His head was splitting, like he had an axe cleaving through his forehead. Ouch, he grumbled, holding his head, hands running through his hair and ruffling it. It felt wet and moist, and cold. Damp from sweat, he assumed, but the stickiness caught him off guard. Blood. Damn; he feared it would be. However, it was nice know it wasn't because his head had been split open.
As his headache began to dissipate, Quinlan sat up, rubbing his head and opening his eyes. Cleared vision revealed a mess. A mess he didn't remember doing. "Oh Ansgar's balls," he grumbled, eying the body that had been opened and the blood that spilled out of him. This didn't bode well, not at all. Especially since Quinlan had no recollection of how or why he was here. One thing he did know was that it would likely be best not to linger.
He didn't know the dead man at the center of the room, except for what physical characteristics were readily apparent. He was thin, tall, gaunt looking with pale blond hair (now stained red) and had a constipated expression on his face. Quinlan wondered if that was because he'd been killed in such a horrid manner, or if something surprised him shortly before death. He frowned at the state of the body. It was torn open, and the floor was splattered in blood. The manner of death had evidently been a violent one and Quinlan looked down at his hands.
There were some drops of blood, some crusted underneath his fingernails and some on his shirt, but it wasn't a great deal, compared to the room. He quickly got to his feet and knew it was time to vacate the premises, preferably as quickly and quietly as possible. Quinlan took what sheets he could find and wrapped the body in them, careful to knot it up into a neat bundle before moving to clean up the room. As best he could at any rate.
For a moment he considered leaving the body. If he moved downstairs he was sure he could possibly make a run for it. Listening intently, he could hear faint voices downstairs. There was no hurry, no clamor, and it seems he was in the upstairs part of a tavern. Men were drinking and talking loudly, some women laughed, but there were no sounds to indicate it was anything other than a tavern. There were too many people downstairs, likely, and taking that route, likely would raise too many questions.
His head was still pounding, and no his heart as he saw the only other logical exit. Quinlan moved toward the window and opened it, peering down into the alley below. Darkness was drawing in, and the stars were slowly illuminating the sky. There was little thought to it, as Quinlan grabbed the wrapped bundle and dropped it out the window. There was a thud and soon he quickly followed it, though clung to the edge of the window until he could find etches in the wall to help him climb down. His footing was less secure and he yelped as he slipped and fell on the body below. He heard a crunch and made a face at the red splotches seeped through the bundle.
Quinlan coughed and moved to grab the bundle and stopped suddenly when he heard footsteps coming in from behind him. He whirled around and grinned, stepping in front of the bundle, leaning nonchalantly against the wall. "Oh, evening. Just taking a stroll. It's gonna be a lovely night won't it?" he said.
Quinlan wasn’t the only one who was surprised to find the unknown man dead in a messy pool of blood. From across the shadowed street, a pair of mismatched eyes watched as Quinlan woke, opened the window, and hoisted out the body, letting it drop with an audible splat. Those eyes didn’t flinch when Quinlan followed, landing with an even louder splat when he tripped and landed unceremoniously on top of the splotchy red bundle that contained the corpse.
This wasn’t supposed to have happened. The unknown man wasn’t supposed to be dead already. The intelligence she had - though intelligence shifted like the sands in the shadows of the criminal underground - said that the man was still supposed to be alive. Until she arrived, at any rate.
He had been marked for the Soot Wolves.
But she had arrived, it seemed, too late. And now the stumbling, bumbling Quinlan, a man she had never seen before, lay on top of what was meant to be her mark. She had been sent to deliver a message from the Soot Wolves, but that had been… ah, interrupted. Now she had a decision to make. Slip back into the shadows, return to Arca, and report that the man was already dead by unknown hands. Safer? Yes. Smarter? Maybe. Or find out what had happened, why her mark had been stolen from her. And what that might mean for the Guild. Other players were clearly at work here.
So she jumped lightly down from the shadowed roof where she had watched the last scene unfold. She was dressed plainly, utilitarianly, inconspicuously. The mark of a Soot Wolf: the ability to blend in with a crowd, or with the shadows. But it would be hard to mistake her for a lady just out for an after dinner stroll. Her dark skin reflected little light in the dark street, and her brown-and-hazel eyes watched Quinlan impassively.
All Zahi Akello said was, “You have some blood on you. Just there.”
She was hard to see in the darkness, but edged by the gleaming moonlight, he slowly made her out. Quinlan didn't like the look of her, something about her rubbed him the wrong way. But he wasn't about to let her know that. So he gave a sheepish grin, his head pounding from the sharp laugh that followed and he peered down at his shirt. "Hah, so I do," he made a sound with his lips and flicked it nonchalantly from his shirt. "My own I suppose. I had a nasty run-in with a greedy crow. He tried to take my porkchop. He won."
The body that had been propped behind him began to slide down against the wall, slumping down like a drunk hobo. Quinlan jerked a little, moving to catch it and propped it back up. "Ah well, it was nice chatting with you, but I really should be on my way," Quinlan said.
He gathered up the body, throwing it over his shoulder and quickly tried to move past her and out of the alley.
Zahi did not return Quinlan's grin. Her expression stayed perfectly neutral as he told his weak story about the greedy crow. She watched carefully, staying nothing, as the body slumped and Quinlan hoisted it up over his shoulder. It wasn't until Quinlan moved to go past her that Zahi deftly side-stepped, placing herself directly in Quinlan's way. The effect of their combined motion put the two well within their personal space.
"Looks like that crow left you the swine, though," she said plainly. "That's quite the piece of meat you're carrying around."
The alarm turned Quinlan's blood hot and his heart pounded. But his eyes were as calm as he could be, carrying a bleeding sack on his shoulder. "Well, it's nothing more than garbage. Just taking it to be dumped. I'd leave it here in the alley, but just don't you think there's enough trash just laying around. Now, if you'd just get out of my way, I'll be off," he said.
Quinlan turned his shoulder to push past her and slunked out scurried off like a slippery salamander.
Zahi didn't make a response to Quinlan's jabbering, nor did she interfere as he pushed around her. Instead, she let him pass, but before he was out of reach, she grabbed hold of the sheet-wrapped "garbage" that Quinlan was carting quickly away.
And with a loud thud the bundle landed in the dirt of the alley between Quinlan and Zahi. She looked down at the man; a hand and a bloody scalp were showing now, peeking out of the blood-blotched sheets.
"Is this your work?" she asked, a touch loudly and a touch aggressively. Not, in fact, unlike how a city guard might ask. In truth, Zahi did not feel as strongly as her words and she was quite certain that it wasn't his work. But the sound of authority could, in the right circumstance, loosen tongues.
Quinlan whirled around when she grabbed the bundle. Eyes flamed and he his temper flared. He felt his blood boil, almost painfully so and he felt it burn the back of his eyes. "That isn't for you," he growled and yanked the bundle back up, stuffing the hand and head back into the bundle. "And it's certainly has nothing to do with you. Be on your way. Now." His eyes were narrowed and he palmed the spearhead dagger slipped on the inside of his wrist.
"Do you always butt into other's people's business? Or are you just half-witted?" he growled.
Still calmly ignoring Quinlan's snide comments, Zahi moved aside the bloody sheet with the toe of her worn leather boot, revealing the man's bloody face and the thick, jagged slash running deep across his throat.
"Messy work," she noted aloud, "doesn't look very professional." She sounded more like she was dictating to Quinlan than egging on a confrontation with him. But her eyes glanced up from the corpse to the man's twitching arm as he palmed the dagger now partially hidden there. "There's no need for that, now."
Her eyes scrutinized the body, narrowing in on the wounds. Apparently unthreatened by Quinlan, Zahi stooped down next to the man. All the while her senses stayed sharp on their surroundings, but the alley was narrow and dark and empty. And Ketra was always a bit seedy, anyway. She figured she had a bit of time. Carefully, zahi pulled the sheets further down, looking over the graying, bloody flesh. "Looks rather hastily done."
Quinlan didn't know what to make of this woman. his nerves were already shot and the way she acted so calmly only further served to set him off balance. Not that he had much balance to begin with. With every question he could shoot at her, her only attention seemed to be for the body in question. Which meant one of two things, she was one of those who knew him, or one of those against him.
Quinlan relaxed, forced himself rather, and stood opposite Zahi and kicked the body. Gases expelled from it, and emitted a foul stench and he shrugged. "I reckon he had it coming," he said. "What are you hanging around for? Coming to turn me in?" he asked. Not that he bet there was any chance she'd answer. And that's when it happened.
Something broke, a piece of glass and then suddenly the small dark alley was ablaze in fire. Quinlan moved quickly and grabbed Zahi like she was the bloody body and yanked her from the path of another molotov that broke where her head had been. Quinlan turned to look up at the roof tops, spotting several dark shapes lighting more of them. "The body!" he howled and moved it with a surge of adrenaline, pulling it up and out of the way, cloth and all.
Zahi snorted in a knee-jerk reaction of disgust, her nose crinkled , as the foul odors wafted up from the body and hit her straight in the face. The result of which was that she was distracted when the first crack of the molotov hit the alley. She grabbed for the long dagger sheathed in her boot at the same moment that Quinlan grabbed her and pulled her out of the way of the second fire bomb. In an act of muscle memory and physical instinct, her body tensed as the man grabbed her and her dagger ended in a flash at Quinlan’s throat.
Her eyes flashed dangerously at him and for half a second the dagger stayed there. But something changed in her look and almost just as quickly the blade was lowered again. Zahi’s work kept her primed for combat; but more than that, maybe, she did not like being pulled out of danger by strangers. At the moment, though, it seemed like they had bigger things to worry about. Things were heating up.
For a moment, Zahi thought of fading back into the shadows and disappearing from the chaotic scene. But it was just getting interesting. Now was not the time to disappear if she wanted to learn what happened to her mark - and why. If Quinlan’s yanking her from the path of the molotov affected her decision, she certainly didn’t admit it to herself. Either way, she was staying.
Her eyes followed the fire to the roof and the shadowed figures lurking there. At that moment, she regretted very much not bringing a bow. They’d have to make do with what they had, so Zahi sent the dagger flying through the air at the closest of their assailants. It landed with a wet thunk into his throat, and the man came tumbling down into the alley. The rest, however, were out of her range.
The fire was spreading rapidly through the alley, but was concentrated to their left, blocking that route. It was spreading to the right, but the missiles weren’t aimed there. They were being smoked out. She grabbed Quinlan, turning him towards the left.
“Go through the fire. Quick. They won’t expect it. If you’re fast, you won’t get too hurt.”
Go through the FIRE?! She WAS insane!
If Quinlan didn't know any better, he'd say that he was in love. Bah, most of the time he didn't give a shit enough to want to know any better. Shouts from above broke his reverie and he turned to face the flames again. The body was hoisted up and other his shoulder and the dagger that he'd been palming previously clicked outward on a wrist contraption, sliding into his palm and his hand gripped around it's edge, the blade cutting the flesh around it. He grit his teeth, snarling as he felt his blood burning on hot, like needles along his palm.
But in that instant, Quinlan's eyes turned cold and he shot splatters of blood out at the fire, waves of ice abruptly stilling the flames as they froze solid. The fire was as fragile as glass and Quinlan ran through it, leaping just at the breach and smashing through the ice and landing safely on the other side. He slipped a little, sure, but he managed to keep his grip on the corpse as their pursuers were clamoring down from the rooftops and a few more running along them.
He didn't know how many more of those Molotov cocktails they had on hand, but he wasn't about to wait around to find out. Whatever her suggestion, Quinlan mentally thanked her for it, but he wasn't going to wait for her. He didn't have to outrun these goons, whoever they were. All he had to do was outrun Zahi.
And that's just what he intended to do.
Quinlan zigged and zagged through the connecting alleyways that webbed out from where he fell. Jumping over a sleeping, bum and debris left in the alley in one fell swoop, Quinlan moved hard and fast, even with a body weighing him down.
The Blood Wolf hesitated only long enough to retrieve her dagger from the body fallen from the rooftops. As she retrieved her blade, she a glint of metal reflecting the growing flames caught her eye. She took one second longer to grab the talisman hanging from around the dead man's neck and yank it off of him. Stuffing it hastily into a pocket, she turned in hot pursuit of Quinlan and the body. Zahi, however, didn't take her chances running across the ice; she headed straight for the fire. One of the perks of being a bastard was that, while whoever the john that had been her father was hadn't given her his name, he had given her this strange ability. She sprinted through the flames, unbothered and unharmed. To her let, she saw one of the assailants slip on Quinlan's ice as he followed in pursuit.
Now that was an interesting trick.
Quinlan was about a leg in front of her by the time she'd gotten through the growing fire. Before she could close the distance between them, though, another one of the mysterious assailants dropped from the roof between her and Quinlan. The shadowy man did not, however, turn to face Zahi. His target was clear: Quinlan, or the man Quinlan carried on his back. Zahi sprinted forward just enough to grab the man by the scruff of his coat, their combined momentum causing them to fall forward in a bit of a tumble. But her blade was still in her hand, still smeared with the blood of his compatriate. Coming from behind, she had the element of surprise on her side, and her blade sliced through his throat as they fell. Zahi rolled as she landed, hard, in the bloody alley dirt. She stopped only long enough to yank free a similar talisman from the neck of this man. Then she jumped back to her feet and sped off after Quinlan.
This time no one got in her way. Quinlan might be fast, but Zahi wasn't burdened by the bulk of the dead man. She appeared beside him, a bit dirtier and bloodier than when he'd left her. "Get somewhere public."
Quinlan heard the gurgling of the man as he was killed by Zahi's dagger and he only cast his eyes over his shoulder for a brief second. That was all he needed to see the body flop onto the ground and he felt his blood burn in his veins. He swallowed the pain, unaware that Zahi had snatched the talisman from around the dead man's neck.
All he could think of right now as escape. That was what mattered.
That and the fact that he didn't yet lose the bitch!
Quinlan shifted out of the alley, skidding along some loose gravel as he turned abruptly. There were plenty of options to choose from and he stopped for the briefest second. "Where!?"
Zahi shot Quinlan a brief look. Not, it seemed, impressed by his decisiveness in this particular moment. Without answering him directly, she pushed him down the right alley that turned into a busy, seedy-looking street lined with bars and taverns and, well... the amorous sounds wafting out of the windows of the other buildings left no doubt to their nature.
Zahi slowed her gait once they approached the mill of people. Most were drunk and distracted by their own arguments or flirting with the painted whores on the street. Zahi kept one hand firmly holding onto Quinlan's wrist. With her other hand, she pulled out the chord keeping her hair back in a knot, releasing a mane of brown-black curls and coils. Then she undid the first few buttons of her shirt. It wasn't the most convincing transformation, but it would have to do.
She glanced back over her shoulder and, seeing none of their followers at that moment, pushed Quinlan through a doorway, following a john and his chosen prostitute into a shady, squeaky little inn that rented its room by the hour.
"Come on, no one will ask questions here."
"Of course. Because they ought to get men walking in with dead bodies on a nightly basis," Quinlan growled to himself. It was loud enough for her to hear. But he minded himself. The man was small enough to be disguised as little more than a sack. A bloody sack. And why Quinlan didn't just leave it in the alley was beyond him. He felt vaguely responsible after all and he'd taken on the corpse as his property. Whoever attacked them were clearly after him...or the dead man.
Or maybe the woman. He hadn't discounted that possibility just yet. Quinlan cut his eyes to Zahi and her get up, as they walked into the whore house and people were busy enough with their fleshy endeavors to give attention to them. He didn't question it. But he would have chosen someplace a little quieter. Like a library! Yeah, that was a perfect place to stash a body.
"So how you gonna get upstairs? I'm sure they're already taken," he hissed at her. "Maybe they got an unused cellar or sump'm."
"The same way everyone gets upstairs. You're going to pay for a room," Zahi answered under her breath, a touch of annoyance in her otherwise no-nonsense business-like tone. "Don't think they're too picky."
