors, and said, "Shall we?"
She shook her head and chuckled at him, bracing her hand against his side to help steady him until his balance seemed to have returned.
"After you." She gestured to the bath house, taking Erthas's reins and tying them loosely to a low rung that seemed to be there to ground tie horses.
"Fun fact," he said back to her as he sauntered through the doors of the bathhouse, "Half of my wounds are unintentionally self inflicted." He leaned close to Della's ear, and whispered, "Don't tell my employers that, m'kay?"
He slung the vest off easily, wincing at the soreness of his shoulder, and walked through the main hall of the house. It was a long hallway that lead directly to the baths, and veered off towards separate private bathing areas. Bolion made for the public bath, but turned back to Della and shot her a questioning glance. He pointed at the private baths, his query blatant, if a little mute.
Della snorted under her breath and trailed after him into the baths, rolling her eyes at him.
She paused when he gestured between the baths, eyes flickering. Her shoulders hunched a bit and she lowered her head. "I'll...meet you outside," she murmured, and moved toward the private baths.
Bolion's brow furrowed, confusion evident on his features. He moved to catch her arm before she went in, and asked, "Hey, what just happened? I just wanted to know which one you wanted to go into. We're leaving the city tonight, you can drop the act if you'd like. I'm sure one bath without a perfectly demure mistress won't set off any alarms."
"Oh, I-" She blinked at him. "Are you sure?"
Where the hell had that come from?
She honestly couldn't figure out why she was so skittish about this all of the sudden, but she was. It felt...oddly personal. Okay, obviously sharing a bath was no strange thing in Essyrn, and they had-
Still. This felt strange. And she couldn't figure out why.
She tried to shake it off. "Right. You're right."
Bolion's confusion only increased, and the smile he'd been wearing faded ever so slightly, "Are you okay?"
He slid the half removed vest back on, concern etching itself into his features, "Did I say something?"
"What- no." Della shook her head quickly, almost starting to reach for him reassuringly before she snatched her hand back. "No, Bol, its fine," she said with a try for a smile. "I'm just...out of it, I guess. Come on."
She moved toward the door again, hesitating slightly when she reached it to glance over her shoulder at him.
Bolion's smile fell, replaced by a skeptical squint in Della's direction; His friend's, for he would call her his friend, sudden shift in mood was odd, even by her standards. Nonetheless, he knew enough to let the subject go for now, and followed after her. He resumed the motion of removing his vest, and tried to ease his expression. It probably wouldn't do her any good if he looked as put-off as he felt by her demeanour.
The private baths had much a similar style to the showers, large cells down a long hallway, one cell on each side for several hundred meters. The buildings were absolutely gargantuan, and this was why. Each private cell was large enough to fit what was really a small pool, large enough for upwards of six or seven people to lounge in. The private cells were often used to go about business in the calm and relaxed environment of the baths. Around the circular pool was enough space to stand two men abreast until you touched the square walls. Two and a half in the corner. The pool itself was about fifteen meters in diameter, and had a slope going down to one side. The deepest point was perhaps two meters down, and he shallowest less than half. The red-brown wood of the bathhouses lined the walls and ceiling, like a sauna, but the floor was a cool limestone tile.
Bolion stepped into the first open one, checked the water temperature, and began to strip. It didn't take very long. The springs that fed the bathhouse kept almost all the pools perpetually warm, and Bolion felt goosebumps ripple up his arms and legs as he waded into the pool.
Well. Given the lavish space, it just seemed silly to go to a different pool to bathe- and why was that her first impulse, anyway?
Della shook her head and dropped her dress, shuddering delicately as she slid into the water and her body quickly adjusted to the shift of temperature. She closed her eyes and hummed quietly- sex was fun, but messy, and the bath was a relief.
She scrubbed at her hair, twisting slightly as she absently worked around her horns. She kept her body low, the water almost up to her shoulders in what might have been some rather misguided attempt at modesty.
Bolion had quickly taken up his favourite spot in such baths, floating so that only his head came above the water. He moved into the centre of the pool, sitting cross legged. The water, again, was deep enough to just come up to his neck. The best feeling was the warmth of the pool all across his skin, something he would never tire of.
Sparing a lazy glance toward Della, saying first, "Y'know you can move to the deeper parts of the baths, right?" And then upon further examination, "And if that's not a temperature thing, and you're trying to hide yourself out of decency, I can still see everything."
Bolion's hair was loose, and floated above his shoulders like one of those frilly necklaces the nobility were fondness of wearing, albeit a black one that looked far spikier at the edge.
Della huffed and rolled her eyes at him. "I know that," she grumbled, "I just..."
She didn't really have anything to follow that with, he she huffed again and ducked her head under the water, scrubbing at her scalp before she came up for air again.
Bolion bobbed just above the water, and he spread his legs out in front of him, bracing against the floor with his hands. The manoeuvre on land would require phenomenal core strength and concentration. For Bolion under water, it was little more than crossing and uncrossing his legs.
Now extended, he had his head toward the deeper end of the pool, although he was far from the deep end. He floated slowly to the surface, the tips of his toes first, then his knees, then his abdomen. Even when bathing, the childlike tendencies never left him. He'd always loved floating in water, and Della's presence would not dissuade him from a favourite activity.
Della continued to bathe, scrubbing almost harshly at her skin and hair. She wasn't used to the luxury of hot water, or the time to enjoy it, and old habits took over.
She was starting to climb from the pool before she realized Bolion was just...floating there. She paused, hands braced against the edge as she looked back over her shoulder. "Um...you coming?"
"Not presently, no," he replied, apparently analyzing the ceiling panels, "Are you going somewhere? It's barely been ten minutes."
Bolion had been hoping to try out the showers before he left, and though he could see the value in leaving a tad earlier for that opportunity, this perplexed him. Girl needed to learn how to enjoy things more. He turned his head as much as was possible in the water, shooting her a concerned look.
"Have you ever relaxed?" He asked, partially joking but also a tinge truthfully, "I know you've been a little uptight for various reasons over the past few years, but Della, c'mon. It's your own private hot spring! Do you always clean yourself with the deadly efficiency of a serial laundryman?"
She hesitated a moment more, then slowly slid back into the water. "Well...yeah." She shrugged and sunk a little lower into the water, so her head was just barely about the surface. "Adelan mountain springs aren't exactly great places to linger, y'know?"
There was a bit of teasing to her voice, but she really was trying to be honest, to explain things to him. She knew she needed to get better at that, no matter how uncomfortable it made her.
Bolion's head perked up, craning away from the water to get a good look at Della before asking, "Are they rapey?"
He feigned a gasp, twisted in the water and kicked against the bottom of the pool to close the distance between them, "Do they kidnap people?" He wore an anticipatory smile, wicked in nature but wearing the façade of innocence. A new place to pick off the scum of the earth was a paradise waiting to be exploited.
