Spirits of the Earth

Late at night, a wagon pulled by a woman and a man on horseback, and tailed by four other riders, rolled down the streets of Ketra as it had done many years prior. It was an ominous-looking thing, like the skeleton of some long dead beast: a covered wagon enclosed with iron bars like a cage, which is exactly what it was.

For within the barred walls were a group of eight young slaves, men, women, and children, all huddled together without much space to spread out. A few of them wore strange collars around their necks, and all of them wore manacles, and they were all unmistakably Serenian with their strange-colored hair and fair skin. All street rats she and her men had snatched off the streets.

Gwendolyn, the female half of the duo pulling the wagon, always made sure to sell her stock across borders; it was easier to avoid complications that way, and easier to ensure the slaves did not successfully escape.

Gwen pulled the wagon to a stop before the inn she routinely stayed at, and swung down off of her horse, smoke from the cigarette in her mouth trailing her. Inside the wagon, a couple of the slaves whimpered, and a few were crying openly, as they'd been doing the last few hours. Ugh. So annoying. Gwendolyn rolled her eyes and stepped around to the side of the wagon to bang on it loudly a few times, hard enough to startle them and get a few blessed seconds of silence.

"Oh, shut up, will you?" she said around the cigarette. She plucked it from her lips and breathed a stream of smoke into the wagon as she stared them down. A couple coughs answered her. "Behave yourselves. Good slaves get good masters, remember that. Jessen! Karo!"

The man that had been riding beside her slid down off his horse, followed by one of the men that had been bringing up the rear.

"Yeah, boss?"

"Make sure they're all fed and watered," Gwen said, nodding toward the wagon. "I want them cleaned up for tomorrow. If any of them give you lip or cry or resist, punish them, but don't leave any marks."

She turned to the others. "The rest of you, get the horses taken care of, help these two out, and then you're free for the night. Don't get too wild. It's going to be a busy day tomorrow."

There were murmurs of assent, and Gwen was already heading inside the tavern, because she needed a drink. Hey, she knew her limits! She just didn't trust them to.

And besides.

It was one of the perks of being the boss.

Slavery.  He had no real opinion on the flesh trade.  Everybody had to make their money somehow.  He didn't know if he had enough pride to consider himself above such matters but he soon decided that he didn't.  Pride was for people who had things to lose.

Quinlan had been tracking them for miles.  For slavers they were awfully bold, but he figured that was on account of their leader being rather bold herself.  He knew a bit about Gwendolyn; she was mean and that was putting it lightly.  It was unfortunate that they had to cross paths like this, unfortunate for whom, he couldn't say.

But he had a job to do and Quinlan had no intention of not getting paid.  There was a slave to be wrangled up, and he had to make sure it was the right one.  Boy would THAT be embarrassing.

Quinlan was already inside the tavern when Gwendolyn walked in, waiting by the bar and drinking water rather than a shot of bourbon like he wanted.  Stay cool, Quinlan, stay cool.

Striding inside, the buckles on her boots jingling with her steps, Gwen headed to the bar and leaned her elbows on the counter top.

"The usual?" the old barkeep tiredly asked, as he always did, the same old barkeep that had been working here for Ansgar knew how many years. Since she was a little girl, at least! He seemed to never age; he looked as old and haggard as ever.

"The day I tell you different will be the day your heart gives out from the shock. I wouldn't dream of it, Kingsly," Gwen said.

While Kingsly bustled off to fetch her whiskey, Gwen busied herself with looking around, taking in the other patrons--all potential buyers in tomorrow's market, and perhaps still hungover and willing to spend more than their wives would appreciate. Her eyes landed on the man standing nearest to her, waiting by the bar and nursing a drink--and then her eyebrows lifted appreciatively.

While the other men here were all crater-faced toads, this one...

Well, well, wasn't he easy on the eyes?

She smiled at him, idly puffing out a smoke ring that traveled to him and wreathed his pretty face. "My, you don't belong here, do you?" she asked, taking another long drag on her cigarette. "What's your story?"

Didn't belong?  What an understatement.  Quinlan turned to the woman beside him, blowing away the smoke of her cigarette and gave a quirked expression.  His mouth might have even had a grin playing on his lips, but not quite.  It was crooked and curious and he sipped his water slowly.  "And who's to say I don't belong?" he replied.

"I've got as much right as anyone to enjoy a drink."  He grinned and nodded to her, going back to his water, but cursing himself for not saying anything better.  "I'm sure you're here to do the same, yes?"

Gwen's smile was lazy as a cat's and just as smug and undeterred. She blew another stream of smoke out to the side, not aiming this one at him.

"Don't misunderstand," she said as she looked back at him. "I don't mean that as an insult. If anything, it's a compliment."

She motioned with her cigarette, sending smoke swirling around. "Considering the company, I wouldn't want to look like I belonged. Would you?"

"Then that makes two of us," he said and pushed his water away.  He was getting sick of the stuff.  Sure it was as vital to life as blood, but this man wanted something that would burn that dull sensation away.  He was on a job, sure, but that didn't mean he couldn't enjoy himself.  After all, if he could get this Gwendolyn to lower her inhibitions, maybe he could knock her out, take the key and be off before sunrise.

So he put on his best grin, though it was wry and he glanced to her drink.  "So what's your poison then?  I'm guessin something stiff, from a long day's work, and a beer just wouldn't cut it, right?  Hey, Old Man, I'll have what she's having."

"Good guess! It's just plain, straight up, good ol' fashioned whiskey," Gwen said, and right on cue Kingsly brought them their rusty tankards filled with the stuff. She picked it up, glancing into the cup to make sure there was nothing funky floating around in the liquid, and then smiled over at Pretty Boy.

"I hate the weak shit. May as well be diluted cat piss for all it does, and it tastes just as bad. This does, too, but at least it does something." She held her tankard out toward Quinlan. "Cheers!"

And then she took a swig of it and sighed as it burned all the way down and spread warmth through her core.

"So, what's your name, Pretty Boy?"

Pretty boy?  Now this was going to be interesting.  At least now he had an in.  But she was considerably...er, older than him.  Maybe he wouldn't have to go all the way.  And if he did,  Well, he just hoped he wouldn't get so drunk, he'd forget to take her keys.

Quinlan clanked cups with her and tossed back a swig.  He coughed.  Damn that shit was strong!  He laughed and looked at her.  "Damn woman.  Even this stuff tastes like piss.  But it's good," he said and grinned at her.

He stuck a hand out to her to shake.  "Rylan.  A pleasure. And you are?"

"Gwendolyn," Gwen said as she shook Rylan's hand, her grip strong and firm. Many a person had told her she had a "manly" handshake, and she was fine with that! "But you can just call me 'Gwen', pretty boy."

She took another long pull of whiskey, and it was while she was gulping it down that the door opened behind them and a couple of her men came tromping in. Her eyes narrowed and she set her drink back down, held up a finger at Rylan--"Please excuse me."--then twisted around to shoot a hard glare their way.

"And what do you gentlemen think you're doing?"

The men looked startled. "You said we were free after we finished with the--"

"After you were finished. There's no bloody way in hell you're already done. Get back out there and finish it properly."

With some surly looks and grumbles, they turned and trudged back out. Gwen sighed and shook her head. "Idiots. Ah, my apologies for that. Where were we again? Oh, right, you were about to tell me what brings you to these parts, weren't you? It's a rather shady neck of the woods, to be traveling alone in."

He to admit, he was impressed with the way she handled her men.  She didn't take any bullshit.  And while he would have admired that quality in any employer of his, he knew it'd make his task of relieving her of her keys all that much more difficult.  Hrmmm, looked like liquor was the only way to go.  He'd just have to think fast and on his feet.  Just another night on the job, he reminded himself.

"I'm a traveler," 'Rylan' replied with a grin.  "Nothing original, I'm afraid.  But I can never find myself able to stay in one spot for much longer than a few days.  But me wandering here....oh, I guess I must've taken a wrong turn somewhere."  He laughed and raised his glass to that.

"Actually, I was looking buy a little merchandise, and sell it in my travels.  I like to collect a variety of things.  I'm not too picky if I see a profit in it."  'Rylan' smiled again and gestured to her.  "And yourself?  A trader perhaps?  I'm only guessing by the efficient way you keep your men in line.  That's admirable.  That's why I prefer to travel alone.  Less people to worry about."

"Merchandise, hmm?" Gwen said, her interest piqued. She had never had any objections to mixing business with pleasure--in her trade, they often went hand in hand.

Setting her whiskey down, she crushed her cigarette on the counter to put it out. "You say you're not particular, so long as it's profitable, but I wonder how true that is? I am a merchant of sorts, you see, but my merchandise is living. That's why I'm curious if you have any moral quandaries, or if everything truly is fair game."

She swept the ashes to the floor. "I'll just cut to the chase: I'm in the skin trade. I trade slaves. If you're not picky about the kind of products you collect and sell, I have a number of pretty, exotic things you could fetch a good price for. It's more of a long-term investment, of course. But if you put the right amount of work into it, you can more than double the price of what you paid in the right market. You just have to know your audience."

Oh, good this was the right Gwendolyn then.  You wouldn't believe how common that name was.  And knowing Quinlan he'd botch the job before it was even started.  And wouldn't that look wonderful on his resume.  He smiled at Gwen, even quirking a brow charmingly at her.

Good, she fell for it.

"Moral quandaries?  I don't think I even know what those are," he said with a wicked grin.  "Say, you got a smoke on you?  I seem to be out."  He wasn't, but he wasn't going to waste a paper and tobacco if he could get it for free.

"The skin trade.  I can't say my hands are exactly clean, myself.  I've dabbled here and there.  But, darling, if there's a profit in it, you've got my attention.  From the look of you, you've come a long way with your lot.  Carrying a few fussy ones, are you?"

Oh, she liked this one. Pretty, smart, and not afraid of being ruthless. She liked him well enough to sacrifice some of her tobacco on him, even.

Reaching into a pocket in her coat, she produced a small piece of paper, and a little paper package filled with tobacco. She offered both to Quinlan so he could roll his own as she spoke.

"Lord, so many fussy ones," Gwen said, and rubbed her temples at the thought. "You would think after a week or so they'd just calm down and accept things. I keep telling them, it'll only be worse for them if they don't. Why, just in this very city a couple months back, there was a massacre. A bloody massacre! Some brainless girl decided to make a run for it and managed to free all the others, and rather than herd them up and deal with it, that trader had them all gutted. Put the fear back on the market, it did."

She shook her head. "What a bloody waste. I keep telling them, they complain about me, they ain't seen nothing yet." And she took another long gulp of whiskey that started to give her a nice, pleasant buzz.

"At least they're pretty this time around, the fussy ones. It almost makes it bearable."

'Rylan' took the offered tobacco and nodded a thanks to her, rolling some up in the paper and handing back what remained.  He stuck the smoke in his lips and searched for his tinder in his pocket, but seemed to come up short.  He had it of course, but he wanted to see if she would offer.  Liquor sometimes made a person more generous.

"Pretty ones?" he said with a quirked brow and sipped his own drink.  "I'm in no condition to judge anyone, but I'd never spoil my stock.  They might never want to leave."  He laughed, jesting and grinned at her.  "But there might be a bright side to that fear.  The ones that want to pay, will pay big, because you've got better stock.  Thicken the market, too much competition, less profit.  Make another trader lose his stock, you close in for the kill.  Sounds like a wicked plan to make your pockets heavy with gold."

"Precisely," Gwen said with a grin, and pulled her fire striker from the same pocket before handing it off to Rylan.

"And people do pay more for what I offer. You see some traders that brand their stock, or whip them, the fools. There are ways to punish your stock that leave no marks, and people will pay more for the unmarked, healthy ones. Branding?  Ugly and unnecessary. If the buyer wants to brand their slaves, by all means, but I know I wouldn't want to buy something that has someone else's brand on it. And what pleasure house is going to accept whores with whip scars? Unless they're a niche market, I suppose, but it looks trashy. Really, some traders are just lazy and uncreative. They take no pride in their work."

She smiled at the man, expression thoughtful. "You seem to have a keen understanding of this. Have you ever considered going into the business?"

Quinlan puffed gradually on the smoke and formed a little 'o' with his mouth.  He grinned slyly at her when she posed her question.  "And go up against you in competition?  No thanks," he said.  "I know a wild cat when I see one.  Not that I'm at all displeased."

He drank heartily from his whiskey.  "I prefer to dabble on occasion.  If I stick to one occupation, there's all the ups and downs that come with it.  If I come and go as I please, buying one, make a profit.  I make money without having to worry about the upkeep and damages involved with the trade.  Like you said, some people do in fact have moral quandaries about the trade, and are just as likely to interrupt the grease flow that makes the business so lucrative to begin one.  I prefer to minimalize my chances of being burned.  Too much."

He shook his head.  "But I'm sure you're sick of talking about business.  And from the looks of it, your glass is running empty. KINGSLY!  Fill hers up here!  And mine as well."

Gwen's smile broadened.

He was certainly right about the 'wild cat' bit...

She wondered if he'd let her show him just how much of a wild cat she could really be.

Which was why she was pretty pleased when the topic shifted away from business. Oh, she'd never turn down the chance to talk up her merchandize with a potential buyer, but after an entire day of dealing with business, she was also rather burned out on it. As soon as Kingsly filled her glass, she scooped it back up.

"Mm. You've got a good eye for more than just business, I see," she said, taking a sip. "I like a man that can anticipate my needs."

And she gave him a wink at that, before casually reaching over to brush a bit of ash from his shirt, though it was really more of an excuse to touch him. She made a little, "Huh!" sound, smiling, and pressed lightly on his chest. "Impressive," she said. "You're rock solid."

[Invasion of personal space, alert! :U]

Quinlan inwardly was taken off guard at the forward motion to make contact with him.  He wanted to laugh nervously and even give a sheepish grin.  'Rylan' however had to play it cool, remember the mission.  And the gold he'd get when he delivered the slave.  GAH!  He still didn't even know which one it was!  Okay, just take a breath.

So he did, and winked at Gwen, taking another drink from the whiskey.  Oh, that burned good.  Hopefully it'd whisk away any inhibitions he might be considering adopting in this moment.  'Rylan' crossed his legs and leaned back, cleaning off what ash remained on his shirt and laughing.  "Why thank you," he said.  "One can't survive long out here with hard travel on a soft body.  I'm sure you understand."

[Bad touch! Baaaad touch!]

"I understand perfectly!" Gwen said, and only drew her hand away when Rylan leaned back. "This lifestyle ain't for the weak of body or mind. If you're not the wolf, you're the lamb, after all."

She swirled her whiskey in her cup, glancing idly at a passing tavern wench, with her big tits and soft body, the sort that had other men in the place drooling. "I never was a lamb. I think that frightens some people. I don't make you nervous, do I?"

Because if there was one thing she was, it was observant, and she'd noticed--or rather felt, in his muscles--the slight hint of discomfort when she'd touched him. It was subtle and barely there, but like a shepherd that knew how to read his flock, she knew how to read people. Either way, Rylan wasn't the only one hoping the whiskey would whiskey away his inhibitions. Some people could be a little shy or awkward about the age difference at first, or intimidated by her, but with age came experience--and the added bonus that her fertile years were over.

[Dat menopause doe!  So hot. xD]

Rylan tilted his head at her question and he grinned, clearly amused.  "I wouldn't call it nervous.  It's more like the itch of anticipation.  I guess I'm a little antsy.  I need more whiskey."

He knocked back his cup and slammed it down fro Kingsly to refill and he tipped the man a gold coin.  He took a long drag from his smoke and visibly relaxed.  After all he faced demons and evil spirits on a regular basis!  What was a stinkin' slaver gonna do.  Not to mention far be it from him to NOT want to get laid.

[LITERALLY. BECAUSE HOT FLASHES! *badum tish!* xDD]

"Antsy, hm? You know, there are cures for that," Gwen said as she took another sip of her whiskey and gave him a sly look, complete with playful eyebrow waggle.

Just jump her Quinlan.  Make her see stars, snatch the keys and just free them all.  Let her men clean up the mess.  Easy peasy, booby squeazy.

"Oh yeah?  It might just be ants in my pants.  What would you suggest?" he asked with a curious brow, and a hand placed idly on her thigh.

[Easy peasy, booby squeazy...the sound I made was not human. xDD]

"I'd suggest removing your pants," Gwen said with a crooked smile, her eyes flicking down to the hand on her thigh. Covering his hand with her own, she boldly slid it more inward so he could feel her heat. "It's a tried and true solution."

At her boldness, Quiinlan felt his blood burn.  A foolish thrill surely but he found himself grinning never the less.  "Oh that's an interesting proposal.  Is there someplace private we could go so you could properly inspect them?" he asked with a grin and his hand gripped the inside of her thigh.

And the cat was in the bag!

Gwen's blood ran warmer when he squeezed her thigh--something that had little to do with the whiskey--and it was a good thing he asked his question, because while all this teasing was fun, she was about ready to cut to the chase! Just in case there were any doubts, Gwen flashed him a predatory smile, grabbed the front of his shirt, and pulled him in closer so she could kiss him roughly on the mouth, her teeth playfully nipping his bottom lip.

"Ants in the pants is a serious problem," she said against his mouth. "I'll have to be very thorough."

And with that said, she drew several coins from her purse to pay for both their drinks (hey, if she was getting laid, it was the least she could do!), slapped them on the counter, and shouted for Kingsly.

"Kingsly, I'll be taking the room upstairs. I hope it's not occupied?"

The barkeep turned around, a knowing look on his face. "It's all yours, dear."

With a grin, Gwen finished off her whiskey and rose to her feet with only a slight wobble. "Let's go, Pretty Boy."

Good gods, his blood was on fire and Quinlan hated that he could be so easily distracted with sex.  Sure he was a man, but it must've just been the whiskey talking.  The kiss sent him reeling, just a little and he had to catch himself on the chair lest he topple over.  And wouldn't that be embarrassing.  Quinlan said nothing when she promptly demanded her room and knew just then that she did this kind've thing often.

Nobody just had a set room unless they planned on using it.  And HE was to be her ritual sacrifice!  Well, it was for a good cause.

Sorta

"Easy, babe.  It ain't like I'm goin' anywhere!"  Because then how am I going to take your keys?  He laughed and pulled her up the stairs.

"You never know," Gwen said with a sly laugh. "You might. I might be too much woman for you to handle!"

There were only a couple rooms upstairs, and Gwen always used the one to the left. Kicking the door open, she pulled Rylan inside after her, and pushed it shut with her foot. She didn't bother to lock it. She didn't care at the moment, because it was too much work!

And as soon as they were inside, she roughly pushed Rylan up against the door and kissed him hard, her hands already sliding beneath his shirt to get a better feel of all those firm muscles she'd been admiring earlier.

Hot damn, his blood was roaring in his ears.  Was it such a crime that he liked it rough?  Too many women were delicate and it was vaguely refreshing to have someone know what the hell they were doing.  Quinlan shoved his tongue between her cheeks, kissing her just as roughly and kissing her like he was trying to eat her from the inside out. 

His hands were swift with her belt, ripping it off like he'd done it a hundred times before.  "Ain't not such thing as too much woman," he panted between kisses.  His hands were all over her, reaching down to grip her ass, lifting her clear off the ground in a rush of adrenaline, and slamming her hard into the opposing wall, hoping to knock some of the breath out of her.

The air left Gwen's lungs in a rush as her back hit the wall, and her head swam from booze and exhilaration and...well, getting the wind knocked out of her. But she laughed breathlessly between hard kisses, teeth catching his lip and giving it a sharp tug, and she wrapped her long legs around his waist tightly to hang on.

Oh, she'd picked a wild one!

"Nngh, no such thing as too much man, either, if you know what I mean," she panted as she ground her hips against his and tangled her hands in his hair, roughly yanking his head to the side so she could kiss and nip at his neck hard enough to leave marks. And just to be sure, she bit him sharply and sucked the skin after, as though to sooth it, but it was a hard, pulling pressure that left a dark hickey behind when she was done.

"You're mine tonight, pretty boy," she growled against his skin, before she yanked at his shirt, eager to get it off of him.

He thought she was going to break his stinking neck with the force she used to open up his neck.  But he couldn't complain, she knew certainly knew how to use her tongue.  He shivered at that contact, especially the teeth.  Focus, man, focus! 

"I ain't pretty.  I'm gorgeous," he breathed hard, slipping out of his shrt before she ripped all off him.  He only had the one!  Once it was off, he turned his head her neck and used his teeth to rip at her clothes, like an animal, plucking the buttons and ripping them off.  He needed to get at those tits!  But they were buried like treasure, well, well-aged treasure. 

When he found them however, he wrapped his lips around one, lathering his tongue around erect nipples.  His hands were busy, plucking at her tousers and shifting them down even in the awkward position where her legs were wrapped around him.

"I hope you don't mind getting tossed around a bit," he panted and suddenly moved from the wall to the bed, throwing herself and him onto it.

[Feel free to slap an M on this if need be]

[Boom! Done!]

Sweet Ansgar's balls! Rylan ripped at her clothes like a beast, and rather than be angry about it (that shirt had been expensive!), it only made her hotter, to have found someone happy to manhandle her as much as she liked to manhandle them. So many men tried to be delicate with their women, but she wasn't a delicate thing and hated pretending her hookups were romantic. Such soppy bullshit, that.

Besides, she found it difficult to be angry about much of anything when a gorgeous man had his mouth around her nipple, his tongue doing magical, magical things while she gasped and bit back moans.

And then the world tilted and she landed on the bed with a grunt, and she couldn't help but bark a breathless laugh.

"I like it rough, babe," Gwen panted, her hair tumbling out of its usual tight bun. It fell around her shoulders in a tousled mess, tousled much like the rest of her. She still had one leg caught in her breeches, but a hard kick got her out of them, and another few kicks sent her boots thumping to the floor.

"Don't hold back. Because I won't."

And as soon as she was free, she rose to her knees and shoved Rylan down onto the bed, swinging a leg over him as she pinned him down and pressed her body to his. She kissed him, hard and searing, her tongue leaving nothing unexplored, and as she did she tangled a hand in his hair to keep him down while she devoured him. Moving from his lips, she kissed and nibbled at his neck and shoulders and slid a hand down that wonderfully muscled chest and flat stomach so she could fumble at his belt, and when it clicked open, it was clear she'd had a lot of practice.

She yanked at his laces and got them undone just enough that she could slip a hand under his clothes and wrap her hand around his cock.

She liked it rough.  Well, damn.  Quinlan gave an inward sigh.  While that was great for sex, it just made this job slightly harder.  He wondered how many times he'd have to slam Gwen around just to get her to pass out or knock her out of her misery.  At least time enough to get the keys!  He looked back to where he threw her belt only to be interrupted by the grasping of something else.

"Whoa!" he yelped, body jerking when she grabbed a handful of his manhood.  Oh that's right.  They were having sex!  "Cold hands," he said in excuse and quickly interjected with a hard biting kiss.  She was good at that, and it served as a decent distraction.  Maybe if he fucked her hard enough, she'd blackout.  He just hoped he didn't pass out in the process.