With that, she gave Quinlan a little push towards the fat old man running the inn from behind a little table. He'd just given a key to the couple in front of them and turned his wine-soaked gaze to look over Quinlan and Zahi, his eyes lingering a bit longer on her than him. But he turned after a moment back to Quinlan.
"How - hic - can I hep ye, m'lord?"
"Me pay? But I don't have any money," he murmured. But it was already too late. And the old geezer addressed him, spitting saliva into his face as he tried his best to stay on his feet.
"Uhhh..." Quinlan hesitated for a moment. "You don't look so good, Old Man."
"What? I cook good food?"
"You could get a terrible head wound if you don't watch your step. Look, your balance is already off kilter!" Quinlan reached a hand out to hold the old man just as he was about to crash to the side and his hand slipped off the purse on his belt as he did so.
"Oh! Thank the spirits for you. Hic! Now what is it that you said you wanted?" he asked again. Quinlan smiled and nodded his head to the little piece beside him. "Oh, a room. Ah...well, I do run this place... Or do I? Pah. Here's the key. Money please."
Quinlan tossed him a few coins and took the key from the old man. "Good on ye, sir. Now get upstairs!" he hollered and promptly slapped Zahi on the ass.
Zahi shot Quinlan a dangerous look in response to his little bit of play-acting. But he was complying, anyway, so she looped her arm low around his waist and pulled him up the stairs with her. Once they'd turned the corner going up the flight of stairs, Zahi removed her arm and, with a short huff, gave Quinlan a sharp smack on his ass.
Score settled.
The Blood Wolf took the key from Quinlan and led him and the corpse to the room indicated. Ushering the 'pair' inside, Zahi followed and locked the door behind her.
"Now," she said, nodding business-like to the blood-stained bundle, "let's take a proper look at our friend here."
Fiesty this one was. He kinda liked that. He wouldn't say it was enough for him to keep her around. But for now she proved minutely useful. Quinlan threw the body down onto the desk in the corner, making a gurgling fart sound upon impact. He undid the sheet and peeled it open. The body, least to say, was a mess.
"Poor sod. Whoever did this musta been real mad at him," Quinlan observed dryly. Then immediately leapt for the coinpurse remaining on the dead body's bet, plucking it off. "Can't take it with him."
If the bloody mess that Quinlin uncovered affected Zahi, she didn’t show it. The woman looked over the mutilated corpse with a calm, clinical interest. The man was so covered in blood and other bodily material that it was hard to make out the precise wounds. Moving forward to the desk where Quinlin had laid the man out (Zahi was, it had to be said, surprised to learn that this room had a desk! or anything more at all than a bed) and used the discarded sheet to carefully clean away the splattered mask of blood and guts.
Her cleaning work revealed an extensive network of lacerations. Most notably, three deep cuts converging in the man’s abdomen. He was disemboweled. Well, that explained the mess. But there were also parallel and intersecting cuts running down his chest, and across his arms. It looked, to Zahi’s eye, ritualistic. It looked like something she had seen before. A long time ago.
Unconsciously, Zahi fingered the talisman in her pocket. But she didn’t reveal it yet.
Instead she asked, “And how did you end up with him?” She looked up at Quinlin, “Nothing I heard said anything about a skinny redhead.”
Quinlan might have cringed at the sight of such handiwork. He'd seen ritualistic carvings before, some he'd done himself. These were vaguely familiar and his eyes paused to the marking that was stuck into his left palm.
"I can't say I remember who this man is...." He paused suddenly. "Wait a minute. Before we go any further, maybe you should tell me who you are first. Got a name? And what were you doing snooping around?"
Didn't remember? That was interesting. The skinny redhead was becoming more intriguing. She couldn't help but wonder if he'd been intended for a similar purpose as poor Mr. Kravitt here.
She had gone back to examining the body as Quinlin answered, or started to answer. But she glanced up at him when he turned the question back around at her in a moment of deliberation. Then went back to the body.
"Zahi," she answered matter-of-factly. "I was sent by northern interests looking to clear up some space in the Ketra underground market." All of this was entirely true, if a little vague. But it was all Quinlin really needed to know. "Our friend here," she said, standing up straight again, done with her close inspection, and taking half a step back from the body, "was a big man in the criminal element down here."
Then she looked at Quinlin. "What do you remember?"
Truly he expected a more guarded response. Then again, nothing made a more perfect lie than telling the truth. Quinlan knew that better than most, and from first glance, so did this odd woman. That's what he decided she was. Odd. It was a perfectly acceptable summation for someone so interested dissecting a bloodied man several hours dead. Even the smell didn't seem to faze her. She probably did this an awful lot...and Quinlan wasn't sure he liked what that told him.
It was immediately clear to him that he wanted to keep any association with him as quick and as brief as possible.
"Hm. So matter of factly," he commented idly and stared back at the body. Suddenly it felt as if something sharp struck his temples and his hands went up to hold them, the blood from his left palm smearing on his cheek. He cringed. "Gah!" Then he looked at the body again and the crusted blood that remained underneath his fingernails.
"Kravitt," he muttered with a scowl. "That's what the bastard's name is." He closed his eyes and tried to focus. "He spoke real fast. Like if he did, you wouldn't catch on to what a bad deal he was trying to sucker you into. He was real friendly though. He paid good for a round of drinks. Can't fault a man for stupid generosity. Except for now maybe."
He shook his head, opening his eyes and observing the body once more, the swift cut across his throat. "He was looking for someone for a job he said he had. I guess I figured he paid good on drinks, the reward was equally promising. Looks like the joke's on him." He smiled and laughed, but his expression quickly faded. "I guess we weren't alone after all. Huh... I thought the room was drafty."
Zahi watched Quinlan with a cautious curiosity. His extreme reaction to the name was interesting, to say the least. There was something... off about this man that she hadn't quite put her finger on yet. But little of her curiosity or interest showed on her expression; she watched stone-faced as Quinlan recounted his dealings with the dead man.
"Yeah, I believe that. His type are usually charming and generous. I'm not sure there's anything stupid about it. He did good business. Well," she cast a casual glance over the corpse, "did good business."
Her gaze shifted from the corpse to Quinlan and something almost approaching amusement flickered on her features. "Looks like the joke is on you, though. Kravitt here is safe and dead. You're the one with, let's say, unfriendly, molotov-tossing religious fanatics on your heels." She leaned back, crossing her arms, and concluded, "Seems like you're the one who should be worried. And what I want to know is - if that lot was the one chasing you after - who did the dirty work? And what did he have," she inclined her head to the corpse, "that presumably you now have, or they think you do - that they want."
"Generosity without agenda is foolish. Men can't learn to fend for themselves if their given everything palm in hand," he said with a snarl. "But I guess it can't hurt when you got a lot of palms to grease. Everybody's gotta get their cut."
He moved around and pulled the cloth of the man's lacerated shirt apart and observed the ritual markings along his upper body and his crusted bloody fingernails traced along them. "Funny you mention religious fanatics. He didn't seem much like the religious type. I would know."
He snorted a little and observed the fanged mark along Kravitt's palm. "You recognize that symbol?"
"Men like Kravitt always have an agenda." Zahi had spent enough of her life in the care or employ of the Zantaric and Arca underworld to know that any successful crime boss always, always had an agenda. No one gave things away for free.
"Oh, I believe he wasn't religious. But those wounds aren't the work of a random killer. Or of a professional." She stepped beside Quinlan, looking closer at the body again. "Then again, it's messier... less careful... than you'd guess a proper ritual would be. Who knows," she shrugged, "I could be wrong. I don't see wounds like this very often, though."
Her eyes followed Quinlan's to the man's palm and the fang markings there. They were, in fact, not unlike how the Bloods marked their own quarries. But this wasn't their work. That, at least, she was sure about. She raked her memory for details of the last human sacrifice she had seen, so long ago in the forgotten, ruined temple outside of Zantaric. But she couldn't get the details in focus.
"Sounds like you do." She wouldn't mention the similarity to the Blood Wolves own symbol. She paused, then decided to ask, "Is it something local?"
Quinlan kept his eyes on the body, the markings, the cuts. His mind prickled with needles that made him shut his eyes tight and hold his breath. When he opened them, he took his hands away from the mark and looked at Zahi. "The cuts don't have to be perfect or even aligned right to be effective. What matters is the offering and the words, spoken with intent. This mark...is strange because it's a holy symbol. To some circles. The Mark of Macaris. Some lunatic who claimed to have the ability to turn the minds of animals. The Mark is meant to be protection against betrayers and turncoats, y'know snakes. I don't remember him having that before he died though."
Quinlan shook his head and walked a few steps around the room. "Gah..." His head continued to hurt. "Irony, I think." He turned back to Zahi. "My best guess is he tried to cheat someone else and they didn't like that much. That mark... I've seen it before... They call themselves the Keepers of Cathar. Funny, I thought they were just a holy brotherhood; y'know, help the sick, feed the poor types."
Quinlan was becoming more and more interesting to Zahi. The micro-signs of discomfort. The familiarity, apparently, with strange religious practices. She wondered if he really was just in the wrong place at the wrong time, or if he had more to do with this than he was letting on.
She wondered if she should keep pursuing this at all. Kravitt was a con-man who conned the wrong group, it seemed. That was of no particular interest. It was a lost opportunity for the Soot Wolves to make an impression in the Ketra market, but that was all. Her interest was if there were underground feuds that they didn't know about, and it didn't seem like that was what was going on here. But Zahi knew she wasn't going to walk away from this just yet. The strange redhead and his mangled corpse had her curiosity piqued.
"You sound like you know a lot about this stuff," she commented, raising her eyebrows a little. "Is that why Kravitt wanted you for... whatever job this was?"
Quinlan wandered near the bed, plopping down on it and burying his face in his hands. The pain in his head only increased the more he tried to remember. His blood burned in his veins and his palm itched. He brushed his hair back and looked up at the door, as if half-expecting those lunatics to burst right through it. It wasn't the first time he'd been hounded by people who wanted his head and it wouldn't be the last.
"Coulda been," he said dryly, eyes hardening. "Or maybe I was just the only fool he could find. within a hundred miles." He shook his head. "No...no... He...knew. I guess it ain't much of a secret, but it's not something I just wave about. He knew I was a blood mage. That's why he wanted me. I could get to places he couldn't. Some knowledge isn't good for some men to know. I guess his body is evidence enough of that."
Quinlan looked up. "He wanted me to get something for him. Said he was gonna give me the key to find it. A talis....man." He stood abruptly. "Where is it?" he said, eying Zahi.
Aha. That's what was different about this man. Zahi watched impassively as Quinlan flopped onto the bed with obvious signs of discomfort or pain. Zahi had never been the biggest fan of mages. Magic always seemed a bit like cheating to her. Like making a path of ice instead of just running very fast through a fire. But Quinlan made a little more sense now.
But not every mage knows about esoteric religious sects.
When he suddenly jumped up and demanded the talisman of her, Zahi just cooly put her hands up, palms forward, as a sign that he didn't need to get so bent out of shape about it. "No need to get all excited," she said. "Nothing special about what I have. There was one around the neck of all of those goons chasing after you." She pulled one of the talismans out of her pocket and tossed it to Quinlan. She reserved the other one for herself for the moment. Then something almost resembling a smile crossed her face. "I was going to bring it out eventually."
He practically snatched it from her hand and examined it closely. He wiggled and shook it and even bit it to make sure it was real metal. He sniffed and felt around it, turning it over carefully in his hand like it was a piece of glass.
"There's got to be something unusual about this. Something..." He moved toward the candles on the side and held it closer to the light. He saw something reflect on a minute piece of glass hidden in the talisman and he held his eye up to it. He saw a glare in the fire, but and suddenly the candle sputtered out. "Strange...it seems to react to light..."
Zahi sat on the end of the bed, leaning against its splintered wooden footboard, and watched Quinlan examine the talisman. Casually, she pulled out the second talisman and turned it over in her hand. Now that she was looking closer at it, she felt a chill run down her spine.
She recognized several of the markings on the talisman. They could also be found on the walls of the ruined temple. For a moment, Zahi felt as though she was physically transported back there. It was a part of her life that she tried very hard not to linger on. And reminders of it were not very welcome.
"These Keepers," she asked, turning the talisman over, "where are they -"
But Zahi wasn't able to finish her sentence. She was cut off by a sudden, loud, and urgent bang! bang! bang! on the door.
Quinlan swung around, pocketing the talisman she gave him and moving quietly to the door. "Git! We're busy!" he huffed loudly and grabbed the edge of a dresser, rythmically banging it against the wall. He moaned loudly and hit the wall harder.
He signalled to Zahi to make a noise. "Moan damn you!" he hissed. "Oh Yeah! Oh!" He scowled at her.
The banging occured again and Quinlan panicked, pulling a dagger from his sleeve again. He quit bang on the wall and instead pushed the dresser in front of the door, yelling out feigned cries of pleasure.
If Zahi were a different person, she might have laughed at Quinlan’s valiant attempt to make love to the poor dresser. As it was, she just looked at him with a vaguely amused expression. She did not, however, join in his efforts. Zahi would, honestly, rather face whatever was on the other side of the door.
The woman got up off the bed and hastily threw the sheet back over Kravitt. Then, hoisting the corpse, she shoved it under the bed. Moving probably too slow for Quinlan’s nerves, Zahi then removed her boots, her trousers, and finally her top so that she stood in only her small clothes. It didn’t occur to her in that moment that the tattoos etched across her back, sides, and arms would mirror some of the symbols and motifs of the talismans. Removing the long dagger from her boot, she took it in one hand and walked over to the door.
She paused for a half a moment in front of Quinlan, matter-of-factly undoing his belt and shaking her head at him. ‘Oh, oh yeah,’ she mouthed and rolled her eyes.
Pulling the dresser just a few inches from the door, Zahi unlocked it and leaning into the door so that the dagger in her left hand stayed hidden, opened the door and peered out. She did her best to keep a casual air about her, but her body was tense and ready for a fight if that's what was on the other side of the door.
“Sorry!” she said with a breathy laugh. “There a problem?”
At her mocking, Quinlan's furrowed his brow and stuck his tongue out at her like a child. He was behind the door and held his dagger tightly when at last she opened the door.
It was nothing more than a small child, a wide-eyed girl with a clearly shocked look in her eyes and she had a set of fresh sheets in her arms. "The...The....the...the....Old Man.....s-s-s-s-s-said he forgot to give you these!" She shoved the blankets at Zahi and ran off down the hall.
Quinlan smirked, stepping back. "Geeze what'd ya do to her?" He peered at her back for a time and studied the tattoos on her back. They were interesting markings and Quinlan traced along one with the edge of his dagger. "Interesting... Where'd you get these?" he asked, curious.
Zahi took the sheets from the girl and watched her run down the hallway. She turned to Quinlan as she shut and relocked the door, her expression unimpressed.
"Says the man who barracked the door against a seven year old," she said, throwing the blankets at his head. "Poor dresser."
Going back over to the bed, Zahi crouched down and pulled Kravitt back out from under the bed. She stayed crouched next to the corpse; pulling the sheet back, she began to carefully inspect what remained of the man's clothing.
While she studied, she asked Quinlan, "So, he was going to give you 'the key' to find some talisman? The talisman I gave you, though? Seems like those were right outside the window. Shouldn't take them too long to catch up with you, either." Zahi poked into Kravitt's trouser pocket. "So what did he really want you to find? And what was he going to give you? Did he say? Do you remember?"
Zahi stopped suddenly, looking up at Quinlan. "What is the last thing you remember, anyway?"
Quinlan threw the blankets on the ground. "The last thing?" he mimicked, though he heard exactly what she said. He blinked and then looked up at her, pointing to the body. "That. I woke up next to that... Blood was everywhere like a bomb went off. Those lacerations. I didn't do them... I...I don't know. I might've. I don't think so... I"
He shook his head. "I don't know what it was exactly he was looking for. He wouldn't say. He just said the talisman was the key to finding it. But...those markings on it. They look a lot like the ones on your back. Explain that."