Bolion drifted over to Della, stopping about two feet away and sinking until he was cross-legged underwater. His chin just barely touched the surface, and his hair splayed out in front of him like it had before. Black frilly lace, or so it seemed.
Della scrunched up her face at him and splashed a bit of water in his direction. "No, you sicko. They're just cold."
She shuffled back a bit and bumped up against the edge of the bath. Why did he always have to be so close? Sometimes the habit was endearing, she had to admit, but gods other times a girl just wanted some space.
"Well," Bolion said, wiping rather futilely at his face, given the nature of his environment, "I don't think it would be a far-fetched guess, considering how rural mountains are here. Or my line of work. Or your line of work."
He smiled, and kicked back off from his cross-legged squat, and was halfway through floating on his back across the pool when the wall to his back erupted. Fire and shards of superheated wood embedded themselves into the walls and peppered the water. Bolion felt a series of burning stings on his back and scalp, immediately submerged himself in water, and dove for the deep end of the pool. It wasn't deep enough to hide from whatever had happened for long, but it would provide some shelter. Hopefully.
Through the smell of gunpowder and a plume of smoke, five men stepped into the private bath. The walls between the private bath Bolion had chosen and the public saunas were only about a foot and a half thick, and these intruders had blown their way through it with ease. Much of the public baths was deserted, probably done by these same men, but the residents who remained were scrambling to leave.
Tall, musclebound, and blonde like white gold, the Northerners scanned the pool. Survivors of Della's magic, or perhaps absentees that day... either way, they'd tracked Bolion and Della to the baths. They were here. And Bolion was unprepared.
It was only thanks to instinct and years of training herself to react and adapt as quickly as possible that saved Della from a shard of wood embedding itself in her throat. In a whiplike movement, she flipped sideways and lunged half out of the water, unconsciously putting her body between Bolion and the attackers.
Ignoring her state of undress, this was hardly the time to worry about it, she scrambled from the bath before allowing magic to erupt along her skin.
"Bol, get out of here, now!"
With all the water in the area, she was lucky she hadn't electrocuted him yet. He didn't need to be around for this, he had nothing to fight with- he'd just get himself killed.
Bolion surfaced and pushed himself up from the poolside, before biting back at Della, "Fucking where?!"
He was about to argue that he had no time to open the door and escape when, as if to punctuate his unsaid words, an axe flew at him. He tried to escape its trajectory but managed to suffer only a glancing blow. The blade scored his shoulder, slicing into the tissue before crunching into the wall behind him. A spray of his blood painted the floor and the base of the wall, as well as mixing with some of the pool water.
Biting back a gasp, he nodded angrily to himself and bolted for the closed sliding door.
She hardly had time to argue with him, or really spare much attention for him at all.
Eyes flinty, she stared across the space between her and their attackers. "Stand down. I don't want to kill you, if I can help it."
Her reply was another axe, thrown before she was done speaking, and aimed at her chest. The men flooded the room, two remaining to cover the newly shaped entrance, and the other three circling the pool, two on the left, closer to the door and thus to them, and one around the other side.
Bolion had just managed to slide the door open with wet fingers when a wild swing came his way. He ducked and the blade of the broadsword caught in the doorframe. He couldn't escape an ensuing kick, however, and suffered a gash on his shin because of it. He did manage to slip out, however, and ran for the nearest object that could be used as weaponry. He settled on a chair, carved of red stained oak, and entirely wooden. Bolion delivered a vicious kick of his own, snapping a leg from the chair and sending it flying. The leg was short, and no match for a sword, but it would have to do.
He spun on his heels and sprinted back for the bath.
Well. So much for not killing them.
Gritting her teeth, Della twisted to avoid the hurled axe and flung her arm out toward her attackers in the same movement, lightning arcing from her fingertips.
She saw a flash of movement and cursed silently. "Damnit, Bol, avoid the water!"
"Yeah, I can handle myself!" Bolion snapped back, swinging back into the bath from behind Della. He ran alongside the pool leaped onto and then subsequently off of the wall and launched himself at the farthest right of the five men.
They went down in a flailing knot of limbs, Bolion clearly the aggressor if not the more dangerous of the two. He managed to straddle the man - who was nearly two feet taller than he - and drove the jagged chair leg into his chest. It pierced leather and forced the breath from his lungs, but the northerner wasn't dead. Bolion followed his staking with an open palmed jab, breaking the man's nose, and another strike to his now revealed neck.
Bolion's knuckles met chainmail, splitting them on impact. To say the man didn't feel the blow, however, would be a lie. Breathless and in pain, the throat-punch sent him into a violent coughing fit, from which blood sprayed with every exhalation.
Bolion was already on the move and ignoring the twinge in his now inflamed shoulder, he picked up and threw his downed assailant's hand axe. The axe glanced off of one of the center three's helmet went clattering on the stones behind him. "Fuck a duck!" Bolion swore, now rapidly back-pedalling away from the advancing northerner.
Della swore and twisted, ducking wild strikes and unable to keep Bolion within view.
Snarling, she thrust her hands out in front of her in a pushing motion and a ball of force, crackling blue-white energy, burst from her palms and slammed into the two men who had been charging her, knocking them prone.
The scent of burning flesh and singed hair reached her nose and she winced, but didn't really have time to see if they were actually dead.
Three down... two left.
Bolion was still very much at a disadvantage, being naked and unarmed as he was. The man coming toward him was not only bigger, but also had maille, leather, and plate armour. Add a shield and an axe to boot and, without the element of surprise, Bolion was far out of his league in this fight.
He slipped momentarily, stumbling but then righting himself reflexively. His eyes widened, and he stole a glance towards the slick tile below him. Water.
"I'm a fucking idiot!" He said through clenched teeth, and ran at the man. The northerner raised his shield, readied his axe, and bit down in anticipation for what he thought would be another attempted tackle... but Bolion just ran past him, to the other man behind him. The one focused on Della. He did try to tackle this man, ducking low and picking him up by the thighs and then dumping him into the shallow pool. Bolion twisted to face his new assailant, but for all of his speed he couldn't dodge the axe coming his way. It lodged itself squarely in his sternum and the impact forced him off of his feet and onto the ground with a dull. squelching, thud.
Bolion cried out in pain, and wished now more than ever that he had some sort of special power or weapon or something. He felt sometimes that he was the only bounty hunter this side of the Thunderblacks who was just a normal-ish guy. "Get him in the water Della!" He coughed, turning his head to face his similarly nude companion. He'd have said more, but he launched into a cough that was punctuated by grimaces and clenched teeth. He dug his nails into his palms so tightly blood began to drip from them, but his pain was only beginning.
