Ven shut his eyes and clenched his teeth in anticipation of the pain. He needn't have. After all, the arrow hadn't hurt when it entered, and it did not hurt when Mr. Sky pulled it. It seemed that satiety had its own strange benefits. In fact, he found himself rather more preoccupied by the warm hand that pressed against his shoulder. He couldn't recall the last time anyone so much as brushed past him without him worrying. To be touched without consequence. It was...strange. His throat tightened. He swallowed.
"Ah, no need to tend to the wound," he informed the man over his shoulder. "It will heal without a bandage. Thank you, Mr. Sky." Ven kept his back to his companion while he flipped his hood up over his head. He pulled on that big, heavy coat — the very act he'd needed the arrow removed for. "Hmmh. Not my preference, but it will buy us time," he muttered, looking utterly bizarre with the oversized thing draped over his mishmash of ranger's garb.
"Fascinating...is your blood always this color?"
"Hmm?" Ven turned and cocked his head. "Well, yes. Rather disgusting, is it not — "
BAM. The door jumped on its hinges. Ven startled. "You're right, we need to go," said Mr. Sky.
"Indeed," Ven agreed, and followed the man further back into the shop. But while it seemed that they'd both hoped for an easy exit, all that could be found was one small, sad window. He looked Mr. Sky up and down. He swore beneath his breath. Neither of them would be able to fit through it if he broke it. And, while the part of him that rode this thrill wanted nothing more than to fuel it by marching out and feeding the demon, he could not allow that to happen. So they were trapped.
He glanced over at the man again. His giddiness was gone, replaced with quiet concern. "These are close quarters. It will be different than fencing. It may be brutal. Do you know how to use what you found?" he asked with a nod to the dagger. But Mr. Sky was distracted by something out the window.
"It's going to rain in...exactly 11 minutes..."
Ven grunted impatiently. "Is it?" he replied with the same unamused tone he'd used at the mention of the man's name.
BAM. The door blew off its hinges. Glass shattered and streamed in little pieces across the dirty floor. Men marched in one by one, looking...fearful. It was a strange sight. Yet not unexpected, Ven realized. This country did not hate the arcane and otherworldly. It simply feared what it did not understand.
...Or perhaps these men had simply seen the demon at work.
"Why do they care so much about my supposed magic? Strange country indeed," Mr. Sky remarked.
"Yes," Ven muttered as he sized up the guardsmen. "In that, Mr. Sky, we do agree."
One of the guards stepped forward. His voice shook as he spoke. "The two of you are under arrest! Come quietly, now. Don't make this worse for yourselves."
Ven barked a laugh, though it was more to himself than to the guards. "Arrest," he repeated with haughty irreverence. "No. I think not." He turned to address his companion. "We need only disable them, and then we run. Out the front door and to the right. No more killing, if we can help it. Yes?" The directive was for himself as much as it was for Mr. Sky. It was a reminder to keep his own guard up against the path of temptation. And to never forget his purpose.
"Come now. Time's up. Get out of that back room and you won't be harmed," called the guard.
"Yes, yes. Coming," Ven replied with the air of a nagged husband who was late for a minor social event. He strode back into the shop from the back, walking stick gripped tightly and head bowed. He eyed the goods behind the counter as he did so. Liquor. And matches. And a lantern sat burning right there on the counter. Well. They could add arson to their list of crimes, if the worst came to it. It would certainly prove to be a sufficient distraction.
Ven circled the counter and raised his hands, though the gesture's effect was lessened somewhat by the fact that he still held his stick. The men began to back away. Two drew swords. "Well?" he challenged them. "Arrest me, then." The guards glanced nervously at each other. They began to approach, circling around to cut him off from Mr. Sky. Like a pack of coyotes, Ven thought. He waited, stick raised.
"Drop it," the head guard ordered, waggling his sword at the stick.
"Mm. As you wish," Ven replied. Without warning, he swung downward and rapped the man square on his ugly skull. The guard staggered. The others rushed forward, but not before he whipped the stick between his opponent's legs and swept upward. The guard grunted, dropped his weapon, and clutched his nethers, his face a blotchy red. Ven withdrew the stick and rammed it into the man's breastplate, sending him stumbling back over the ruined door.
He spun, eyes wild beneath the hood. Three more, and they had him surrounded. "Any time, now, Mr. Sky!" he called.