“I meant from before you got knocked unconscious,” Zahi retorted. “You’ve pieced together some other things. Were you already in that room? Do you remember? Or were you somewhere else?”
“It seems pretty strange that he’d task you with finding a talisman worn around the neck of a shady group of assassins or fanatics or whoever they are that would be chasing you down shortly after the fact. Maybe he was playing you with all that ‘pointless generosity.’ Maybe he was going to deliver you to them.”
She looked back down at body. The mess they’d made of him.
“Doesn’t seem like they were too impressed. Or someone else interceded.”
His comment about her back, though, made Zahi frown. And for the first time she looked unsettled. Somehow that hadn't occurred to her. She'd borne the marks for so long, she didn't really think about them. “I guess we took inspiration from the same source,” she answered. “Don’t worry. I’m not a demon conjured up by some cult to deliver your soul or something.”
Quinlan blinked at her and his expression turned darkly amused. "Oh I know that. You're too...astute to be any demon. Nevertheless...ask a lot of questions. And answer even fewer. Where did you get them?" he repeated.
He stepped closer and tilted his head curiously.
"I guess I'll take that as a compliment," Zahi remarked dryly.
But when Quinlan moved closer to her to look over her tattoos, she stood up, facing him so that her back was away from him. However, the markings curled around her shoulders and collar bone. She frowned; she did not like having the lens turned towards her.
"Nowhere special," she answered, her gaze darkening, but not with amusement. She didn't offer where she got the design for them. After all, that wasn't what he asked.
Quinlan moved closer and grabbed her wrist in a strong grip and turned her shoulder over so he could properly inspect them. "These are just the same as talisman in fact. Where did you get the idea for these? The design. If those people know you have these....and there isn't any reason to suspect that they won't find out, they'll skin you alive."
Zahi reacted instantaneously. She twisted around, turning to face him and in one rapid movement that revealed she was quite a bit stronger than she looked (and perhaps stronger than humanly made sense for her size), Zahi shoved Quinlan hard against the room’s wall with her hand around his throat. He still, however, had a grip on her wrist.
Quinlan clearly touched a nerve. Though, strange symbols aside, Zahi didn’t usually let people push her around.
“They’re not exactly the same,” she answered darkly, though she couldn’t be entirely sure. “Anyway, they’re just something I remember from when I was a kid. I see no reason why your buddies should find out. I don’t think they’re very interested in me. Okay?”
Of course, that might have been true before, but was it still, after she’d killed two of them? That was the problem with being the bastard of a foreign prostitute... she didn't really blend in in these northern countries.
Quinlan gasped a little, but his anger only surged. She was indeed strong. Just about as strong as he was, maybe stronger and he used his rage to shove her off him, releasing his grip on her wrist. He huffed and rubbed at his throat.
"They saw you with me. They'll hunt you just the same. If you go off on your own now, they'll find you for sure. Even if you do know how to hide. These types are more dogged even than your kind. And they don't let a little thing like death stop them."
Zahi caught her footing as he shoved her and, at first, looked tensed to spring back at him, her eyes flashing dangerously. But she stayed still and after a moment her stance relaxed, a little. She held Quinlan's gaze for several moments, then slowly turned around so he could see the tattoos.
Zahi was correct in saying they weren't exactly the same as the talismans. But the motifs were strikingly similar.
"There's a ruined temple a few days outside of Zantaric. No one practices there anymore. Regularly, anyway. These are from there." She paused a moment before saying, "You still haven't said how you know so much about this."
Quinlan sighed through flared nostrils but most of it was an attempt to relieve some of the stress building up inside of him. A simple breath could carry off years of anxiety, depression, anger, and pain that all welled up and made his blood itch all that much worse.
He stepped forward and carefully examined her markings, committing them to memory and touched one odd mark on her back. "Oh, I think that's just a mole. Never mind," he said, poking her ribs curiously.
He stepped away and fixed his belt back around his waist, remembering it was on the floor. "I don't know much else, I'm afraid. My memory is still a little fuzzy. I need time...or maybe a good stiff drink," he said, shaking his head. "It comes and goes. And the memories flicker like flashes of light in a pitch black room. I know Kravitt said the Talisman was the Key. If you look at yours carefully there's a small glass embedded at the center, like a spectacle lens. It reacts to light...but something tells me not just any light will do. Perhaps sunlight. Or maybe the moon. Rituals tend to focus on forces of natural, powerful things beyond our control, things to be communed with. Maybe if I look through the lens in natural light...maybe the way will be revealed."
Zahi bristled when Quinlan poked her ribs, and it took quite a bit of her self-control not to lash out at him. She did not enjoy being looked over like this and liked being prodded even less. Quinlan may as well be poking a bear.
She turned when he was done and watched him while he tried to remember what Kravitt had said, and while he speculated about what it might mean. She wondered, privately, if all of his knowledge of this came from remembered fragments of a conversation with Kravitt, or from prior knowledge. She'd wait to ask.
Finally, Zahi moved to the other side of the room where she'd left her clothes and got dressed again - shirt first. While she fastened her boots and belt, she asked Quinlan, "Well, which do you want? Time, or rest, or a drink?" She didn't bother saying what they both knew: that she, for the time being, was stuck with him. "We probably shouldn't stick around here for too long, anyway. And afterwards, I'd like to pay a visit to Kravitt's place of business. Someone has to deliver the bad news." And the corpse. And they could take a look around.
He stood quietly for a time, looking around the room and gave a nonchalant shrug. "Well, maybe it ain't the best idea, but the room is already paid for. Maybe we can fool around a little. Might even get your blood flowing a bit and loosen you up. Get your heart pumping. You got that real tense look on your face."
"You're hilarious," Zahi answered flatly, her expression unchanged. Or, mostly unchanged. There was the briefest glimmer of hesitation as Zahi wondered what Scavenger pup Bujari would be fucking while she was gone. Not that her sleeping around would spite the stupid Yoreiqui, but sometimes she wished that it would. The moment passed, and she added plainly, "You're not my type, anyway. Too scrawny."
Zahi returned the long dagger to her booth sheath and pocketed the talisman. She would look for the glass he was talking about later.
"And you're right," she continued, stooping down to wrap Kravitt back up - to make it less bloody, she used the new sheets, too, "it isn't a good idea to stay here. I don't think they'd expect to rent it out the whole night. Not that the drunk oaf down there would remember. But it's probably better to move again. Get a bit further away from our friendly run-in back there. I'll even buy you a drink if you want. 'You got that real tense look on your face.'"
He didn't know why it bothered him. He wasn't 'scrawny' as she put it. Sure, he was slim. But he was still Connlaothian and he was even bigger than her. Ah, perhaps compared to what she was used to. Quinlan shrugged in immaterial nonchalance and moved to help with the body.
"Nah, you're right, let's get the hell out of here," he said, securing the knots before hoisting the sack over his shoulder. He paused for a second at the door, considering the window and shaking his head. He moved down into the hallway, careful that few people would see then and tried to act natural when exiting. Or as natural as one could when carrying a corpse.
"I think I have an idea. An old shipping warehouse down on the waterfront. Kravitt said I could make use of one of the boats there. As good a place as any to stash a body, and see what else he was up to," he suggested.
Zahi hefted the weight of Kravitt over to Quinlan. After all, call girls didn't lug around big heavy sacks! Not that Zahi passed for the most convincing call girl...
She was just about to suggest they go to a similar neighborhood and find another seedy hotel room when Quinlan suggested the shipping warehouse.
"Are you sure you want to go somewhere Kravitt suggested just now?" she asked. It would be good to check out, but she wasn't sure if it was better or worse to do it sooner or later... Maybe he had a point. Zahi shrugged. "Your call; it's your mystery. Seems like I'm just here as your bodyguard."
Of course, as soon as Zahi had a stronger opinion, she probably wouldn't be quite so likely to defer to him!
"Because nothing looks more out of place than two people lugging around a bloody bag," Quinlan said sharply. "The sheets can only last so long and I'd planned on dumping it there anyway. Before you so rudely interrupted me."
They were downstairs and out the back before people got too much of an eyeful of them. He peered down both sides of the alleyway, making sure the coast was clear before bolting west toward the waterfront. Maybe he didn't know Ketra that well. But there were few things that differed it from other cities.
You had your metropolitan areas, a your seedy red lamp districts, your market and your ramshackle huts. Quinlan stuck to the shadows, wary of anyone passing a glance his way and soon the warehouse came into view.
There were a few guards poking around but no one saw them when he broke in through one of the upper windows, slipped down into what looked like an office.
It wasn't the route Zahi would have taken, but she followed Quinlan through the shadows. She was tense, though, and her eyes kept scanning the roof lines for any signs of their 'friends.' When they reached the building at the waterfront, Zahi waited with the body while Quinlan slipped in, then shoved poor Kravitt through, and followed the boys into the dim room.
Looking around, it became immediately clear that they were not the first ones here since Kravitt had left. There was still some evidence that this had once been a tidy, organized office -surprising, really, for a scumbag - but it had been completely ransacked. Scrolls and papers littered the floor. Every cupboard and drawer and closet was open, its contents half-emptied. It was a mess.
Spotting one thing that wasn't looted, Zahi took a step over to a large globe whose top hemisphere was now on the ground. Its contents, however - a bottle of aged brandy and a small collections of heavy glass tumblers - were intact. As though nothing were particularly amiss, Zahi opened the bottle (smelled it) and poured out two drinks and handed one of the tumblers to Quinlan.
"Looks like we missed the party."
Quinlan sniffed the room. It was odious of smoke, but not of fire, more like incense. Oh yes they'd been here and he treaded lightly. His footing avoided an crooked floorboard, knowing it would creak as he observed their surroundings. Despite the mess, he noticed one thing along the boards, a muddy half-footprint stepping over a what looked like a schematic.
He turned to Zahi and glanced between the drink and her. What was this? A sudden change in demeanor. At least it was free and the booze smelled fairly good. He waited for her to down hers first before taking his and knocking it back. It settled warmly in his belly and he nodded to her.
"Good stuff. Kravitt, whatever his other shortcomings, at least had decent taste," he said and took the bottle to pour another.
"Beats lugging that fucker around for any more city blocks." Quinlan moved to set the body down by the desk and gently propped it up onto the chair. He observed the ransacked drawers and pushed through blank papers and quills and bottles of ink. There was nothing of significant interest and he knelt down to get a better look at the bottom. "Well, will ya lookie here," he said softly and emerged from underneath the desk with a small folded paper, thin and easy to destroy if need be. He pulled it out and gently unfolded it, revealing a charcoal tracing of a map, or what looked like one never the less.
Zahi wasn't shocked to see Quinlan wait for her to take the first sip. Very gentlemanly, since she obviously wouldn't know any better than him if the drinks were poisoned. But unlike Quinlan, who emptied the tumbler in one go, Zahi took a few sips, held onto it, and put it down on the desk as she started to look around the room. Where she promptly forgot about it.
She was flipping through a piles of papers - mostly outlining what looked like a staggering amount of debt, interesting - when Quinlan found the map. She looked up a bit skeptically when he held it up.
"You think they left behind something as obvious as a map? Seems pretty sloppy. Might be a dummy map or something."
[Lol. He just wanted to see if she would drink it first. He doesn't like drinking alone if he doesn't have to.]
Quinlan carefully examined the map, taking what she said with a grain of salt. "It's possible. But it didn't look like they cared much about being careful given the state of the room," he said and continued to trace his fingers along the sides of the map. The lines were often too perfect and he knew it was in fact an etching, traced over what was likely a carving of some sort. The map seemed more like a scenery, captured in time, with a path hidden between two massive mountains, once cloaked in ice, another in fire.
He folded it up never the less and stuffed it into his pocket. He also took the bottle of brandy, corking it and stuffing it into his breast pocket. "Find anything interesting?"
“Maybe,” Zahi answered. “Looks like Kravitt had got himself in some pretty serious debt. To various sources, but most of these are debt to a certain Matthias Tinker. Doesn’t ring a bell for me. So if he’s a crime boss, he can’t be a big one.”
Zahi watched as Quinlan folded up the map, somewhat curious that he stowed it away before she had the chance to really see it. She still wasn’t convinced that the man was being completely forthcoming about his part in all this. Zahi stowed away a few of the accounting sheets with the most common, or unusual, names on them. Zahi’s eyes scanned the room for anything else that stood out: and landed on Kravitt himself, still crumpled on the floor where they’d shoved him in through the window. She was normally one to leave a body where it lay, but for some reason she went over to Kravitt. Rolling him out of the sheets, she hoisted him up with a small sound of effort and walked the corpse awkwardly over to the desk chair. Where she deposited him in a sitting position.
It almost looked funny. Maybe, Zahi thought, it was because she must officially be ‘off the clock’ now. No one would be impressed that she got caught up on this little side-track once she got back to Arca. So she may as well have some fun with it. ‘Fun,’ of course, being a relative measure. But as she propped Kravitt in the chair, she noticed something. It was a piece of paper that had been stuffed inside his shirt and it was so soaked in blood that Zahi had to peel it off of him. When she carefully opened it, though, it was just a short list of names. Not people names, it seemed, but maybe place names, but Zahi didn't recognize them. She folded it back up and pocketed it.
Then, looking around the room, she commented, “We could spend all night going through all of this. But since you already stowed away the booze, I’m guessing that’s not your plan.”
[I thought Quinlan already sat the body up in his desk chair?]
Quinlan peeked back up at her. "We could. But something tells me we really shouldn't linger. The guards will come patroling this way. Get what's of interest and head out." He heard the sound of boots on creaking stairs coming up this way and he suddenly turned around.
He snatched up whatever papers he could and rolled them up, gripping them tightfistedly. "Come on!" he hissed and went back for the window, only to stop at watchful lantern light walking around just below it. "Shit! The other door."
Quinlan moved toward it, and just when it did, it flew open, a guardsman on the otherside. "What the!? INTRUDERS!" He didn't hesitate to go for his blade, but Quinlan was quicker and ran him through with his own dagger, sticking it deep into his throat, leaving him to choke on his own blood.
[D'oh! In my defense, I wrote that at 3 AM KST (Kleine Standard Time)... far past my peak hours!]
Rule number one of criminal activity: Don't kill a guard. Zahi peered down at the body. Well, maybe he wasn't a city guard. But she didn't want to stick around to find out.
She moved quickly after that, shoving a few more papers in her pocket, she sprang back over to the window and pulled herself up to the window sill. Seeing that no one was in the alley, Zahi hoisted herself and climbed back out onto the street. At least without Kravit they'd be able to move around a bit more easily. And less conspicuously!
Straightening herself up, resisted the urge to pull out a dagger. But that could wait until they were actually faced with danger. glancing back into the office, she called in a quiet hiss, "You coming up, Red?"
It was foolish. It was spur of the moment. But Quinlan knew better than wait to be detained, beaten, or killed. The guardsman was obviously some private outfit. Why would a criminal like Kravitt protect his interests with keepers of the law? Nevertheless, it was another body on his hands.
Quinlan staggered backwards, gripping his blade and staring at the blood that coated it. He quickly cleaned it on the guardsman's hair before heading for the window. The cry had called the patrols in from outside, leaving their exit clear. He jumped from the window, landing cleanly in a crouch and stood up beside her.
He took her arm and nudged her off, following into an alley. "Got anymore hotels to hide in?" he said, trying to act as natural as possible.
"Not really," Zahi answered, not missing a beat in following Quinlan away from the warehouse office. "Ketra's not really my usual stomping grounds."
She looked down at his hand on her arm. Then at her own. Both of them were a bit bloody and Zahi was still a bit scuffed up from her tumble with the man she'd killed in the alley. "Should probably be somewhere we can get a bit cleaned up, though. But at this hour, I think we'll better find a similar place to the last one."