The northerner took hol of the axe in Bolion's chest, and yanked it free. Bolion cried out again as his chest was pulled it like a marrionette is with strings. A combination of his head hitting the unforgiving stone on the fall, his immense pain, and a lack of strength to keep conscious, his slid shut and he slipped into darkness.
She turned in time to see the ax strike home. Her eyes widened. "Bol!"
Almost on reflex, her magic snapped out to shove against his assailant, knocking him back one step, then another as she hammered into him with blasts of electricity.
The man Bol had knocked into the water groaned and started to rise. Her eyes flashed as she ran forward, planting herself between the bounty hunter and their attackers as she threw her hands outward with a scream and another surge of magic.
Both northerners were sent crashing into the pool and her eyes crackled with arcane energy. Vision narrowed, tinting blue at the edges, she shoved her hands forward and released a miniature lightning bolt directly into the water.
She didn't even pause to watch the gruesome destruction that spread from her magic, whirling around to catch Bol under an arm and trying to get a look at his wound. Damnit, what she wouldn't have given to be a healer!
"Bol? Bol, wake up. Can you hear me?"
Della's actions stretched his gash, the increased pain jolting him back into momentary consciousness. He gasped in air before coughing it back out involuntarily. Bolion met her eyes for a second, a confused look taking his features. He didn't register what she'd said, and couldn't hear much of anything. His brain was shutting down again, trying to force him into a reparative sleep.
But she had a scratch along her jaw, small and inconsequential in the long run. It must have happened during the explosion, perhaps debris or her sudden exit from the pool. Either way, he reached up to thumb away the blood trickling toward her chin. But he couldn't feel it. He tried pressing his fingers and thumb together, slick with blood as they were. He couldn't feel the touch. He couldn't feel anything in his left hand. Now that he thought about it, he couldn't feel anything in his right hand either. He couldn't feel his right hand at all. He turned his head to find it resting on Della's thigh, and smearing quite a bit of blood on her as he did so. Was that his own blood?
Gentle shivers went through torso, and for a small second, he forgot his pain in the immense numbness that was calling him. Then a sharp and stabbing sensation, far below his sternum, clenched inwardly against him. He brought his numbed left hand to his heart, and again went limp. His eyes were still open, however. He was still awake, every second feeling like a day, dragging on slowly. The only thing he knew then was pain.
"No no no no no." Della pressed her hand over the wound, desperately trying to staunch the bleeding. The smell of burned flesh and hair was sickening in the air around her, mixing with the coppery tang of blood.
Eyes a little wild, she lifted her head and shouted, "Help! Someone help, we need a healer!"
How had no one come to see what was happening? They were in a public bath for gods' sakes!
"I'm lodging an official complaint," she muttered, some small part of her hoping Bolion might be conscious enough to hear. "Service has been terrible." Her voice shook slightly, somewhat negating her attempt at confident nonchalance.
"You're gonna be fine, okay?" She looked around again, spotting her clothes, and carefully shifted Bol so she could crawl toward them and drag the red robes toward her. Sitting back, she started ripping it into strips in an attempt at creating makeshift bandages.
"Ha, service..." He said quietly, his voice faltering towards the end, "I'd like to think I've rubbed off on you, but I've got a sneaking suspicion that you're a funny girl all by yourself under that grump."
He could still feel his tongue, and now his face. A great and sharp pain in his chest came suddenly, then faded, and then again. His breathing stopped for a moment, jaw clenched and chest tense. His face froze in a mix of pain and fear, and he sought out Della's eyes as the only comfort he could find. Then it left him, and he sucked in a breath. But it was... wrong. Something was wrong...
His chest was tight, his vision was tunneling, and he could feel the life slipping from his hands and feet. He wished to scream out, to tell her that he thought he was having a heart attack, that she should save him. But he couldn't. He could only watch her, see her eyes, her panicked expression. And a pang behind his heart, one not of physical pain, but of great sorrow wracked him. He didn't want to leave her like this. Not here... not now.
She could feel him slipping. She wasn't sure entirely how, but she could feel it.
"No." Della shook her head, fists clenching on his chest. "No, Bol, no. You don't get to bail on me like this, you hear me? We've still got a job, damnit!"
Sharp ears picked up the patter of sandeled feet on stone, but she wasn't sure exactly how far, or who was coming; friend or for, it didn't really matter if a healer didn't get to him in time.
She felt his heart sort of stutter beneath her hands and her eyes widened. "Bol!"
Purely on instinct, her magic reacted. A surge of sparks swept from her fingers down to his chest, sinking through the skin and seeking his heart. There was no spell, no chant, not even a gesture she could give to direct the power- it reacted purely to her will and intent, to the painfully strong desire that suddenly swept through her, a pounding beat that echoed her own heartbeat in her head: save him, save him, save him.
Bolion gasped for air, strained against his own body, and laid down again. His breathing was shallow and his chest deeply pained, but at least his heart seemed to beat again. And he began to bleed again. He could feel his toes again, and he could taste the air again... so he began to slip into unconsciousness again. At least this time, his darkness could be temporary. He had no strength to fight back, and he fell asleep but breathing quickly against Della's thigh.
Several of the previous bathers had been the source of the footsteps Della had heard, returned with guardsmen and two combat mages. One of the mages carried with her a large tote bag with thick spined books in it, and a satchel with dried herbs and poultices laying across it. She wore golden brown robes, simple and unadorned, save for her box braid hair, which was intertwined with many beads of different colours. She rushed to the pair as the others searched the area for the aforementioned danger, and found them in the pool. She fell to her knees in front of Della, asking first in Essyrni and then again in common, "What has happened here?!"
"Oh thank gods." Della's brow fell forward onto Bol's chest as she sagged in relief, shaking slightly. "You have to be okay," she whispered, though she knew he couldn't hear. As she heard the guards entering, she lifted her head and just stared at his face for a moment, then leaned forward and pressed a quick kiss to his lips.
Her attention snapped to the Essyrni mage when she spoke and she shook her head. "We- they attacked us-"
She burst into tears. It was really only half fake, if she was being honest, the stress and relief helping her performance along. She explained what happened as she best she could, trying to remember to stay in the role of a traumatized concubine as she did, while leaving out the fact that the men who'd attacked them had belonged to a slaving caravan she'd completely decimated.
Her grip on Bol never loosened, clutching his shoulders and she held him in her lap. One hand remained in his chest, feeling his heartbeat, just to reassure herself that it was still there.
...
"I don't know if I can keep doing this," Bolion muttered to himself, leaning forward in the cot he'd been assigned. Linen sheets pooled about his waist, some dangling off of the small cloth bed.
Several rows of similar cots lined a large tent, the city's mass healing tent. Only a few others sat in the tent with them, perhaps thirty or forty feet away. Most patients took tent side cots, as to have people smuggle food, drink, and other small delights in under the tent walls, but Bolion was stationed squarely in the middle. He'd been attacked in a public place, after all, and the mages who'd kept him alive didn't want a repeat. They'd placed him in the hardest to reach location in the tent, dead center, next to the giant support beam that held the tent up in the middle. His cot had several small chairs around it, for the mages and visitors alike, but no mages were with him now.