Quinlan's hand momentarily paused their explorations of her in favor of shifting down his trousers, exposing more of himself.  It seemed his body wasted no time in expressing just how excited he was for this endeavor.  "Seems like you've been around the block and then some.  I hope I don't disappoint."  Quinlan moved back to her body, gripping the taut skin along the muscles of her back, dragging his nails along her spine.

Gwen gave a wry smile when Rylan jumped, not looking sorry in the least if her hands were cold! But then, she did have a bit of a sadistic streak; there was just something about watching a grown man squirm beneath her, something cute about it that brought out the predator in her.

And soon his pants were off, and all that skin was hers to view. And she was quite open about the way she eyed him, top to bottom, before her eyes lingered on his cock as it hardened under her hand. She licked her lips

"Darlin'," she said, her back arching as his nails dragged over her skin, her breath coming out in a hiss of pleasure, "Gorgeous boy. I got you naked and at my mercy. You won't disappoint."

And no sooner had she said it when she slid down between his legs and took his cock in her mouth, her hand gripping what her lips didn't cover, and her other hand clawed at his inner thigh hard enough to leave behind welts, blending pain and pleasure as her tongue swirled around him. She did enjoy marking her partners up a bit.

It was like putting her brand on them.

He was beginning to see now just why it was such  a terrible idea to mix business with pleasure.  Especially when it came to this.  Quinlan was in half a daze at the sensations that pooled through him.  He rubbed his face with his hands and his breath hitched when she found a sensitive spot.  At the pain that blended with pleasure, his eyes rolled into the back of his head.  Thank the gods he was on a bed, or he'd most definitely be on the floor right now.

Quinlan felt his blood boil, in a painful reminder.  His hands snatched strands of her hair and he arched his back into her sucking.   He sat up, or tried to anyway, and leaned his hands down her back and felt the solidification of her blood and wherever his fingertips brushed against, fire would burn underneath them, tracing burns along her back like intensified scratches.  Blood magic had it's uses other than killing someone (which was always ridiculously easy, so much so, it frightened him at times.)

Quinlan growled from somewhere deep in his throat and his hands found themselves back in her hair, managing to pulling out a clump from alongside her temple.

Fuuuck. Gwen sucked in a breath through her nose and moaned around his cock, taking him in deep so he could feel the vibrations. Fuck, she didn't know what he was doing with his hands, but as his fingers dragged over her back and burned with raw heat, igniting her nerves, she squirmed and arched. That couldn't just be his hands. That certainly wasn't his nails, because she couldn't feel the biting points of them, the scratching pain.

Was that...literal magic?

And she sucked him harder at the thought, bobbing on him to take him deeper, because that was so taboo, so blasphemous, for even though she was in a foreign land, she was still Connlaothian through and through. But the forbidden, dangerous element only excited her more and Ansgar could damn her soul for all she cared!

And then he pulled her hair, and she shivered in pleasure and let him pull her up and off of him with a slight pop. She looked up at him with a crooked smile, licking her lips. "The fuck was that thing you were doing?" she asked, and leaned down to bite his thigh and give him a nice, dark hickey. She gave him a matching one on the other thigh. "That thing with your fingers," she added, before she dragged her tongue over his cock again.

A hiss escaped through clenched teeth, and Quinlan opened his eyes at last when she popped off him.  His vision was bleary and he gazed at her bleary-eyed and could feel just how red in the face he was.  Maybe a blow job was every man's weakness, but he had to fight for concentration.  At her question, he grinned wickedly and felt the needles of his magic burning just at his fingertips.
It was always unpleasant, but it was a displeasure he'd gotten used to on a minute level.  "There's definitely more where that came from," he laughed and coaxed his hands over hers to rest on his thighs.  The hickies there were forming quite nicely, but he'd set his mind on other things.  "Just a little trick I picked up in my travels.  I can do more than just that."  He pressed his hands down against the tops of hers and focused his magic in on her blood, making it boil and sear with every touch, as if she might be on fire without leaving the scars. 

At least not any excessive scarring.  Quinlan coaxed her chin up from his cock and he kissed her hard, biting her bottom lip until he drew blood and when he pulled away, frost was on her lips and steam drew from his breath.  She might notice that where blood was drawn a tingling layer of ice now formed.  "I can make your blood boil, darling.  In more ways than one," Quinlan hissed half-savagely, unsure if even he meant its potential malevolence.  And his lips came crashing back to hers, arms pulling her up and over his body, his right hand sliding down her flesh and soon her sex, fluxing hot and cold as fingers found her clit.

Gwen hissed in surprise when Rylan's hands burned hers, fingers twitching beneath him, but she was intrigued rather than disturbed, aroused rather than repulsed--and excited when he drew her up for a hard kiss that drew both blood and a soft yelp from her mouth. Her lips tingled after and she licked them, tasting copper-flavored ice that had her shivering, but not from the breath the hit her.

Magic. Yup. She was fucking a mage.

But as his mouth met hers again, she pressed into it and slid up over him when he tugged her, throwing a leg over him until she was straddling his hips. Her hands tangled in his hair, pulling him roughly up into the kiss as she bit him back and suckled his lip to catch the blood that beaded on her tongue.

"I don't even need magic to make you hot, babe," she growled against him, though the effect was somewhat lost when his fingers worked a different kind of magic and her hips bucked in response. She gasped sharply and rocked against his hand, her whole body shuddering at the mix of sensations flowing through her, hot and cold, and she bit his neck to stifle her moan and leave a dark mark in a more obvious place. "Goddamn...!"

Now he had her right where he wanted her and in more ways than one.  Quinlan growled at her eagerness, both because he was hot as hell and because she kept her weight on him.  He continued to explore between her legs, fingers working their magic as he went, slipping his hands along her folds until he was three fingers in and knuckle-deep.  Her blood was on fire!  Gods, he could feel it in both the literal and figurative sense and it made his own hard-on ache all the more.  He focused his magic along his hand, the tingling of pins and needles in his blood seeping through his arm and he tinged her flesh with extra fire.

He momentarily forgot what he was supposed to be doing in that moment.  He had a job to do right?  Well, this was apart of the job wasn't it?  Seduce the mistress, then steal her keys!  There was no reason he couldn't enjoy himself while he was at it.  Quinlan kissed along her neck, sucking deeply on her flesh likewise making a deep mark there before he pulled away and murmured into her ear.

"You don't happen to have anything to bind us up good do you?" he laughed into earlobe before taking it between his teeth and tugging on it, roughly.

Gwen wasn't much of a screamer; she was more the sort of woman that panted hard and fought against her own moans and whimpers, for just like in every other area of her life, she had a hard time letting go of control. She much preferred being the one making the other person scream and moan.

But as Rylan fucked her with his fingers and set her blood to boiling, goddammit, she just about lost it.

She clapped a hand over her mouth to keep from crying out as she rode his fingers, squirming and gasping and stubbornly biting back the moans threatening to escape her lips. It was unbelievable, and all that just from the touch of his fingers! God! She always liked the young ones for their youth and vigor, but fuck had she scored this time! Her other hand, still tangled in his hair, curled tighter in the strands until she threatened to yank them out, and she shut her eyes and shuddered as that wonderful tension began to build within her at a wild pace until--

She startled at his hard nip, but it was his words that really had her gasping.

Throwing a hand out, she grabbed his wrist to slow him so she could think--which she definitely wasn't capable of when his fingers were doing that.

"Why, Rylan," Gwen panted. "What a fantastic idea." And a wicked, predatory smile curved her lips, her eyes dancing at the thought. She paused and leaned over the side of the bed, and when she popped back up, she had her belt in hand.

Sitting back on Rylan so his cock was trapped between them, she folded the belt loosely and then yanked it so it snapped, the sound bouncing ominously off the walls. "Hold still, babe."

And then she grabbed for his hands, because if he intended to tie her up, he had another thing coming!

The snap made him jump, visibly and Quinlan blinked up at her as if he didn't think she was half serious.  But goddamn when he saw the belt, he thought he was going to explode.  Thankfully if he did, she was already sitting on him and probably wouldn't even have noticed.  "Wait, me!?"  But before he knew it, the belt was around his wrists and he tugged on them, testing them out.

"Hey, hey, how about we take turns?" he said with a laugh, masking it well his disappointment that his plan sorta backfired.  But maybe it wasn't too late just yet.  He looked down at his cock that swelled between them and didn't know just how he'd get out of this way.

"I'm sure you have enough leather bands for both of us."

Gwen wasn't done with him, though. As soon as she had his hands bound and buckled, she used the excess to tie his hands above his head and to the headboard. She gave it a tug, and was pleased to find it secure.

Of course, she had a lot of experience with binding captives.

"Take turns? What a cute idea! But no," she purred, trailing a nail up from his navel to his chest, then up along his throat to just beneath his chin. She tilted his face up and grinned at him, even as she wriggled her hips to slide their sexes together, teasing but not letting him enter, and sighing as she felt him swell. It would be wonderful when she finally decided to have him, if this little preview were any indication.

"I do the binding around here. But you did remind me of something!" she said, before leaning over the bed yet again. It took some fumbling, but she located his pants, and slipped the belt from that as well.

"This will make a lovely gag."

"No need for that!  I want to scream dammit!  I can't do shit with that.  Or just set it in my teeth, it's not like I can do anything to take it out!  HEY!"  Quinlan bit her fingers if she tried to put it on him, but ultimately accepted it with little more resistance.  And when she was positioned over him once again, he jerked his hips upward, feeling his tips seeping into the wet folds of her sex.

He bit down on the leather, hard, imprinting his teeth on it and jerking his hips up to meet hers, and when his magic coursed through the blood that hardened his cock, it'd feel like she was really riding the lightning.

[He can call it his LIGHTNING ROD.]

"So feisty!" Gwen commented when he nipped her fingers, but she got the belt in his mouth just the same. She slipped it between his teeth like a horse's bit and held both ends of it in her hands, placed on either side of his head--effectively keeping his head pinned in place.

"Don't worry. You can scream just fine. Please do." And she looked oh so pleased as she eyed him up and down, now that she had him completely at her mercy.

Well. Almost completely.

Because when he jerked his hips up against hers, he met no further resistance as she rolled her own hips, feeling him prodding against her entrance and adjusting just so--and finally slamming down onto him with a sharp gasp that had her seeing stars as he filled her. That initial penetration was always wonderful, but God, his cock felt electric, and soon she was riding him hard, squirming atop him, and stubbornly fighting back her moans so they came out as heated breaths instead.

"Gods above!" he grumbled, teeth sinking into the leather of his own belt as she rode him like no tomorrow.  Quinlan's whole body jerked and writhed as their bodies met, pounding into each other.  Though he remained pinned beneath her, he wasted no time in working his hips up against hers.  He had been around and then some, and had learned to move his body with no small amount of flexibility.

He waited for her rhythm, not quite in that sloppy drunk love stage yet, and followed it, thrusting up into her hot sex when she came down on him, maximizing every motion.  "Don't be shy now.  You don't have to hold back moans for my sake" he said through clenched teeth and he could feel the spit building up on the sides of his mouth.  But his grin was ever so devilish as he met her hips in a steady rhythm.

He could feel her heat building with every stroke, his hips moving to favor one wall over another, sending magical jolts through her until it seemed her very pulse skipped a beat.

It was a pity the belt didn't stop his tongue! Perhaps she should have stuffed his mouth with his shirt instead. But though Gwen wasn't flat out drunk, she was tipsy enough that she hadn't accounted for that.

Oh well!

"I-I'm hardly--haa--shy, sugar," she gasped, and clenched her teeth to bite back a whimper, her breathing growing shaky and uneven because oh dear fucking Ansgar, it was difficult to maintain control when he was doing that! The way he moved, angling his thrusts to hit just the right spot as each stroke sent pulses of pleasure through her--it was like nothing she'd ever experienced. And she knew it was his magic, and knew she was going to straight to hell for this, but she only slammed onto him harder, again and again, because it was so worth it.

And soon it didn't matter whether she wanted to hold back her cries or not, because that decision was wrenched right out of her hands.

"F-fuck!" Her breathing hitched and she let go of the belt with one hand, but only so she could clap it over her mouth to muffle a sudden moan, because Rylan was doing things to her no other man had done and her body was responding in kind. Her chest heaved with her pants, her eyes squeezed shut and head tilted back, her knuckles going white around the belt as her body trembled and clenched around him with as the tension within her built with a speed that surprised even her, stealing her breath away. She whimpered, grinding desperately against him, before her body went taut and she let out a scream that shocked her.

And then she fell against him as her body shuddered and trembled, sex tightening around him as her climax hit her like an avalanche.

The very speed of her pulse was intoxicating to listen to, to feel it reverberate inside of the hollow of his own chest as ifit were his. The heart was such a powerful vessel, that it could keep a body alive even under the most extreme duress, with certain exceptions in mind. Oh but Gwen needed no exceptions, did she?  Ansgar's balls no! Quinlan was never one to toot his own horn, but he'd be lying if he said watching her struggle with her own cries wasn't most pleasing.

He was cutting through her heat with such utter ease, every stroke slipped through here with almost no resistance. In fact most of her resistance seemed against herself as she tried to muffle her cries.  Quinlan just but down hard on the belt between his teeth, breathing hard through them as his own moans made his throat hoarse.  She was remarkably snug for a woman he assumed never went with her bed to grow cold.  And her mere shock at her own reactions, made it clear she was accustomed to a certain outcome when fucking.

When she had her pleasure, he was just about to burst when there was a sudden bang on the door, and it abruptly flew open.  "Mistress Gwen!"came a cry from one of her men in sudden alarm, and it parted some of the way from seeing the pair in the midst of coitus. "Is everything all right in there?" Probably because they'd never heard their mistress scream before

Quinlan looked at her, a spitting out the gag enough to better his smug expression.  "That all you got, babe?" he asked through a wicked flash of teeth. 

Gwen was still quivering with pleasure when that idiot practically burst in! At least he had the sense to shut the door partly, but goddamn!

"I'm fine!" she barked, irritated but not embarrassed as she sat up, naked and still fully astride Rylan, and glared death at the face she saw cautiously peeking in. Well. Perhaps she was a little embarrassed. Had she screamed that bloody loud? "Now get the fuck out! Goddamn, man, use your brains!"

The door snapped shut, and Gwen rolled her eyes toward the ceiling with a huffed sigh. With a shake of her head, she looked back down at Rylan and quirked a grin, meeting smugness with more smugness.

"Far from it, sunshine," she said as she rolled her hips, slow and teasing, before she reached forward and unbuckled his hands. As fun as it was keeping him all tied up and helpless, without his hands, he was rather limited in what he could do. "Ain't me I'm worried about. I can go a while. You're the man, here."

She leaned down then and kissed him hard. "Most men are one and done. Are you?"

That kiss made him dizzy and practically stole his breath away.  She was a remarkably good kisser and if he was a one shot wonder, that remedied that real quick.  Thank Ansgar he wasn't and moaned when she pulled away, leaving his lips tingling.  "Not at all darling," he said with a sneer and felt his own blood tingle in anticipation.  Once his hands were free, Quinlan sat up and snatched both of her arms roughly, and held them both behind her back.

He was stronger than he looked and enough to hold her wrists firmly and grabbed the belt she's used to bind him up. His hips worked slow and steady, her walls already moist from her first burst of ecstasy.  He panted hard, listening to her heart course that precious blood through her. 

"I hope you don't mind being a little tied up," he growled and devoured her lips in a hungry kiss, lips hot like living fire.

Perhaps she should have expected that. But Gwen's brain was just pleasantly fuzzy enough from booze to miss the smaller details in the heat of passion--like that he'd been interested in "taking turns" with the binding.

...Shit.

"H-hey!" she gasped, and for the first time, she sounded like she was actually thrown off balance. She struggled like a wildcat when he grabbed her arms, far stronger than she looked but nowhere near as strong as Rylan, but fight as she did, it didn't stop her from having her hands bound behind her back. And then she was well and truly helpless for the first time in...shit. Forever. It definitely wasn't a role she was used to playing, and her face flushed with equal measures arousal and mortification--because she'd be lying if she claimed it wasn't a goddamned turn on to bed someone who wasn't afraid of manhandling her!

"You goddamned bastard," she growled through a whimpering moan, the sound muffled against his lips, and as he thrust up into her, her entire body thrummed with heat and pleasure and her lips burned against his. But even bound she tried to control him, tried to set the pace as she stubbornly refused to match his thrusts, instead riding him in the way she wanted, and when she smashed her mouth to his again, her kiss was vicious, her teeth digging into his lip and reopening the cut she'd made.

"You'll untie me if you know what's good for you."

Quinlan knew the fire he was playing with and figured she probably wasn't going to be happy when he tied her up.  Nobody said makin' bang bang was fair, some lovers were too sloppy, some had no idea what they were doing, and some were too stubborn for kicks.  However, despite the risk he knew he was taking, he had no regrets.  All he had to do was take her keys and high tail it the hell on out of there!

Oh, and deal with her men.  He had forgotten about that part.  Eh, he'd cross that bridge when he got to it.

But in the meantime...

Quinlan wrapped his arms around her, trying to force her stubborn hips to follow his, as his lips grinned against her vicious kiss.  "Oh if I always did what was good for me, I wouldn't be the man I am today," he hissed in laughter, half-mocking, really.  "Besides, don't act like it isn't making your blood all hot and bothered right now.  In more ways than one." He dragged his lips down to her breast, taking her left one to his lips and sucking deeply on her flesh.

"Fuck you," Gwen growled between panted breaths and moans, because "hot and bothered" was putting it mildly as she slammed her hips into his, flushed with her own arousal and the heat of his magic. She tried to resist him, tried to maintain control even bound, but when he grabbed her and forced her to move with him, and when his lips caught her breast--God, she almost surrendered right there.

If she was the sort to surrender on anyone else's terms.

"Goddammit...fuck...!" she whimpered, and soon she couldn't help but move with him--not because he was in control, but because it felt too good to fight it. Their bodies slapped together as she rode him, though it was a little awkward without the use of her hands to keep balance, and when her thigh started to really burn as a result, she finally slumped down against his chest and nipped sharply at his neck.

"Fine, fucker. You wanna take the reins? Get in the goddamned saddle and ride me," she ordered, and started to roll off of him.

"Yes, ma'am," he said as he turned over with her, securing her hips to his. He kept her wrists tied, an arm secured around her.  He slipped a free hand between them, feeling along her clit, massaging it even as his hips pounded into hers.  God she was on fire! He moaned against her ear, turning his hips just right until he hit the back of her sex. 

Well, she wanted him in the saddle, so he might as well to ride her ragged. He moved slowly then quickly, their bodies making glorious music together.

"Good boy," Gwen purred between panted breaths as he obeyed so nicely, but soon her voice rose from a purr to a cry as he indeed took the reins and took them hard, slamming into her again even as his fingers found her clit--and she lost control completely.

And right then, she didn't care about giving it back just yet, if this was what it meant.

She screamed, her blood burning at a fever pitch as heat spread from her groin clear to her toes, and she writhed beneath him and yanked at her bonds, helpless to do anything but lay back and enjoy the ride. And when he adjusted, when he began to hit just the right spot with all that wonderful ferocity, for a moment she swore her vision whited out. Maybe it was his magic, or maybe he was just that damned good, but it was an ecstasy close to being drugged--and she'd done enough in her time to know she had nothing in her system but tobacco.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck!" she cried, back arched and head thrown back. "Harder, damn you! Don't you dare fucking stop!"

She didn't have to tell him twice. Quinlan was trembling with ecstasy as he continues to pound into her with ferocity, hunger, feeling every stroke hit the back of her sex.  He savored every wall, maximizing every angle until he felt his turgid cock just about ready to explode.

"Damn me?" he grunted.  "You catch more flies with honey than with vinegar, darling." His throat was hoarse, breathed raw and dry as he moaned until his body jerked again and fucked her harder, cumming forcefully inside the heat of her sex, unable to contain himself any longer.

"Fuck, fuck, Ansgar's Fucking Balls!" Despite his burst, Quinlan couldn't stop moving his hips inside her, drawing out that orgasm. He was practically seeing double, his entire body aching in ecstasy.

Gwen wrapped her legs around Rylan's waist when he really took to pounding into her, both to hold on for dear life--and to ensure he didn't dare stop! She howled with ecstasy, head thrown back and spine arched, eyes clenched tight, and she didn't even have a snarky quip to respond with when he teased her, because she didn't have the breath to speak or the desire to do so. Every part of her being was focused on their bodies as he surged within her, and her own building climax.

Which wasn't far behind Rylan's.

She felt him harden, felt him pulse and spasm within her, and it was that wonderful rhythmic flexing and his continued thrusts that tipped her over the edge. She cried out, feeling his heat spread within her even as she tightened around him and shuddered with pleasure.

And in that moment, she was rendered utterly speechless.

Quinlan soon slowed his thrusts until he practically could move anymore.  He laid exhausted on top of her, panting heavily in her ear.  His whole body felt like a puddle of goo over her, which was good because he didn't really want to move, even though he had a mission to complete.

He watched her from the corner of his eye.  Her expression was priceless, he was pretty sure she wouldn't be able to move for a while.  When he did regain some semblance of strength, he pushed himself up, or tried to, but still felt her legs wrapped tightly around his waist.

"Um, darling?" he said with a short laugh.

God above! Indeed, Gwen didn't think she'd have the energy to move for quite a while--which was a shame, because she'd be up for another round or two if she could will her muscles to work! But she felt shivery all over and her legs wouldn't stop trembling, her breath coming in quick pants and skin flushed with heat and sweat.

She felt utterly amazing.

And Rylan was off and trying to ruin the moment!

"Mmmyeah?" she said with a languid smile, and only tightened her legs around him in response. "Thinking about going somewhere, are you?"

Well, shit.

He grinned at her slyly and his eyes flickered up to the window, as if inspecting if anybody was watching them - which they probably didn't have to considering they probably could hear them all the way down from the street.  "Only to turn you over and rub out those kinks in your back, then see what more games we can play," he said quickly.

"I mean, I wouldn't want you to be unevenly fucked.  Would you?"

Oh, yes. This one was definitely a keeper. She'd struck solid gold tonight! Attractive and attentive? She wasn't letting him go.

Gwen's smile turned wicked, and she slowly unlocked her ankles and let her legs fall open so he could escape. "I definitely wouldn't want that," she agreed. "You have to keep it even if you don't want to walk sideways. Now why don't you get me out of this damned belt so I can put my hands to better use, eh?"

Once he was free, Quinlan moved over her and rolled her over so she was on her belly.  It was very tempting to actually go through with his offer of fuck her brains out, but he also knew he probably wouldn't get his opportunity again.

"Just a second, babe," he said, chuckling as he reached for his own belt and looped the belt around her right ankle and pulled the other end up to her bound hands, looping the end into the other belt in a mock-up of a half-hogtie, but he made sure the knots were secure.