She glanced back down at his hand on her again and decided that this late a couple - or at least a john and a hooker - looked much less conspicuous. So she twisted her arm free from his grip, but instead of reclaiming it, looped it around his hips. Following the sound of drunk voices, she steered him like that back into a different, but rowdy part of the city. Off a round little platz full of taverns and a few stumbling drunks, there was a line of dingy little hotels. Zahi turned towards them, and gave a shrug. Any of them would do.
Quinlan kept his eyes peeled, checking if the coast was clear when she hooked her arm around his waist. He feigned a laugh as they came around the corner. A few drunks passed them, once singing raucously and a guard on the corner walking past them, gave them an annoyed look before turning his attention toward everyone else.
Quinlan moved Zahi toward a wall and turned toward her, kissing her thoroughly, hotly even, when the guardsman walked their way. It wasn't sloppy, but there was no shortage of pressure against her mouth; she even tasted a little bit like brandy and the tension in her face made it all that much more exciting. When he was sure he was gone, Quinlan pulled away with an audible lip smack and ushered her up the stairs of the hotel nearest them. Better they get out of the streets than linger.
Quinlan took out the bottle of brandy and swigged it as they walked in, playing along and even offering her a sip as they approached the counter. "One please," he said, tossing the proprietor a coint and heading upstairs.
Okay, Zahi didn't think they needed to be that convincing. She seriously doubted that the guard would stop every couple not exchanging bodily fluids. Normally if someone pulled that kind of stunt with her, she'd leave them with a black eye. Now didn't seem to be the time, though. Her eyes flashed dangerously when the guard was gone and Quinlan disengaged. But she followed him into the hotel, even catching the key that the innskeep tossed back in exchange for the coin Quinlan gave him.
As soon as they were inside the room and the door closed behind them, Zahi gave Quinlan a hard thwack! on the back of his head.
"Don't push your luck, Red," she warned. Then after a moment of warning silence, said, "Let's see that map."
Quinlan staggered forward just a bit. "Ouch! That's what I get in thanks I suppose. Your welcome. You need a good kiss, badly. Maybe more than that. And stop calling me Red. Name's Quinlan," He shrugged again and favored the brandy a bit, smelling it to savor the oaky flavor and then downing another swig. He corked it and set on a night table.
He sat on the bed and carefully produced the thin sheaf of paper that was the etching. He unfolded it and set it out on the cleaner part of the bed. It looked like it had seen better days, but at least it smelled better than the last hotel. "Two mountains. One of fire and another of ice. And a path that leads between them."
Zahi watched Quinlan impassively, except for maybe the faintest hint of amusement, as he staggered and complained. “You keep telling me what ‘I need,’ and you’ll get worse than that,” she warned coolly, “Red.”
Zahi followed Quinlan to the bed to have a see this map that he’d produced. She perched next to him, knees tucked underneath her so she could have a better look over the map. She couldn’t help but notice the loud, wheezing squeak emitted from the bed when she put her weight on it. But she ignored it to examine the map. Her eyes scanned the map, or the etching of the map, and couldn’t help but think that it looked very… far away. She wondered if it were even a map of a real place.
Zahi frowned, then shifted her weight to face Quinlan. “What’s your endgame here?” she asked. “What exactly do you want to do with this map? We’ve shaken our friends back there for now. You leave Ketra, shift around a bit, leave behind these talismans. They’d lose interest in you. What exactly is it, though, that you want to do? Because it’s sounding a bit like you want to go through with this job that you don’t even remember the details of.”
That's when Quinlan laughed. It was a soft chuckle at first. Then turned into a loud guffaw. He turned to her then, looking at her haggardly, tiredly, with eyes darkened by years of torment. "I thought of that. In fact that was the initial plan before you came along," he said gently. "You really don't know do you? People like these...they don't let you go like that. Cultists, religious nuts. Whatever you want to call them... Even if we gave back the talismans. The map, everything. They'd hunt me nevertheless. I may not remember right off, but I know things. Knowledge is the most dangerous of weapons. Just knowing what they are trying to keep hidden can cost me more than my life. Admittedly maybe I don't have much to live for, maybe not as much as you. But it just so happens I like living, and I'd like to go on living. There's something here that these Keepers want. Or maybe it's something they're trying to protect. Nevertheless...maybe it's worth getting. And if it isn't. Then at least I didn't sit around waiting for my fate to be handed to me..."
Zahi listened to Quinlan. If she was bothered by his laughter, she didn’t show it. As much as she wanted to be right - that they could just walk away from this - she silently agreed that he was. Religion, after all, wasn’t based on reason. Much less these crazy fringe religions. She remembered some of the rituals she’d witnessed from the shadows of the old ruined temple. Even now the images sent a chill down her spine. She wondered what he planned on doing after finding whatever the object of interest to everyone was. Seemed to her like the more knowledge they had, the worse off they’d be. But Zahi also understood the importance of leverage. Would cultists, though?
Well, she could ride this out a few more days. Then at least she’d have a better understanding of just what the situation was.
“Okay,” she agreed, nodding slowly, “we can take a bit more time looking into this thing.” She wouldn’t commit more than that now. His pitiful little speech hadn’t been entirely lost in the Blood Wolf, though. So in what would seem like a bit of a break in character (hey, she was off the clock), Zahi half-pushed, half-guided Quinlan back onto the bed, her body following his, and she kissed him, long and hard. With more of a slow-burning attention to detail than hot passion.
After several long moments, Zahi pulled away from him, still positioned on top of Quinlan. “That’s just because I think morale is important to any mission,” she told him, “and you were getting pretty pathetic there for a moment.”
He quirked a brow at her skeptical of the action, since she'd been little more than a cold turkey before. But his face was flushed and his lips tingled (among other places) and he sat up. "Pathetic? I've had worse compliments," He reached up and touched his lips, realizing he'd kissed her back (a little, anyway. He had been drinking after all).
Quinlan reached across and offered her the brandy. "If we're going to get to work, I always like a good stiff drink. Uh, cheers then. To...survival."
Zahi gave an amused little snort at his line. "Just so long as we can leave behind the 'I have so little to live for' whining. I'm not interested in hearing your sob story."
She waved away the bottle when he offered it. "Work in the morning. Get some sleep. I can take first watch to make sure our friends don't take us by surprise."
Quinlan scowled a little and quirked a brow at her. "Sob story? I wasn't whining. You were. I call it like I see it because what's the point in skirting around the point of the matter. I don't have much, but don't misconstrue it as me wallowing in my misery. I'm a realist. That's the fact of the matter. Now have a swig. We'll be all right for now, And if we're not, we'll wake up with bags over our heads and be none the wiser. At least we had a decent night prior to beheadings."
Zahi listened to his terse reply, scowl and all with eyebrows slightly raised. When he was done, she simply remarked, "You're a tad defensive there." There might have even been the faintest hint of a smirk on her face.
But she took the bottle and took a small sip, then passed it back to him. "Happy? Or are you going to give me another speech?"
"If you promise to loosen up, I'll do my best to hold my tongue. Though, I do have some interesting philosophy on happiness if you care to hear it?" he proposed with half a smile and a raised brow as he sipped some more. The brandy made his head swim a little and the burning in his blood subside considerably. He was feeling warm all over and maybe it wasn't the time for a good time, but he felt he ought to at least get a little more information on this 'Zahi'.
"What 'official' interest did you have in Kravitt anyway?" he asked, curious.
"I'm loose," Zahi retorted, though she didn't sound entirely convinced of it herself. It was true, though, that she was being much less no nonsense than if she were really working now.
At his question, though, she looked a little quizzical and a little annoyed. "I answered that one already," she told him. Then she sidled over to the other half of the bed and stretched out. "Now go to sleep and stop asking stupid questions."
"Then tell me where you're from," he said, sitting up against the headboard and peering across at her. "I feel as temporary co-partners in this endeavor," (The idea still didn't sit well with him, but there was nothing else to do but get over it now), "I should know a little bit more about you. You can kill, I've seen that much. And you do it efficiently. Either you do it often, or you take little joy out of it. Considering what I've deduced about you so far, that seems to be the latter. Who IS Zahi?"
Zahi groaned. Really? They were going to talk about their childhoods now? What next, was he going to ask when she started menstruating?
Zahi opened her eyes and looked up at him with an utterly unimpressed look. Instead of answering, though, she pulled herself back up and, grabbing Quinlan by the scruff of his shirt, kissed him roughly. Afterwards, she pulled away a little, but kept hold of his shirt scruff. "Is that the only way to shut you up, Red?"
He lowered one brow and raised another at her after the kiss. "I'm serious. I don't think I'm asking too much. I didn't ask you to tell me your sob story," he said, with a half-snide tone. But at her use of Red, he lowered both brows again and eyed her. His head was swimming, partly anyway, and there was that tingling again. He grabbed her head and smashed his lips to hers, kissing her as roughly before breaking it, with his teeth pulling on her bottom lip. "I said my name was Quinlan," he growled.
Zahi made quiet sound of frustration, not quite a groan. For a moment, the thought crossed her mind that she should track down these shadowy cultists herself and hand them Quinlan; it might be the only way to stop his jabbering. On the other hand, however austere Zahi might be, she was still human and with his last kiss, felt herself growing a little flush. So on the other hand, he gave her an excuse for what she did next.
With a small groan as though she was left with no other choice than to take action she definitely didn't to, Zahi knocked Quinlan flat against the bed. Pinning him beneath her, she kissed him long and forcefully, leaning her weight into the contact. She broke away and said, seriously, "I've already told you everything you need to know, Red. Now no more talking."
"Stop calling me Red!" he growled against her kiss. They were wearing him down, little by little. But her insistence on calling him that annoying nickname made him beyond irritable. It was obviously the alcohol talking. The brandy made him warm and messed with his judgment. Obviously.
It was the brandy's fault his hands buried into her hair and made him smash his mouth back against hers, kissing her with growing fervor, nipping and biting and shoving his tongue between her lips, tasting the hollows of her mouth.
Zahi leaned all her weight into him, returning his kisses deeply and roughly. Her hands were still busy pinning him down, but her fingertips dug into his flesh. She kissed him again and again, each time more forcefully, before she broke breathily away from him.
"Okay," she breathed, her face only far enough away that she could focus on him, "I'll stop calling you 'Red,' Quinlan, and you can stop asking so many questions." And then, after a brief pause, she added a bit more clearly, "And I can take first watch."
With the last words, Zahi pushed herself back up, not too gently pushing against Quinlan.
Quinlan panted lightly, running his hands through his hair as he watched her push off him like a springboard. He was half-dazed, half-drunk, half-aroused. He wondered if he ought to just go for it. She'd probably knee him in the groin, but something struck him as odd when she pushed off him.
Maybe it wasn't just the brandy.
He watched her in silence before taking another swig of the brandy and corking it once more. He put away the map, setting it aside and moving toward her. He didn't say anything, as she directed and pushed her gently back against the wall and just smashed his lips against her once more.
Once disengaged, Zahi was already rethinking the wisdom her chosen 'bargaining tactic,' as she'd thought of it. Whether she liked it or not, it seemed, and whether or not she'd get any credit for it back at the Den (which she wouldn't), Zahi and Quinlan were working together now. Not letting things get messy with people she was working with wasn't a rule she always stuck to, but it was one she believed in in principal.
That's what she was thinking about when Quinlan rose from the bed and guided her to the wall. She broke the kiss, pulling her face away from his in the limited space available to her. "You're drunk," she said, not entirely unkindly, "go to bed. I'll wake you up to take over the watch when I'm ready."
"Stop. Talking," he said, peering at her. His voice was firm, but not terse, and his words were not meant in any mockery or derision.
His hands held her face and he kissed her again, gentler this time, but not wholly so. He teased his lips against hers before securing a grip on them. Hands slid down her shoulders, fingertips pressing into her skin, gripping her hips, pushing up the fabric of her shirt.
It would be a lie to say that his actions had no effect on her, and she knew it. She felt her body respond to his hands as they made their way down from her face to her hips. But Zahi had made up her mind.
She pushed Quinlan an arm's length away. Not roughly, but decisively, and her eyes held a cold warning in them. "Go to bed," she repeated firmly. If she were less disciplined, she might not be able to stick to her guns on this, and her body was growing increasingly annoyed with her, but discipline was how she did her job. And it wasn't quite this easy to break it.
Quinlan stepped back a little, hands still lingering at her hips for a moment. His eyes studied her for a long, thoughtful second before putting a hand up to the corner of his mouth and wiping away some excess saliva. "Worth it," he muttered and slunk back toward the bed, throwing himself on it and some covers over his legs. It was going to be a long night.
Zahi let out a short huff of something like laughter at that comment - worth it - as she watched Quinlan sulk back to the bed. "Flattered to hear you think so," she remarked dryly.
Then Zahi moved across the room to dim the room's dingy oil lamp and picked up the stack of documents she'd brought from the office. Zahi took them over to the window and perched in the wide sill, leaning against one side of the window frame with her feet against the other. It was a cloudy night with a nearly full moon and there was just enough light in the window to read through the documents with some effort. She spent the next few hours going through the documents. Just as she'd first seen, it was clear that Kravitt had accumulated a decent amount of debt. Not unusual for someone who shifts things around in the black market. But what was interesting was how fast he'd acquired it all. Zahi wasn't too involved in the business side of things with the Wolves, but even she could tell this was out of the ordinary. It might be an interesting lead, but after an hour of going through the documents, Zahi was fading. It was late, and the text was beyond dry. So she set the stack down next to her on the window sill.
Zahi sighed and leaned against the window frame, gazing out at the night streets below. It was late now - or early - and even in this debaucherous neighborhood, the streets were clearing out. She wondered what she had gotten herself into, and why she had volunteered to come all the way down to Ketra in the first place. Well, she hadn't really 'volunteered...'
Her mind wandered. Her muscles were cramping in the wooden frame and she shifted her weight. Then she felt the talisman move in her pocket. Remembering Quinlan's theory about the lens in the pendant and how it would act in different light, she took it out, curious. Zahi was usually skeptical about this sort of thing - it was all mumbo jumbo anyway, wasn't it? - but she was curious and she needed to stay awake, so she pulled the talisman out and held it up in the moonlight. At first it seemed like nothing happened, but as the metal pendant turned on its cord, something caught in the corner of Zahi's eye. On the wall, refracted through the talisman lense, were three distinct beams of light. They moved around the room, but stayed fixed relative to each other - getting closer when the wall was closer and farther apart when the wall was - but always by the same proportion.
Then Zahi remembered the map. She still wasn't sure they would miss something so important if the map was really to whatever thing they were looking for, but....
She landed quietly on the floor as she pushed off the window sill and went over to the bed. Putting a hand on Quinlan's arm, she gave him a light shake. "Hey. Red. Wake up."
"Q-Quin....lan," he grumbled as he opened his eyes, rubbing them gently. He sat up and shook his head, brushing his hair out from his eyes. "What's up?" he asked and then saw the other talisman in her hand.
He looked back at her. "You tried it for yourself huh? What did you find?"
"I think it might be the key to a map," she said, unconcerned with his 'Quinlan' complaint. "If Kravitt was telling you the truth, it would make sense. Hold up that map. We can see where the light points to."
Zahi returned to the window where the light was stronger and held up the talisman. Soft light beamed around the room as the pendant slowly turned. With her other hand, she held the bottom so the light would stay pointing in one direction.
"Hold up the map," she instructed, "you'll have to try different distances. Any idea where that etching is from? Where the actual relief is?"
Quinlan sat up and pulled out the etching from his pocket, unfolding it once more. The safest and most obvious bet would be the center of the room. He set it down on the floor and even shoved the bed out of the way to give them more space.
"Most temples are constructed in remote locations, often hundreds or even thousands of miles from any real civilization. As a means to keep their masses under the preconception that the heavens or whatever afterlife is unattainable, or in awe or fear of the center of their faith. Some faiths practice that instilling fear a little differently, nevertheless...."
He examined the map more closely and poked the path at the center. "Between a mountain of fire and ice. The only thing I could possibly think of would be somewhere in the Thunderblacks. They got dragons there, spewing fire and ice all over the place. Or to be more general, somewhere between Hyoite and a lingering volcano. But I think Thunderblacks is as good a place as any to start."