His chest had a large, smooth scar from just beneath his collarbones, down to his solar plexus. It was perhaps an inch wide at its broadest and was just barely concave, dipping towards his sternum. His breathing was still a tad tight, but aside from that... his chest had been sealed up again. Of course, he'd sat in a cot for two weeks while skilled magicians knit his flesh together over freshly fused bone, and checked in quite regularly.
"I'm gonna kill myself," he said, studying his newest cosmetic addition. He'd seen it many times, but it still interested him to no end. It had no nerve endings, so a stripe of his chest was completely numb and presumably would not bleed if cut. A useful trick in future, no doubt.
Approaching Bolion from behind, Della frowned. "That is not funny," she snapped quietly as she walked around to the front of the cot and placed the jug of water she'd gone to get beside it. "You've ha a few too many brushes with death to be saying things like that."
She stood in front of him with her arms crossed, and her eyes flickered over him with concern. "How're things today?"
"It wasn't a joke," He replied, "It was an observation. One of these days I'm gonna bum rush the wrong dude and get gutted for it. I just know what to look forward to now..."
Bolion had been given a lot of time to think, immobilised as he was. And he'd been given a lot of time to see the things around him. It was a quiet first few days, filled with long periods of sleep and seemingly maddening silences... but he'd grown to accept and even enjoy them as the time went on. Della's near constant presence saw to that. He hadn't been able to write this one off though, like his other rather deadly encounters.
Nevermind that he was getting worse for wear by the week traveling with this woman, he actually enjoyed doing so. He found a contentedness in her company, all the while counting down the days in his head. They were behind, technically, not that they would necessarily have made more progress uninjured. But he had held them back more than once with what seemed like reckless abandon and rash decisions. Even as he saw his own mistakes, he couldn't, or perhaps wouldn't stop making them. It was how he'd lived his life for years, and it was how he lived it now.
Except that every time he saw Della he saw her through tunnel-vision eyes. He saw her as he'd seen her while he'd been dying - on more than one occasion. Each and every time he hurt himself doing something for her, he felt even more justified in doing so. But every time, it was worse and every time, he felt worse about it. Not for having committed the act, but for having almost left her alone in doing so, again and again, and again. That troubled him, almost as much as the thought of eventually having to cut ties with her troubled him.
"I'm doing just fine," He assured her, "Those literal wizards sewed me back together on the fourth day. I think they're just keeping me here so I don't walk out and have a stroke or something, I dunno." He tried to bring light to the mood, but it hadn't been overly easy in the past few days. He decided to keep going, albeit in a more sincere tone, "You look nice."
Dressed in simple cream robes that were handed out to the volunteers in the healers' commons, hair in a simple braid over one shoulder, and with none of the rouge or kohl common in this part of the world, Della seriously doubted she looked anything but tired.
With a quiet sigh she knelt by the cot and took his hand in hers. "I think you're lying, but thank you." Some of the playfulness that normally would have accompanied such a comment was missing from her voice, replaced with a tinge of exhaustion.
She'd hardly slept more than an hour or two at a time in the weeks Bolion had been recovering. She didn't know the city, didn't know its people, and every waking hour was spent either caring for her partner or doing her damndest to avoid too much unwanted attention- with only moderate success, if she was being honest.
And when she did have time to sleep her own thoughts kept her awake, telling her that they needed to get this job done before it was too late, then offering the idea that perhaps they should simply bail and leave the city. And always the constant worry for Bol.
She didn't mind, strangely. Caring for him, worrying after him, she thought she'd have been resentful about it, but she wasn't. And she was...touchy. While she didn't enjoy foreign objects invading her personal space- and that had caused quite a few issues early in their relationship- now that she knew him, was comfortable with him, she seemed to have gotten into the habit of constantly touching him: holding his hand, brushing his shoulder, a quick hug or a kiss, even just sitting with her arm pressed against his.
It was comforting in a way that made her paradoxically nervous.
"What's your range of motion?" She curled the fingers of the hand she held. The healers had said he had back full motor control by now, but she couldn't help being cautious.
"Well," He started, extending and flexing his fingers before waving them around individually, "I'd say I'm pretty dextrous... but the real test is yet to come," he raised an eyebrow at his hand, and widened his eyes as if concentrating greatly. He clenched his fist, and it began to tremor, his gaze growing ever more intense. The tremoring reached a point where his hand was shaking almost uncontrollably and then it stopped, and his middle finger sprang up like a switchblade.
Nodding, as if to say 'not bad', he laid his hand back down and turned to Della, "It would seem I'm up and running as usual. All of the bells and whistles are in place as far as I can tell." He fought very visibly to keep a grin under control, but he needed a poker face to sell it, so he persevered.
"As for my candor," he replied in mock offense, "Why would I lie to you? I mean, I don't think I have a reason unless you count that one time with the jackal I forgot to tell you about and then subsequently never mentioned again. But that isn't really a lie, so I think I'm good."
She chuckled a bit despite herself and swatted his hand away with a muttered, "Jackass."
Arching an eyebrow, she patted his leg to get him to part his knees and settled herself between them. Her hand automatically reached for the salve that had been left next to the jug she'd fetched and scooped a bit out to start rubbing into the scar down his chest. It was meant to help with inflammation or soreness in the surrounding muscle or...something.
"You know, I know you're joking about anything with a jackal, but now I'm curious," she noted wryly, smirking up at him.
"Y'know I can't feel whatever gunk they have you rub me down with," He complained, but he reclined nonetheless, having had many similar conversations over the past two weeks, "The scar is entirely nerveless, or so they've told me."
His hair was splayed behind him, falling over the pillow. He hated keeping it tied if he was laying down, the feeling drove him crazy. He lifted a hand to flick at Della's braid, and said, "You'll never get that entirely real and definitely not made up story out of me because even though I'll never lie, I'll also never snitch. Snitches get stitches, and I've had my fair share of those."
Her hair was a tad coarser than his, his inherently elven locks eternally silky, but it wasn't dry by any means. He swatted at the tip of her braid with his fingers like a cat would a piece of string, "I still think you've got elf-lookin hair. It's one of my few opinions about you that hasn't changed in the past few months."
Della snorted and rolled her eyes at him as she continued to massage the salve into the scar. A chuckled bubbled up in her chest and she swatted gently at his shoulder. "One of few that hasn't changed, huh? What about the ones that have changed then?" she murmured.
One task done, she set the salve aside and popped up onto the cot next to him, shifting around to put his head in her lap and reaching for a cup so she could pour him some water.