And with that he moved for his clothes and began to redress.  Sure he didn't have his belt, but he wasn't worried about his pants falling off any time soon.  And he reached for her keys that she so generously discarded.

"What? What the--what the hell do you think you're doing?!" Gwen sputtered in surprise when he didn't go for the back rub or rough fuck he'd promised, and instead started to fucking HOGTIE her! There was a moment's dumb shock before her instincts kicked in. She thrashed, kicking her legs and trying to kick him as soon as she realized his intent--the hands tied bit was pushing it hard, but full on trussing up was definitely a hard limit!--but it was too late. The belt looped around her ankle and looped around the other belt, and the click of it buckling might as well have been a spoken pronouncement of, "You done fucked up."

Worse, he wasn't even trying to take this sexy places.

He was leaving her.

Holy Ansgar's asshole.

"Rylan!" she snarled, anger rising above the spark of panic. "Rylan, don't you fucking dare! Don't you fucking dare leave me like--"

She grunted as she flopped enough to turn her head to watch him, and the panic of being completely bound soon turned to rage when she saw what he was doing. Those were her breeches. And he was taking her keys.

"KARO! JESSEN! GET YOUR ASSES IN HERE!" she shouted at the top of her lungs.

Because her screaming had startled them before, her men learned to let the woman have her peace when she wanted it.  Likely they had learned the hard way the consequences of disturbing her.  So her screams went unattended to for the first five minutes or so.  Which was good for Quinlan as it gave him time enough to scamper downstairs, casually and bowed his head to a pretty lady, here and there.

And that's when he saw her men rushing by him at Gwendolyn's call.  Well, better get moving!

Quinlan ran out of the tavern and rushed toward the caged carriage that contained all of her quarries, and the slaves looked tired, desperate and panicked when he abruptly unlocked the cage and yanked the door ajar.  "Any one of you named Nina!?  I've come to take you back home.  The rest of you are free to go!"

He grinned when one slave came forward, a small young thing, shivering from the cold but eager to get out of that cracked cramped cage.  The rest of the slaves skedaddled, scattering like roaches in the revelation of light.  Once Nina's clamps were gone, Quinlan snatched her by the hand and ran toward the trees.

Fuuuuck. Gwen thrashed, but her squirming did little--except topple her off the bed and onto the floor with a thud that was surely heard downstairs. She was spitting mad more than panicked at this point, though beneath the rage was the panic of oh shit, what if they don't come? What if they'd decided to be little assholes and disobey her orders? She could be stuck up here who knows how long! Fuck Rylan for making her howl like a banshee! They might not respond to her screams now!

But then, blessedly, she heard the pounding of boots on stairs right before the door burst open--

And Jessen and Karo spilled into the room--and froze. Karo just stared, and Jessen let out a loud groan and threw a hand over his eyes. "What the fu--?"

"Just fucking untie me!" Gwen snarled. "Hurry, dammit! That bastard took my keys! Not both of you, you idiots! How many people does it take to untie a person?! Karo, stay, Jessen, check the slaves and round up the boys!"

Jessen bolted, and Karo snapped to it, kneeling down and unbuckling her without comment. He offered a hand to help her up, but Gwen slapped it away in irritation and rose to her feet, muscles aching. She snatched up her breeches and yanked them on, threaded her belt through them, and threw on her shirt and coat. She shoved Rylan's belt into Karo's hands and sat to pull on her boots.

"Keep it. I'm going to beat him with it," she said, and when she was fully dressed, she bounded down the stairs.

Below, it was chaos.

Her men were shouting that the slaves were gone, and Gwen was many things, but she wasn't surprised. Why else would he take her keys? Fucking asshole! She cupped a hand to her mouth and shouted, "They can't have gotten far! Spread out and sweep the area! And if you find a man--tall, athletic, dark red-brown hair, tattoos--I want him. Bring me my horse and my crossbow."

And with that, she strode out the door, only to be met several moments later by Jessen, who lead her horse to her by the reigns. Another man came, bearing her crossbow, and she slung it over her shoulder before mounting her ride.

Time to get hunting.

Running away on foot, probably wasn't the best idea he had.  Luckily however, he had enough sense to tether a horse some ways down into the forest, on a dinky little path that was secluded from the main road.  He could ride, and ride well enough that maybe he was some Serha Plains savage in a past life.

"A little faster if you please.  Your mistress will turn you into shoes if she catches us."

"She's is NOT my mistress!  I was taken from the fields by some slavers and traded at an auction.  They did not care to see my markings!  They cut my arm to disfigure me...  My master will not be pleased."

Quinlan huffed a laugh as they ran through the woods, jumping over a fallen log and other forest detritus.  "I think your master's displeasure is the least of your worries," he said, looking back at Nina.  "Seems like the woman that took you into her little quarry will move heaven and hell just to find us.  So we'd better get to that horse on the double."

"Who are you?  Why come all this way?  This far!?  And into so much danger?"

"It's what I do.  I'm Quinlan by the way."  Oh, to think he'd summoned yet another demon down on his head was thrilling, he wasn't going to lie.  To live for the chase!  The hunt!  It set his blood ablaze with excitement.  And he untethered the horse quickly and leapt up onto it's back, pulling Nina up behind him.

Yup, getting chased by a bloodthirsty, marauding bitch was going to be fun.  It was definitely better than sex.

Gwen ordered Jessen to come with her on her hunt and had to fight hard not to show her frustration at being had. The slaves couldn't have gotten far, true; she kept her stock fed and watered and made sure that they got taken out enough to keep their muscles healthy, but she never let their bellies get too full, and kept them squished enough in that wagon that it usually took a bit before they got the pins and needles out of their limbs. She liked to keep them a little weak so they were no threat during transit. They wouldn't be going from that to running full tilt right away, but there were still a hundred places they could be by now in a town like this.

However, she still had the advantage in that she knew these streets. She doubted most of the people she'd taken had been a mile outside their home towns.

And soon enough, she was not disappointed, for as she and Jessen galloped down the street several blocks from the tavern, a staggering shadow caught her eye--a young boy, running hard on shaky legs with no real sense of direction. Jessen dug his heels into his mount and soon overtook the lad, snatching him up by the nape of his neck and plopping him onto the saddle before him.

Gwen pulled up next to him and slapped the boy's face when he started to struggle and protest. "Shut up," she snarled, gripping his face tightly in one gloved hand. "Speak unprompted again and I'll have you whipped. Where did the man go? The man that freed you?"

"I...I don't...I don't know!"

She slapped him again. "Liar. Where did he go? Which direction?"

Eyes wide with fear and face pale, the boy pointed a shaky finger toward the woods.

Lips tight, Gwen released him and looked to Jessen. "Return him. I'll be back."

"But boss--"

"Just do it." And then she was off, kicking her horse into a gallop and tearing off into the woods. It was hard to see in the dark, even with the bright, full moon. That meant that, no doubt, her quarry would stick to the road if he had a horse--unless he wanted to risk injuring it. The problem would be if he didn't have a horse and planned on fleeing on foot.

And yet, as she rose, she soon began to hear it--a distant, rhythmic thud, like the hooves of a horse--and a smile broke out on her lips as she pushed her mount to run quicker.

She didn't need to overtake him, she thought as her crossbow bounced lightly against her back. She just needed him in her sight.

Of course Quinlan didn't stick to the road.  Roads were for chumps. Which Gwen the slaver most certainly was.  She let her libido get the better of her, and sure the sex was fun, but ultimately that was all she had going for her.  Shame.

Quinlan rode like the wind, all those old horse riding tips coming back from childhood.  Oh he wasn't the best, but all he had to do was make it to the chasm.  A split that ran for miles between this side of the forest and a northern segment of it.  There was a gap.  Just large enough for the horse to jump.  He could make it, he could!

He moved through the trees, weaving through it as a thread through an eye of a needle.  "Just hang on Nina, this is going to get rough...  Real rough."

She just clung to him, and somewhere beyond Quinlan could hear hooves behind them, somewhere in-between the whistles in his ear.

Well, shit. So the bastard had taken his chances racing through the woods, Gwen realized as she grew closer--and judged the sound was coming from well within the trees. So be it. It was dangerous in the dark, her horse could break a leg, she could get knocked off by a branch, but there was no choice.

The bastard was not getting away. One way or another.

Jerking sharply at the reins, she steered her horse off the road and they cut through the woods, leaning down low over her horse's neck. Leaves whipped by her face and one thin branch she hadn't seen cut her cheek, but she ignored it, her eyes on her goal. It was slow going through the woods, but she imagined if the trees and bushes were hindering her, it would hinder her prey, too--

And then she saw him.

He was far ahead, just a flickering shadow through the treeline, but he was there, and despite her better judgment, Gwen spurred her horse on quicker, leaping over fallen trees and crashing through bushes.

Too far ahead for a clear shot. Just a little closer...

"Stop!" she called ahead of her, giving him just that one chance, because she preferred not to potentially damage her goods. "This is your last chance!"

Quinlan wasn't going to give her any opportunity to shoot straight.  He could safely assume that after duping her as he had, she was armed to the teeth and wasn't about to waste any mercy she might have on him.  There was no incentive to stop.  She had her work cut out for her.

He turned the horse over a fallen log, the horse screaming in the process as the sky began to bleed rain and thunder rolled in its rolled its low throated moan.  He turned to look over his should and aaw Gwen's menacing form in the lightning.  He ducked, just before a low branch could unhorse him.  Nina screamed when she felt something whizzing past her head.

What the fuck?  What was that!? There was no time to think if it as Quinlan saw that ridge coming up. There was only one chance.

It was the sudden flash of lightning and the subsequent roar of thunder that saved the pair, for right as Gwen had been about to loose a bolt, it happened, and her horse whinnied in fright and stumbled. It was just enough to throw off her aim, and the bolt went whizzing by the slave girl's head to thunk into a nearby tree.

Which was a good thing, because she hadn't been aiming for the girl and it would have been unfortunate if she hit her.

With a curse, Gwen loaded another bolt and aimed--

And when lightning lit the sky again, the forest flashing white and shadowy, she fired, and this time her shot was clear.

But she didn't aim for either of the riders.

She aimed for their horse.

Quinlan heard that whizzing and the scream of the horse that followed.  The animal stumbled to the ground, rolling to the side and unmounting Quinlan and the slave.  No, he was not going to be captured this way.  Not by someone as slimy and stupid as that wolf-bitch!  Quinlan didn't want to have to use his magic, but it was a desperate option. 

Quinlan took the bolt from the horse's hind quarter where it stuck in deeply.  The animal screamed and leaked blood out in a steady stream.  He growled, watching Gwen draw closer.  He cupped that blood and felt it grow cold in his hands, cupping it until it pooled, and commanded Nina to do the same thing.

He moved toward the ridge, close enough now and splashed the blood cupped in his hands, and turned the blood into an thin and narrow bridge of ice.  He cupped what blood would drain into his hands, taking it from the slave and commanding her to follow him.

The ice was incredibly fragile, and she held onto the end of his jacket.  As they progressed forward, Quinlan dropped small droplets of blood reinforcing the frost underneath them, and threw the rest of the blood over the chasm to form the rest of the bridge.  And behind them already the ice began to rapidly defrost.

...What in the literal bloody hell?

Rylan and her slave were halfway across the "bridge" when Gwen came to the edge of the chasm and..and saw what was happening. Saw that he and the slave-girl were...walking out into open space? It was so dark she couldn't see, at first, what they were walking on, and out of sheer puzzlement she drew a little closer and leaned to look.

Whatever it was, it was dark, and trailed from the wounded horse like blood.

What the...?

She dismounted and knelt to test the "bridge" with her foot, and heard it crack beneath her. Ice, then? Dark like blood? Maybe it was blood. Either way, she had her prey now. She didn't want to shoot them and damage the goods if she could help it, but she didn't risk walking on the bridge after them.

Instead, she aimed a bolt at the bridge itself. "Halt!" she called. "Turn back around and come this way. If you don't, I'll break it."

Quinlan acted as if he didn't hear her.  The end of the gap wasn't far.  The end was closer than going back.  And when Gwen stepped out onto the ice, already it was cracking beneath her weight.  He had not built it to be strong.  And he wasn't going to give up just because she threatened to break it.

"Go for it!  You'll die too!"  And he cackled.  For the thought of plummeting to his death genuinely amused to him.  Really, it was better than dying slowly and painfully from the curse in his blood. 

Quinlan pulled a blade and slashed his hand, the blood pooling out from there and he threw it out at Gwen, icicles forming mid-air and launching straight for her.  The cracks beneath them both were growing and Quinlan had to make a decision...quickly.  He snatched Nina by the arms and promptly shoved her forward.  "Go!" he barked.

With a yelp she stumbled forward and fell toward solid ground, as the ice bridge shattered beneath them.

Well.

That was unexpected.

The ice shattered, and suddenly Gwen was flying through the darkness. And by flying, she meant falling, the air whistling in her ears and shards of blood-ice stinging her skin where they scratched and prickled and added her own blood to the mix. But she was hardly conscious of the pain, hardly conscious of anything else but the odd sensation of being suspended in the air, floating, even while knowing she was about to become mush on the rocks.

Like a dropped tomato, she thought, surprised that she wasn't afraid--but too surprised to feel anything else, and vaguely wondering when her life was going to flash before her eyes like it was supposed to--

And then there was a snap, an explosion of pain, and even more blackness.

Who knew how much time had passed when Gwen stirred again, but stir she did. She came to with a groan and a hacking cough as every part of her ached and hurt, and her leg had a strange, intense burning pain in it, and was hard to move when she tried. Her head throbbed.

Still alive, she thought, bringing a gloved hand up to her sticky forehead. If she wasn't, she wouldn't be hurting. The question was, how much longer would she be alive? How bad were her injuries?

She cracked her eyes open and saw the sky above her through a patchwork of leaves and branches--and could see, vaguely, that a lot of those branches looked snapped off. There were leaves scattered all around her, and when she stiffly turned her head, she saw more branches. They were probably what had saved her; they'd probably cushioned her fall before she hit the slope and tumbled the rest of the way down.

Her clothes were all torn up and and as she tentatively felt at herself, she found with relief that at least nothing had impaled her. She was scratched up and bruised and had a bleeding cut at her hairline, and her leg was all wrong, but all things considered, she was pretty well off. Fuck. That was lucky. Her crossbow was nowhere in sight, though it must be near.

And Rylan...

Sucking in deep breaths, Gwen managed to crawl to the base of a tree, grabbed onto it, and hauled herself up onto her good leg with its help.

He was down here too, dead or alive, and if he wasn't dead...well, he wouldn't be alive long when she was done with him!

If he was still alive, Quinlan wished desperately that he was dead.  The fall was a bad one, and Quinlan could feel his arm was no longer in the same place it should be.  The chasm was not as deep as he assumed in the darkness of that stormy night. But it didn't matter now, the fall was bad either way.  Quinlan could hope the pain would last long enough to kill him.  And that would be better than what fate awaited him if Gwen was still alive.

"Fuck me," he whispered.  And when he tried to move, he was surprised to find his arm wasn't nearly as broken as he thought itwas.  He saw his wrist wasn't quite correct,  and though his shoulders were sore and would probably bruise and nothing more.  He crawled achingly to his knees, standing on two feet that refused his weight, clutching his wrist tightly to his gut.

He just had to get out of this hole. Forget waiting to see if the crone was still alive.  He scrambled over brush and boulders and the bones of those that had fallen into the chasm and had been long forgotten.  Quinlan wasn't goi to end up like one of them.  "Leave the slaver to die with the broken and forlorn," he hissed.

One of the thicker branches Gwen had broken in her fall (or maybe a branch that had been broken by a previous victim, she thought as she glanced at the broken bones scattered about) wound up coming in handy, doubling as a makeshift staff. Her leg was useless so she had to use it to walk, and her ribs ached (something she noticed more once she was upright), and basically everything was sore. Fuck. She didn't often feel old, but right then she did, limping along all stiff and gimpy-like.

She was going to slaughter the fucker.

And then, the crunch of leaves and bone and rustle of bushes. Gwen perked up like a hunter and, scowling, picked up her hobbling pace--

That was when she saw him. The fucker was alive, alright, and-- "Leave the slaver to die with the broken and forlorn"?

She actually burst into laughter then, loud enough to carry through the chasm they were in. "Surprise, fucker," she said. "Miss me?"

Quinlan whirled around, and scowled dangerously at Gwen.  Well lookie-lookie, the bitch just wouldn't die.  And he wasn't in much of a condition to fight her.  Or was he?  He gave a sneer instead.  "Darling we've got to stop meeting like this," he replied, and raised a single brow at her.  Still he remained toward the cliff wall behind him and his hand searched for ridges to insert his fingers into.

"Lucky me, I guess."  And flashed her a charming grin.

Gwen just watched him, the hand that wasn't supporting her "staff" coming to rest upon her hip. She looked from him, to the sheer cliff face he was backed against, and back to him and arched an eyebrow slowly. She couldn't tell from this distance what sort of condition he was in, but he'd fallen from the same height she had, so unless some sort of miracle happened or he could magically cushion his fall somehow, he had to be at least as banged up as she was.

And she was in no condition to climb anything, much less something that high.

"Going somewhere?" she asked as she limped closer. "That's a pretty steep climb, there."

"You just stay the fuck where you are, gimpy.  I have places to be, people to kill," he said, giving her a sneer and turning his own way to walk on any side of the chasm that involved being away from her.  There were horse hooves that skid to a halt at the edge.

"Shit," one man said, dismounting.  "That's Gwen's horse."

Quinlan shot only one glance backwards, cursing beneath his breath and running as far away as his ragged legs could take him.

"Gwen!  You alive?"

Muted voices and the sound of hoof-beats, and then--Gwen let out a laugh, half relief and half triumph.

It was Jessen, which meant the other was probably Karo. At least the two knuckleheads were loyal. Really, she couldn't ask for a better bunch of lackeys.

"Still alive!" she called back, and smiled. "Now do me a favor and get your asses down here? I've found myself a little fox that needs trapping." And even as she said it, she stalked after Rylan. Let him run. He wasn't running well, and like any good predator, she was patient. Take a chunk from its leg and let it run until it exhausted itself, then just follow the trail to the prize. That was the key here. Patience and--

Her foot hit something that clanged against her boot, and she cursed loudly as the pain radiated up her leg.

At least, until she saw what it was.

With a pleased grin, she stooped carefully and picked up her crossbow. It was a bit banged up, but it had a bolt still loaded and ready to go, and it wasn't so damaged it wouldn't still work.

Ah, yes. She was still in business.

Quinlan knew she was armed when she'd fallen. The shot at the horse was evidence enough of that.  And he knew that she really had nothing more to lose to capture her quarry, which, as events would put it, was now him.  Just in the nick of time too; he thought his bad luck had just about run out. 

Even as he tried to run, there wasn't much of anywhere to run to.  He stopped short when he heard the click of a bolt ready to fire.  He kept his back to his captor, clutching his wrist to his stomach, waiting for the bolt to fly.

Fly it did.

For as soon as Rylan came to a halt, Gwen capitalized on the opportunity. She let her staff drop as she balanced on her good leg and took aim--

At his calf.

Without a word, she pulled the trigger and the bolt went whistling through the air. She wasn't taking chances with this one, and while she normally didn't like to hobble her targets, sometimes she had to make an exception. And in Rylan's case, she really just wanted to shoot his ass.

[Wouldn't want to damage those goods now right? XD]

Quinlan buckled the moment the bolt struck his calf, and he cried out, collapsing onto a pile of stone.  With blurry eyes he glared at gimpy Gwen and wished more than anything looks could kill in that moment.

"Lucky shot," he grinned at her.

[Exactly! >8D Those calves are sexy but they ain't the money makers, ohoho!]

God, that was satisfying as fuck.

With a pleased smile, she slipped her arms through the straps of the crossbow's sling, letting it come to rest against her back once more, and picked her makeshift staff back up. She took her sweet time; Rylan wasn't going anywhere, and she was content to let him suffer for inconveniencing her so.

"Easy shot, more like," Gwen said as she limped her way over to him. Balancing on her good leg, she hefted the branch in both hands and beamed down at him--even as she prodded the end against the bolt protruding from his calf, hard and deliberate to send a painful jolt through his leg. "Ouch. That looks nasty."

With a shake of her head, she sighed and adjusted her grip on the branch. "Oh, Rylan. Such a marvelous fuck. Why did you have to turn out so stupid?" And in the distance, drawing closer, she could hear the voices of men and the rustle of bushes, telling her help was near. She decided to wrap this up.

"You're going to wish the fall killed you," she said, and swung the branch at his head, aiming for a knockout blow to his temple.

Clearly she would milk this for all it was worth.  And Quinlan wasn't about to give her the satisfaction of hearing him scream.  Quinlan just clenched his jaw together when she nudged his leg and he just glared up at her.  "As if I'd make anything easy for you darling," he managed to snicker.  Because really in the end, he wasn't helping either her or himself, all things considered.

"Might as well get this over with," grumbled did he, and slumped back when she hit him.  His vision turned white, but it had yet to knock him out. Instead it just left him bruised and bloodied and he barked out a laugh.  "That's it?"

Gwen cursed, the pain shooting through her bruised and cut up arms as the blow jostled her. As much as she was loath to admit it, the fall had weakened her--go figure! She was only human, and though she fucking hated to admit it, she was no spring chicken. Panting, she staggered, and dropped the branch down to press into the soil as she leaned heavily on it to catch her breath.

Adrenaline and sheer anger had helped her ignore her injuries in the moment, but that only lasted so long. She'd taken a beating, and it was catching up to her.

"Don't make me shoot you again," she growled. "I need some of you left over."

And she was seriously considering it when she saw her men come crashing through the bushes, none other than Jessen and Karo along with a new hire whose name she could never remember. They were panting from the effort of climbing down, expressions grim and concerned--and when their eyes landed on the felled "Rylan", the grim looks tightened into aggression.

"You want me to...?" Jessen growled, taking a step forward with his fists clenched.

"No!" Gwen said, holding up a hand. "No. I want you to bring him in. Take care of his leg." She smiled down at Rylan as Jessen and Karo stalked closer and bent to grab him. "We'll be taking him to Essyrn."

Whatever, hag.  It was all the thought Quinlan could muster, because frankly the pain was starting to set in.  That numbness when the bolt first entered his calf had kept his mood.  Of course when it disappeared, it took everything he had to remain under control.  He wasn't going to scream for this slaver, not for anything in the damn world.  He just glared at the men that came down to help her.

"Good dogs.  You come at your master's beck and call!"

Jessen swatted him hard on the leg.  "Oops.  Blood makes things slippery," he mumbled.  Quinlan whimpered, glaring at Gwen soon. Oh he'd cut his throat nice and slow.

It was a long and troublesome task, climbing out of that chasm.  Quinlan had to be slung over Jessen's back and he knew those 'accidental' bumps were anythinb but.  And then came Gwen once he was thrown up at the top.