In a break from her typically detached demeanor, Zahi’s eyes widened at Quinlan’s suggestion. “The Thunderblacks might be a ‘good place to start?” she repeated, unchecked annoyance in her voice. “Kia's tits,” she swore, to herself, “I’m going to be on ‘goon duty’ for the rest of the year after this.” Zahi made a face that revealed more or less what she thought about that. Up until now, she’d been thinking this whole misadventure might take, say, a week or so. Zahi hadn’t been between the Thunderblacks and Ketra since she was a teenager, but she was sure just that leg took a few days. And it was a good place to start. Carraway would have her ass for this.
Zahi blew out an exhale of resignation. “Right,” she said, getting back to business, “I was actually thinking it might be somewhere closer. Presumably wherever the original of this is, there’s probably a fixed distance to the light source. Then it’d lead you to where in, well, maybe the Thunderblacks you need to go. A whole mountain chain is a pretty broad destination. Unless you want to make a life-long quest out of this. And if the talisman’s the key Kravitt sent you for, he probably wouldn’t want to schlep all the way to the Thunderblacks just to use a map key.”
It was, Zahi knew, hopefully thinking.
Quinlan rolled his eyes at her exasperation. What did she think this was just going to be some picnic trip. In and out, get the thing - whatever it was - and be on her merry little way. From all he could tell of her so far, Quinlan didn't think this kind of thing would get to her so easily. It didn't seem as if she was daunted...that wasn't the word for it. But it did strike him that she was repulsed at the notion of having to readjust all her predesignated plans. Boo-frickety-hoo!
"No, no. You're right. Better to start from the beginning than jump the bridge before it's finished. But it could be miles away or right underneath us. Kravitt obviously had his hand in a lot of honey pots. It's no wonder he died the death he did. But cults don't just give away medals of membership to people they do not trust. The paper," he said and examined the thin, worn material. "Is very soft, easy to destroy, and smells faintly of mildew. Under the city maybe? Definitely by a water source."
Zahi frowned, reading a little of Quinlan's thoughts on his face. For her own purposes, she wasn't too fussed about being in Adela or back in Arca. But if Zahi was known for anything, it was Taking Her Job Very Seriously. And a longer time spent here with the charming redhead, the more she was shirking them. But she didn't try to explain any of that. She somehow doubted it would do herself any favors. In truth, she was a bit annoyed with herself for showing a visible reaction to Quinlan's suggestion of the Thunderblacks.
Maybe she needed some sleep. Or a drink. Or both.
"Maybe," Zahi agreed, moving past Quinlan to the corked bottle of brandy. Pulling out the cork, she took a swig from it, then recorked it and returned it to the table. Zahi flopped onto the bed, stretching out with her arms folded behind her head. "What about caves?" she asked from the bed. "Are there any along the river? Natural place for some spooky temple carvings, and likely you'd have just one light source for the 'key.' Can't really ask around about it, though, can we?"
"Asking around would raise too many questions," Quinlan said thoughtfully. "But I'm sure there are people who did all that hard work for us. Cartographers, scouts and the like. Adela might be forested, but what kind of army would it have if it couldn't navigate it's own ground? A library could have the information we need. And failing that, we could always break into the local recruiting barrack, see their maps."
Quinlan stood up and walked over to the window, watching the light, watching the rooftops. "A cave... That's an interesting idea." He grew quiet and observed the bottle of brandy, half-empty, and he took it, taking a swig and letting it fill him with warmth. "Caves often have crystals. Some crystals can be filled with energy, emit light, even."
"Okay," Zahi agreed, her eyes already closed, "we'll go to the library tomorrow. Sounds fun. We'll say we're cave scholars. What's that, spelolo...ogists?" she asked. Now that she was laying down, Zahi felt exhausted, and it was reflected in her voice. "We can say we're searching for the last habitat of the rare and magical pink-eyed cave newt. With the invaluable power to cure every hangover and other such nuisances."
She shifted her weight, settling in. She was silent for just long enough that Quinlan might think she was asleep. But the sleepy remark came, "Don't drink all the brandy on your watch, Red."
"Hangover? I bet you've never been hung over a day in your life," he replied, downing another sip. "Then again. You seem to take your work a little too seriously. It's a wonder how you could work so much without driving a blade across your wrists. Do you even know how to have fun?"
"Well," she answered, eyes still closed, "one or two days." Grow up in a brothel full of drunk men (and frequently violently so) and women wasting away by self-medication with alcohol and drugs, and it casts a different light on it all. She thought about saying that. But she'd already decided Quinlan knew enough about her. So instead she just kicked off her boots over the foot of the bed, stretched again, and said sleepily, "Sure, you're right. Sorry you got stuck with such a boring, stodgy thing like me. Now shut up, can't you tell I'm sleeping?"
Quinlan tilted his head and eyed her thoughtfully. "On the contrary," he said simply, smirking though he knew she probably wasn't looking at him. "I think you're fascinating."
He said nothing more and it was his turn to sit by the window and he looked out onto the rooftops. Though he was swimming in brandy, and warmed in the head, he didn't sleep. He'd slept enough. Just a few hours were enough for him. And watching the sun begin to rise was a rare occasion that he wanted to enjoy.
Or so he thought. Before dawn came, Quinlan found himself half-naked in bed beside Zahi, spawled on his belly, sleeping soundly with an arm around her waist.
Dawn's gray light filtering through the inn's dingy window woke Zahi. She didn't really like the feeling of knowing Quinlan had been here and awake while she slept - there were few things she liked less than any sense of vulnerability - but there was nothing to be done about it.
Those were her half-formed thoughts as she came out of sleep. As she began to properly wake up, though, she suddenly became aware of something out of place. The bed was warm, and not just from her body heat, and...
That's when she realized that not only was Quinlan asleep in bed, but had his arm snug around her. Zahi jolted awake and in one motion sat upright and hit Quinlan - hard - in the back of the head.
Quinlan awoke with a jerk and rolled to the side. "Ow! Hey! What the hell was that for?" he asked with a confused look on his face as he sat up. "I didn't even do anything?"
"No kidding," she replied coldly. "We'll have to review the idea of being 'on watch' some time."
In truth, the blow had been just as much about his arm around her. But somehow Zahi thought bringing that up would only encourage him.
Quinlan rubbed the back of his head, the pain from the blow only secondary to the hang over that wanted to crack his skull.
"Well, quit your bitchin'. We're both still alive and in more or less one piece," he said, brushing his hair back and reaching for his shirt. "Are you still mad or are you ready to head off to the library?"
Oh, what a charmer. Zahi considered whether or not she should hit him again for good measure. Or just killing him now and sorting out this mess herself. Her dark gaze hinted at some of these thoughts. She kept them all silent, though. But she pushed him out of the bed, not too gently, so she could get to the edge and put her boots on.
"Is this going to be a walk in the front door or sneak in the back window deal?" Was all she said.
Oh he felt that snideness in her voice, whether she meant it or not. It was a given considering how they first met and made their grand entrance and exit into the warehouse. The bitch. Quinlan focused more on his headache however and rubbed his temples.
"We ought to go in through the front doors. Scholars don't bode well if they attempt to do their best impression of a cat burglar," he muttered. He pulled his shirt over his head and stood, stretching.
It had, in fact, been an earnest question. Zahi was used to going about her business both ways. But she wasn't too surprised at Quinlan's surliness.
For perhaps the first time since they had encountered each other, an actual smile crossed Zahi's face as she watched Quinlan rubbing his temples in a clear sign of a headache. It wasn't a big smile, or a very nice one; it was a sideways, amused, and somewhat smug smile.
"Good thing we're going to the library, fellow scholar. Looks like you need the magical hangover-curing-abilities of the rare and valuable pink-eyed cave newt."
Her amusement at Quinlan's self-inflicted suffering, at least, dissolved her earlier annoyance with him. Mostly.
Quinlan looked at her with a hung over grin of amusement, catching her own grin and commiting it to memory. "If there's a magical cure for hang overs, then I'll gladly be your experiment. Now do I look scholarly enough?" He stood and fixed his clothes, straightening them as best he could though they were largely wrinkled and even brushed his hair out of his face.
Zahi's grin evaporated almost instantly the moment Quinlan grinned back at her. It was like magic... The unfun kind.
Her expression returned to its serious neutral as she looked him over. "No," she answered after some consideration. "But I'm sure I don't, either." Zahi hooked her fingers into the dark coils of her hair, but she knew there'd be no getting it back Into a braid now until she had more time to manage it. Oh well. "We'll just have to bluff it."
[Zahi is just a bundle of joy <3]
Quinlan turned his back to her and rolled his eyes. He looked out the window then and saw the rooftops were clear. That was a good sign. Or they could just be waiting out of sight until they were on the move again. In any case, it was time to leave and when he had everything ready, even the half-empty bottle of brandy tucked in his jacket, he gestured to the door. "Though you're more than welcome to the window," he commented, with a half-tilt of his head.
Zahi ignored his comment about the window. But as she passed him to go out the door, she reached into his jacket and plucked out the bottle of brandy. She tossed the bottle onto the bed, where it bounced silently before settling in amongst the disheveled sheets.
Zahi shook her head at him. "That, I'm sure, is not what a scholar brings to the library with them." - Of course, if she knew more scholars, Zahi might find more exceptions to this statement than she'd think! - Then she passed Quinlan, heading down the hall and out of the hotel.
Quinlan resisted the urge to push her down the stairs, so when she was past him and round the corner, he bolted back for the brandy and shoved it back into his pocket, then ran down the stairs after her. Once outside, he cringed at the strength of the sunlight. Man, he was not a morning person, but it was apparent that she was. Or she was good at pretending she was.
He followed her out along the street and led the way (as best a man could considering his condition) out of the red lamp district. Seedy hotels swept away to stone buildings, middle-class homes and secular structures. Quinlan peered upward at the tall, wide frame of the library that spanned before them. There were two churches within the vicinity and he eyed them with faint anxiety.
It quickly passed before he walked up the stairs, stumbling a bit on the top step but quickly recovering. "Ah, so we just walk in and ask for some maps...sounds easy enough," he sighed, watching studious men and women pouring through the doors, some casting a few glances their way, staring at their disheveled appearances.
"Easy there, Red," Zahi cautioned as Quinlan tripped on the step, grabbing his arm to steady him. "You're not going to impress any of these library-types like that." Using her grip on his arm to pull him close to her, Zahi leaned in and whispered to him, "And don't think I didn't see that bottle in your jacket."
It was clear that Zahi was going to need to take the lead on this one. She let go of Quilnan and ascended the steps into the library. It was a grand building. Perhaps not as grand as the one in Arca (which Zahi had only been in once, after hours and for business purposes), but still quite impressive. Zahi led them through its wide entrance, until she found a little desk with an old and very proper woman attending it.
Approaching the woman, Zahi greeted as brightly as her character could possibly manage, "Good morning, ma'am."
The woman looked up from the papers she was studying. "Yes? Can I help you?" It was clear from the woman's face that she did not approve of Zahi's scruffy look.
"Yes, please," Zahi answered. "My partner and I have traveled here all the way from Selevea. You'll have to excuse our travel attire. We're crystalologists," Zahi said, hoping that was a word, "researching the magical and natural properties of various crystals, and their uses."
The woman adjusted her glasses, her expression relaxing a little bit.
Zahi continued, "We've heard of some rather rare specimens that can be found in caves in this part of the Draconi region. It would of great scientific - and practical - interest to collect a few for our studies! But, being foreigners, I'm afraid we don't know where to go from here. But we were told that you have a fabulous map collection here. Is it open? Could you possibly direct us to it?"
The woman considered Zahi for a moment, setting down her papers. "Yes, of course," she finally said. "It's on the fifth floor in the west wing."
"Thank you very much, ma'am," Zahi said exuberantly, "we'll be sure to thank the library for any publications we write from our findings, of course!"
"Yes, yes, good luck."
With that, thanked her again, and returned to Quinlan. "Shall we?"
He was certain she saw him. In fact that was why he went back to get it. He didn't care enough to bother commenting on the matter and was more than happy to blend into the background on this little endeavor. And as he watched her greet and speak with the older woman behind the desk, his brows raised in shock and he watched the exchange with even more interest. Then it was possible, she could be pleasant after all, even if it was just for show.
Quinlan felt like he'd just witnessed nothing short of a miracle when she was at last finished. He didn't allow his expression to show it, however, and when she turned to him, he waved his arm out before her. "Ladies first," he said and followed along. There was a curiously playful simper on his face as he watched her, walking up the stairs beside her until they were up onto the fifth floor.
The library was hauntingly silent, and there was but three people poring over tomes laid out on tables. All three were to absorbed in their work to notice the pair. Quinlan pointed to the sign indicating the western wing and navigated onward. The shelves were cleared to make way for large, cumbersome books, likely indicating widened mapsheets and he pulled out the biggest one he found.
He sprawled it out over a table, flipping through it, quickly scanning the inked pages, until he found the area around Ketra. "Wow, this is bigger than I imagined. At least it's arranged in quadrants," he said, sighing through his nostrils and put on his most studious expression, finger tracing down along the inked river.
"Wrong page, I don't see any marked caves here," he grumbled in thought and turned the page over to find another template over the same area. It was a map depicting much of the area devoid of forest, uncovering the caves he desired to find. There a few to not, one but one that caught his interest fifty miles south-by southeast. "Snake Tongue Hollow. Interesting. But I suppose it's not the only one. There's at least two other caves nearby. Maybe the next page has some explorations of them. These two, look, have connecting passages, or so the map says. Well, that would certainly explain the name. But there isn't much after that. Maybe they found something they weren't supposed to find either..."
Zahi gave Quinlan a look as he flourished his arms out, but she went ahead past him up the stairs. Wondering if his "ladies first" gesture was just an excuse to look at her ass. When they arrived in the map room, Zahi was relieved to see that they were the only two in it. Her mismatched eyes scanned the room. It was enormous. Zahi let out a low whistle.
"This... could take awhile."
Zahi set to work looking through the themed maps as Quinlan began to flip through the large-scale regional map. There were maps of the wine growing regions of Adela, maps specialized for medicinal herbs, where different dragon breeds rooked, historical depictions of ancient battles... The stacks were at least three times her height and, finding a ladder to navigate the shelves, Zahi began to climb. Past maps of fisheries, the best soils for farming, mushroom-hunting regions...
Aha! Natural Wonders of Adela and the Thunderblacks. She was about to pull the map out when Quinlan called to her. Already five feet or so above the ground, she twisted on the ladder to look down at Quinlan.
"'Snake Tongue Hollow?'" she repeated. "Gross. Might also be that the map is too general. You should see what I've found up here. There are some surprisingly specific maps. 'Best rivers for fresh water clams' and 'A survey of Adenal and Serenian brothels.' But maybe more interesting..." She pulled out the natural wonders map and held it down for Quinlan to take from her.
"Gross?" he muttered, raising a brow in curiosity. "You don't like snakes much, I take it?" He reached up and took the book from her, setting it down on the table. He opened the map and set the table paperweights one ach corner of it. It was certainly much more useful than trying to stumble upon the right answers. Quinlan studied the legend, and the twisting of the river, following along it with his finger.
"This looks just about right," he went on. "Caves with massive crystal deposits." He flipped through the pages of the regional map book, looking for any descriptions of caves with crystal formations and found several, though none recorded near the river. "Either this is extremely outdated, or somebody found a cave that no one else did. Look here, this map has it, while the other doesn't. This is where we need to look. And it doesn't look that far, maybe a day's journey out."
He didn't look up at her as he continued to skim over the map. "And everybody knows the best brothels are in Connlaoth," he added.
"It's not the snakes," Zahi answered, exploring a bit higher on the ladder to see what else was up here, "just something about 'tongue hollow.'" It didn't really occur to her until that moment, but the mere fact that she was sharing such random thoughts with Quinlan was indicative of a level of comfort that she wasn't... well, comfortable with.