"Believe it or not, I used to think you were a prude," Bolion remarked, staring up at Della. He could sit up if he wanted to, and could walk, if not run by now... but he enjoyed being doted on, "A humourless prude, and one who fancied women!"
He twisted so that his cheek laid on Della's thigh, and let his arm hang over the edge of the cot. He much preferred Della to his cheap linen pillow - and - she came with heating. A truly marvellous innovation, or at least he thought so.
"Now I know," he continued, "That you have quite the sharp tongue, and while the jury is out on your opinion of the fairer sex, I'd say you're anything but prudish."
She choked on a noise that was somewhere between an indignant squeak and a laugh and cuffed the side of his head- very gently. "Yeah, well, not enjoying being molested in one's sleep hardly makes one a prude," she quipped.
Sort of absently, she combed her fingers through his hair and braced her other arm behind we to lean back on it a bit. "And I have nothing against women, per se. They're pleasing enough to look at, but I've never really thought about hopping into bed with one."
Smirking a bit, she tilted her head as she looked down at him. "Think you can get up for a minute, or you comfortable there?"
"Oh thank the heavens!" he crowed, shifting and twisting rather rapidly into a sitting position, before standing up and reaching high into the sky. His back popped and he could feel the strain of his legs finally giving way to movement again. He turned back to Della and smiled, saying, "I've been waiting for ever for someone in one of those off white monk dresses to say those words! Well, this words and others like them, but you catch my meaning."
He wasn't wearing much, a simple loincloth for modesty. If it were a male segregated wing, he'd most likely have been entirely in the nude. But that didn't seem to bother him as he jogged in place, relishing his probably short lived freedom before he got shoved back under some covers again. He'd been waiting on the hospice staff's official word, or something of the like to leave. His reasoning was the security they'd placed at the doors and around the tents, and the very skilled magicians who could both heal and restrain. He'd thought it rather progressive to not go running headfirst into a dangerous scenario immediately after surviving a previous one.
"Bol!" Della scrambled to try to grab him, but he was already up and practically bouncing in place like an overexcited toddler. "Damnit, man, would you just-" She shot a quick look toward the healers clustered closer to the entrance of the tent and saw one of the men glaring daggers at her.
"I am hardly official staff," she hissed at her companion, standing to grab his arm and try to shove him back into the cot. "What if you make yourself worse? Or get us thrown out? Gods and demons, can you just sit still?!"
"Miss." She winced as the voice cracked out over her shoulder and turned with her best smile.
"Um, yes?"
"You are disturbing the other patients. I will have to ask you to leave." The healer stared at her with an expression that looked as though he'd just had a mouthful of something sour. He gestured toward the entrance of the tent, but didn't move to touch her or guide her out.
"I'm disturbing-?!" Della bit down on a frustrated screech and shot a glare at Bol. "You see what you do?"
Bolion stopped trotting and turned to see this man. His body language quickly shifted from boisterous and playful to bordering on aggressive, but his voice was calm and his face expressionless when he asked, "Sir? Or, is it madam? I'm so sorry, I couldn't tell between the dress, the weak chin, and the generally nagging disposition- But that doesn't matter."
He laid a hand on Della's shoulder, and another on the Healer's, before continuing, "I am a patient in this institute. A paying, injured patient! I have here-" he removed his hand from the mage's shoulder to indicate toward Della, "A young and capable volunteer who is more than willing to wait on my every trivial need - and mind you there are a lot of those - while you the trained and capable physician are free to attend those who require your services! And you're here instead, telling off someone beneath your pay grade while people are dying man!"
He released Della to grab the man by both of his shoulders and gently shook him to make his point, "Your time is wasted here! There aren't even that many patients in this place! Look at that guy-" He pointed rather exuberantly at an old man with a recently amputated foot, snoring contentedly, "He's probably on death's row, he has no time to notice anything my nurse is doing!"
Bolion circled around behind the mage, speaking as he went and keeping both hands on his shoulders, "Besides, my ailment is largely that of the cardiac variety. I could have a heart attack, granted, but my lovely companion here is an electromage. If anyone has the capability to restart this heart in an emergency, it is she!"
Bolion, face well behind the healer's, wiggled his fingers at Della and mouthed something that looked like 'Do the sparky thing'. He then swung around the Healer's right, swinging his left arm around him and saying, "So you see, I am in good hands, maestro. Good enough for the time being, and if you really think she's so incompetent, then I'm afraid I'll have to go with her! We're a package deal."
It took all of her rather considerable will not to burst out laughing, but Della managed. She quirked one eyebrow subtly at Bol and his mouthed instructions before looking back to the healer and giving him her best approxmimation of a regal nod. As she did, blue sparks of electricity jumped between her horns and flashed in her eyes.
The healer was apparently trying to stammer something out, but couldn't get a word in edgewise. When Bol stopped to breathe, he managed to snap, "Very well. She is permitted to remain your caretaker, but if you two cause another scene you will both be asked to leave. As it seems your injury is no longer critical." He added the lady bit wryly, glaring at the rather energetic orc-elf.
With a little huff he turned on his heel and stalked over to seemingly check on one of his other patients. Della managed to keep a straight face as she took Bol'd arm and ushered him back to bed, but a grin cracked through once she had him there.
"You are something else, you know that?" she chuckled, her tone caught between exasperation and something like grudging awe.
Bolion sighed, resigned to being in his bed for at least another day or two. He'd have to get them kicked out himself if he wasn't admitted to leave soon. He fell back onto the cot, leg dangling and arms splayed wildly.
"And all for you, dearest," he said in a quite snooty accent and trailed a finger under her chin. His arm was just long enough for the tips of his fingers to brush the very bottom of her chin, but he felt like sitting up was too much effort, so that would have to do, "I can't wait until we can bounce from this place. This job is taking far too long."
She chuckled a bit and drew the blanket up over him again, resisting the urge to tuck him in like he really was a child.
Quite against her will, her lashes fluttered slightly as he stroked her chin and she ducked and tilted her head just a bit to press her cheek into his palm.
It was just so damn good to feel his touch, to know he was really safe. For now at least. "You have to be more careful," she murmured as she sat back. "I almost lost- you could have died back there, Bol." She reached out to brush some hair off his face, then snatched her hand back, a little flushed.
"I've almost died in many places," he replied, though in an odd tone. It was as if he wanted to say something, but didn't know how. Nonetheless, he continued, placing a hand on one of her knees, "I don't want to stay in this place any longer than I absolutely have to. D'you think we can get out today without being evicted? Because if we can't I'm willing to get thrown out, if the exit process takes more than an hour."
As he spoke he was plotting out the route to their mark; Maybe two, three days ride? And out of the city, it would be a solid ride. No domestic stops, no refreshing breaks, and it wouldn't be too cozy. Sand.