It was a long, painful process getting to the top--mainly because her men were a lot more careful with Gwen than they were with Rylan, which meant things got drawn out a little more. Gwen would have preferred they just hurry it up, because the slowness was more grating, but she grit her teeth and dealt with it. With all the fighting done and over, she was starting to really feel her aches and injuries and exhaustion.

It had been a long day of traveling, fucking, and now...this. She'd never say she was too old for this, but goddamn, sometimes her body liked to argue the point. Definitely wasn't like her twenties when she could go nights without sleep.

She was panting by the time they got to the top, a little paler than usual as her leg really fucking hurt, but she still drew herself up as authoritatively as she could. "Status report?"

"We managed to round most of them up, boss," Karo told her as Jessen kept tight hold of Rylan, keeping him slung over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes as he walked beside them. And to a big man like Jessen, that's all Rylan was. "We're still missing one of them, that one girl."

As though Gwen knew which one "that one girl" was. Though, considering the situation, she did. And she knew "that one girl" had made it to the other side.

But they had also been down in that chasm for God knew how long. The girl was probably long gone by now, and there was no way to cross safely, anyway.

"She's gone," Gwen said with a wave of her hand. "Luckily, we got a replacement." And she cut a look to Rylan and smiled sweetly, even as she reached out and stroked his cheek.

Indeed the day had been a long one.  Even this day wasn't starting out so good.  Not that he'd ever let Miss Bitch know that.  He knew her kind only too well.  She would perpetually try to rub it in that she had captured him, despite everything he did to escape.  And with the blood pouring out profusely from his calf, Quinlan doubted he was doing a lot of thinking straight.

He smiled toothily at Gwen, blood covering his teeth from where she'd whacked him hard with that 'cane'.  His wrist was still hurting and he held it against him.  Everything would have to be set.  That was going to be the hard part.  "At least you've got half-decent taste, darling."

"Only half-decent? You sell yourself short, pooky." And Gwen pinched his cheek at that. Hard, nails digging in enough to leave a red mark that would fade. Didn't want to break skin and damage the goods; his face was one of his good features.

They reached Gwen's horse, where Jessen and Karo's horses were also tethered nearby. Jessen slung Rylan roughly over the saddle on his belly while Karo helped Gwen onto his horse. She wouldn't be riding solo, not with a broken leg.

"Do something about his bleeding,will you? I think he's lost enough," Gwen said. Enough to, hopefully, keep him complacent. And enough that, hopefully, he wouldn't be able to spare any for his magic. "Besides, I doubt the horse likes the smell."

As relieved as he was to be off his feet, the last thing he wanted was to end up on his belly.  As soon as they flopped him there,he felt like he wanted to puke.  Somehow he managed to keep the nothing in his stomach from spewing outward and used his good arm to right himself in the saddle.  Jessen yanked Quinlan roughly by the collar and righted him the way he wanted.

"I'll skin you.  I'll skin you good," he murmured in Quinlan's ear when Karo was riding with Gwen, and they were some distance away.  The other horse was tugged along by the reins.  "When Gwen isn't watching, I'll skin you and wear you like a jacket."  He cackled and kicked the horse beneath him.

Beginning the painful ride back to camp.

It was a painfully long time before they returned to the tavern, where Gwen's cage of a wagon was waiting for them. And it was no longer empty, but filled with her escaped slaves, all but one. Gwen shot them a smug look as they pulled up beside it, at the forlorn faces that had been so close to escape, had gotten to taste freedom for just a moment, only to be thrown back into captivity.

Her lips quirked into a victorious smirk. "Did you enjoy your exercise?" she asked without expecting an answer. "Your friend didn't take to it so well. Good think I found you all a new one." She let that hang cryptically in the air (did she murder the slave? Did something else happen to her?) then turned to watch Jessen and Rylan's approach.

Karo helped her down off her horse, and she groaned and wrapped an arm around his shoulders, keeping her weight off her leg (which was really hurting now, after that excruciating ride). When Jessen pulled up next to them, Gwen said, "Tend to his injuries and toss him in the cage. Karo, help me get this blasted leg set and wrapped. We're leaving here at once."

"Uh, but Gwen, you're not really in any condition to--"

"I said I don't want to stay here," she hissed. "After that disaster? We'll be a laughingstock. We'll move to the next place and let it blow over. C'mon, now."

With a sigh, Karo helped her along, back into the tavern as he got the attention of one of the other men--their "doctor". Which meant he had enough crude knowledge to keep the slaves well enough when they were injured, and he at least knew how to deal with broken bones.

And the instant Rylan and Jessen were alone, Jessen smiled a sick smile and drew his knife from his belt. "Looks like we're alone," he said--

And used the knife to help him snap the head off the crossbow bolt, before shoving it roughly through the exit wound.

And with Quinlan's scream came the headbutt of a lifetime.  His skull slammed hard into Jessen's and the man was knocked backwards, stumbling until he landed hard on his ass.  Swiftly, Quinlan threw himself over him, landing awkwardly with only one good arm and leg, but never the less straddling him and proceeding to beat the slaver savagely with his good arm, his fist slamming hard multiple times until Jessen's face was bloodied.

The fall to the ground had dizzied the man and he couldn't focus enough, even with the knife in hand to fight back.  Finally someone had clubbed Quinlan hard on the back of the head, and that was enough to cease the attack.  But Jessen's face was already bloodied profusely before that had done any good.

And he promptly spat out three teeth.

"What the FUCK?"

It was Gwen's voice as she came hobbling out, crankier than ever. Her leg had been set and bound, an experience nearly as excruciating as the break itself, perhaps even more (since she couldn't remember the break itself!), and she came out to find one of her favorite lackeys bloodied up and spitting teeth! One of the other men, the one that had clubbed him in the head, had dragged "Rylan" off of Jessen and was now holding him with his arms wrenched behind his back, careless of his broken wrist.

Jessen, still on the ground, gurgled the blood that was filling his mouth and clutched his swelling face.

"I leave you alone for five minutes..." Gwen growled, stalking closer--and promptly punched him hard, right in the gut. For hurting Jessen, one of her most useful men! "Fucker. Wrap his leg and toss him in the cage. Karo!" She snapped her fingers. "Get Jessen, will you? Fucking hell. How hard can it be to keep one guy under control?"

Hours later when Quinlan would awaken, he had a massive headache and moved with very little space.  Most of the slaves in the cage, wanted to stay as far away from Quinlan as possible.  His wrist had been set, despite having been held behind his back, and his leg was bound.  Whether they knew it or not, setting his wrist - and having it be a proper set- while he was passed out was a courtesy he was most grateful for.

He looked up at the other slaves.  "So you come around here often?"

The wagon was in motion by then, jostling now and then when they hit bumps and potholes. It was also far later--or earlier, rather. The sun had started to break over the horizon, painting the sky in flashes of pastels, and most of the other slaves were sleeping--or sleeping as well as they could, under the circumstances.

His rousing woke a couple of them, including a teenaged girl who'd wound up curled up next to him, since there wasn't anywhere else to go in the cramped space.

Her eyes narrowed into a glower. "You fucked us all over, you know that?"

Quinlan returned the glare.  "Well, excuse me. I didn't mean to piss all over your parade.  I got caught.  You think I'm happy about it?  Fuck no.  Besides, I'm sure she's more pissed at me than the rest of you."

The girl returned his glare with one of equal ferocity. "Yeah, you got caught. And now you know where we're headed? Because of you?"

"I know where were going.  But I dont plan on making it that far.  And if you had any sense, you wouldn't either."  Quinlan huffed and looked at his wrist.  There wasn't much he could do right now anyway, being in the state he was in.

"We might've had a chance back in Adela," the girl groused as she sat up, roughly shoving Quinlan over as she rose. "Now we're headed to fuck-all knows where in the desert! We might not even make it there before we bite the--"

She stopped short and stared at him. "The hell you mean you're not going that far? What? You gonna escape again?" she scoffed.

Quinlan wouldn't admit it - not to anyone, not even this slave in passing - but he knew that getting sent down into the sandpit was bad.  As bad as it could get for a passel of slaves.  And though he remained unmarked - for now anyway - he knew the closer they got to Essyrn, the worse off they'd all be.

He didn't answer the slave girl, and just gave her a look before looking at his let and gesturing to her.  "You mind me making you bleed a little?"

Instantly, the girl recoiled in disgust. "What kinda sick fuck are you?"

"Fine!  Be stingy!  Don't ask for help if you need it," he hissed back and took her arm and pinched it hard, hard enough to break the skin.  It's not like he had a lot of opportunity to cut his nails out here.

"OW! You jerk!" the girl squealed, and beat at his hand with her fist, though it didn't do much, for she was rather frail from lack of proper food. So when that failed, she aimed a hard kick at him instead. "Let go, you freak!"

"Hey!" It was Gwen's voice, coming from up ahead. "What's going on back there? Don't make me go back there."

"Just gettin' to know my mates," he barked back and quickly put a finger in front of his lips, hissing for the girl to be quiet.  When he saw blood coursing from her shoulder, he quickly leaned in and lapped at the blood he saw.  And that was quickly followed by a slap.

"WHAT THE HELL? YOU PERVERT!" the girl shrieked when he licked her shoulder, utterly failing at any attempt at keeping quiet, because she was convinced this man was a bloody lunatic! Or a vampire! And then he slapped her! She smacked him across the face again for good measyre, and by then the other captives were well awake and staring at the two, and one of the men grabbed the girl and pulled her away from Quinlan while glaring murder at him.

"What are you doing to her?" he growled.

And that was when the wagon game to a shuddering halt.

Moments later, Gwen came marching around the side of the wagon. And by marching, it was more of a dragging, stiff limp. "What the fuck did I just say?" she barked, and fixed an accusing glare on "Rylan". "Are you harassing my cargo?"

[I'll just pretend that she slapped him instead of him slapping her 8D, since that's what happened.]

Quinlan was about to knock her upside the head to get her to shut up.  But she already did that once Gwendolyn came stalking around the corner.  Shit!  Why did she have to make all that ruckus for!?  He instead gave the slaver a quirked brow and a charming grin.

Not that he was trying to turn on the charm.  That wasn't going to work anymore.

"I was just trying to get her name," he said.  "She didn't take kindly to it and slapped me.  See the handprint?"

[OMG I THOUGHT I EDITED IT! D8 I totally meant to! WHOOOOOPS! xDDD]

She did, indeed, see the hand print. Gwen cocked an eyebrow, lips still pulled tight and unamused, and shot a glance at the girl. But the girl said nothing, and only flinched and slid her eyes away toward the floor.

What Gwen didn't notice, however, was the way the girl was clutching her shoulder with a hand, hiding the mark "Rylan" had left on her. After all, the girl had her arms crossed over her chest and knees drawn up against her, like she was cowering, so the action didn't seem all that out of place.

"Hmph," Gwen said, and gave "Rylan" another narrow-eyed glower. "Good for her. Now shut up and stop fucking around. I swear to God if I hear another peep out of you..."

And she turned to head back to her horse, rubbing her aching temples as she went. Soon enough, the wagon was back in motion.

Quinlan shot a glare at her as she walked away and considered that as a last word.  Sure he'd be quiet, but when she walked away he'd be talking again.  And as she did walk away, the broken wrist he'd been holding started to mend, as did the wound on his leg.  Glancing to the slave girl he frowned.  "Sorry," he whispered.  "I'm not trying to make things worse. But that was a damn good slap."

The girl just gave a derisive snort. "I've had some practice."

She rubbed at her shoulder, lifting her hand to check on the bleeding. It wasn't bad or anything; she just felt like being dramatic. And besides, he'd licked her! Gross!

"You've got some screws loose, don'tcha?" she said with a scowl. "Why'd you do that?"

Giving a soft chuckle he clicked his tongue against his teeth.  "Probably," was the answer and he observed his hand.

With some effort he managed to wiggle his fingers and his smile grew.

"Healing my arm," he said.  "See?"  He lifted his wrist and started to wiggle it.  "Just needed a taste of blood."

A long, long silence followed that statement as she stared at him.

It was broken only by a quiet, uneasy question.

"...Are you a vampire?"

Quinlan made a face.   Really!?  A vampire?

"No," he hissed, perhaps a bit too sharply.  "I'm a mage.  I just needed a pickmeup, all right.  And keep in mind, I did ask you.  I'm sorry, again.  But still.  Look, so who's who around here?  Obviously there's Gwen, then her two boys."

The girl sniffed, and figured it would be pointless to mention he hadn't accepted her answer. Hmph! At least he wasn't a vampire. A vampire would be a problem.

"A mage that drinks blood. Uh huh," she mumbled. "Whatever. Alright, so..."

She stole a look toward the front of the wagon before leaning closer to the man, her voice pitched low. "Her two main guys are Jessen and Karo. The other two are...I think those ones are Ceb and Fendrick. They don't really matter though. Other goons come and go, but Jessen and Karo are like...her trusty partners in crime. You gotta watch out for them. Those three are tight."

She looked around to the other slaves--nine of them total, including she and "Rylan". "I'm Aysel," she said. "I don't know everyone's name here. Not everyone wants to talk. A lot of them are too scared or traumatized or..." She frowned. "In shock, I guess."

"A shock well pounded into them I can only imagine," he sighed and eyed the other two men.  Jessen and Karo did appear to be loyal.  About as loyal as Gwen probably paid them, he wondered.  Not that Quinlan, a runaway blood mage, had anything substantial to offer that might sway them in his favor.

"Quinlan," he whispered back to Aysel.  "Do they ever let us out to piss?"

"A few times a day," Aysel whispered back. "They only let us out a few at a time, and, ah..."

Aysel's cheeks heated and she frowned. "If you're hoping for privacy, a chance to slip away, you're not going to get it. They stand watch while you go." She gave him a look. "I hope you're not pee-shy. You'll have to get over that very quickly."

Quinlan snickered.  "I don't mind really.  They should be more worried I might piss on them."

Aysel covered her mouth with a hand to hold in what wanted to be genuine laughter, the first she'd felt in quite some time. But with her mouth covered, it only came out a sharp exhalation.

"I wouldn't mind seeing that," she said, and then twitched. "...You peeing on them. Not your junk."

He grinned and winked in agreement.  "It's settled then.  Next piss stop, I'll give you a show.  The pissing, not the view of my junk.  You gotta buy me a drink first."

"Oh my gods," Aysel groaned, and covered her face with both hands. "Now it just sounds...bad. Oh jeez. I swear I don't have some weird fetish or something! I don't actually want a pissing show, I just want vengeance okay let's change the subject!"

"Do you like apples?" Quinlan quickly said, still smirking at the whole pissing fiasco.  "Connlaoth has beautiful orchards you know.  Have you ever been there?'

Aysel peeked out from between her fingers at Quinlan's question, and then lowered her hands completely when she saw it was safe, though her cheeks still burned. "That's the place that hates mages, right?" she said, and gave a derisive sniff. "Their apples were probably fertilized with mage's blood. I don't want any mage-blood apples, thank you!"

"Only the one with worms in them are," he said and sat up against the bars of the cage, getting as comfortable as he could in that cramped thing.  "I mean the good apples.  Like those really sweet green ones that are crisp when you bite them, that the very snap of it sounds like the crackling of freshly fallen autumn leaves.

"Those are my favorite.  Connlaoth is nice, unless you're a mage.  Then you can find apples just as good in Serendipity.  I like those stripy ones, with the red and the orange.  Those are pretty good too."

"You're terrible!" Aysel said, giving Quinlan's shoulder a light punch before she slumped dramatically against the bars beside him and tucked her knees to her chest. Her eyes filled with longing as she pulled her hair over her shoulder--white hair, though it was looking rather gray from going so long without washing.

"You know how long it's been since I've had an apple? Gods. I think I could kill for one right about now..."

"Speaking of apples, what the hell does Gwen feed us in all this time?  I mean, do we just starve until the next rest break?  Once a day?  Once every other day?"  It was an important question because now that Quinlan thought about it, slavery probably wasn't going to be very fun.  Not if he couldn't find a way to get out of his and soon.

"We get fed twice a day, morning and night," Aysel said with a frown, her nose scrunched with distaste. "Nothing fancy, nothing big. You'll get used to having an empty belly. We just get road rations. Dried meat, stale bread, water. When we stop by towns, we get a little more. She gives us fruit then. So we don't get scurvy, she says."

She looked sidelong at Quinlan, concern etched on her face. Now that she was no longer afraid of him attacking her or going all vampire on her, other matters were springing to mind. "Quinlan, you...you opened the cage back there. You let us all out and took Nina away. Why'd you do that?"

[Her name was Nina, wasn't it!? D:  I don't remember.]

Oh he was used to only eating when he had to.  But going hungry didn't sound any fun to him.  Gwen was clever in keeping her slaves alive just enough to get them to market, but keeping them malnourished enough so they were too weak to fight back.

He blinked at her for a moment. 

"She needed to go," he said.  "Her master paid good money to have her back.  I guess one of Gwen's boys nabbed her and put her in with the rest of you lot.  I guess, I ain't getting the rest of that coin."  He had the decency to laugh, though it was bitter and he wished he had a drink right now.  "Getting nabbed myself clearly wasn't in the cards."

[OMG IT WAS NINA. xDD I Totally forgot she had a name! *quietly edits* >_>]

Aysel frowned deeply at that, and with a scowl Quinlan's way, she turned her face away from him.

"Oh," she said, and crossed her arms. Disappointment filled her voice. "Then you're no better than Gwen, I see."

"Look, I was paid to do a job.  I don't normally go around capturing slaves.  For all I know Nina probably ran off to find her own freedom.  It was all a blur at the chasm.  Just before I went down, I pushed her off toward the other side.  Despite my own fate, I have no regrets.  And frankly, I hope she made it."

"Hmph," Aysel said with a lift of her chin. "I was kind of excited at first, you know? The way you released us all, all heroic-like, and got wounded and captured saving a girl like in the stories. Now it's just like..."

She blew a wet raspberry, making a sad, disappointed deflating noise.

At that he laughed and snorted.

"What!?  What was that!?  I am soooooo sorry to disappoint," he said and shook his head.  "Now I'm just a fart sound.  Thanks a lot."

"Well maybe if you wanna be more than a lousy, smelly fart, you could do something like oh, I dunno...do something actually heroic?" Aysel said, and shot him a sidelong look.

"...Like get me outta here?"

"Well, then, when I figure out how to get the hell out of here, feel free to leave as well," he said and rested his hands on his jacket.  His wrist was well-healed now, and so was his leg, but he wasn't going to let the guards know that.  "Gods I could use a smoke right now."  And when he saw someone light up to the left of him, he gestured to the man.

"Hey man, share some of that yeah?"

Fendrick scowled at him and took a long drag before flicking ashes in his direction.  "Get your own, maggot."

"What'd I tell you?" Aysel whispered from beside Quinlan. "Bastards, the lot of 'em. But if we don't get out of here, it's gonna be even worse. Don't antagonize him," she added, placing a hand on Quinlan's arm.

"He'll get all mad and get Gwen, and then you might get..."

She swallowed. "Corrected."

Quinlan scowled and then stared at Aysel, especially the way she uttered that last word.  "What do you mean corrected?" he asked.  "Like what?  Beaten?"

Aysel nodded at that, a visible shudder going through her. "Ah, yes. Beaten, but so as not to leave marks. They, ah...they've got this cane, a split one. They beat the bottoms of your feet." She curled her legs under herself as she spoke, making sure to tuck her feet beneath her as well.

"Won't leave a mark, but it hurts like hell. You won't be able to walk for a while, either, much less run. They do other stuff, too. Won't feed you, will make sure you can't sleep...other awful things..."

"I wonder if one of them likes the feel of being boiled to death," he griped at the mention of these awful things.  And other potential awful things.  Rape he imagined, few things were worse than that.

"So...even if you didn't do anything, one of the guards could say you did and you'd still be punished?"

"Yeah..." Aysel said, and shot a nervous look Fendrick's way before looking back to Quinlan. "They get bored sometimes, I think. And who's Gwen gonna believe? The slave she gives no shits about, or her men? She doesn't care what happens to us, as long as we're still marketable."

She leaned in a little closer. "She knows when they're lying. She's witnessed it. You think she stopped it? It keeps everyone afraid, and I think that's how she likes it."

"Good to know..."

He sighed and shook his head.  He stared off ahead.  "Does she ever take favorites?" he murmured.  "Not that I'd gain her trust again probably...but I did make her squeal."

Aysel's eyes went wide and she covered her mouth with both hands. "You fucked her? You fucked the old harpy? Holy shit, no way, I mean...WHY?"

Quinlan hid his smirk.  "Well, how do you think I got the key?  I just had to make sure I tied her up.  Which was hard enough to do to begin with."

"Grooooss! Seriously, just...that's some balls. I hope you washed yours after 'cause..." Aysel stuck a finger down her throat and faked a gagging noise. "Nasty."

Sticking out her tongue and wrinkling her nose, she gave a full body shudder as though shaking off the grossness. "Eugh. Anyway. Uh. Yeah, she's got favorites, definitely. Changes by the week, sometimes by the day. She likes them young and pretty."

She gave him a sour look. "Like you. You're totally her type."

Quinlan nodded to her and sniffed in subtle indignance.  As gross as it was, he had to admit, it was pretty good sex.  Except for the belt part.  Well, when he suffered the belt part.  He certainly enjoyed tying her up, because well, it gave him reign to undergo his plan.  Even if it did pretty much fall apart in the end.

"I'll be sure to scrub them extra good if we ever get to bathe," he said, smirking at Aysel.  "Not that I think she'd pick me again.  Fool her once, you know that old adage.  But I guess...she'd take precautions."

"I dunno," Aysel admitted with a shrug. "No one's ever done anything like what you did. I dunno if that'll turn her off you or turn her on more."

Then her frown deepened as another thought struck. "Though, come to think of it, uh...she doesn't really go for the defeated ones, you know? It's better to just be all forlorn. She targets you more if you show spunk."

Quinlan was accustomed to being a target.  He didn't mind so much if he knew what he was in for.  Being in this box with all these other bodies pretty much summed it up.

"So...she targets the ones that dare not be broken?  Good to know, though, I assume she'd still take precautions against the threat of escape.  She can't be that stupid," he said.  "Then again, she does think my name is Rylan.  So keep my real one on the low, all right?"

"Of course she takes precautions. Otherwise a lot of us wouldn't be here right now. We'd fake our way out of this mess and...well..."

Aysel ducked her head and looked away. "Well, that doesn't work so great."

Quinlan wouldn't admit it, ever, but his heart went out to the girl.  However awkwardly it would be, he raised his hand and gently pat her on the shoulder.  "You know, if we all work together, I bet we could skin a couple of these guards.  Now, I'm no leader.  I was never good at having people follow me, but there's strength in numbers.  As the saying goes.  Five against nine...with good planning, might turn the tide.  Might, being the key word."