She pushed the thought aside, looking through the maps as Quinlan investigated the map she'd just sent down. She looked over one row, then suddenly looked back at a map she'd almost passed over.
"Temple Sites of Draconi Forest," she read aloud, pulling the tome out.
Taking the map in one hand, she scaled back down the ladder. As she did so, Zahi rolled her eyes at Quinlan's brothel comment. "I suppose you're the expert?" It was, however, interesting to learn that he was, presumably, Connlaothian. What an expression of national pride.
Setting the temple site map down on the table, she looked over Quinlan's shoulder at the cave he was pointing to. "We don't know if it is a crystal we're looking for, but I suppose it's as good a bet as any." She reached out and touched the spot on the map indicating the cave. tapped her finger, committing it to memory before asking, "Now, where do we stow these things?"
Quinlan never took his eyes from the map he studied. "I just know is all," he added, and shrugged again. When she joined him, he turned to her, taking the rolled up map she had and flattened it out. The parchment was thicker than he hoped, but it would do for the method he had in mind. He took both maps, placing the smaller one into the other and folded them over, longways, before rolling them up tightly. It made a smaller scroll, much more compact than just the maps themselves and he pulled down his trousers, just enough to stuff them down a pant leg.
"I'm afraid I don't have much more room in my pockets for them," he said, not daring to mention the bottle of brandy he knew she knew he stowed away in his jacket pocket. When it was secure, he laced his pants back up, put is belt back on. It looked fairly inappropriate, but he'd dare the lady to mention something when walking out.
"Let's go."
Zahi stared at his trousers with skeptical, raised eyebrows. 'Inconspicuous' was not the word she'd use for it. "You're going to make that woman down there think we've just been using her precious map room to fool around in."
But Zahi didn't have a better suggestion, so she shrugged, shook her head at him. "After you."
He led the way down the stairs and approached the front desk. He leaned on it a little and smiled gently at the older prim woman. "Thank you for all your assistance. But we didn't find what we were looking for I'm afraid?"
The woman stared at him then down at his trousers and gasped sharply. "How dare you, sir."
"Oh," He smirked. "I guess somebody found something, eh. If you'll excuse us," he replied and took Zahi by the hand, pulling her along.
"You! You!" she said, growing livid and being unable to find the right words. "YOU CRETIN!"
Quinlan just kept moving until they were safely out the door. "Ouch," he said blankly. "Those were some stinging words."
Zahi stared at Quinlan incredulously once they were out of the library. "What did you do that for? Just needed someone to think you were getting lucky?" She looked a little like she was going to hit him, but so far she kept her hands to herself.
"At some point, we're going to have to have a talk about discretion. Now let's get out of here."
Zahi began walking away from the library, shaking her head. "I bet all those whores in Connlaoth really miss you. Goon."
Quinlan eyed her. "I insinuated nothing of the sort," he replied. "Besides what's the big deal? You're flaring up over nothing. You wanted a way to get the maps out, now they're out!" He shook his head and found a small, secluded nook between buildings.
He looked about, ensuring the coast was clear before he popped his trousers open and took out the scroll from the inside of his thigh. "There. Relax," he said, handing them over.
"Don't worry. I'm not angry," she answered coolly. "I just think you're ridiculous."
She took the map from him, but didn't open it up yet. It still felt too close to the library and anyway, their first coarse of action was getting our of Ketra.
"So, let's get out if this city. It might be best to catch a ride with Travelers if there are any. Safety in numbers, and they don't usually ask too many questions. Usually there's space in a wagon for a few coins." She shrugged. "It's how I got down here. Probably a better bet for us than the open road. At least as far as the nearest outpost. You had a better look at the map than I did."
"Sure beats waiting around to be skinned," Quinlan said after a breath. He didn't like this, being hounded. One would think he was used to it by now, but this was different. These fuckers would go to insane lengths to get what they needed, what they desired... Death was not a boundary; there were no limitations.
"Let's head off to the market district, see if anybody needs any more labor hands. Hitch the first ride outta this place," he said and took off the first opportunity he saw.
He was sure they were being watched, followed even and could have sworn he saw the same man he saw at the library tailing them. "We're not alone," he muttered to Zahi as they walked along. "Bloke in the blue coat, coifed hair, grey mustache. Looks shifty."
He was right. Though she would obviously never say that out loud. In fact, she was rather annoyed that Quinlan had noticed the man before she had. Zahi glanced over her shoulder to see the man Quinlan described. He was shuffling a few meters behind them. Anxiously looking down every few minutes, or at a shop, or anywhere except at the people he was following. Interesting. He didn't look very threatening, but that didn't mean anything.
Zahi took a few steps forward, then took Quinlan’s arm and led them down a winding, narrow little alley. She went a little way down the alley, then seeing that no one was in the alley, she pushed him into a wide doorframe, then followed close behind. If the man was following them, the hope was he would come into the alley and they could grab him from the doorway.
Zahi waited, her hand on the hilt of a dagger she produced from her boot sheath.
To say Zahi was pushy was putting it lightly. Quinlan gave a huff when she dragged him off and promptly shoved him into the narrow alley doorway. It didn't take any explanation to figue out what she had in mind. When they disappeared the man that had been tailing them, bolted in their direction, his footsteps echoing down the cobblestone alleyway.
Quinlan stood back against the door and held Ahi against him to make sure that they were properly concealed as they heard footsteps coming down their way.
Zahi silently pushed Quinlan off of her, shifting so that she was a few inches away from him. She didn’t bother throwing him a look or anything of that nature; her body was poised tense in wait of their pursuer.
His footsteps came clambering down the alley, but slowed as they got closer. No doubt wondering just where the two had disappeared to. Zahi leaned forward just enough to catch sight of the man. He was almost close enough. Three steps further, and Zahi darted out and grabbed the man, shoving him bodily into the doorway, her blade at his throat.
Up close, the man looked even less threatening than he had from afar. And more importantly, he looked terrified! The man couldn’t have been less than 60, well dressed, rather lightly built with a feeble frame and eyeglasses skewed from his face after Zahi slammed him against the door.
“I wasn’t- ! I’m not- !” the man sputtered, not daring to move. “Please don’t hurt me!”
At least her non nonsense attitude proved good for something. When she moved, he readily stepped aside and watched with a quirked brow at how cleanly she shoved the man into the wall. He was pissing himself. Almost literally. Quinlan smirked a little at the fear in his eyes, but didn't linger on it.
His expression turned stern and he moved to block the other opening of the doorway. "Why are you following us?" he said with a growl. "Who are you and who sent you? Answer quickly because I'm not known for my patience. And I doubt she is either."
The man whimpered beneath the pressure of Zahi's blade. The fear was too great for him to answer with and only when he felt something dripping down his leg did he blanch. He wet himself and Quinlan just stared at him. "Better talk fast, old man."
Zahi gave the poor, soiled old man a hard shove, but lowered the dagger and took half a step back from him. She took no real joy in scaring someone so bad, The old man was still trapped in the doorway, and her hand still held the dagger. If he did try to escape, or less likely attack, she'd be ready.
"I- I-" the old man was practically sobbing now. A harsh look from Zahi made him lower his voice. "I'm from the library," he gasped between sobs. "I- I saw you take the maps. I just wanted.. historically valuable... to get them... please don't hurt me!"
"You're lying," Quinlan said plainly, looking more closely at the man's expression. "Tell the truth. Now."
"What!? How-how dare you accuse me of lying! I swear, I'm just a scholar. Give back what you stole and I'll be gone. I promise I'll s-say I didn't even see you," he said.
Quinlan furrowed his brows further, lips tightly held together. "Tell who? Tell Who!?"
"Er-what...I mean, er, nobody. I-I mean, uh, I just came for them is all. I-"
Quinlan tilted his head dangerously, considering if he ought to just lacerate the man and boil him in his own blood, but he thought better of it. It would be a hard mess to clean up afterward and he already looked like hell as it is. "Who?" he repeated again, simply, though his voice was edged with impatience.
The man exchanged glances between Zahi and Quinlan and his voice caught in his throat. "They told me to...to watch you, see where you...g-go.. That's all. I swear! He-he didn't tell me his name, or show me his face. Just...just gave me some gold...to watch you is all."
"How much?"
"Uh...f-forty suns....when I reported back. I-I-I don't have anything," he replied weakly.
"Now, you ought to know better than to not get paid upfront." Quinlan shook his head and looked to Zahi, nudging his head in the man's direction as if asking if they ought to let him go or not.
Zahi stayed silent during Quinlan's questioning of the man. It was a tactic, she knew, that sometimes intimidated a man more than speaking would. When Quinlan looked to her, though, she pulled a small pouch from her belt and tossed it to the man, who caught it in his hands.
"That's sixty," she told him, her voice steely. She did plenty of work beating the crap out of people and, when necessary, killing them. But she also knew when it was better to catch flies with honey.
The man stared, mouth gaping, at Zahi.
"You know the brothel the Pretty Pussy?" The man looked shocked and embarrassed at the question, but Zahi continued, "Take anything else you know to the owner there. He'll give you the same again. But if I learn you run back to anyone else, I'll find you and cut your tongue out."
The man stared, wide-eyed, at her. Then to Quinlan. Then back. Then to Quinlan, his legs shaking badly. When Zahi told him to "Get out of here," the man scampered off like a drunk puppy, running straight into a young woman who complained loudly about the smell of piss before disappearing around the corner. Zahi considered sinking a dagger in his back as he ran, but decided against it. She didn't kill people who were mostly innocent and, well, this man just made the cut. She hoped it wasn't a decision she'd live to regret.
Quinlan gave her a nod of approval. She certainly had more gold than he did, even with what he lifted from Kravitt's dead body. He wondered why she gave him so much, but it was certainly more than he would have offered the snitching son-of-a-bitch. Nevertheless, when the man was out of sight, Quinlan motioned for them to move on, taking it slow out of the alley, watching if the coast was clear before he stepped out.
"Speaking of funds. Exactly how much did you pay coming down here? I imagine we'll need just as much leaving. There's going to be a lot of palms to grease," Quinlan worried aloud. He was a lot calmer about the subject than he'd imagined he would be. He reached down to the lightened coinpurse on his belt, the money that wasn't his (it rarely was) and his face frowned. He shook his head of the matter.
"Which one looks good to you?" he asked, eyes scanning the crowd of merchants and couriers and travelers loading wagons of goods, some coordinating caravans to ships off soon.
Zahi frowned in the direction the man had ran down. "With that gold," she answered. "But I don't usually have the luxury of choosing whether or not to kill someone. Couldn't let him live and count on him not taking the first offer of gold if we didn't give him more. And he was just a broke old librarian."
She gave a shrug. "I guess you'll just have to steal some more. You've shown so far that you can. Stealing's not my speciality. I'm just the muscle."
Zahi looked around at the merchants and artisans in the market, then shook her head. "We won't go with any of these, though. Better to travel with the gypsies. They ask less questions. Come on, maybe on the other side of the market," she said with a gesture towards the east end of the market and started walking. She glanced back at him, throwing him a smile, "Maybe you can procure something for us on the way." It wasn't really a nice smile. It might have even been a mean smile. But it was still a smile!
Her smile was met with a skeptical furrowing of his brows, feeling it ooze with condecension. He didn't smile back, though he was tempted to and instead followed her along to the other side of the market. "You're fond of saying that," he began, lifting a necklace as they passed by a table with jewelery on it. "That you're 'the muscle'. Why is that?"
He wasn't sure why he was asking, so he edged his tone with curiosity. Meanwhile his left hand pulled a loose coinpurse from a woman's backside and he tucked it carefully away. They walked along casually toward the eastern edge of the market and where music began to play, drawing in curious customers and patrons.
"So what is it about me then, huh?" he asked, eyes scanning for prospective transportation.
Zahi cocked an eyebrow at him. "Who said it had anything to do with you? Feeling a bit defensive?" She looked at him quizzically for a moment, then gave a shrug. "Just observational. So far it's been me killing thugs and intimidating old men. You've just been..." Zahi looked at him, pulling a face. "Tagging along, I guess?"
It was quite possible that the steely Blood Wolf was actually teasing him.
"Anyway," she said, her tone returning to usual - or, that was, deadpan - "I thought we agreed that you know everything about me that you need to. No more questions, remember?"
Just tagging along!? Quinlan stared at her in silence, jaws clenched. He supposed he brought it on himself for asking after all. No point in being butt hurt about it. Besides, blood magic wasn't something he liked to advertise, so tagging along was just something he was going to have to deal with. Besides, if she was content to do most of the heavy lifting, he was content to let her do so. For now at least.
"Well, it's the least you could do," he said, offering half a grin. "I did save you from a molotov cocktail." When he saw a cart just about to pull away, he ran off a ways, saving the man down. He was stout and red-faced, shouting orders to the drivers trying to set the mules straight.
"Could you let us on?" he asked. "We're just need to get down to the nearest checkpoint. Here, I know you'll like this" Quinlan produced the gold necklace to the stubby man before he could even say a word. The man's eyes gleamed a bit before gesturing to the two of them.
The man's eyes lingered on Zahi for a bit. He cleared his throat and brushed his hair back, flashing a dirty-tooth grin. "My, you are a lovely thing. Your friend paid for his passage, but what, ahem, about yours?"
Zahi smirked inwardly at Quinlan's surly stare. She didn't respond to his comment on the Molotov - that, really, is what got her involved in this mess! if he hadn't saved her, surely she could have walked away - and instead added, "And I paid off the old piss pot back there. So I think it's high time you started pulling your own weight."
For a moment, it looked like that was what he was doing. Zahi hurried along after Quinlan. She'd be happy to see the back of this place. No point in sitting on their hands about it. But when Quinlan jumped on and the man's leering gaze turned to her, Zahi stopped short. Whatever vaguely joking manner she might have had before drained out of her. She looked coldly from the man to Quinlan and back. Of course, she didn't have any money now. Quinlan did. And so much for him pulling his weight for the team!
"I don't know," Zahi finally answered coldly, then nodded to Quinlan, "you'll have to ask my husband."
Quinlan was going to pay for this cute little stunt later!
Quinlan hadn't really been expecting that. He blinked for a few seconds, staring at Zahi in silence and then the stubby little man. He was disgusting looking, but then again, it wasn't like he was asking Quinlan for an 'arrangement.' He half considered letting him have her - not that the stubby bastard would get very far with someone like Zahi - but that thought quickly went out the door.
"She's with me," Quinlan growled, reaching forward and pulling her up onto the wagon beside him. But did she really have to call him her husband!? Blech! She could've said lover, or pimp, or something. He inwardly sighed. "Unless you want to lose fingers, you'll be satisfied with what I gave you. You could easily afford two whores with it. Probably at the same time."
The stubby man examined the gold necklace once more and frowned deeply at the pair. He wondered if he ought to test the red-haired man, but looking at him and the look in his eye he soon thought better of it. "Fine! Yahara! Let's go!"
The man moved on to the front of the wagon and they were off.
Quinlan released Zahi and frowned at her. "Husband?" he hissed.
It was a bit of an effort to look like she needed Quinlan's husbandly protection during the brief, tense moment between the three of them. And she wasn't entirely sure how convincing it was. But at least she could enjoy the stunned look on her 'husband's' face!
Once the stubby little man left them for the front of the wagon, Zahi flopped down onto the bumpy wooden wagon floor, leaning against a large sack of dried dates. She was already pulling the map out when Quinlan hissed at her.
Zahi just gave a noncommittal shrug. "Sorry, Red, it was the most likely to shut him up," she answered plainly, her voice low to avoid eavesdroppers. "Now, how long do we stay with the wagon train? We should probably," she pointed to where the road crossed a medium-sized stream, "get off around here. Small village gives us an excuse for getting off. But we can take off pretty quickly, and following the stream will take us to our destination."