Bolion turned back to Della, eyes wandering... there was something about plain clothing on a beautiful woman that made him a little frisky. Or maybe he just hadn't had sex in two weeks, after a highly condensed fuckfest with that selfsame beautiful woman. Who knew? Either way, this wasn't the place, or the time...
...but, there was nothing stopping him from playful banter. He squeezed her knee, and asked in a quiet, but suggestive tone, "What do you have on under there?"
Della shot him a warning, if playful, look and quirked an eyebrow. "My smalls- why so suddenly curious?"
Her eyes flickered over to the healer that had just stomped away from them. "I'd mind my hands if I were you. We might actually get thrown out."
A smirk curled at her lips and she added thoughtfully, "Although, a quick tumble might be exactly what it would take to get us tossed out as soon as possible. If you're really aiming for speed, that is.." A laugh was hidden in her voice and her eyes glinted playfully as she glanced at him sidelong.
"I'd prefer quality over efficiency," Bolion replied, though he didn't remove his hand, "At least for now. But I'm pretty sure we don't have to go all the way to get thrown out... Of course, there's only one way to find out."
Bolion sat up, using Della's knee and the tentpole as supports. He angled himself so the wide pole nearly hid him from the opening of the tent, where the most traffic was. At this angle, only a few curious patients would be able to see him if they wanted to. Not that the few sleeping and comatose city dwellers would find anything out of the ordinary with anything he intended to do.
He checked half-assedly around the pillar, almost like a teenager watching for adults on patrol. He looked back to Della, as if asking if they were safe. Well, safe enough. Ultimately, it didn't really matter though, and he beckoned her over with his finger.
She stood cautiously and glanced from Bol to the entrance of the tent. "What? You're not serious, are you?" she muttered as she stepped closer, automatically reaching out to offer him support as she did. She wound up sort of pressed against his chest, ducking her shoulder slightly to get his one arm looped around her in case he suddenly collapsed.
"Alright, I'm here. What's this about then?" She quirked an eyebrow at him and cocked her head slightly to the side.
Bolion leaned into her, and began kissing her just under her jaw on the side of her neck, somewhat hesitantly at first but slowly becoming more passionate. The hand she'd slung over her shoulder began picking at the strings keeping the top of her dress fitted and on her body. He broke his hickey-in-progress to answer, "It's about having some fun, and getting kicked out to properly have some more fun..."
He had just succeeded in pulling the first few strings loose, and Della's neckline plunged. She was now baring the tops of her shoulders, and some very generous cleavage, even if under her shift. He'd intended to go further, but upon seeing his handiwork, he decided to leave it there. After he removed the shift of course. Shifting his kisses to her lips, Bolion began exploring Della's mouth his tongue. While he was probing her mouth, his free hand pulled the shift strings free, letting the silken garment drop until it fell onto the dress, which was about halfway down Della's breasts at that point. His other hand was on the bed, rather twitchy in having nothing to do.
"Bol." Della drew in a shaky breath as he started kissing her neck, and her body tensed slightly as her eyes flickered around. She realized they were actually trying to get caught, but being so public was...uncomfortable. "Bol, wait-"
Then he was kissing her mouth and she sighed quietly. She shivered as her clothes began to shift down her body and pressed closer in a perhaps futile effort to hide some of her cleavage. Her hands traced down to his hips and gripped lightly, pulling him into her body slightly.
Pulling away from the kiss, she trailed her lips over his jaw and down his neck to turn her attention to the dip of her collar. "What exactly is the plan here?" she murmured against his skin. "Is anyone looking?" One of her hands slid over to his on the bed as she spoke, lacing their fingers together.
Bolion turned his head, using the corner of his eye to watch the entrance. Another nurse had entered but was chatting with the security, and he didn't see the disgruntled healer from before.
"I guess we'll have to make some noise, unless you'd rather just make out until we eventually get caught," he suggested, "I'm not opposed to that. I hope you'll remember that I don't often try to get caught in public." He moved his free hand around from her shoulders, and under her arm to her waist. Pulling her closer - as close as he could in their current position - he ducked his head down below hers, planting his lips just above her collar, and trailing his way back up.
She chuckled a bit despite herself and let her head tilt back slightly to bare more of her neck. "Well I should hope not," she chuckled softly, then her breath hitched just a bit as his lips skated over a particularly sensitive bit of skin.
Make some noise. Alright then. Della leaned into him a bit more and let her eyes flutter half closed as she moaned, playing it up a good bit though there was a core of real pleasure behind the sound. Her hands moved to the small of her back, slipping under his shirt and nails scratching lightly at his spine.
"Oh, Bol," she moaned again, trying to be loud enough to get noticed without seeming fake.
It was rather hard to keep a straight face, and she turned her face into the curve of his neck to hide a sudden wave of chuckles, shoulders shaking slightly.
Bolion couldn't keep his laughter in either, stopping his kissing barrage for a second to badly suppress a laugh. He laid his forehead against her collarbone, and when he'd finished his discreet laughing session, he realised what he was staring directly down at.
"Has anyone ever told you," he asked nonchalantly, keeping his eyes locked on his targets, "That you have very nice tits?" Bolion slid a finger into her cleavage, hooking the material keeping her currently arguable decency together. He yanked down, baring her breasts to the world in a bouncing, magnificent display. Bolion felt a distinct throbbing growing stronger below him, and he smiled a wolfish smile. He resumed his kissing, this time moving down from her collarbone until he'd kissed his way to her left nipple. He began sucking on her nipple, even pinching it ever so gently between his teeth. He had been using his free hand to balance himself, but now he moved around to the back of her dress, firmly grasping the thick base of her tail through her dress and gyrating his pinched thumb and middle finger just above where the underside of her tail met her ass.
Della's laughter cut off in a sudden, ragged gasp and her spine arched slightly. Instinctively she raised a hand to try to cover herself somewhat, but seeing as Bolion had his face buried in her breast there didn't seem to be much point.
Her eyes flickered around warily, trying to gauge if any of the nurses or healers had spotted them yet. She couldn't quite tell, but a few of the patients' attention in the surrounding beds certainly seemed to have been drawn.
"B-Bol-" Another sharp breath and she clenched her eyes shut. There was very little playacting now, her reactions fairly genuine. Her hands clenched against his back, nails dragging sharply against his skin.
Bolion began pulling Della's skirt up, over her tail and ass. He knew that she curled her tail when she was aroused, so he pulled it free of where it loosely gripped her leg and none to gently. He handled it only as roughly as he'd handle himself, but gentle wouldn't be a word to describe what he was doing. He explored the area around the base of her tail, finding just beneath it her anus. He unlatched from her tit long enough to slip his middle finger into his mouth and get it DIY lubed up. A quick mischievous grin and he was back to sucking on his partner, albeit the other nipple this time.