He didn't know why he suggested that.  Frankly, he only cared if he got away.  But having people like Gwen about to make his job more difficult wasn't exactly a good thing.  Even if she was a half-decent lay.  He wondered if she cared at all that one of the slaves in her possession wasn't hers to sell.  It'd been the fault of her men of course.  But kidnapping the property of another wasn't exactly recommended in such a cut throat business.

"How are Gwen's business practices?" he found himself asking.

"I dunno, Rylan. Never exactly sat her down and asked about 'em," Aysel said as she glanced at the hand on her shoulder.  But she didn't try to shrug him off. They may have gotten off to a rough--and freaky--start, but now that he'd proven himself decidedly NOT vampiric, she found herself filing him into the Pretty Good Guy category. Rather than the Creepy, Literal Bloodsucker category he'd been in before.

Instead, she gave his hand an equally awkward pat. Quinlan wasn't the only awkward turtle here, but...well, she figured that was probably the right was to return such a gesture. Or something.

"But you really think we can get away? That we can take her guys? 'Cause you look like you got her pretty good; she was limping. So it'd be more like nine on four, right? Except..." She scrunched her face up. "She does have that shooty thing." She gestured with her hands, pantomiming firing an arrow. "The bow that's not a bow. That thing's nasty. I, uh...I saw her shoot someone with it once."

And her eyes moved down to the hole in Quinlan's pants where Gwen's arrow had pierced. "Did she get you, too?" she whispered.

"Yeah.  Crossbows.  They got more of them up north.    But she got me pretty good.  Then again I was standing still and there wasn't really anywhere to run.  We fell down that chasm, west of there I guess.  Hard fall too.  Not so sure I'm lucky to be alive though, considering where I am.

"She didn't look so hot coming out of the chasm either.  She was hobbling on a stick like an old woman."  And at that he chuckled.

"Too bad she didn't break her neck," Aysel said, and frowned down at his leg. With all the old blood around the hole, she couldn't see that he was healed. From where she was sitting, it still looked pretty bad--and she wasn't really trying to get a closer look, anyway!

She didn't really do gore...

"Um...are you, uh...okay?" she asked, and motioned at his leg. "I mean, it's not like...gonna get infected or anything...?"

"It's all right," he said.

"That's what your blood was for.  Just a bit of healing.  Well a lot of healing."

He smirked and fell silent.  Just wondering how long this journey would be.

As luck would have it, it wouldn't be much longer. At least, it wouldn't be much longer before they stopped for a rest.

It was early morning when they came to a stop just after crossing a low bridge that ran over a river, with plenty of forest all about them. It was clear Gwen had wanted to put lots of distance between here and that inn.

While Gwen sorely worked on unhitching the horse from the wagon so it could be properly watered, and the other two men tended to the other horses, Jessen and Karo marched to the back of the wagon.

Jessen clanged the pommel of his dagger on the bars of the cage, loudly and suddenly enough that several slaves jumped. Aysel, who had finally started to doze off, jolted awake with a gasped curse.

"Wakey wakey, eggs and...heh, well, none of that for you sad sacks, actually. Same old shit for y'all as the last few weeks! But I'm betting you gotta piss by now. Hope none of you wet the wagon or your nose is going in it!"

He ran his eyes over the lot of them as he spoke before they landed on Quinlan. He smirked, twirled his dagger, and nodded to Karo. "Grab Fendrick. We'll take 'em out a couple at a time, as usual."

Quinlan returned that glare, and remembered that he was injured and not make it look like he could easily break that fucker's neck if he laid a hand on him.  The injured quarry would only go so far, he knew, but in the meantime, he would milk it for what it was worthy.  He was worthy less the longer he was in bandages, and he doubted Gwen would want to devalue her stock anymore than she had to.

Quinlan was not the first to be taken out.  In fact, he was the last one, and Jessen was sure his bladder must be bursting by now.  Out he went, and Jessen shoved him none too gently.

"Easy!" Quinlan griped. 

And Jessen only shoved him again, making Quinlan stumble into a tree.  "Just take your piss, swine."

Fendrick stayed nearby as they let Quinlan take his piss, though he set himself off to the side more where he could take his smoke in peace. He kept in eyesight, but out of hearing range, and it was then that Jessen stepped closer to Quinlan. He had his knife in his hands, and he was making a show of sharpening it on a stone.

"You're not going to make it to Essyrn," he said. "I'm going to make sure of that."

At that threat, Quinlan bristled.  Partly because the man smelled pretty bad, and because he'd glanced at that knife.  It was tempting.  But Quinlan had to be careful.  He shrugged nonchalantly, before a "stray" stream of urine splashed across Jessen's boots.  Quinlan put himself away just as Jessen sprung to his feet.  "I'll fucking skin you!"

He lunged for him, blade at the ready. Quinlan turned at the last minute, spinning behind Jessen and kicking him hard in the balls with his healing leg.  Well, mostly healed, because he still winced afterward from the impact.

Fendrick was back on the scene in a flash while Jessen was still rolling around on the ground, clutching his balls and whimpering like a child. He shot a hand out, grabbing a fistful of Quinlan's hair from behind, and slammed his knee up and into his lower back, right in his kidneys.

"Feeling well enough to fight, are you?" he snarled around his cigarette, and gave Quinlan's hair a hard, twisting yank to pull him along as he turned back to the wagon. "We'll fix you of that."

Quinlan was not content to be dragged along by his hair.  He wasn't some whore that failed to cough up earnings to a pimp. And what little dignity he had, he wasn't going down without a fight.  Quinlan rolled in Fendrick's grip and through his good armaround his legs.  Fendrick tripped up and kicked hard against the blood mage.  But the moment the grip on his hair was released, Quinlan reached upward and punched him as hard as he could in the nuts.

Then there was another man rolling on the ground, wheezing for breath.

Aysel had been watching from the wagon--not to be creepy! She didn't want to watch him piss! But because she was kind of worried he might wind up getting murdered, and he couldn't do that because he'd promised to get her out!

...Looked like she did well to be worried. Because there he went, pounding two thugs in the nuts, and despite her worry she couldn't help but burst into nervous giggles that she stifled with a hand. Go him!

...Except now he was totally going to get murdered. Or he was going to leave her! Hand still covering her mouth, she watched tensely to see what he'd decide, and it was lucky she did, because by then Jessen had recovered just enough to rise up on his knees, knife in hand, and stagger on his knees toward Quinlan from behind. There was pure murder in his eyes.

Shit!

"QUIN--er, RYLAN!" she yelled in warning, too late, as Jessen pounced, bringing his knife to the blood mage's throat.

Quinlan stilled immediately at the feel of the blade.  His foot and leg were throbbing, but he wasn't going to give them the benefit of hearing him scream.  He hobbled, leaning more on his good leg and Jessen, it seemed, wasn't going to give him any time to recover as he kicked the back of his knee and Quinlan choked on the edge of the blade.

Fendrick was on his feet and slugged Quinlan hard across the face, left then right.  "You fucking piece of shit!  Just slit his throat right now!  He ain't worth the trouble."

Jessen was more than happy oblige, but he flicked his eyes back to Gwendolyn, stilling his hand.  "He ain't worth it.  Drag him back to the cage!"

"Just what in the hell is going on?" came Gwen's snarling voice as she stormed--or rather, limped--her way onto the scene. She'd been taking a moment to get some goddamned hard-earned shut-eye when Aysel's scream jerked her awake.

Lucky for Quinlan, she'd misheard her. She'd heard "Quin" as "Gwen".

She figured the kid was just letting her know shit was up with Rylan or something. Again.

And, of course, shit was most definitely up. It was so up it was a goddamned shit cloud.

Both Jessen and Fendrick straightened up a little more as she approached, because she looked like she'd gotten no sleep and a sleep deprived Gwen was a surly Gwen. Well. Surly-er. Jessen poked Quinlan in the neck with his blade. "Fucker pissed on my boots and kicked me in the balls," he said, and from how he said it, it was unclear which of those things he was most upset about. He jerked his head at Fendrick. "Then he punched him in the balls, too."

For about two seconds, Gwen was quiet as she processed that, yet a wide array of emotions played across her face in that time. Surprise, irritation, exasperation, and then...amusement. She barked a sudden laugh and pressed her fingers to her temples.

"Are you fucking kidding me? Both of you? The goddamned gimp hobbled both of you? Holy shit, I thought this only happened in--"

...Gimp.

Wait.

She froze. And then her eyes narrowed as she looked at Rylan properly then. "He kicked you, did he?" she said. "And punched you, did he? Bring him here."

[The fact that Quin could sound like "Gwen" totally didn't occur to me 8D]

Quinlan was dragged along - again- because walking on his feet would be far too dignified.  He limped realistically, because his leg really wasn't all that ready to be walking on.  And he knew it'd be suspicious that he'd struck both of them with the very appendages that appeared broken.  But it wasn't as if it was too far fetched that an injured leg used as a punting device wouldn't just be more injured.

Jessen was none too gentle setting him before Gwen.  And if she didn't look like a bitch before, she certainly looked like one now.

Quinlan quirked brows up at her.  "Punched that fucker with the good arm.  Jessen had it coming with the bad leg."  He limped, trying to balance on his feet, at last.  "Seeing him squeal like a pig was worth the pain," he added.

[8DDD *IS GENIUS* *TOTALLY DIDN'T PLAN THAT* *PRETEND I DID* xDDD]

"Was it, now?" Gwen purred, limping in closer to Quinlan. She shifted her weight onto her makeshift crutch and reached with her other hand to take his chin in her fingers as she stared at him.

She smiled sweetly. "Good. I hope it's worth the pain to come, too. Jessen?"

Jessen, who was clearly still in pain, perked up a little at the sound of his name. "Yeah, boss?"

"He said you squealed like a pig. Shall we show him what a real pig sounds like?"

Jessen slid a cruel look Quinlan's way, his eyes narrowing and lips curling into a grin. "I'd love to."

"Fetch the cane."

Fendrick took over as Jessen shifted Quinlan over to him, taking his arms and pinning them none-too-gently behind his back. And then Jessen was off, extra pep in his step despite the awkward way he still sort of waddled.

Quinlan gave Gwen a sly wink.  He knew what was coming.  He wasn't an idiot.  Not about stuff like this at least.  He didn't want to mention making her squeal, best to leave that where it lied and his eyes flicked to Fendrick.  "I don't know how you stand working with that guy.  He's an asshole."

"Shut the fuck up," Fendrick replied coolly.

Gwen snorted at that assessment, because it was on point. She worked with a bunch of assholes, it was true, and she was no better. You didn't get in the skin trade by being a saint.

Jessen was back a minute later, split cane in hand. Karo was with him. Gwen delivered her fair share of beatings with her own hands, but with her all banged up, today was not one of those days. It would take at least two to hold Quinlan down and a third to deal the blows, and after all the shit and hassle he'd put her through--and continued to put her through!--she was happy to be an audience today.

"You can do the honors, Jessen. Give him twenty. Make sure he can't walk. We'll see how he's doing then and decide if he needs more."

And she looked at Quinlan then and returned his wink with one of her own, her smile saccharine sweet as Fendrick and Karo descended upon him, roughly wrestling him to the ground. Karo took his legs and Fendrick, his hands; clearly he wasn't in any hurry to get in kicking range anytime soon.

He saw that split cane and his eyes visibly widened.  Oh he'd been tortured before, few things surprised him.  But when the welts turned to lashes and the lashes turned to open wounds, Quinlan was screaming, his face having nearly turned purple from the all the ones he was trying to hold inside.

The blood seeping out burned like fire and Quinlan was quivering by the end of it.  He didn't struggle, not really, because there wasn't much energy left.  He looked up at Jessen, and gave him a bloody mouthed smirk shortly before passing out.

"Pathetic," Gwen said with a shake of her head, nudging Quinlan's limp form with the toe of her good foot. She shook her head. No matter. After a beating like that, he wouldn't be doing much of anything for a while, and Jessen had focused the brunt of the beating on the soles of his feet to ensure he wouldn't be walking, either.

"Clean his wounds and toss him in the wagon. When he wakes, give him water but nothing else," she said as she turned and headed back to her horse.

Jessen nodded, and wiped the cane off onto Quinlan's clothes, leaving bloody streaks behind. Between he and Karo, they got Quinlan hauled back to the wagon, though they were sure to follow her orders and tend to him first. Karo poured a stinging medicine onto the injuries, to keep them from getting infected--though it would be unpleasant for Quinlan when he woke--and wrapped the worst of his wounds in clean bindings. They kept his boots, though, and kept his feet unbound so the wounds were exposed to open air.

All the better to hobble him.

They tossed him in the wagon after, and then rationed out food and water to the remaining captives. "Anyone caught sharing food with the vermin gets to share his fate," Jessen growled at them. No one said a word. A few pairs of eyes moved to Quinlan's form and shifted guiltily away.

When his back was turned as he finally headed off to tend to other matters, making preparations to continue their journey, Aysel scooted in closer to Quinlan and gently nudged his shoulder.

"Hey," she whispered. "Hey, wake up..."

Frankly, being passed out was the best sleep he'd gotten in a week.  It beat sleeping with his back to hard bars and the fact that the other slaves didn't want to be caught anywhere nearer to him than they had the proximity to do so, gave him enough room to have a semi-comfortable sleep.  He could feel his feet tingling and something swabbing against him.

Sure, it was dumb to have pissed all over Jessen's boots, but he deserved it, bastard, and Quinlan had no regrets about doing so.  The only regret was not snatching the flask from his boot when he had the chance.  He could use a few swigs of the hard stuff.

There was a voice in his ear.  He twitched, opening one wary eye, just in case it was someone that wanted to spit in his face.  Upon seeing Aysel, he moved, just barely, not minding at all the lashings on his feet.  He'd deal with those barely.  "Hey.  It ain't too bad is it?  Also, if it is, I'll need some more blood.  Say, you're not a mage are you?" he asked, curious.

"It's, uh..." Aysel swept her eyes over him and grimaced. From the wagon, she'd seen everything, though she hadn't been able to watch it to its bitter end. She swallowed and plastered on a smile. "You look great."

And then she gave him another little shake. "What were you thinking, attacking them like that, stupid?! Oi! Now they'll never take their eyes off you." Not that they would have anyway, given how he'd gotten here.

With a huff, she crossed her arms and frowned at him. "I'm a mage, yeah. Not that it'll do us much good here. And I'm not gonna keep giving you blood if you're gonna keep bleeding it right out again!"

Quinlan smirked at her, knowing she was just trying to make him feel better.  It didn't work, of course.  He needed a little more than a half genuine pat on back. Figuratively speaking of course.  Quinlan rolled over onto his side, pushing himself up, minding his wounds as much as he could.  Sitting up made his blood rush.

"Easy," came that self-soothing whisper.  He looked at Aysel and shrugged.  "You gotta admit, it was funny.  Two nut shots.  Not my personal best, but pretty good."

Aysel sighed.

He had her there. Damn him. How did he do that, make it so hard for her to stay angry at him?!

Holding up her hands, she relented. "Alright, alright. It...was pretty funny," she admitted. "And the pissing bit. That was great, though if it were me, I'd've aimed higher." She paused. "If I had the right stuff to aim with, I mean."

Quinlan could snicker, even with him bloodied and beaten.  He could still laugh.  "Well, the pissing was just the icing on the cake.  Actually, Jessen's going to be a problem.  Gotta get rid of him.  But I'll need blood to make it work...preferably his blood."

He sighed and looked at her.  "So you're a mage.  What can you do? And why haven't you done anything?"

"I would do something if I could!" Aysel said, bristling a little at his words, and reached up to touch the thin, metal collar she wore. It was small enough, and even pretty enough, that it looked almost like jewellery, smooth save for the loop in the front for attaching a leash--and all the other slaves wore it, too.

All but Quinlan, that was.

"But these have got some sorta...anti-magic stuff on 'em. Not that I could do much anyway," she said with a huff that sent a stray strand of hair fluttering. "I'd need paint. Or charcoal. Or something to draw with. And I'm not very good..." She frowned. "Not at magic, that is."

He'd observed the collars before, but understood now what they meant. With that in mind it was probably a good idea to get rid of Jessen and get out of here before they put one on him.  Which would no doubt be soon. 

"Then I'll have to take care of Jessen before I get all accessorized," he sighed.  "And I can't get caught.  Thankfully I have something in mind."  And his eyes lingered over to Jessen and the other guards, watching them eat and drink among themselves.

Turning back to Aysel, he gestured to his feet.  "Keep an eye on them, let me know if they're looking this way. Don't make it obvious."  He carefully cupped his hand beneath his foot and squeezed out blood into his palm.  He was already bloodied, it wouldn't make a difference.

With a quick nod, Aysel watched the four men out of the corner of her eye. For the moment, they weren't paying much attention to the cage and were instead all focused on Jessen, who was telling a rather animated tale about something or other. But from his angry gestures, miming a punch and a kick, and Fendrick's subsequent grimace, she had a feeling she knew what it was about.

Especially when he shot a glare toward the wagon.

Aysel gasped and jerked her eyes away.

"Jessen's looking this way," she whispered between her teeth, moving her lips as little as possible. And it was also then that she noticed what Quinlan was doing, and blanched.

Quinlan kept his back to the bars.  And when he heard boots standing from where the men were eating, he stopped and hid the blood, cupping it gently against his palm.  He didn't see who approached, but inwardly he released a sigh of relief when it was Karo with a mug of water.  "Boss said to drink.  Seeing as you're awake now," he huffed, shoving the cup toward him.

Keeping his shoulder away, Quinlan reached for it with his right, hand trembling for added effect, and carefully took the cup, taking a test sip, then downing the rest of it.  Once handed back, Karo spit in his direction and stalked back toward the rest of the men.

Quinlan peered back toward Aysel.  And he resumed gathering more blood from his foot.  When that was ready he coughed a little, making room from the other captives in the cart.  They were clearly content to have nothing to do with him.  And he was just fine with that.  He carefully dipped his right index finger into the small cup of blood within his left and traced the image of a stick-figured man, placing a J at the center of him, his mouth gently whispering words.

He could hear the raucous laughter of the men, and within his mind he singled out Jessen.  "Gha'kavad, mah'veled.  Sha-ra, Maha-kheledevra," he hissed, focusing the burning in his hand into the drawing in the wood panel.  He heard a cough, Jessen clearing his throat, and laughing again.   Quinlan painted red around the figures chest, then stomach, sticking his thumb into the drawing.  One cough was followed by two more.  A few minutes later another cough and Jessen gagged, trying to clear his throat.

The fit lasted a brief moment.

Couldn't kill him right away of course.  "Keep looking," he commented to Aysel.

Jessen cupped his mouth, and coughed up blood.  "What the fuck?  Geeze, Fendrick did you get drunk and put glass in the fucking mutton again?"

"No, you fucking prick, I didn't."  Fendrick griped and threw his empty bottle out toward the trees.

Jessen started to cough again, as if he were choking and more blood spewed up from his lips.  But this time the coughing didn't stop and soon he was choking, clutching his throat and neck.  Jessen convulsed and fell back suddenly, blood seeping out from his lips, and soon he fell still, the only light in them being the reflection of the stars above.

Quinlan splayed his cupped palm against the drawing he'd made, smearing blood all over it.

Aysel, too, pretended that she was up to nothing when Karo came. She did what she always did and curled her knees to her chest as though to make herself smaller, her eyes low and shifted away from him in that broken way she saw slaves behave. The broken way that the other slaves on this very wagon behaved. Or maybe they were just like her and acting the part to avoid standing out.

She hoped so. They'd talked to her before, a week ago, but the beatings that happened when they were caught put an end to that.

As soon as Karo was gone, as soon as he'd settled back in to finish his meal, she shot a cautious look back to the group.

And then to Quinlan when she heard his whispered words, but couldn't make out what he was saying. Her eyes dropped to the picture he was painting in blood--and for a second she wondered if, maybe, that would have ever worked for her if she'd been brave enough, and quick enough, to consider it. She was no blood mage, and collared as she was it didn't matter now, but would it have mattered if she used blood to work her art? She stared at the stick figure--he's a terrible artist--but Quinlan's voice brought her back.

She snapped her eyes back to the men. Right! She was the lookout!

She looked back at just the right moment, just in time to see Jessen coughing up blood.

Just in time to watch the coughing turn to a bloody fit, and then choking and gurgling. Monster though he was, it was still difficult to watch, and yet Aysel couldn't look away--Quinlan told her to watch, and the other men were so focused on Jessen they didn't think to look to the wagon.

Karo swore wildly when Jessen collapsed and dropped down beside him, but it was too late. Jessen went still, and when Karo pressed his fingers to his neck, he swore again. "He's fuckin' dead!" he said, and whirled on Fendrick with closed, white-knuckled fists. "What the FUCK did you do?!"

He had, after all, eaten from the same cooking pot. And not only that, but Jessen had been his friend.

"Hey, back off, man! I didn't fucking do anything!" Fendrick said, hands up as he took a step back. "You ate it! I ate it! Ain't nothing happening to us!"

"You always had a beef with him!" Karo snapped and grabbed him by the shirt before he could leap back. "You always wanted his--"

"Karo, stop!" It was the youngest and newest of the foursome--now threesome. Ceb had just come back from a piss break and was still lacing up his breeches when he saw Karo about to beat Fendrick's face in. He grabbed his wrists from behind, and though smaller than Karo, it was just enough of a distraction for Fendrick to jerk free. Karo swore and elbowed Ceb in the gut.

"Back the fuck off!"

"What the HELL is going on?!"

It was Gwen's voice as she came hobbling over on her makeshift crutch. She had been catching some much needed shut-eye. Trying to. Of course she wouldn't actually get it.

The irritation dissolved the instant she saw Jessen's body, blood making a small pool around his head where it still leaked from his mouth.

Her face actually paled.

The remaining men launched into a hurried explanation, talking over each other while Gwen tried to make sense of it--Karo blaming Fendrick, Fendrick proclaiming innocence, Ceb trying to keep the peace. Aysel watched in transfixed silence, unnoticed during the commotion, and then swung a wide-eyed look at Quinlan.

"You killed him."

He couldn't make himself noticeable.  He couldn't be conspicuous.  He couldn't risk looking back, as much as he wanted to.  But that didn't stop him from listening.  All their collective shouting was hard to miss.  And though he remained still, stoic as a statue, his lips twitched in mild amusement.  He didn't like to think of himself as a guy that enjoyed killing, but even he had to admit there was a satisfaction in taking down a rat bastard like Jessen.

He glanced to Aysel.  "Me?  How could I do such a thing from all the way over here?  I can barely sit up," he said softly, delicately feigning innocence.  And he winked at her.

Aysel stared at Quinlan in shock, stomach twisting a little at the realization of what he'd done and the fact that she'd just witnessed a man's violent death. And yet, the disgust and horror she felt had little to do with Jessen--it was merely the shock of seeing someone die for the first time, seeing all that blood. As far as Jessen himself went...

Bastard had it coming.

The darkness of her own thoughts surprised her, and yet she couldn't find the energy to feel anything but relief. She'd suffered at his hands before, and witnessed the suffering of others. It was hard to feel pity for a man that kidnapped and beat her, and who had kidnapped and hurt how many people before her?