Quinlan looked over her shoulder and looked at the path she indicated. "Good," he replied. The trip, he estimated, would probably take until the end of the day, maybe sooner. "Doesn't look that far, maybe a day's trip. Besides, night will serve better for traveling. I never liked the day much myself." Quinlan looked over his shoulder, seeing the man looking back at them with suspicious brows, and that was when Quinlan lunged for Zahi.
He kissed her neck and ear. "He's looking," he growled, and tried to make it look like they were having a 'couple's' moment. He put an arm around her, risking the consequences later and blocked the man's general view. He heard a growl of frustration and he was certain the man turned around then. But he still didn't let Zahi go.
Zahi’s attention had been absorbed in plotting their course on the map, so she had seen neither the man’s suspicious glance nor Quinlan’s sudden outburst of ‘marital affection.’ So she startled when Quinlan lurched forward and kissed her neck. Being startled was not an experience Zahi was used to! And her first reaction would normally have been to punch Quinlan square in the face. But her brain beat her fist to the mark, and her eyes caught the look the driver was casting their way.
Once she’d caught on, though, she of course knew that Quinlan’s actions were the only reasonable ones. So stowing away her urge to beat on Quinlan, Zahi instead kissed his cheek - had she ever kissed anyone on the cheek? She threw her legs over Quinlan’s so that she wasn’t sitting in his lap - she did not sit in laps! - but so her side was resting against his chest and the map was laid out on their laps like they were reading a book together. She rested her head against his chest in case the man cast any more glances back their way, which she was sure they would.
At least focusing on a job and blocking out other distractions - or, in this case, maybe, discomforts - was one of Zahi’s strong suits. She traced her finger down the stream. “Looks too narrow, so probably too steep, for a boat or a raft. But I don’t think it’ll take so long to get down there. And we can get basic supplies in the village. Let’s just hope there’s no one waiting for us there. Someone must have seen us in the library.”
Quinlan wasn't much of the cuddling type. Or at least he didn't have much experience with it. He didn't much care for the cheek kisses either. He didn't have much of a chance to have a 'sweet heart' growing up, or have any sort of long-term relationships. He was sometimes too drunk to remember the person beside him. But if it would get the damn man at the front off their backs, he would do just about anything.
Quinlan 'ahem'ed and focused on the map. Her thoughts were sound. "If there is at least the area is secluded enough to we have a place to stash a body. I'm sure there's a bridge there we can cross. And if not, I'm sure there's a horse nobody will miss." Quinlan studied the map for a bit longer. "What's that smell? Is that you? You smell nice. Just saying."
"It's the dates," Zahi answered flatly, nuding the sack of dried fruits they were leaning against with her elbow. From the top of the sack, a handful of dates tumbled out of the sack into their laps and onto the map.
"'Ey! You lot better not be messin' around back there!" the driver called back. He still sounded a bit rankled that someone else might be messing around and not him.
"Eh, sorry, sir!" Zahi called up, trying her best to sound friendly and apologetic. The man glared back at them, but seeing nothing out of place, went back to driving.
Once his attention was diverted again, Zahi bit into one of the fallen dates. She shifted slightly so that more of her weight was resting against Quinlan; if they were going to keep this up, she might as well be comfortable! "Let's just hope it'd only be one body we'd have to stash," she said in a low voice, looking at the cave location on the map. "I don't want to run into another pack of those thugs from last night. Plus, I try to keep my body count low when I'm off the clock. Call me a sentimentalist."
Zahi let out an exhale, wondering how long the trip would be. Then, remembering, she asked, "You still have that brandy?"
Quinlan grunted. She was heavier than he thought she was initially, but he didn't complain. Regardless of the matter, he took a date in his hand and popped it into his mouth. Still chewing, he commented, "Nosy little rat."
"What was that?!" the driver called back.
"Oh, I said, our babies won't be fat! Just er, little family discussion we've been putting off," Quinlan replied and his hand reached into this jacket pocket and took out the bottle. He handed it to Zahi. "Knock yourself out!"
A part of him still feared she'd chuck the bottle off the side of the wagon and he affirmed to himself if she did he'd promptly throw her off his lap! Either that or have the little fat man have her.
Quinlan smirked a little and ate another date. "That's very nice of you," he went on saying instead. "To care enough to not kill someone. Always makes it easier than leaving a trail of bodies behind."
Zahi took the bottle, with a glance up at Quinlan, sat halfway up and feigned throwing it out the side of the wagon. Just to get a rise out of poor Red.
But she didn't throw it and, flopping back down against Quinlan (none too gently), she uncorked it and took a swig. "Nothing 'nice' about it," she said with a little shrug. "When you work in a bakery, you don't gorge yourself on cakes at the end of the day."
Oh! Ohhhhh good one, Curly! He quirked a brow at her, spitting out a date when she landed into him. It seemed she had favored her elbow and his gut would be sore for a while after that. Quinlan popped another into his mouth before washing it down with a swig of his own.
"If that's the case, then why are bakers so fat?" he countered. "It's hard to resist the temptation. Especially when it's so easy...and it's just within arms reach. I guess not everyone is so disciplined. The world is filled with fragile mortals, prone to faults and flaws. But then again, killing people isn't always so convenient. Kravitt can attest to that after all. Cheers then, to him." And he drank to that. "Besides cake goes better with more things than blood."
Zahi rolled her eyes, snatching the bottle from him. "It was just a metaphor."
She took a drink from the bottle, then readjusted to a more 'cuddly' position. This was partially for the benefit of the driver, she guessed, but mostly out of comfort. Though she found herself wondering how many married people really still cuddled. Maybe they should be bickering and threatening each other instead. It might come more naturally! She took another drink from the bottle, then handed it back to Quinlan. She sank back and, once again, rested her head against his chest.
"Alright," she said, "unless you have a better idea, I'm going to pass the time sleeping. Not all of us slept through two watches last night."
And, more importantly... what would they talk about for the entire trip otherwise??
"Very well. Don't need my permission. I certainly didn't ask for yours when we spooned last night," Quinlan said, smirking as he took another swig of the bottle. He was all right with keeping watch and decided better of drinking the rest of the brandy away. So instead he corked it and put the rest away in his other coat pocket, the one Zahi wasn't blocking with her head.
He didn't mind being a human pillow. He decided he rather liked it, in a manner of speaking, even the rough part.... Okay especially the rough part. That part at least was familiar.
"Sweet dreams... Curly."
Zahi didn't say anything in response to Quinlan's glib remarks. Spooning. Curly. Hilarious.
She didn't say anything, but, settling in against Quinlan, she wrapped an arm around his side. It might at first seem awfully cozy. But Zahi used the position to pinch Quinlan - hard - in the ribs. Not quite hard enough to make the man cry out, but hard enough to let him know what she thought of his comments!
Quinlan growled, softly, lowly from deep in his throat of what he thought of her childish pinching! If anything, he ought to throw her to the ground just to get her off his lap! But there really wasn't anything he could do about it now. So he settled back against the sack of dates and ate them quietly and slowly, coming up with a list of questions to bombard her with.
"So," he began, "Where'd you learn to pinch like that? I've had snakes bite me with a better sting than that. Ah well, you need your rest. Curly."
Zahi hadn't actually been tired, she'd just wanted to kill the time of the journey. As much as it might look better for the driver, she shifted off of Quinlan, moving so she was sitting opposite of him, leaning against another large sack of some sort of dried fruit. Surely married couples didn't spend all their time attached at the hip!
She raised her eyebrow at his comment. "That's an interesting comparison. A snake bite might not sting, but it can kill you much more efficiently than a hound's." Of course, Quinlan wouldn't know about the years she'd spent as a child and teenager, delivering poisons for the Zantaric crime boss who'd dragged her off the streets when she was a starving child. It seemed, though, like a very apt comparison.
Quinlan stared her eye to eye, chewing on a strawberry and tossing her one and then another. "Of course," he said, a smile flickering than fading. "A hound has to go for a vital part. Bleed you out. Slow and painful. Snake bites, much more efficient. You look like you know your poisons and your venoms. I was bitten as a brat. Got caught in a ditch in a copse and disturbed a nest. But there are still worse ways to die..."
Quinlan looked down at the scarred cut he'd issued across his hand and could've sworn he felt it begin to itch. Not the wound. But the blood itself...like needles were crawling inside his veins, burning it and he clenched his fist tightly, pushing the thought away.
He still stared at his hands though, expression dark. "You ought to sleep," he said, toned resigned. "You'll still be alive when we get to town. Promise."
Zahi raised her eyebrows inquisitively. "What does that mean?" she asked. "I 'look like I know my poinsons and my venoms?' What does that look like?" She gave a derisive snort. "All I look like is a foreign bastard." Which, of course, is exactly what she was. Whoever her father had been, Zahi had not come out with quite the same features of her Kishahn mother. And she was certainly not Adelan or Serenian or any other northern race. Zahi found herself idly wondering if she could still speak Kishahn. She never tried anymore.
"Tell me," she said, coming back to Quinlan, leaning a bit more against the sack and crossing her legs, "what does a poisoner look like?"
Quinlan peered up at her, struck by the turning of his own words. He relaxed a little leaning against the back of the wagon, tucking one leg underneath the other while letting it dangle. "I think I made the assumption based more on your demeanor, and what I've witnessed in the short time of our little venture. It's in the way you carry yourself. Your walk, is one thing, but I think that's more to express that you're never in the mood to take any crap. And that you're willing to do what you have to in order to get the job done. Poisoners? Well, I don't think the assumption is too far fetched. If I'm wrong then..."
He flashed a wicked smile at her then shrugged.
He pulled the bottle of brandy from his pocket and swished around the contents around a little before taking a swig. "I guess any poisoner worth their salt would look as unassuming as anyone else."
"You are, as a matter of fact," Zahi answered. "I'm not." Anymore, anyway. She hadn't worked like that since she was a kid. In fact, Zahi rather disliked poisoners. They were, in fact, snakes. Liars and sycophants and grovelers and seducers. She gave a shrug. "I don't have what it takes. A poisoner has to be inconspicuous, able to ingratiate himself to his victim, charm his way in, seem trusting and trustworthy. Usually grovelling short little men or seductive, busty women. Neither of which, I'm happy to say, I am."
Quinlan was starting to wear her down, she realized. Maybe because she would never have to see him again once they were out of this, so what the hell, and because, well, she was getting used to him. Despite how shortly she'd known the obnoxious redhead, they may as well have had a rope tethering them within a meter of each other that whole time. For the moment, she decided to allow it. Within reason. She might as well test the waters.
"And what about you? A deserted soldier? Not that I'd blame you. I hear things are pretty nasty up there these days. Despite the first-class brothels."
The curiosity about him, struck him as unusual, especially with the no questions policy she instilled. But her look seemed genuine and for her to finally say something of herself, symbolized a vague level of comfort. If it could be called that. Quinlan recorked the brandy bottle and offered her some,
He supposed she could assume that much about him, that he hailed from Connlaoth. He was paler than her, though tanned from being outdoors most of the time. He grinned at her, a small one.
"Ansgar's balls, no," he said, chuckling lightly at the notion. "I hate soldiers. Well, most of em anyway. I'm a mage, as I've told you. No...I, uh, left. I...encountered some bad weather there. Been wandering ever since. I do miss the brothels though. But the ones down here aren't so bad. What about you? Or is that no question policy still standing? Oh, that was two questions."
Of course he was a mage. She'd seen him turn fire into ice. Of course a mage would leave Connlaoth. Zahi hated this sort of travel - or anything where she wasn't on her feet and in control - so she blamed that.
"What about me?" she asked, waving away the brandy bottle. "I don't miss the Connlaothian brothels, no. I don't have any opinions on the ones down here. Can't say that I'm the biggest fan of any of them anywhere, though. "
Quinlan shrugged a 'suit yourself' shrug and put the bottle away. He gestured to her back, a turning motion. "Those tattoos. They're interesting. I know I asked about them before and you were understandably dodgy with the answers. Tell me about them. I mean the other ones that I didn't interrogate you about. Or if you prefer, what do you for fun?"
"I wasn't," she answered. "I told you they were from an abandoned temple near Zantaric. They are. They all are."
But his second question drew a black look from Zahi. Quinlan may as we have asked it in a different language. What did she do for fun. Zahi couldn't even formulate an answer.
Quinlan quirked a brow at her, expression expectant. "Well?" he prompted. "It doesn't have to be herbsmoke, alcohol, or any kind of vice. I'm curious. What do you enjoy doing on your offtime, if anything at all?" His eyes were boldened and he sat up, resting his arms on both knees, just staring at her with his indigo eyes.
Zahi had never really thought about it before. She enjoyed, she guessed, being good at her job. So in her off-time... well, she realized, she didn't really take off time. Maybe sex, if her and Bujari were on good terms. But somehow she thought that answer would give Quinlan the wrong impression.
So instead she frowned, "I guess training doesn't count."
Quinlan smiled at her. Part of him wished he had a smoke right now... In fact he felt into his breast pocket and felt for a sack of tobacco or a cigar of some kind. He found a small amount in a threaded pouch and pulled it out, along with a slip of paper, and poured it out into it. "Do you mind?" he asked first before intending to roll it and light it up.
"No, I agree. Training could be good. Strengthen your body, center your mind, condition yourself. It's relaxing. Hmm." He took a long drag on the smoke and blew it away, savoring the flavor for a second. "Got anyone back home?" he wondered. "Lover? Boyfriend? Girlfriend?"
Zahi gave a wave to say she didn’t mind if he smoked or not.
She actually laughed at his question, though. “Don’t you sound like an old aunty! Going to ask me next when I plan on getting married, and remind me I only have limited window of time to have a baby?”
No one actually ever asked Zahi those questions. But she heard other female Wolves talk and she knew what questions family did ask, if you had it.
But, surprising even herself, she gave a noncommittal shrug and said, “Sort of. Sometimes. I always find the word ‘lover’ a bit garish, though,” she said, making a face. ‘Boyfriend’ or ‘girlfriend’, needless to say, seemed awfully juvenile. “You’re asking an awful lot more questions than you’re answering, though.” Of course, Zahi hadn’t asked any. But, truth be told, she didn’t really care what Quinlan did for fun, or whether or not he had a girl.
She leaned forward and took the bottle out of his jacket pocket, uncorked it and took a sit. She didn’t hand it back just yet. Instead, she asked, “Have you always been a blood mage?”
He took a long drag from the smoke, dashing the ashes off the side of the road. "Not at all," he said calmly, looking at her speculatively. "I don't like children and I don't care for marriage." Quinlan shrugged and watched with interest as she drank the brandy.
"So on the rocks then," he nodded. He just eyed her curiously. But when she asked ...that, his eyes darkened and his smile disappeared. Instead he focused on his smoke, growing quiet.
"No," he answered simply. "I haven't."
Zahi just shrugged. She couldn't really say they were 'on the rocks,' per se. Her 'situation' (the word she used to think about it) had just always been on and off. Zahi couldn't always keep up with which they were at any given moment. So 'sort of' seemed like the most honest assessment of the situation.
Quinlan's change in mood in response to her question, however, was much more interesting to Zahi in that moment than whether or not Bujari was fucking someone else. Uncrossing her legs, she pulled herself up, leaning forward with her elbows on her knees. "No, I didn't think so," she said. "Most aren't, it seems. So what happened to you?"
Quinlan stayed focused on his smoke, davoring each long drag and making shapes with it in the air. He made an 'O' shape. The tobacco wasn't all. He could probably find a stash in the next village they were headed toward, but until then it would have to do.
"I'll take the first watch. You said you wanted to sleep," he said gesturing to the sacks beside her. "Go ahead then." He didn't answer her question and decided she had a point on there being certain things one needed to know. That...wasn't one of them.
Zahi watched Quinlan's reaction carefully, but she did not push the issue. She certainly understood leaving some topics untouched. So instead she leaned back again, scooting a bit further down so she was half laying down.
"I don't really. Just wanted to pass the time. I hate long wagon journeys. Doing 'nothing' isn't very high on my skill set." Zahi said neutrally, then lapsed into silence, gazing out the back of the wagon.