His newly wet finger went directly back to her asshole, probing circles around the rim, before sliding slowly in. He took special care to be gentle here, but wasn't timid about it. Before long, he was knuckle deep in her ass, drawing his fingour out and thrusting it back in with increasing speed. His intensity was still on the lower end, however. Assholes were sensitive, after all.
A sharp cry was quickly muffled against his shoulder as she bit down instinctively, eyes going wide. Three quick tremors gripped her body in rapid succession and she wriggled in his grip, not entirely sure what she hoped to accomplish with her squirming but unable to help it.
"Fucking warn a girl, will you?!" she hissed, eyes still large in her face. This was entirely uncharted territory, so to speak, and she really wasn't sure if she liked it or not.
She certainly wasn't sure how they could still be going unnoticed.
Her hips bucked forward a bit quite without her making the conscious decision to do so and she ducked her face against his chest, breath coming in quick pants now as her body adjusted. A small whimper rose up in her throat and one hand gripped his hip so tight she thought her claws might actually have broken skin.
A little vindictively, she slid her other hand around over his waist to the dip of his pelvis and then inside the front of his trousers, wrapping her fingers around him and jerking down his length none too gently. She wasn't rough, exactly, but she certainly wasn't as delicate as she could have been.
Bolion laughed, "Watch out, it's been two weeks, and I'm very horny. Not to mention I've got the best girl a man could ask for topless in front of me. I might just cum all over you..." as he spoke he pulled down his waistline, so that his member wasn't hitting the material of his pants every time she jerked him.
"And since you asked, here's your warning," he continued, before grinning vindictively and on a thrust pushed his index finger into her ass as well, doubling up the size she had to take. Her tits were jiggling like crazy with all of the gyrating and bucking she was doing, but his focus wasn't entirely on them. He lifted her chin with his free hand and kissed her roughly the moment he slid both of his fingers knuckle deep. The feeling of her skin on his was stimulating enough, but for a moment, he forgot that he wanted to be caught, simply caught up in the act.
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A tent down, Faur, the healer from before, had just finished cauterising a particularly nasty case of necrosis, when a nurse came calling for him. He looked up, irritated at being interrupted, but his expression grew wary at the obvious distress of the nurse.
"We have a problem!"
Della's spine bowed so deeply her body created an exaggerated arch, for a moment looking like a classic painting of some swooning maiden. The sound that rose up in her throat was something between a cry and a whimper and she bit down hard on her bottom lip in an attempt to muffle it, drawing blood.
"Fuck you," she growled, giving another sharp tug along his member and dragging her thumb roughly over his head. Then she was kissing him back, drawing his lip between her teeth and nipping just over the edge of gently. Her hips jerked forward again and she squirmed around until her leg slipped between his, knee bending slightly to rub against his crotch as she fought the urge to just start riding his thigh.
This was crazy. She'd never been like this before, never, even with all the incredibly frustrating nights they'd spent with him playing with her tail to pass off their cover story as master and slave. Even before, the life she'd led before they'd met, she didn't think she'd ever been this- this forceful. This needy.
It terrified her a little bit.
But she didn't exactly have the mind space to really think about it. Or the time, as it turned out.
"What is the meaning of this?!"
Della jerked away from the kiss and whipped her head around to find the healer from earlier staring at them, wide-eyed, a rather flustered nurse at his side. Heat rose up in her face and she opened her mouth- just about the time the tension coiled low in her belly threatened to break, and all that came out was a sharp gasp as she fought back her peak and quickly turned her head into Bol's chest, shivering.
"Uh..." Bolion began, "Pre-coital canoodlery?" He punctuated his point by slowly pushing another of his fingers all the way into Della's asshole. That made three fingers, and down to the knuckle. He took the occasion to dig up and in, taking advantage of the curve of her rectum. He'd have to explore the possibilities further.
The nurse who'd gone to get Faure, while visibly distraught, seemed to be rather locked on Bolion's dick. Perhaps she'd never seen one. Perhaps she'd never seen one used. That was more likely. As for Faure, he seemed to be ignoring Della entirely, in favour of glaring at Bolion. Maybe that was because her tits were hanging out, and she was glistening with sweat. Or maybe it was because her ass was out and facing everyone, and Bolion's hand was about fifty percent inside it. She didn't seem to notice though, as face-in-chest as she was.
"Out!" Faure screamed, a shade of red usually reserved for tomatoes, "Out now! Get the fuck out!" he had started going a littleness pale, no doubt a large range of emotions occurring at the same time.
...But, Bolion complied, and he slid all of his fingers out of Della. Tucking his length back into his pants, and flipping her skirt down, Bolion shifted Della around so that her legs were both on the same side of his lap. He left her upper dress undone, which was fine, breasts were a common sight in the city. He whispered to her, "Can you walk comfortably, you think?"
The mage's tail lashed nervously from side to side but she didn't raise her head, mortification starting to set in as the haze of lust began to fade.
Then Bolion was sliding a third finger into her and she gave a sharp mewling sound that was not muffled nearly as much as she would have liked into his chest. Panting, she snapped her tail down in an effort to hide at least something, but only succeeded in pressing Bol's hand tighter to her ass, which in turn illicited another squeak.
She sagged slightly when he finally stopped touching her, one hand snapping out automatically to brace against the cot as she panted. Blushing azure, she gave a sharp nod in response to his question and straightened herself up, pulling the dress up a bit and holding it to her chest.
Doing her utmost not to make eye contact with anyone, she scurried from the tent. Once she'd gotten a bit of distance, she practically collapsed against a nearby building, covering her face with one hand and groaning quietly.
"We are never, ever doing that again."
"Define which part of that," Bolion said through a slightly hysterical giggle as he caught up, Erthas and their belongings in hand, "The anal play or the public sex?"
Keeping a gentle but firm grip on Erthas's reins, Bolion slowed from a jog to a walk as he neared Della. Letting Erthas's reins drop, he took Della's dress strings from her hands and slung them back over her neck and under her arms, re-tying them. Once he was done, he took her gently by the shoulders and turned her around, asking, "Are you okay? Rather, are you ready to ride? You can be okay on the way out of the city, as long as we get out of here relatively quickly..."
"Both! Maybe- I don't know!" Della took a few shuddering breaths and let Bol fix her dress, still collecting herself. "Just...not again." She rubbed at her eyes, then nodded briskly. "I can ride."
You.
No, bad Della, bad! She was just all worked up and her body wanted an outlet, that was all.
Still very flushed, she grumbled to herself under her breath and vaulted up onto the lizard's back, rubbing his neck absently. She was a little sore from just his play, and she flushed a deeper shade of blue, but she tried not to let it show.
Bolion's grin spread across his face again, feeling truly himself for the first time in a while. He swung up onto Erthas behind Della, nonchalantly lifting her tail out of the way and dropping it back over his thigh when he was settled. There was a time when the rather touchy appendage would have annoyed him, but at this point, it wasn't much of a concern. It felt comfortable.