Still wide-eyed with surprise, Aysel caught Quinlan's wink and the hint in his words and quickly dropped her eyes.

Outside the wagon, Gwen and Karo were bullying Fendrick into eating from Jessen's bowl--something he looked a little less confident about as he second-guessed himself. Finally, though, he scooped up a spoonful and swallowed it down, and there was a moment's silence as the gathered four waited for something to happen to him, Fendrick sweating bullets all the while.

When a minute or two passed and Fendrick didn't keel over, Fendrick burst out, "See! I told you I didn't fucking do it! Shit, man!"

"He was in good health," Gwen said, something odd and quiet in her voice, as though she were holding something back. She looked to Jessen's body and frowned, eyes narrowed as she studied him. "This doesn't make sense."

"Maybe he was allergic to something in it," Ceb offered, and Gwen shot him a glower.

"Don't be an idiot. He ate that same fucking meal last night. He--" Gwen stopped, and her frown twisted into a scowl, making the lines of her face deepen.

She stared at Jessen a moment longer, at the blood all down his front and bubbled up between his lips, and swung a look to the wagon. Her body went taut.

Rylan was a blood mage. That much she knew. She'd watched him make that bridge from his own blood. She'd felt the way he'd made her blood heat.

But he'd been touching her to do that.

But he had touched Jessen, when he'd kicked him in the balls. Had he done something to him then? Something internal? Was Fendrick in danger now, too? But that had been a while ago, and Rylan had been unconscious. He was beat all to hell now. Could he have...? Was that even possible?

It didn't make sense. If he had that kind of power, certainly he would have taken them all out by now, her especially. But it was too bizarre a coincidence--and Jessen didn't exactly have the most healthy habits, drinking himself sick, whoring, and dabbling in drugs when he didn't have to work.

She looked back to the others and drew in a deep breath, rolling her stiff shoulders back. "Deal with the body," she told them, and limped away toward the back of the wagon.

And banged on the bars with her crutch to get Rylan's attention. "You awake, handsome?" But the words came out a snarl.

Quinlan didn't mind pain.  He'd felt worse, or liked to think he did.  This way any current pain didn't seem to bad.  The worse part of it, he figured, wasn't the initial pain: it was always the incessant throbbing of blood coursing through his body, pulsating through his limbs that ached if he moved so much as a micrometer.

He sat hunched over against the bars, tired, and felt he could sleep for days.  Especially since he'd just gotten the crap beat out of him.  That was until he felt the vibration of something annoying rapping against the bars.  Followed by an equally annoying voice.

Quinlan jerked, as if the sound of her voice startled him.  He tensed, visibly - some of which was real, and feigned.  He turned his face toward her, eying her from the side.  "What?" he muttered, voice croaking. 

Gwen wasted no time in cutting straight to the chase. "What the fuck did you do to Jessen?" she growled, and waited, watching him closely.

She had no proof. And she certainly had no idea if it was even possible. But this, she felt, was the quickest way to narrow down the possibilities, and his reaction to the accusation would tell her everything she needed to know.

It was good she was focusing so hard on Quinlan; she didn't notice Aysel's flinch.

The girl had no pokerface.

Quinlan did flinch at that accusation - well feigned from years of lying through his teeth.  Not to mention the sheer tone of her voice wasn't really light on his ears.  That didn't hurt his reaction any.  He frowned, even managed a scowl at her - both of which were very real.  Quinlan shook his head, looking past Gwen over to Jessen's sprawled body.

"How could I have possibly done that from here?" he spat back, angry.  "You had me beat senseless.  I can barely move."

"You beat the shit out of him, and then he falls over dead!" Gwen spat back. Okay, that was an exaggeration; Rylan hadn't "beat the shit out of him", just got him in the balls. And hours had passed since then. She let out a huff of frustration, frustration she knew she was unloading onto him, because he was a convenient target.

"You're a blood mage. You could have done something to him!" And yet even as she said it, she was very aware of Rylan's reaction--his angry confusion.

And the fact that he had been out cold all this time. The fact that he did look fucking awful.

Gwen let out a frustrated growl. "No matter. You'll be collared soon and then it won't matter."

[I wonder if the collar would even work on a cursed crazy blood mage o:]

Quinlan sneezed, blood coming out and cupping it there.  Collar.  He figured it was inevitable, good thing he had more at his disposal than just his magic.  Before Gwen could walk away, he reached out and grabbed her arm.  "Whips and chains, darling."  He let her go, leaving behind his bloody sneeze remnants.

[BWAHAHAHA! Be pretty fun if it didn't, eh? >8D I actually don't think it would, considering his demonic assistance!]

...Eugh.

Disgusting.

Gwen stared down at her arm, which was now covered in Rylan's snot-blood, and her lip curled in distaste. Drawing a kerchief from her pocket, she wiped it off, though she would need to use water for this, because...snot-blood.

Fucking nasty shit.

And a little eerie, too, considering he was a blood mage. She didn't want his blood on her--just in case.

"I'll ensure you're sold to a master who'll give you plenty of that, darling," she spat at him before she stalked away. And it was no idle threat. She was pissed. Pissed by the loss of Jessen, pissed by Rylan's "betrayal", pissed that he'd been such a bloody thorn in her side!

He'd get his. One way or another.

When she was gone, Aysel looked at Quinlan. "...someone's pouting like a jilted lover," she remarked.

[Yeah I was thinking it might not either. With the whole cursed thing going for him]

Quinlan gave a bloody toothed grin at her departure, giving Aysel a look at her comment.  "Well, I have been told I make a prettysexy pout."    Moving was still a pain in the ass. Literally.  At least he wouldn't have to move too much now.  "You okay, kid?"

[ALL THE BETTER! >8D Gwen's not gonna like it, bwahaha.]

"Oh, I'm fine. I'm not the one got his ass whooped," Aysel said with a dismissive wave--even though she was pretty sure that's not what he meant. And she was shaken, despite the tough act she was fronting. "It's just, uh, not everyday you see something like that."

She leaned in closer, looked around to make sure no one was looking, and then spoke in a whisper. "Next time, aim for Gwen?"

Quinlan chuckled, although he certainly understood where she came from. Sure Gwen probably had something coming to her, and would no doubt get her comeuppance where she jilted somebody.  Quinlan made a mental note to have the bitch suffering when he had the chance.  After all, he needed but a drop of blood...

"And rob someone else the pleasure of wringing her neck?" he chuckled.  "Soon.  But if I'm whipped again like that I might not walk again.  I like using my legs."

"You'll be whipped again for sure if you keep giving her attitude," Aysel said, grimacing as she looked over his injuries again.

"I've...uh, honestly never seen her do someone like she did you? Not that I've been here long, but it's always just been the feet or something. You got the feet and your body. You gotta be more careful, Quin."

Normally he had some sarcastic remark to make at sentiments like that.  But he saw the concern in her eyes.  Allowing that witch to beat him to death wasn't the best escape plan.  He had to think of something else.

"I will," he said, nodding and abruptly nudged her shoulder.  "Ya big softie."

"Hey, I'm not soft, you weirdo," Aysel said, a total, obvious lie. She was just an artist stuck in the wrong situation! She'd just always figured she should probably act a lot tougher to fit in. "You're just the only one here with a plan! And no collar. Seriously, keep your head low, okay? They really hurt you..."

She bit her lip, and after a thought, she started to tear off strips of cloth from the bottom of her dress. It was cheap fabric and already torn, the dress she'd been wearing when she'd been kidnapped--though it hardly looked as it had back then. "Next time they might do worse. Here..."

Motioning to his feet, she shuffled around him on her knees and started to wrap them. "Tell me if that hurts."

Yes, he could imagine they could do worse.  Which was they had to get out before it happened.  Quinlan sighed and watched her rip strips if cloth from her dress and tend to the wounds on his feet.

He stared at her, giving an odd look.  "Why are you doing that?"

"Because," Aysel said plainly, giving him a surprised look as though he'd asked the color of the sky, "you're hurt."

She looked back down at his feet as she continued. "I know, I know, you heal. But they don't know that. They'll know once that blood flakes off, though." She tightened the strips. "This will hide that."

"I can only heal with blood treated in fire and ritual.  A mage's blood is more potent however.  Which is why I licked you."  Quinlan smirked at her, he reached for her hands and held them for a moment.  "Thanks though.  For not ratting me out."

"Oh," Aysel said, looking down at their joined hands. She gave Quinlan's a squeeze. "Don't worry about it. We're on the same team, right? I got your back, you got mine. Er..."

She rolled her shoulder, the one he'd dug his nails into. "You...wanna lick me again or...?"

[When one friend offers to let you lick your shoulder, that's true friendship <3]

Quinlan chuckled.  Oh she was serious?  He eyed the other slaves that were a bit shaken from having watched Jessen choked to death.  "Only if you're really offering," he said.  "Just a few droplets will do."

[This is a true bonding experience! BFFS FOREVAH! xD]

Aysel bit back a laugh at that and rolled her eyes playfully. "You already did it once," she said. "Now that I know you're no vampire...sure, why not? It helps you, and I've already got your slobber on me, so what's a bit more?"

Reaching up, she pulled her sleeve down to bare her shoulder, which was still all red and angry from before. Never in her life did she think she'd be suggesting someone lick her, but...life was just full of funny surprises like that. "Have at it!"

Aysel really was more than Quinlan honestly expected.  Letting some weird guy lick your shoulder certainly said volumes.  The other slaves wanted nothing to do with him, fine.  But if he could get anyone out, it'd be Aysel.  Let it not be said that Quinlan was completely selfish his whole life.

He reached forward and picked at the wound with his nail until some more blood was drawn.  He saw a few dribbles of blood, squeezing it and letting it flow a little more clearly.  Quinlan lapped at the blood until the iron spilled onto his tongue.

"That's enough.  Thanks," he said, wiping his mouth.

Just because she let him do it, didn't mean she liked it. When Quinlan picked her scab, Aysel winced and curled her hands into fists. Not a good feeling! Neither was it a nice feeling to have her skin squeezed and blood essentially milked. Weirder still was being licked like the meat-juice to a dog's tongue. So gross! All of it was gross! But if it helped him recover, it was a sacrifice she was willing to make.

She couldn't just let him sit there and suffer.

As soon as he was done, she pulled her sleeve back up and pressed her hand to her shoulder to stop the bleeding. Her shoulder throbbed; it wasn't a bad wound, but all that picking and squeezing and pinching made it mighty sore.

"Are you better yet?" she whispered, looking Quinlan over. "You can heal with that?"

"I can heal.  It'll take some time however.  She did beat my ass.  Literally.  Do you want to see the welts?" he asked, teasing and shaking his head in temperance.

"Look thanks for the blood.  I know it's weird, and I swear I'll try not to make it a habit.  I've got to live.   You're right.  I'm not dying in a cage.  And neither are you, girl child.  You deserve better than this."

"Girl child?" Aysel said with a lopsided smile before she gave an indignant little sniff. "Hmph. I'm not a child. I'm eighteen summers! Though..."

She leaned forward a little to peer up into his face. "Guess I'm probably a kid to you, huh, old man?" she teased, before she sat back and glanced out the bars. "In all seriousness, thank you. Thank you for helping me. Just...don't get beat up anymore? It's really hard to watch." She rubbed at her shoulder. "That, and I've only got so much blood to give before it all runs out!"

He could laugh.  Even in the state he was in.  He never let little things like almost dying get the best of him.  But she was right, and he knew it.  If he kept it up, he'd be dead before even getting a chance to escape.  "We should get some rest, if it's even possible, squirt," he said, smirking and nudging her shoulder.

If Gwen was sleeping any time soon, it would not be restful, Quinlan would make sure of it.  She may have wiped her hand, or tried to, but Quinlan did not need much.  He could feel her pulse, as if it were ringing in his ears.  While she and the others slept, captors and slaves, he concentrated those droplets of blood that she'd discarded and moved them, small quiet dribbles.

And where they perched at the lip of her ear, slowly drifting in until he could feel himself within her mind.  Quinlan whispered words of ritual, soft, barely a breath, as he turned her dreams to pleasures of the flesh, and joined with her and that heated endeavor.  Sure, they were dreams, but they could feel real, couldn't they?

[Just trying something with the dream thing, not sure what the aim is.  If you need me to fix this, no biggie.]

[Oh Quinlan, you devious bastard. <3]

"Alright, old fart," Aysel shot right back, but she didn't protest the idea of sleep. It had been a full day with a lot of stress and drama, and even on the best of days it was impossible to sleep here. Flopping over onto her side, she curled up with her back against the side of the wagon and head pillowed on her arm.

And though she felt too awake with stress to sleep, the moment she closed her eyes, exhaustion took over for her. She drifted off, and before long she was lightly snoring, not even stirring when the wagon began to sway and jolt as, once more, they continued on their grim journey.

They traveled an hour or so longer until they found a good place to pull off onto the side of the road, where the wagon wheels wouldn't get stuck and there was ample shade from the trees. They were off schedule after last night's shenanigans, and the important thing had been putting distance between the they and the tavern. Gwen deemed this good enough and, since everyone was running on little energy after last night's sleeplessness, and weakened morale after Jessen's death...

Now was as good a time as any to catch some rest.

They worked in shifts, with Fendrick taking the first shift while the others pulled out bedrolls and got comfortable on the ground.

Or as comfortable as they could.

Gwen's sleep was far from restful. She stirred in her sleep, head lolling on her lumpy pillow, and her brow knit as soft moans escaped her throat. Quinlan must have made an impression, for he was in her dreams, and she had him bound and at her mercy again as they undulated together. And indeed, dreams could feel very real, and the pleasure certainly felt it--real enough that her hips shifted in her sleep and her breaths came quicker, her face flushed with heat.

Stretched out beside her in his own bedroll, Karo gave an annoyed huff and covered his head with his pillow, but didn't dare wake his boss. Especially since it seemed...fairly awkward.

[Deviously sexy]

Quinlan'd breath could be felt against her skin, as lips took to her flushed breasts, lapping at her pointed nipples.  Hands gripped her flush to him.  Quinlan moved harder, each sensation deeper and more faster.  He could feel her heat and the control she exerted.  Even bound, hips moved up, undulating together.

If she opened her eyes, even briefly, she might see Quinlan physically there.  But that would be impossible right?  He was still locked in the cage with the rest of the slaves.

"Fuck!" Gwen cried out, and bit his neck hard as she matched him, plunging down to compliment his upward thrusts. She felt hot, her blood on fire in the best of ways, and her flushed skin and warmth of her sex was certainly revealing of that as she rode him with abandon.

Some small part of her, the part that wasn't wrapped up in sexy dream logic, felt that something wasn't quite right, that something felt off about this. But dream Gwen ignored it and reveled instead in the sensations of his warm tongue at her breasts and hard cock pumping into her, sending chills and tingles all down her spine and through her belly. She tangled her hands in his hair, pulling tightly, and yanked him up into a fierce kiss that muffled her panted breaths and shuddering whimpers as that heat and wonderful tension only grew.

"Harder," she growled against his lips, pulling at his bottom lip with her teeth. "Fuck me, dammit!"

The tension broke and her breath seized in her throat as she came wordlessly, convulsing and trembling as her hips jerked--and the real Gwen's eyes fluttered as she gasped, for the orgasm was real, real enough that the power and pleasure of it jolted her awake as heat rushed to her face even as it burned between her legs.

She clapped a hand over her mouth, surprised and blinking, her body tingly all over and breathing coming fast and ragged. It wasn't the first time she'd climaxed in her sleep, but it was the first time it had been so intense, the first time the dream felt so real, and--

And then her eyes landed on Quinlan, right there.

With a yell of alarm that woke half the camp, if not more, she shot bolt upright.

And when she would pop up, no one would be there.  None that weren't already present anyway.  Quinlan slept sound in the cavern, feeling back into his own mind and finding some semblance of comfort, sleeping against the bars.

He kept his ears alert, leaning on Aysel,  but at the sound of footsteps nearing him, he jerked one eye open, peering at the other slaves, but keeping perfectly still.

It didn't sound like it was coming from the others in the camp.  Were these newcomers?  Bandits...or worse?  Quinlan would just wait to find out.

No one was around.

No one but Fendrick, Karo, and Ceb.

Karo jerked upright in alarm at Gwen's yell, having more or less tuned her out while she was having her...dream. Her yell, however, had him on his feet with a dagger in hand before she'd even stopped, and Ceb was close behind him, if slower as he got all tangled in his bedroll.

"What happened?!" he barked, looking around urgently while Gwen clutched her blanket to her chest, her breathing rapid.

Just a dream...

And it had felt so goddamned real.

Face flushed, she snapped a look up at Karo and scowled, not about to admit what had just happened. "Night terror," she said, and let out a slow breath and scrubbed a hand through her hair, which had fallen free of its usual tight bun. "Don't worry. Just...go back to sleep."

She flopped back down as Ceb and Karo took up their spots, but she didn't close her eyes. Instead she glanced over at the wagon, where "Rylan's" sleeping form was still visible.

She assumed he was sleeping, at least.

Over in the wagon, Aysel was getting a rare few hours' sleep. She hadn't gotten much of it during her time there, but Quinlan gave her hope, and made her feel a little safer, and she'd wound up nodding off against him. She shifted in her sleep, curling closer against him for warmth, and settled down again after.

She wasn't aware of the footsteps.

And Gwen, slowly drifting back to sleep, didn't pause to think how strange it was that Fendrick hadn't run to check on her, too.

Near the woods to the side of the wagon, there came more of those soft, thudding footsteps and the dry snap of twigs and leaves underfoot.

And then came a low, throaty rumble and a strange, unearthly bleating, and a large, looming shape stepped from the shadows, exposing a lion's face covered in fresh blood. Its tail arched high over its back, hissing softly--a snake, not a tail--and a goat's head stared out over them, its mouth also dripping red.

The bleating made Quinlan's eyes snap open.  He gasped in breath, a sharp intake of cold air that awoke him  and made the goosebumps on his arms rise at the creature's passing.  He opened one eye, snapping the other shut, as he stayed perfectly still.  There he saw the bumbling steps of the creature as it emerged from the shadows, and the bloody footprints left in the dirt.

"Holy shit," he gasped, the words coming out loud enough to turn the beast's attention on the cage.  And all the nummy-treats sleeping inside.  It turned to them and lunged for the bars, stopped then by the metal and knocking over the wagon, the bars bent from the blow.

Inside the other slave's screamed into awakening, the animal tearing at the wheels, and they went tumbling within.

"GWEN  FUCKING GET UP!" Karo yelled.  "SOMETHING'S ATTACKING THE GOODS!"

Aysel was still fast asleep, dead to the world and oblivious even to Quinlan's voice--when the world went flip-turned upside down.

One minute she was sleeping, the next she was flying--

CRASH!

No, okay, that was definitely falling, she realized as her face smooshed against the bars of the wagon and another writhing body landed atop hers, crushing her and making it hard to breathe. She thrashed, gasping and choking, stunned and disoriented as to why grass was poking at her face when she was pressed against the bars--until she realized several seconds later that the wagon was now on its side, and she was now on the bottom.

And something was roaring and bleating over all the screaming, something that was making the wagon shudder and creak.

"Quin!" she yelped, still half-awake and confused as all hell, her heart hammering in her chest as she tried to dislodge whoever was pinning her, even as over all the commotion she heard Karo's shouts.

And his words made her heart freeze.


Outside the wagon, Gwen bolted upright in her bed, followed by Ceb--who went stark white when he saw the creature, far larger than any draft horse, that was clawing and tearing at the wagon, the lion's blood-stained teeth wrapped around one of the bars and claws shredding at the wheels. Inside, the slaves shrieked--and the wagon groaned, threatening to give out.

It was built to keep people in. It wasn't built to keep fucking chimera out.

"Motherfucker!" Gwen snarled as she hobbled to her feet--and realized with no small amount of horror that her crossbow was gone. The horses had bolted in a panic, taking her weapons with them, until all she had left was the dagger at her belt and whatever Ceb and Karo had on them.

Karo, at least, had a gun.

Shit. SHIT.

"Well, fucking do something about it, then!" she snapped back at Karo, "or give me your fucking gun if you won't!"

But he was already acting, taking aim and cocking his pistol and firing off a shot directly into the beast's lion head.

But it only seemed to piss it off more, as with a spine-tingling snarl, it released the bars and swung its head around to bare its dripping teeth at them.

And Karo's shot quickly decided who the chimera's first target would be.  The beast turned quickly, tail lashing in irritation before darting for the man.  It moved swift for a creature of it's size, and darted for Karo.  The man made a dash away from Gwen in vain.  Before he knew it the chimera had him between its gnashing teeth and crushed him until he gushed red.

Amidst his screams, the gun was dropped from Karo's grip somewhere. 

"Let me out!" Quinlan found himself shouting from the confines of the cage. He couldn't believe his own madness but the creature clearly wasn't going to be brought down by normal means.  And he wasn't going to be shat out by a damn creature like this!  He was going to die on his own terms.

They were all going to die, Gwen realized numbly as she watched the chimera swing around to face her, thick blood and entrails dripping from its teeth. She had never imagined her end would be by a fucking animal, but as it took a soundless step toward her, she knew she may as well not even bother drawing her knife. Running would only make it chase.

Fuck...

But then Rylan shouted, and the chimera swung all three heads around to face the wagon with a snarling hiss. That shout decided its new target, and soon it was stalking toward it with death in its eyes.

Gwen considered leaving them. Just bolting while its back was turned, but it was an unnatural beast; it didn't eat Karo, only mashed him up and dropped the body. It wasn't interested in feeding, only killing, and it wouldn't stop until it was through. Only Ceb was left, cowering by the wagon and holding a pistol in his trembling hand.

Well.

Fuck it.

"Open the wagon!" she shouted, once again drawing the chimera's attention, and Ceb didn't hesitate; no doubt he understood he had a better shot at living if there were more victims to choose from. With a curse, he caught the set of keys Gwen tossed him, unlocked the door, and opened the wagon.

Right as the chimera lunged for him, and crashed into the wagon, just barely missing him as he threw himself out of the way.

The wagon was tossed up again, rolling over onto it's top and the slaves all inside taking a ride with it.  Quinlan had clasped to the bars and made for the door as soon as it was open, and many of the slaves within were hesitant to follow.  What good would it do to run away if they were going to be torn open by the three-headed beast out in the camp!? 

This was madness.

Quinlan however kept his focus.  Or tried too when a few of the other slaves did take those chances, however slim.  He ought to run too, he told himself.  He already did his job, and if he wanted to be paid, he was better off than they were.  But this thing looked like it was going to take off after the first moving target it locked onto.  And that could very well be him.

He didn't know how good his magic would work with that goddamn collar on, but he supposed it was now or never.  One serum was knocked back, and he staggered forward, taking a blade from Karo's body as the chimera took one of the slave's head off and tossed it back like a light snack.

The cut across his palm stung, but the pain only exhilarated him.  Blood that would burn fire and set this whole camp ablaze. 

It was chaos, some slaves taking their chances and bolting, others still petrified inside the wagon, but in or out, no one was safe. The wagon was meant to keep slaves in, not keep predators out, the same way a bird was doomed if the cat managed to open the cage.

Aysel wasn't about to die cowering, and Quinlan had become a safety net in the raging current, so she followed close to him; she had seen him do the impossible and kill Jessen, so who was to say he couldn't kill a chimera, too? Just like a hero from the legends.

He cut his hand, and her eyes flicked to the collar in worry before they cut to Ceb, trembling behind the wagon's door like it was a shield. He still had the keys.

She shot a frantic glance to the chimera as it snapped up another slave with its snake tail and curled around her, bones snapping like kettle corn, and she swallowd hard to keep from retching before she dove around the door.

"The keys!" she gasped, reaching. "Give me the keys!" But he was mute and unmoving, paralyzed with terror, and after a moment she saw them at his feet. His pants were wet all down the front.

Couldn't hardly blame him.

She snatched up the ring of keys and rushed to Quinlan right as the chimera swung around and locked eyes on him, nostrils flaring as though it could already smell his magic. With an unearthly snarl, it started for him.

Aysel shoved the keys at him. "Your collar!" she said, not knowing what key it was--but hoping he would figure it out fast.

Quinlan blinked in the blind flurry of several seconds.  He reached up with his daggered hand and struggled to find the right key to open the lock around the collar.  The chimera began to stalk toward him and within seconds he was at it's feet.  But within those seconds somewhere there was a right click and it fell to the floor in a squeaking hinge, throwing dust up in its wake.

Quinlan felt his blood dripping from his hand, now soaked in it and he flicked it out onto the ground, and from it fire burst up from the soil, coming up in flaming spires.  Caught beneath the belly of the chimera, the flames scorched upward and singed the fur and soft belly of the animal.

But it kept it's path and Quinlan sidestepped quickly and lunged into Aysel, knocking her out of it's way.  He staggered onto his side, rolling off and dropping the keys to the collar beside her.

Why wasn't it dying?! Quinlan was supposed to have just burned it up, just like that, all easy like out of a legend! But it wasn't dying, and if anything, the pain from the fire seemed to enrage the beast as it came at them--and for a terrifying second she stood frozen in place, too stunned to move, hypnotized by the sight of those three horrifying heads and the blood on their mouths.

But then Quinlan slammed into her and she hit the ground with a cry, the shock jarring her out of it, and she heard a metallic clang right beside her. Gasping, she scrambled up onto her hands and knees, and caught a flash of silver as moonlight glinted off the keys. She quickly snatched them up and fumbled for the right one, trying each one out as she watched the chimera stalk after Quinlan, licking the jaws of its lion mouth.

He was the one who had burned it, so he was the one who would die first.

With a trumpeting roar that all three heads sounded, it leaped for him, claws out, fangs bared, and snake tail whipping around to try and snap him up in its venomous jaws.

"You like fire, little one?" it hissed, eyes burning, and its goat head let out a sound like bleating laughter. A mocking sound. "We were born from it."

And even as it spoke, a light began to glow deep in the goat's throat, and then its mouth, illuminating the bones of its skull, before it let out a roar that spewed blue-white flame at Quinlan.

The force of the fire sent Quinlan back off his feet, singing his clothes and he quickly smacked the embers that took hold and threatened to burn him alive.  "Fuck!" he hissed and rolled to get out of the way.  The blood mage was still smoking from the burst of chimera fire, and his arms were singed and the edges of his coat had been burned away.  But he ignored the pain, pushing it as far away from his mind as possible.

It was just another sensation.  He got to his feet and could still feel the blood seeping from his hands.  "I hope you like ice then!" he growled and forced the frost from his fingers.  Icicles shot up from the ground, striking up right in the chimera's path.

From the horrible shrieking all three heads let out, the chimera didn't like ice at all.

Especially not when one of those icicles sank up into its shoulder, and another stabbed into the middle of the snake tail.

It screamed in pain and rage, snake tail thrashing and snapping blindly at the air like the death throes of a serpent, and hot blood spattered the ground and sizzled where it hit like boiling water. The tail twitched violently a little more, and then suddenly hung limp, and the chimera bit at its injured paw to yank the shard of ice out.

"You'll die slowly," the chimera snarled, lion's teeth bared and bloody as it stalked toward Quinlan--though more cautiously now, an obvious limp in its stride as it left red paw prints on the earth. "I'll break your legs and peel your skin, peel your eyelids so you can't close them. And then I'll kill your friends. One by one. Their blood will bathe you. Their ashes will sting you. But you won't die."

And then its muscles bunched up right before it leaped for him again, spitting fire from its goat mouth even as its claws reached for him, lion's jaws snapping.

Meanwhile, Aysel finally fit the right key to the lock, and with trembling fingers she turned it with a click and let the collar drop to the ground. Almost instantly she felt the seals on her magic break--not that she would be much use! She could draw stuff! Great! Like that would help against a--

Well...maybe?

She shot a panicked look at Quinlan and the chimera, then a look across the way, at the broken body of a slave slain by the beast. Her stomach tightened at the thought of what she had in mind, but she sucked in a breath, grabbed some broken bars from the wagon, and quickly scrambled to the body, and didn't pause to give herself time to think before she stuck her fingers in the slash wound on the man's throat.

And began to draw.

The blood was thick and already congealing, but she worked fast; she wasn't aiming for perfection, just something! And soon the crude painting in the dirt began to take on a shape of a very basic shield, and she tossed the wagon bars onto the painting, then her collar, and unlocked the dead man's collar and tossed it there, as well.

And then she willed her magic to do its work, and soon the metal began to shift and mold--until it took the form of...well...

A very crappy, lumpy looking shield.

Hopefully it was stronger than it was beautiful.

"Qui--Rylan!" she called, lifting it with both hands to get his attention.

And the attention of the chimera.

One head whipped toward Aysel's direction and the other kept its sights on Quinlan.  The shield soared across the air like a discus and Quinlan backed up several feet to catch it.  With a leap, he did and subsequently slammed to the ground.

Fire spewed from the third head and soaked the ground in a wall of it.  Quinlan ducked in time, able to hide most of his body from the flame as he kept his feet under him, dashing as the fire separated him from Aysel.  The chimera released a throaty cackle.

"Aysel!  Get the hell out of here!" Quinlan howled.  The chimera turned toward her, following the gaze of the head closest to her and made a dash for her. 

Quinlan was useless on the other side of that fire, and as he looked at the shield, the sharpened edge of it, he slashed his palm perpendicular to the existing cut.  More blood spewed out, and he felt the magic burn inside of him like liquid fire.  He gave a guttural growl at the pain that needled it's way through him.  But he forced the blood to turn cold, and he thrust his hands into the fire, freezing it until it sharded like glass.

With a scream, the shards came flying outward in a rain of ice.

Quinlan didn't have to tell her twice.

Aysel's eyes rounded as the chimera swung around to face her, and with a choked gasp she scrambled to her feet right as it bounded after her. Her legs were unsteady and weak after being cramped up in a wagon for so long, but fear made her faster--just not fast enough. In three strides the chimera was upon her, its laughter in her ears as it leaped airborne, ready to take her down and tear her apart--

And then it let out an otherworldly shriek of pain and fury that was cut too short.

Something hard and furry slammed into Aysel's back and she went face down with a cry that soon turned strangled when the chimera's heavy weight pinned her to the earth and compressed her chest. She scrabbled at the ground, tearing the earth to try to wriggle out from under it, her heart beating so fast it hurt even as her lungs screamed for air. It was on her. It was on her. The chimera was pinning her and any second now and she would feel its teeth at her neck and its claws shredding! And even then she could feel it moving, hear its ragged breathing as it twitched atop her, and with what breath she had left she managed a sobbing, breathless, "Quinlan!"

But the chimera wasn't moving much. Its goat head snapped at the air, but its eyes were sightless, and its claws raked at the ground, but they were more spasmatic twitches than anything. Its lion tongue lolled out of its mouth, hanging on Aysel's back, as it sucked in shuddering breaths.

Blood leaked from a hundred different cuts and stab wounds, shards of melting ice embedded in its flesh. And in its back, piercing straight through its spine, was a rather large spear of ice.

"Fuck.  Fuck!  Fuck fuck fuck!"  Quinlan breathed as he watched the scene play out, and the horror, while less than shocking, was no less impacting.  There were a lot of bodies here, more than he was used to, and Qunlan's hand stung from all the cuts.  He trembled, body wracked with pain, and the burning in his blood.

He couldn't bring himself to look away, even as a hand shakily removed a blue vial from his coat, and he downed it a single gulp.  He coughed hard, and placed the glass back, and when he found his legs beneath him, they wobbled their way to Aysel.  The chimera's hulking form covered her largely and he reached down, bloody hands gripping around her wrists as he tried to pull her out from underneath the beast.

Hands found hers, and Aysel craned her neck to see that it was Quinlan tugging at her. And Kia, but she could have sobbed anew just for that, only in sheer relief. Was it over? Was it dead? It was still atop her now, but the panic in her chest was no less, and all she wanted was to get away from it NOW.

Gripping Quinlan's bloody hands, she pulled as he did, and slowly she slid out from under the beast though she was still too shaky to rise to her feet. She made an effort of it, though, and stumbled on wobbly legs so she had to hold onto Quinlan's arm instead.

There was a lot of blood. Everywhere. And all over Quinlan.

But she was still far too focused on the monster.

"I-is it dead?"

"Dead as it's ever going to get," he said, breathing heavily, as he found his limbs regain some semblance of stability.  Quinlan only then remembered they weren't quite alone, well, for the most part anyway.

"Shit..."  He remembered Gwendolyn and he gripped Aysel's arm.  "Hey, if things get hairy.  Hairier, anyway.  You book it the hell out of here.  Chimera be damned.  Just get to safety.  I'll deal with the old hag.'

Aysel jerked in alarm, body stiffening as Quinlan pointed out what she had forgotten in the chaos. Gwendolyn was still out there, and maybe her men--unless they had all been killed. She couldn't keep track of who was still living and who was dead, and of the bodies left behind, none were intact enough to identify.

Not that she had gotten close enough to try.

She swung a look around the area, and goosebumps rose on her arms and prickled along the back of her neck as she realized just how quiet it was now. Quiet, and empty. The other survivors had fled.

Where was Gwendolyn?

Aysel swallowed. "Okay," she said, still gripping tightly to Quinlan. "Maybe they ran away..."

Which wasn't far from the truth. Because among all the scattered footprints in the earth, most of them belonging to the slaves, there were also two sets, side by side, one made by a man's boots, the other made by a smaller set of boots--and the smaller set of footprints had left drag marks in the earth, as though the person wearing them had a bad leg.

They broke off from the camp, and lead  into the woods.

"Aysel, I think we're ready to get out of here?  Are you?' Quinlan breathed.

The tracks in the dirt were promising for now, and he had no intention of following them.  For now he just wanted to find some semblance of shelter.  And sticking around here certainly wasn't going to provide that.

He was tired and achy, hungry and wanted a damn good stiff drink. 

"Uhhhh, you really gotta ask?" Aysel whispered back, still trembling with a mixture of adrenaline and terror. Her heart wouldn't stop pounding, so loud in her ears she thought it might burst.

She inched closer to him, hugging herself tightly. "Where to? What if...what if there's more of those things?"

She'd been afraid of Gwendolyn and her lackeys. But now the slavers, to her, seemed to be the last of their problems.

"What?" he breathed.  "Who cares if there are more, we need to leave as soon as possible.  There's nothing here for us anymore.  And who gives a fuck about that stupid fucking slaver."  Quinlan took her hand in his and began marching for the trees, holding onto the shield she'd given him.  He glanced at it.  It was a handy little thing and he glanced at her, taking in a sharp breath.

"So how did you learn to make useful stuff like this?" he said, wondering whether or not he should ditch her.  He needed to get out of Adela.  This place was starting to be bad luck.

"I, for one, certainly don't give a fuck about 'that stupid fucking slaver'," Aysel muttered as she scurried after him, though she was still nervous about that beast. It would be just great to escape slavery only to walk right into the jaws of something worse.

But Quinlan, at least, seemed capable of handling himself. He'd killed the thing! He'd somehow killed Jessen, without even getting near him! His blood seemed to be the source, which seemed fairly useful to her, since any special tools you needed to work with were literally right inside your veins. Quite unlike her skill, which required tools and materials and artistic talent and a source.

Keeping her voice quiet, she spoke without looking at him, more concerned about studying their surroundings for danger. "I learned by accident," she said. "I'm an artist, you see. And one day I just...did it. I was painting some flowers that don't exist, at least not that I've ever seen, and thinking how wonderful it would be if they were real. And then...suddenly they were. That is, they were totally fake, but the canvas I had painted them on just changed, and before I knew it, I had canvas flowers. Real looking ones."

She gave a little shrug. "I started experimenting after that. I'm still not quite sure of everything I can do." There was a pause, and she looked at him. "What about you? With your, you know...your blood thing."

"Oh that...hrmm."

Frankly there was no easy way to put it.  Quinlan's magical gift hadn't been particularly pronounced when he was a child, it wasn't until he got older that it began to show.  How animals reacted to him differently, and how some things just seemed to happen, like pushing a boy away that'd been bothering his sister just by thinking about it.

"To put it simply...I'm a blood mage.  It's not an easy gift...more of a curse than one anyway.  Blood powers most of my spells, and none of them are pleasant.  Sometimes the blood is what is directly manipulated."

Aysel stared at him. Well, it was more like gaped. A blood mage. She'd heard about them, and had kind of suspected he was some sort of primal mage, but blood specifically! It was, from all she had heard, a very dangerous craft.

And from what she'd heard, the users of said craft often went...dark.

"Oh," she said, the pieces all falling into place. The way he'd licked her blood. Oh wow... "So that's how that evil git died. Can you...can you control the blood in peoples' veins?"

"In part...yeah.  I can...make it boil inside their bodies, make it thickened inside their veins, make it clot...  make it hurt really bad.  I've heard stories of mind control, some people using blood magic to control people, but I'm not that good.  But it's also pretty good for fueling spells.  The more magic in the blood, the more potent it is as well," he said carefully.

"I wasn't born like this...just saying," he said.  "Don't make deals with demons, just fyi.  It's more binding than you think."

Aysel's jaw dropped.

"You made a deal with a demon?!" she sputtered, gawking. "What were you thinking?"

"Many many things...  But it's almost a decision I regret.  Then again. We tend to have a lot of those, don't we.  Comes with the territory I guess," he said with a sigh.  "Still, my advice still stands."

"A decision you ALMOST regret?" Aysel didn't break her incredulous stare. "What could possibly be worth being indebted to a demon? Is your soul worth so little?"

"Is yours?" Quinlan snapped back at her.  "How much is your soul worth to you?"

Aysel winced. She hadn't meant it to come out so harshly, so accusatory, but she couldn't quite contain her horror--and the sadness beneath it.

"I'm sorry," she said, voice softening. "I didn't mean to...it's just..." She cleared her throat awkwardly. "We can drop it if you don't want to talk about it."

"It is what it is," he said, sighing deeply.  As hard as it was to admit, he had to tell someone, and it felt good to get it out.  "Sorry for snapping.  I suppose you had a right to know.  If you want to go on your own, I'll understand."

"What? You think I'm scared of you, just because of that?" Aysel said, and mustered up a smile. Of course he'd feel like a pariah after that; with an ability like his--one gifted by a demon--no doubt plenty of people had left him in the dust. Maybe smartly so. Maybe he was dangerous--no, actually, there was no "maybe" about it; she'd seen what he could do.

Reaching out, she clapped a hand on his shoulder. "Heck no! I plan on sticking so close to you, you'll have to scrape me off! You're the scariest thing in these woods, after all!"

Well, he supposed he'd have to think of another way to get rid of her.  But for now she wasn't bad company, and she wasn't bad to look at neither.  He shook himself inwardly. Fuck if he didn't need a drink.

"Nothing really hurts my feelings, Rusty. But you're all right Easel. Aysel, whatever," he said and trundled along.  Really he ought to be more alarmed than he was, as they were in the middle of the woods, with no supplies, no gear, and would probably die.

[Quinlan the optimist! 8D]

Aysel started to make a face at his slip, but it turned into a smile. Actually, she supposed it suited her, since she was an artist and all! Aw, he'd given her a nickname!

She followed along beside him, feeling strangely a little better about things. So they were lost in the middle of nowhere with hellbeasts all around them and a slaver on the loose and had no food or water or supplies. All of that was true! But Quinlan was tough as nails! He could take on whatever the world threw at them...right? And she was free. That alone was a weight off her. She was free, no longer to be sold...

She could go home.

"Quin?" she said after a pause, still sticking close. "Do you know how to get to Arca?"

"Arca?  Uh, sure.  It's a long way from where we are, if I can figure out where we are," he said with a soft huff.  He didn't feel confident in his answer, but he supposed he didn't have anything to do up North.  But maybe she did.

"Whatcha need to go to Arca for?"

"Why? I'm from Arca, of course!" Aysel said, and let out an "oof" when she tripped over a root. She caught herself on Quinlan's arm and quickly righted herself, wincing as her toe ached in protest.

"That...that harpy and her merry men kidnapped me right off the streets! It's what they do, you know. Usually urchins, but sometimes they don't even care about that. Or..."

She frowned. "Maybe they thought I was an urchin. I was a little dirty..."

Quinlan was used to someone 'accidentally' bumping into him to cop a feel or try and stick their hand in his coat.  They were lucky if they got it back.  Fortunately for Aysel he was tired enough to be willing to be forgive and he just grinned at her.

"You okay?"

He sniffed and kept going through the trees, watching his step as he went, holding onto her and reaching out to help her keep her balance.  He just hoped they weren't too far from civilization that he couldn't find a good beer within the next few hours.  If not, he'd have to spoon with Aysel.  And she'd just have to like it.

"Right, urchins...  You were an urchin?  Or...what's your story, Aysel?  You're from Arca, you have magic painting skills.  Serious gusto for befriending blood mages.  What are you all about?" he asked, curious now. 

"No, I wasn't an urchin!" Aysel said with a huff. "I have a home! And a job! Now, I'm not rich or anything, that's true, but I'm not homeless and living on the street. I live with my folks, but I'm no loafer. I earn my keep."

She gave a little shrug. "There's not too much to tell. I'm a street artist. I paint peoples' portraits, mostly. Sometimes make pretty, magically enchanted art. Just little parlor tricks, really, though I'm trying to teach myself more exciting stuff! My life was pretty normal and average until, you know, the whole kidnapping bit."

A sudden though struck her, one she hadn't allowed herself to entertain before, and she grimaced. Her parents. Gods, how long had it been now? They had to be worried sick...and she still didn't really want to think about that, the thought making her stomach twist.

She rubbed the back of her neck, smooshing a mosquito in the process, and made a face before wiping the dead thing off onto Quinlan's sleeve.

"What about you? You know, aside from the whole soul selling thing."

It was an unconscious motion of his arm, to sweep it around her shoulders and hook in against him.  Quinlan gave a huff and trudged on.  As long as they were getting to know one another, he saw no point in using Aysel as a walking stick.  She ought to make herself use more often.

"Hrm, what's to tell?" he asked, trying to shrug it off.  He grinned, trying not to think about it, trying not to focus on the life he'd left behind.

"I was born, I grew up, I made mistakes, and I'm here now.  Besides, I'm not all that interesting. You know, minks.  Those are interesting.  Those little suckers are fierce."

"'Not all that interesting'? You singlehandedly saved like...all of us! Killed a guy without being anywhere near him! Took down a buncha dirty slavers. Defeated a gods be damned literal monster! I don't know what you think minks got to do with anything, but I'd say you're as fierce as one. I guess. Never really seen a mink alive."

Since he had her tucked in all close to him, she saw no reason why she couldn't reciprocate. She slipped an arm around his waist as they continued along, happy to soak up his body heat.

"So what was with that girl? The one you came to save?" she asked, not at all taking his hint. "Was she someone you knew?"

He could tell when he was being overly flattered.  And it only reminded him of how exhausted he was.  There was a moment he smiled, remembering he still had to get paid for his job, hoping the slave he freed survived somehow.  He was paid to get her back, but the guy didn't give him compensation for getting captured.  That was going to cost him extra.

"Nah, I didn't know her.  Just got a name, a description and was paid to find her.  She was someone's property but not Gwen's.  I guess one of her guys nabbed her up. Probably didn't care she wasn't for sale, and just thought to make an easy coin. I hope she got away.  It was all blurry when I fell."

He looked at the scabs on his palms.  "It's always blurry when I fall."

That took Aysel aback.

She had expected that they knew each other or something, not that...not that she was owned by someone else.

Not that he was paid to retrieve her.

Someone's property...

Her voice was quiet, barely above a whisper, when she asked, "Would you...have returned her to her master?"

"Oh, yeah, probably.  I mean people don't tend to hire other people that do things half-assed. It's hard enough to find decent paying work as it is, without breaking my back doing some farming or labor.  Honest work...is for honest people," he admitted.

"It was the job I was paid to do, that's all.  But she got away.  Don't know where she is now.  I hope she's okay though, wherever she is."  He shrugged.

"Why?  Is that a dealbreaker?"  Would she finally go away?

"I...um..." Aysel looked at him in the darkness, words fading off. That was not the answer she had been expecting--or the answer she had been wanting. He hadn't been trying to rescue the girl.

Letting out a held breath, she slipped out from under his arm, crossing her arms over her chest. He would have returned the girl to a life of being a slave, without a care as to who her master was? Just because he had been paid to do the job? Really? Just because he was too lazy to do honest work?

She looked away from him, stunned, not quite knowing how to react to that and trying to digest his words. In retrospect, she knew she shouldn't be shocked, though. He had dealt with a demon, hadn't he? He played with blood magic. And yet...

"I...I guess I thought you were a hero..." she said quietly.

Her disappointment was not lost on him, but he wasn't going to try and play it off.  There wasn't anything to gain in lying to this girl. But he told her the truthc, perhaps it wasn't what she wanted to hear, that was the case in most things.  He shrugged, slapping his hands against his thighs, and soon poising them on his hips.

"I never said I was a hero," Quinlan pointed out.  "I'm just trying to survive.  Just like everyone else in life, y'know.  You can't condemn me for that. But I'm still alive - shockingly - and so are you, Aysel. The other slaves, they're free I guess.  The ones that lived anyway."

He didn't know what else to tell her.  Damn if he didn't need something harder than a beer now.

"So what are you mulling over? That I'm some big baddie that can't be trusted? I won't question whatever you decide, paintbrush. It's up to you, but really what you should be thinking about is whether or not you want to stand here alone or walk with me to someplace in a Not-Forest."

Would he...sell her out, too, if he had the chance and the right price? Maybe she was more naive than she thought; it was true she'd never been more than a mile from her home. But she had kind of thought...kind of thought that she'd made a friend. They'd been captured together. Killed a chimera together. He'd saved her. He'd licked her blood!