He began rubbing her shoulders and dug his heels into Erthas' sides, propelling them forward, "D'you remember the way out, or am I your guide as well as your masseuse?" He was mapping out their route in his head, but he'd have to pull out the actual map when they left the city.
Della swallowed a rather pleased groan as he started working the tension from her shoulders and resisted the urge to just close her eyes and lean back into his hands.
"I remember the way," she replied. "Not quite sure why we're getting outside the city's wall though- we still have a job to do, yeah?" She glanced over her shoulder at him. "Doesn't it make more sense to stay in the city proper?"
Where once there might have been snarl in the comment, now it was just a genuine question. She knew he understood Essyrn better than she did, and she trusted his judgement.
"You do know we're going to a plantation outside the city right?" he asked, a tad incredulously. He was sure he'd mentioned it at least once, but maybe that was on him. Despite that, he continued, "The guy owns private land, and he lives there on an estate. That's what I was talking about when I brought up the new disguises. We need to infiltrate."
He moved his hands down to her shoulder blades, resigned to giving her a full back massage. Admittedly, it was a tad difficult on the top of a giant lizard and while she was sitting up straight, but he managed. "We came here to ask around regarding that self-same infiltration, but the actual place is about two day's ride from the city."
Her blush worsened. "Ah." She'd assumed the estate itself was within the border of the city, but she'd never actually bothered to check. That was on her.
Clearing her throat, she quickly tried to change the subject to hide her embarrassment as she guided Erthas through the streets. "So, um...how are you...feeling?"
She winced. Subtle, Dell, subtle. "I mean, that was a lot of- ahem- exertion all at once for someone who's been on bed rest for weeks. You doing okay?"
Bolion actually laughed, before replying, "I had one heart attack, Del, it's not like I got stabbed in the lung or something. I'm a little tougher than the average bear, gimme some credit." He began to work on her ribs and noted that a lot of her tension was in her spinal region. Odd. Maybe it was the positions he'd have her contorted into. His grin became impish, and he gave her side a pinch before continuing.
"Besides, with you," He took this opportunity to lean in beside her, resting his chin on her shoulder, "It's always worth a little exertion."
Della squeaked and squirmed a bit at the pinch, making Erthas grumble a complaint beneath them. "Bo-ol." She dragged his name out until it was nearly three syllables and mock glared at him sidelong. "Cut it out, or I will stop the lizard in the first open patch of sand I see and jump you, I swear to gods."
The man was far too adept at getting her all hot and bothered, and he knew it too. Bastard. She still hadn't completely wound down from their earlier play, and as much as she liked the massage having his hands all over her wasn't exactly helping matters.
"And who says that's not exactly what I'm trying to do?" He teased, shifting his hands from massaging to wrapping his arms around her midriff, pulling her back just enough so that he sat up and she reclined into him, but also so that she wouldn't steer them into someone. He had faith in Erthas, though, and wasn't too worried.
His laugh was low, more a chuckle than a fully realised peal, but either way it conveyed his amusement. He muttered into her ear, "You act as if that's the last thing on my agenda..."
A rather delightful shiver trickled down her spine and Della found herself settling back against him with surprising ease. "Oh you are just asking for it, boy," she muttered, a smirk tugging at we lips. She chanced taking her eyes off their path long enough to twist her head and press a rather heated kiss to the underside of his jaw, nibbling playfully before she broke away rather abruptly and settled herself back properly in the saddle.
"But we need to be focused." She tried to keep her tone stern, but there was a hint of a laugh she couldn't quite get rid of. "We need to be all about the mission. Besides, didn't I just say no more public sex? Not like there's a convenient bush to duck behind in this place." She gestured widely to the sandstone buildings around them.
"Poppycock!" He exclaimed, and suddenly felt very old.
"And besides, it's a two day ride," he said, resuming his back massage, this time working the lower back, "That's two whole days in the middle to the desert with only a lizard, sand, and solitude. Not to mention I refuse to ride through the night this time. We're setting up camp every night damnit!" He kept his tone almost goofily stern, and gave her hips a playful squeeze, before rambling onward, "That's surely enough time to canoodle after all the cartography and inventory checking."
He leaned in beside her ear again, voice no less ridiculous, "Maybe I can even experiment with what I consider my new favourite entrance... hmm?"
She swatted at him playfully as they approached the wall and the massive city gates. "Hush, you'll get us in trouble," she stage whispered, though her ears had gone hot and her face was flushed deep azure.
She still wasn't entirely sure how she felt about...that. It hadn't been bad, he'd been careful and even though she was sore there hadn't really been any pain or anything in the moment. Still, just thinking about it made her want to curl in on herself and just cease to exist, which made it rather difficult to feel sexy about the whole thing.
"We can discuss it later," she murmured as they drew closer to the watch posted at the gate. Ducking her head, she fell easily- almost annoying easily- into the role of a slave as she quickly but calmly tried to scoot Erthas through the gate.
A call down from the gate pulled his attention, and he answered the beckon with his own rapid-fire Essyrni speech. It wasn't much of an exchange, and it led nowhere, but it had sufficiently shifted his attention. He examined the gate roof as they rode beneath it, and pulled a map out when they'd cleared the exit. The crush was no longer crushing, and people began dispersing along the packed earth roads and sandy trails... though none went in the direction they had to. He shuffled the map around Della's arms so that his hands were both in front of her, and he poked his head over her shoulder while he pointed out their destination.
After he was done, he re-folded the map and settled back into a reclined position, map in hand and sun on his face.
"I'll never get tired of desert travel," he remarked, contented smile widening on his face.
Della huffed and shuffled herself a bit so Bol could see the map but she could still see the desert ahead of them and wouldn't shift Erthas off course.
"That makes one of us," she snorted. "It's too damn hot. How do you stand this?" She twisted to pour at him for a moment before correcting their course slightly as they trekked further away from the wall as of the city.
"Because home is home, Della," He said under closed eyelids, "No matter where you've been and where you're going, home is home, and there'll never be anything like it..."
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Sun-baked adobe huts dwarfed by limestone towers that shimmered in the heat were visible just on their horizon. While the oasis they encircled couldn't be seen, the palm trees and lush undergrowth it provided could easily be seen as a patch of vibrant green on the canvas of beiges, whites, and blues.
It was a large place, to say the least. A wall, and it could have been a fortress, if not a large village. Militarised, and it would have been a formidable stronghold... But for now it was simply an estate, or so it appeared. Bolion dismissed his thoughts, however entertaining they could be. Now was the time to plan their entrance.
"What's the plan?"
Della gave a low whistle as she swept her eyes over the estate. She'd never understand these rich types.
"Well..." She chewed at her bottom lip, lolling her head from side to side. "Start with the basics, I guess. Do we need papers of some kind we should get forging?"