But now she'd just learned that her hero wasn't a hero after all, but the sort that would exploit people for a pretty coin. Just like the slavers. She knew she shouldn't be that upset about it--they hardly knew each other, after all, and had met under dire circumstances--but for some reason, right now, it felt crushing. She was tired and lonely and scared and stressed and had no idea how to get back home, and now her idol, and the only hope she had of getting somewhere safe, might be just as scummy as the others. Maybe he would sell her off, too, provided the opportunity.

Her eyes burned, but she blinked back the tears and looked away, out at the forest, and hoped the darkness would hide it. Crying was childish. "I'll go with you," she said quietly.

There wasn't any saying in what would happen in the days to come. Quinlan never thought that far ahead after a job was done. For now he just wanted to wind down, collect himself and then figure out just what he was going to do with himself before he came and suffered another set of needles in his veins. Quinlan couldn't blame her, and he wouldn't.

That much he could promise. She was free to run off if she wanted, but for now, she was either an asset or dead weight.

He sighed and started walking. Almost unconsciously he put his arm around her shoulders and squeezed her in, perhaps apologetically and used it to allow her to keep pace with him.  "You had a beer before, Aysel?  Of do you prefer the harder stuff?"

"Beer?" That snapped Aysel out of her miserable thoughts, and she quickly dashed her tears away before she gave him an incredulous look.

"No, of course not. I've only ever had cider. Beer is not for ladies."

"WHAT!?". Quinlan looked to her incredulously.  "The only women I've ever had beer with have been nothing but ladies.". He nudged her back and brushed back a stray tear.  "You should give it a try.  Unless you're chicken."

"Me? Chicken?! I was kidnapped and just fought a bloody monster! I'm hardly chicken!" Aysel boasted, puffing out her chest. "Call me chicken..."

She scoffed at the idea, unconsciously brushing her cheek where he  had touched.

"No need to get your feathers all ruffled, mother hen," Quinlan continued to tease.  He chuckled and kept on quietly while they walked between the trees and assessed their surroundings.  He wasn't much for forests, but he could survive a few days if he had to. He did it before.

" So would you call yourself a city urchin, or a woodland nymph?"

Aysel may have been upset and confused by him, and she SHOULD have minded the arm around her, but that didn't stop her from pressing in close to him for warmth. It was cold out, and the slavers hadn't exactly been concerned with properly clothing them all.

"Ummm...human?" she said, then snorted. "No, I'm a city urchin. Completely. I, uh...I've never been this deep in a wood before..."

And it showed. Now that they no longer had any immediate danger to deal with, the forest sounds and shadows were beginning to play on her imagination. An owl hooted somewhere above, and Aysel jumped and scooted even closer.

"I reeeally miss the city."

"Yeah, me too," he admitted. "I ain't got time for no lions, tigers or bears. I need a beer, some good food and maybe something to keep me warm at night.". He smirked at her and gave her a wink.  "There's bound to be some kind of civilization around here."

One that would only be found if they kept walking. As they did so, the trees seemed somehow less gnarled, and black. They were grey but had smolderings of life to them.  The sun would be up soon, but I'm the meantime they still had the dark to deal with.

"So tell me about yourself Aysel. Anything really important I should know about?". Quinlan pulled the collar of his jacket up over his neck.  "Because you look like a dangerous gal."

Something to keep him warm at--oh. Aysel felt her cheeks heat and she shot him a scowl. How on earth could he be thinking about that at a time like this? Her every thought was on not getting eaten! And then on passing out for a long, long time snuggled in some blankets.

Hmph, men.

"Dangerous? Me?" Aysel blinked up at him and scoffed. "I'm no criminal, if that's what you mean. But yeah, I'm dangerous! So you better watch out, mister, if you ever get any thoughts about delivering me off to someone like that girl. I've got a very creative mind."

She gave a firm nod at that. "Seriously, though, I do. That's how I made you that shield."

So that's what she was getting salty about. The point was made clear by her threat.  Even if he wasn't really buying it on a mentally global scale.  Quinlan glanced down to Aysel.  "So that's what you were all being weird about.  That I'm gonna just sell you off?".

He didn't dare respond to that. Not yet, as he wasn't sure whether he actually would or not. They weren't even out of the woods just yet.  In retrospect it may have been better to just keep his mouth shut. It was too late now wasn't it.

"You've made a point of showing your displeasure. I never said I was a knight in shining jacket. I guess I'm just prone to disappointment." Quinlan walked on in silence and as they travelled there was the faint glowing of light in the distance between the trees.  He paused and pointed forward.  "Looks like a farmhouse up ahead. What d'ya think?"

Uhhh, yes! That was precisely what she was being weird about! That was kind of a big and legitimate thing to be weird about! With another scowl, she opened her mouth to tell him precisely that, but he distracted her with something else first--actual good news!

Aysel shut her trap and squinted off into the darkness--then grabbed his arm hard when she too saw the light, a rush of relief and excitement arcing through her. "What do I think? Wat do  I think? I think we go there!" she said, and tightened her grip on him as she started to march that way, without a thought to the potential risks. Like, you know, that it was a random farmhouse in the middle of nowhere, where no one could hear you scream--

...She paused and looked up at Quinlan.

"Wait. You think it's safe?"

"That remains to be seen,"Quinlan muttered.  "Truthfully I think it's better than wandering the forest for another few hours only to be spooning off in a ditch somewhere. So I'm willing to take my chances. It's our best and only shot.  So what d'ya say we take it, huh?  Of course, it could be some witch waiting to throw us in a pot the first chance we get, but then again it could not be."

Quinlan pat Aysel along the side of her head and was the first to step from the edge of the brush.  Venturing forward and onward.  The quiet was very troubling, and yet Quinlan pressed onward. There was the cawing of a crow nearby and he jumped.  "For fuck's sake," he whispered under his breath.  Could it be anymore storybook?  More than that, he didn't trust crows as far as he could throw him.

Oh yeah there was definitely a witch here.

When Quinlan jumped, Aysel let out a sharp cry and clung to him harder, digging her nails into his arm, because if Quinlan--who had been so fearless and scary--was jumping at something, then it had to be something horrific! It was only when he cursed that she realized it was nothing, and with a shuddering breath she loosened her vice-like grip on him. "Don't do that," she whispered to him, not quite sure why she was whispering. Maybe because she felt like they were being watched and she didn't want to attract any other nasties to them.

Biting her lip, she looked back out toward the farmhouse. "Okay, so, I wasn't worried about witches and cannibals until you had to go and say something about that," she muttered. "But I swear to Kia I read a story about that once and...um...think ya could take her? A witch, I mean? 'Cause like you did take on another witch if you know what I mean and I think you did pretty good there but like...it's probably just some happy old couple, right? 'Cause what are the chances. Right?"

She took a deep breath. Yeah, she knew as well as him that it was either take their chances, or potentially face some other nasty forest beast. And whatever confusion she felt about Quinlan, he was pretty damned amazing. If he could take out a chimaera, he could take out some rickety old witch.

Right?

She shrugged, doing her best to feign nonchalance. "Sure. I guess if worst comes to worst you can cook her before she cooks us, yeah?"

Aysel was getting to be incredibly clingy.  Ah man, he was going to have to ditch her sooner than he would have liked. Or maybe not.

For now, he could have her stick around long enough to be someone else' victim in case he needed a body to stash in his place. Her worries about this place were perfectly justified. It wasn't like he was going to say she spooked easily, but....she kinda did. In times like this, he was grateful he'd seen and done a thing or two that might put most people to shame.

Yet maybe it was precisely that that he was lacking.

Quinlan quickly nodded. "You got your man," he said with a grin. "I could do more than roast her if you need, but that'll cost extra. I gotta start charging by the hour."  Hrrm, that was a joke in a bit of poor taste considering where they just came from. And what he had admitted to her only hours to go.  Still what more did they have to lose?  Other than their lives.

"WHO GOES THERE!?" was what greeted them however, even before Quinlan could set one foot forward.  A lantern ignited the face of an old man with a decidedly pointy pitch fork next to him.

Another sharp squeal left Aysel's mouth as an old man suddenly loomed before them, the lantern underlighting his face and casting it in a ghastly, shadowy glow that played hell on his deep-set wrinkles and made him lookpure evil. She ducked behind Quinlan again, shivering wildly, convinced they had just stumbled upon some cannibalistic monster straight out of a cautionary tale and they were about to meet the business end of his giant fork--but then her senses caught up to her. That wasn't a fork. It was a pitchfork. Like what farmers had. And that voice sounded human, and he'd demanded who they were.

Oh...ha...

A weak, nervous laugh bubbled past her lips and she peeked around Quinlan, but still kept a tight hold on his shirt. Oh. Yes. That was totally just an old man. An angry old man, but old men were usually angry. And old. Old was good. They could totally take an old man if he proved to be some bad guy. She swallowed, and shuffled half out from behind Quinlan.

"U-um, just two lost travelers," she said, and had to repeat it again because her voice cracked badly the first time. "I'm, er...Hazel. And this is my..." She gave Quinlan a look. "Friend? Uh...Rusty."

The old man narrowed his eyes at them both, and Aysel cleared her throat. "We've really been through a lot so if you could spare a room or a barn or anything that would be really kind of you!"

Rusty?  Pfft, he supposed he'd been called worse.

As he stepped further toward the older man, the pitchfork was pointed forward and the old man made a threatening gesture. "You two some crazy folk? Huh?  You look like hell!"

"We've been walking in the forest for some time. Believe me we were no lookers before that either," Quinlan said and gestured for the old man to set the pitchfork aside.  "We're sorry to spook ya. But we'll pay you back for the inconvenience. We just need a place to sleep for the night."

He grunted and considered for a time.  "Okay.  Me and my wife are here.  Don't touch anything. I'll find some place fer ya.  Food's being set....  I hope you're not hungry."

Then Quinlan's stomach growled.

Aysel's stomach chimed in right after with a rather impressive gurgle. She cleared her throat and tried her best to look abashed, but was really far too tired and just plain DONE with the night that she failed at that epically. Well, whatever. No use in pretending. "I'm starving," she said with a frown.

The old man fixed her with a glare, then grunted. "I'll be right back. Just stay put."

As soon as he shuffled off into the next room, Aysel reached out and poked a knick knack on a nearby shelf. "Gosh, what a grouch. 'Don't touch anything'. 'Hope you're not hungry'. Whatever happened to hospitality? We were almost eaten! I was enslaved!"

She huffed and crossed her arms, feeling grouchy and tired. "I hope you got money to pay him with. I don't have anything."

From the other room, the old man could faintly be heard arguing with a woman--his wife, probably--who was punctuating his grumbling with "You said what?" and "Of course we'll bloody well feed them!"

[Oh I have hilariously evil ideas...ahahahahahahaaaaa. xDDD]

[Should I be scared? Nvm. I'm scared.]

Money?  To pay him with?  "I don't have any more than you do. That wench took my things, Aysel," Quinlan grumbled along with her.  He was starving, and he could feel his palms itch with the burning sensation his blood was giving him.

Gods, pretty soon his chest was going to start burning, he needed a fix and he hoped Aysel wouldn't be too weirded out by him asking her for another taste of her blood.  Because it was going to happen. Not now. After his real hunger was sated.

The old man shuffled back into the room they were let in and grumbled something grumpily, quickly followed by, "Okay, the wife said to let ye through. The table's set. Please don't track in all the....mud."  He dropped his head and scowled as Quinlan ushered Aysel through and made muddy footprints across their floors.  He cursed and followed behind them.

The table was small and rounded, with candles set at the center of it and the old woman poked at the fire where stew was boiling.  She maneuvered around it and with a grunt, pulled the pot from a bracket in the fire and settled it on a small pedestal that kept the heat from the floor.  A smaller pot in hand allowed her to serve it and she placed that at the center of the table.  "Please, sit. You poor things look dreadful.  Name's Moira.  That there's my husband Edd," she huffed, shuffling to fill the bowls with stew.

[BWAHAHAHAHA.]

Figured he wouldn't have money, but it had been worth a shot!

Shuffling into the room, Aysel gratefully sank into a chair and sighed, her bones and muscle aching and her feet happy to be rested. "Well met, Moira." A pause, and she slid a look over at the cranky man. "And Edd. I really appreciate this! We've really been through a lot, wild animals and all. So thank you for not letting us get eaten, and thanks for the food!"

And she wasted no time in digging into her stew even as it burned her tongue, forgetting her manners as her stomach ruled her brain, but she didn't care at that point because even liquid fire tasted better than the emptiness in her gut. It tasted amazing, and even if it was a little bland, it was like magic to her then, after weeks of nothing but stale bread, water, and measly scraps of whatever. She shoveled it into her mouth, dripping a little on her already filthy dress in the process, and grabbed a piece of bread to dip in it.

She hoped there was enough for seconds and thirds.

Moira and Edd just stared, Edd shooting his wife an accusatory glance as some of that stew ended up on the tablecloth.

Here she was eating like an absolute slob and the others at the table were just staring at Aysel as she did so. Quinlan's own mouth was gaping a little, but he smirked and cleared his throat, turning the attention away from his companion toward him.

"I'm...Quinlan," he said, nodding to both Edd and Moira. "She's right though. We've been through a lot.  And we're most thankful for your generosity.  I promise we won't be any trouble.  This stew smells delicious." 

He took his own bite and his eyes dilated. It was delicious.  But he kept control of himself as he ate quietly, Edd pouring himself a cup of whiskey and offering some to the other two.  "It'll put hair on yer chest, laddie," he chuckled and raised his cup to them.  "I guess if I'm sharing mah food, might as well share mah whiskey."

"That's the spirit Edd," Moira squeaked.  "So how long have you two kids been wandering? You look like ya just escaped from jail or something.  You're not criminals are ya?"

Quinlan sputtered and looked up at Moira, almost spitting out the bite of bread he had.  He coughed. "No, no. She's my...um. Sister. We were on our way to the next village over...  And sort of got lost. I'm not familiar with this part of the forest."

Quinlan wasn't the only one that choked. Aysel sputtered and just about sprayed the table with chewed up stew, but managed to cover her mouth just in time. She gulped down her bite and wiped her hand off on a napkin. She could be classy, too! She was just too famished to care.

"I'm an artist," she said, dabbing at the corners of her mouth daintily now that some of the edge was off. "My...brother..." Wow, yeah, they looked nothing alike, with her white hair and his red! "...Helps me out. You know how dangerous it is out there for a lone girl, so he's my escort and muscle! Only, my wares got damaged out there," she said with a frown and a glance toward the window, shuddering as the soft sound of rain began to patter on the roof. "We got chased by something scary."

Not far from the truth, she supposed, and the truth probably wouldn't go over well. The wrong person would be more than happy to turn over an escaped slave if it meant a reward, and they surely wouldn't believe that they weren't really a slave, but were kidnapped from their home. She took another bite of stew, then took a sip of the whiskey--and choked anew as it burned like fire.

"Oh gosh! That hurts!"

And then she nearly jumped out of her seat when a knock sounded at the door.

They could be family!  They could be adopted and grew up together!  It wasn't like Moira and Edd could just tune in on that.  Although the claim at being family certainly made the old couple give the pair an odd look. Oh yes, here was the family resemblance right there. The mannerisms. It wasn't that far-fetched that they were raised in the same household at the very least.

Moira thought it was adorable, and she gave a motherly hum as she listened to Aysel. Quinlan just let her speak as he ate voraciously this time, managing to keep most of the food from the bowl to his mouth and he licked his lips.

"Now who the ffff-"

"Edd!" Moira snapped and glared at her husband. "Just get the door.  And bring the pitchfork."

Edd did just that, but didn't open that door all the way. Instead he saw the figure glaringly in the lantern light.  "Can I help you? We're having dinner here already. Yer kinda interrupting."

"I'm so sorry. I don't mean to intrude," the figure said.

[:U It's Gwen isn't it?]

[*CACKLES INTO THE WIND* >8D]

"Well, ya are intruding," Edd said with a glare, tapping the butt of the pitchfork against the ground menacingly. "Whaddya want?"

"Nothing but shelter from the rain," came a tired, but familiar voice--a voice that made Aysel stiffen and grab for a knife. It was a butter knife, but a knife nonetheless. She shot a wide-eyed look at Quinlan, hardly able to breathe.

Edd's eyes narrowed. "Lotta people out here wantin' shelter lately," he said, not budging an inch.

Gwen only sighed and braced her hand against the door frame, leaning heavily on a makeshift staff. She was tired, and sore, and one-hundred percent done with this damned night. Somewhere in the chaos, she'd been separated from Ceb, and she wasn't even sure if the idiot was still alive or not. She was frankly surprised she was still in one piece. "I understand I'm asking a lot, and if you're lacking room indoors, I only ask for a place in your barn. Just for a night. I'll be on my way by dawn."

"Oh, Edd!" Moira called, having stood up from her seat to get a look. She brushed her hands off on her apron and strode for the door. "Don't be so rude! You'd turn away an old, crippled lady? Oh, you poor dear, you look dreadful. Come! Come inside!"

Gwen's face tightened at the word "old" and a muscle in her jaw twitched--these people were older than her, and she was injured, not crippled!--but she let a slow breath out through her nose. "Thank you for your hospitality," she said, mustering up a smile as Edd grumbled and opened the door, mumbling about full houses and mud and damned strays. "I really appreciate it--"

And then as she stepped inside, using her makeshift staff to help her along and brushing wet hair from her eyes, her eyes landed on Quinlan and Aysel and she froze. "Oh. I see. I'm not your only guest."

Sooner or later his luck was going to run out, and Quinlan had always been the kind of man that counted his blessings where he could find them. So far he'd survived being captured by slavers, a chimera attack, and somehow found shelter for he and Aysel in this dark and stormy night. He wanted to believe his nerves were just on edge, but soon or later, that edge cut as sharp as any blade.

"Holy shit," he hissed and his eyes flitted to Aysel's hand when she gripped that butter knife. She had good instincts, that girl.  And then there she was, that stranger. Or rather Gwen.

So Quinlan did the only sane thing he could think of and he stood up and quickly strode over to Gwen and wrapped his arms around her. "Mother!" he said loudly.  And he kept his arms firmly around Gwen's so she couldn't wriggle out of his hold, and his hand felt around her form for any weapons. "I'm so glad you're okay! We thought we lost you in the attack."

The last words were hissed through grit teeth and Quinlan kissed her hard on the cheek, letting her go and keep his hands firmly around his person. So he sat back down and reached out to Aysel's hand underneath the table, gripping it. "Look, Mom's safe. And she found the same cabin we did!  What are the odds," he chuckled with humor.

What.

Before Gwen could even begin to come up with a game plan for the awkward situation she found herself in, Rylan was up and throwing his arms around her with a cry of...mother? Gwen jerked in surprise, her hand twitching toward her hip out of reflex as she thought he was about to throttle her, but she was fresh out of weapons. So instead all she could do was stand there stiffly as he prattled on, clenching her jaw and doing her best to smile--though it looked more like a snarl--as he felt her up and her mind raced.

Well. Fuck. Fucking unbelievable.

He kissed her cheek and she hissed through her teeth. Mother. Despite herself, she choked out a laugh. It was hilarious, all things considered, considering they'd screwed each other silly not long ago, and there was really nothing else she could do but laugh about the situation because really? Ansgar had a sick sense of humor.

"Wow," she said at last, wiping a tear from the corner of her eye. "What are the odds? Goodness gracious. I'm so glad you're safe, my..." Her eyes flicked between Rylan and Aysel. "...darlings."

Moira made a happy sound, touched by the reunion, and ushered Gwen to take a seat across from them. Gwen shot a glare at her when she wasn't looking, then fixed a tight smile on her lips as she sank into a seat with a groan.

So this was how it was going to be.

May as well take advantage. "I had feared you might be dead," she said as Moira ladeled some stew into a bowl for her. "How on earth did you survive?"

Still gripping the butter knife, Aysel lowered it to her lap and out of sight but didn't let go. She looked over at Quinlan, then looked to the door, as though waiting for someone else to show up.

Right he was still, Rylan to this woman's knowledge.

He'd almost forgot that little fib. But Quinlan wasn't going to skip a beat just yet and in the face of their two hosts, one sweetly smiling, and another with a very pointy pitchfork. Quinlan suddenly lost his appetite, but he wasn't going to stop acting 'normal' for the sake of Aysel. Gwen would be dealt with in due time.

"We defeated that awful thing you sent after us," Quinlan said steadily, taking another spoonful of the stew and eating it with a smug grin. "Well, right killed it that's for sure."

"Killed what?" Edd asked with interest.

"A chimera," Quinlan said gently. "Mother's pet always did have an awful temper."

Edd glowered at Gwen...  "So the hag sent a monster after her own children? That's barbaric."

Well, fine. If this was the stupid game they were going to play, she would play.

"I'd appreciate it if you'd use my name, Gwendolyn, and skip the insults," she said with a frown, stirring her spoon in her bowl. "You know how children love to exaggerate. Especially adult children. Their mother is always the villain when she's just trying to look after them."

She rolled her eyes. "'Chimera' was the name of my dog. An old bloodhound. What was I to do when they were suddenly missing with no word? I was worried, so I tracked them." She took a mouthful of stew, chewed, and swallowed, eyes fixed on them. "Don't you think killing the old hound was a bit of an overreaction?"

"Our reaction was perfectly sized to the threat against our lives," Quinlan said softly and sipped his whiskey. It was nice of Edd to share and it made him more settled into the moment. In fact if it would make Aysel less of a nervous mess, he slid his glass over to his 'sister' and gestured for her to drink it.  At least to keep her from accidentally stabbing either of them.

"Well, isn't this just one big happy family reunion," Moira said with an annoyingly chipper tone. She didn't seem to be buying it herself but for now she was content to let it slide. "Aherm, perhaps less happy than I would have expected were it me own children."

Edd gently stroked his wife's back.  "So, what happened between you all? Why y'all hate each other?"

"Easy," Quinlan snorted. "I fucked Gwendolyn, and took her slaves. I killed chimera while she whimpered and limped away. And now she's mad because she didn't join in on the fun. Sorry, mum. At least I won't get you pregnant. Hag."

A very awkward silence descended.

He...had...fucked his...mother...?

Edd and Moira exchanged long looks. The slave bit was one thing--property disputes happened--but obviously things were not adding up, and were deteriorating at an unprecedented rate. Whatever the truth was, it was crystal clear that they had wound up right in the middle of a fight they had never asked to be part of and didn't understand the half of.

"Language, Rylan," Gwen hissed with a pointed glare. Beside Quinlan, Aysel took a big swig of the whiskey and choked it down.

Gwen let out a sigh and rubbed the bridge of her nose. "Either way, whatever he says--and it's all hyperbole, I promise--he just admitted to a crime: stealing my property and assaulting me in the process. I don't want to drag you lovely folks into the middle of this, and I thank you both for finding them. If you'd be so kind as to help me detain them, we'll be out of your hair in short order."