Outside, a steady rain broke from the sky. The clouds were dense and low, with no sign that it would give up any time soon. The cover of the wagon was canvas, and while it kept the rain out, a steady drip-drip-drip came down from the cover into the center of the wagon.
Quinlan said nothing, the silence falling between them. He wouldn't dare break it, or it's comfort in the subject change. He watched her for a moment, the rain pattering over the canvas top and he slipped out of his jacket and offered it to her. "Here," he said. "It's chilly and will get chillier still. No reason you can't stay warm. "
Her mind had been wandering far away, between what was going on back with the Wolves, to caves, to the cult that may or may not be waiting for them there, so that Zahi looked up at Quinlan with a look of surprise. Not so much because he had broken her reverie, but because he was offering her his jacket, just like a gentleman.
She stared at him for a moment, blinking.
"No, I'm alright," she finally said. She had to wonder if he was after something. It seemed... out of character, somehow, for him to just make a courteous offer with no angle. "Anyway, what'd keep you warm?" she asked, nudging him with the toe of her boot, "the brandy?"
He threw his hands up. "No, I'll be fine. I'm Connlaothian, I'm used to the cold. A little rain won't hurt me. Please, take the jacket, I insist," he said and leaned back against the sack of dried strawberries. He ate another and pulled a dagger from his belt, sharpening it's edge with another that was on a contraption designed to conceal it against his wrist.
Zahi propped herself up on her elbows to glare at Quinlan. “No,” she insisted, just strongly enogh that it was almost playful... almost... or as near to 'playful' as Zahi could get, “I’ll be fine. I may not be Connlaothian, but I’m tougher that you are.”
"Tougher than me?" Quinlan feigned a scoff, and pushed the jacket back to her. "Please. It's rude to refuse someone's gift, even if only temporary. Take it! I can be just as stubborn as you."
"I am rude," Zahi replied plainly, snatching the jacket from Quinlan, then throwing it back at him. Aiming at his head. "Haven't you noticed? You should give up. You're definitely not more stubborn, and definitely not tougher. Don't make me tie that jacket up on you," she threatened, carefully avoiding saying 'tie you up in that jacket.'
Quinlan caught the jacket in his hand and clenched it tightly, peering at her lack of amusement with his own grin. "I said... I. Insist." He didn't wait and lunged at her with the jacket, reaching out to bind her in it.
Zahi saw what Quinlan was doing just in time. Perhaps because she'd been half expecting it. Maybe even, she knew, provoking it. She rolled out of the way when Quinlan lunged, preventing him from pinning her, but resulting in him landing heavily on top of her. She took advantage of the momentum to roll him over so that she was above, straddling him.
"Sorry, I must have stuttered," she growled at him, holding the jacket pinned against his chest. "I said, 'give up."
"'Ey! You back there! Keep it down! Can't have you messin' up my goods!" The angry voice was accompanied by an angrier glare from the wagon driver.
Maybe he wasn't built like a wall, but he didn't have to be and he was more than strong enough in his own right. Quinlan's eyes stared at her widely, ignoring the man in the driver's seat and he swung his legs upward and grappled his feet around her head and turning them over once more.
He landed hard on his knees, pinning back with all his strength and pushing the jacket down on her. "It's. The. Least. I. Could. Do."
It wasn't the first time Zahi had been pinned in a fight, and the woman was stronger than she looked. She hit him hard in the elbow of his right arm, hooked her arm around him, and used all her strength to flip him off of her, bolting back on top of him.
Unfortunately for both of them, though, the force of the motion tipped the balance of the large sacks of dried fruit and three of the heavy bags toppled from the top of the stack, landing on top of Zahi and Quinlan. With an 'oof!', Zahi found herself flattened against him, her face smushed against his.
Now, it seemed, they both were pinned!
The last bag falling on top of them knocked the breath out of Quinlan and he gasped for air, sucking air in sharply and blinking. He barely had any room to turn his head, but with hers right on him, it didn't really help.
So he did the only logical thing he could think of. He kissed her, even at the awkward angle they were in. It was rough and the stubble that grew on his face scratched against her skin. He kissed her hard (which was not an impossible feat considering they were sandwiched together).
OOC: Definitely more logical than calling for help. XD
Even if she had wanted to, pulling away from the kiss in their current circumstances wouldn't have really been an option. So she didn't. Instead she parted her lips so she could kiss him properly, the combined weight of her own body and the sacks of fruit behind the kiss. Under these circumstances - the preceding tussle, the bump of the wagon, the weight of the fruit, the knowledge of the driver's presence - Zahi immediate felt the rush of the contact, and could hear her heart beat loudly in her head. She was, in fact, sufficiently preoccupied that she didn't at first notice the wagon slowing to a halt
"What in hell's name is go in' on back here?!" Came the angry roar of the driver. It came, however, from the back of the wagon, not the front.
Quinlan shifted underneath her, tilting his head to get a better angle when the bitter fat man came skulking around the back of the wagon. He inwardly sighed and turned his head to face the man.
Yahara, the helper, jumped up onto the back and pulled some of the bags off them. When they were finally freed, Quinlan had placed the jacket on Zahi's front. Her arms were through the sleeves and to him that it signified that she was indeed wearing the jacket.
Quinlan leered up at the man, grinning. "Oh, just keeping the wife warm. Sorry about the bags. You know how it is."
The stubby little man just stared, growing red in the face.
"You- you'll be the sorry one!" The man bellowed. He leapt into the wagon and helped Yahara haul off the rest of the bags. Except he also hauled off Zahi, grabbing her by the shirt scruff. Zahi, who knew how to pick her battles, bristled but didn't fight him. She landed on her feet, then watched as he did the same thing to Quinlan.
Once they were both up, the man promptly started herding them out of the wagon. "Off! GET OFF!!!" With a final shove, they were out in the rain. Yahara had already gone back to the front of the wagon and snapped the mules back into action. The cart drove off.
Zahi watched it go. Then, as if suddenly realizing she was "wearing" it, stripped off Quinlan's jacket and shoved it into his arms.
"I told you that you should have kept it."
Quinlan half expected that much. And when he too was grabbed along, he caught himself just in time to keep from stumbling off the ground. Well, there went that necklace, and it was all her fault too. Quinlan caught the jacket and put it over his shoulders, the cloth already pattered with raindrops.
"All you had to do was put it on and things'd be peachy," Quinlan sighed. "Never mind. The rain's gonna come down in sheets soon. We better get to the village while the goin's good. You're not touched by a little rain are you?"
"Oh, shut up," she muttered, looking at the rain as it started to pick up. "I think we should go through the forest. The cave is that way," she said, pointing to the southwest, "but the village is straight on and I don't think it's that close. And the forest will be more sheltered. I don't mind rain, but these maps will."
OOC: Whohas the maps now??
[Zahi, I think.]
Quinlan considered both choices and while the forest might be the quickest way to their destination. But also the stupidest. They had no supplies, no real shelter, and no real plan other than to run in there and hope the cultists were waiting for them.
"The forest it is," Quinlan said, after careful consideration. "I can hold the maps. They'll last longer with me. Hand 'em over." He turned toward the trees and ventured down the hill and into the trees.
Zahi followed Quinlan off the street and into the forest. It might be riskier in some ways, but Zahi wasn’t comfortable walking along the open road when there might be someone following them. It was a long way to the town still, and if they got soaking wet with dropping temperatures on the road, either one of them could get sick from exposure. At least the forest offered some respite from that.
She landed on the forest floor from the road berm softly; the ground was soft and spongey with leaf litter and fallen pine needles. Even just off the road, Draconi Forest was impressive. It was almost easy to forget that the road was there, two meters away.
With the increased shelter, Zahi finally took the maps out of her boot sheath and handed them over to Quinlan. Their biggest challenge now, she knew, would be keeping their bearings. But each tree was marked with moss growing only on its north side. That would have to do. She started off in the direction of the cave, her eyes scanning the forest floor for any opportunities: shelter, food, tools. The forest could hold them all. Dead trees, rock overhangs, small caves could all be dry shelters. This was the right time of year for mushrooms, especially in a wet forest like this, and some berries and roots. It had been two decades since she'd regularly had to forage for food, but some lessons stick with you.
“If we find shelter,” she said as she went, “we might want to hole up for a bit and let the rain pass.”
In truth, Zahi didn’t particularly like the rain. Perhaps, though she wouldn’t know, because of her djinn blood; creatures derived from fire and the heat of the desert. All the same, she was much happier on her feet than in the wagon. Even in the rain. And not just because of the turn they’d taken in the wagon. Zahi always felt better on her feet.
Quinlan pulled up the collar of his coat and they both blended into the brush. An image flashed in his mind, momentarily, and he remembered himself running through a similar forest. The trees somehow seemed denser in Connlaoth, like they formed a barrier between death and freedom.
He broke through somehow...
Quinlan blinked at Zahi's comment. He smiled at her. "It'd also be a good idea not to get eaten by a bear. Or a pack of wolves. Or fall into a spike pit."
Oh, someone was determined helpful. Zahi silently cursed herself for not just returning to Arca when she saw Kravitt already dead. She didn't bother responding to Quinlan's comment. Spike pit.
Keeping her eye on the tree moss, Zahi tacked southwest, going on ahead of Quinlan through the forest and brush. Truth be told, she liked being in here. It simultaneously felt safer than being in the open, but required her to stay alert and focused and on guard for whatever else might be sheltering in the trees. It was a nice distraction from Quinlan, anyway.
They went on for an hour or so before they began to descent into a ravine. The rain had showed no sign of letting up, and even with the cover of the forest, the pair were getting pretty wet. In a ravine, though, there was more likely to be a rock overhang or maybe a small subaerial cave. What they found instead, half an hour later, was a stone entrance (http://stonewings.files.wordpress.com/2012/03/hermit-cave-01.jpg) on the slopes of the ravine.
Zahi paused, waiting for the sound of someone nearby, but nothing came. Slowly, she approached the entrance. It looked like an old hermit's cave. Looking in from the entrance, there was no sign of anyone having recently been in the dwelling, if it could be called that. Still, something about it didn't sit quite right with her.
"What do you think?" she asked, turning to glance back at Quinlan.
Maybe it was just a matter of both lightening the mood and acknowledging all possibilities. One, he took, Zahi didn't much care for. It was just as well. He didn't want to be eaten by a bear either. Or get gored by someone's vacant spike pit. With that in mind, he was content with the silence and he examined his oddly empty hands. He could have sworn he had a smoke in there just a few moments ago. Probably left it back on the wagon. Pfft, it was just as well that he would lose the last of his stash. And they were too far from town now!
Quinlan sighed, sulking inwardly, as he followed along behind Zahi. He was left to his thoughts, and partly, looking and listening to their surroundings. It was nice, the feeling of being surrounded by a forest. Apart of him felt transported; the density of trees, the quietness of foliage beneath his feet, and he could almost hear distant voices, unearthly, ethereal, haunting. But something darkened in him when they stopped abruptly.
Quinlan turned to the hermit's cave, after Zahi addressed him, and his eyes were glued to the darkness. He stared into it as if seeing something staring back at him. "We...should move on," he said resolutely. "This place...doesn't seem right." His palm began to itch again, the scab boiling and Quinlan clenched his fist, trying to resist the pain.
He grabbed her arm with his right hand, his grip unconsciously hard, and he pulled her from the entrance. "Let's get out of here. Anywhere is better than here."
OOC: Vacant spike pit!!!
Zahi paused for a moment at the cave after Quinlan expressed his concern about the hermit's cave. Her eyes peered into the darkness, feeling a sudden, almost overwhelming, curiosity about what was inside. She'd taken half a step towards it without even realizing when Quinlan grabbed her arm. Zahi shook herself. His hand on her arm felt like it was snapping her out of something, and she didn't want to learn what.
"Alright," she agreed, her eyes lingering a moment longer on the cave, before following Quinlan. She didn't fight him on it, just followed him down the ravine away from the hermit cave. She felt oddly cold leaving the place. And not from the rain.
Once they'd gotten far enough away that the cold feeling gripping her stomach began to relax, Zahi glanced up at Quinlan, who still had her arm in a vice grip. "What was that?"
Quinlan let her go when he felt they were a safe enough distance away from the cave. It was inviting certainly. Even he could feel himself being lulled into complacency, to be pulled away from the cold and the rain. But that darkness was far too deep for his liking. Normally he was at home in the shadows, better to remain out of sight, out of mind. It was unnatural.
When she asked what it was, his expression was clearly troubled. "Bad things," he said. "Bad vibes. Too many dark shadows in there. I guess, in the simplest term, you could call it a spirit. Or many spirits. My guess is many. But they're bad. At least a bear won't use your bones to pick his teeth clean."
Zahi watched Quinlan carefully. She could see plainly that the place had left him shaken. And though she didn't want to give him too much credit, she didn't take that lightly. Her eyes stayed on him a few moments longer as they continued through the forest, away from the hermit's cave.
"I don't know," she said finally, her tone at first serious. "A bear's got to clean his teeth some how." As an attempt to lighten the mood, it felt a bit forced. But, hey, 'lightening moods' wasn't Zahi's forte.
It was definitely what the situation called for, though. The rain had yet to let up and as the day dragged on, a clammy cold was setting in, and Zahi had to consciously keep her teeth from chattering.
Frankly, he was getting tired of all the walking and he wondered if he could get through a couple of bad spirits heckling him through the day. And Zahi's shiverings weren't lost on him. Quinlan led them out along the ridge where the ground got a little harder and soon they turned into a cavern inlet, beneath a rock overhang.
It wasn't quite as cozy as the hermit's cave, but it was dry and faced away from the bracing wind. "This better?" he asked, stepping underneath it, passing through threads of rain that beaded down from the overhang. "You're shaking. Come on, strip out of those clothes. Won't do you any good to stay drenched."
He already was pulling his jacket off, moving it over a nearby boulder and pulling his layered tunic over his head.
The little cavern was cut into the pinky sandstone of the ravine and, inside, was fairly dry. Zahi glanced in, assessing it. It certainly drew her less than the hermit’s cave, which she would take as a good thing. She was about to say it seemed good to her when she was told that ‘she was shaking.’
Zahi glared icily at Quinlan. She did not like implications that something was wrong with her, however true - in this case - they might be. Especially when they were true. She set her jaw resolutely against the clattering.
“Yeah, this'll do,” she said in business-tone. “You settle in. I’ll be back in a minute.”
Then without glancing back at Quinlan, Zahi trooped back into the rain, disappearing around a bend in the ravine. She returned twenty minutes later. Under one arm was a bundle of mostly dry-ish wood, collected from the sheltered nooks and crannies of the rock. In the other she carried a bundle of something wrapped up in her scarf. She shook some of the rain off, not unlike an animal, then padded into the little cavern. Zahi dropped the wood in the middle of the cave and tossed the bundle to Quinlan. It was chestnuts; maybe five pounds of them. After all, once you found one chestnut tree, the only problem was how many of the nuts you can carry. Without a word to Quinlan, Zahi started setting up the wood to create a fire. Once it was arranged, she produced a lump of mostly-dry moss in the palm of her hand.
Still crouched in front of the wood, Zahi turned to Quinlan, giving him a strange, dark look. “I’m not a mage,” she said, a little too aggressively. Or perhaps defensively.
Then, turning back to the wood, Zahi held the moss in her palm until it started to smoke and, finally, the bundle came alight. Zahi showed no signs of being affected by the fire now burning in her hand. Carefully, she moved it to the center of the arranged wood where it burned, its flames licking up the stacked branches, and she withdrew her hand. She wasn’t happy about doing this in front of Quinlan. Her strange ability with fire, the nature of which was a mystery even to her, was a card she usually liked to keep up her sleeve.
Without a word or a glance towards Quinlan, Zahi set about disrobing. First putting her boots near the fire, removing the blades concealed therein and laying them out. Then she took off her own jacket, shirt, and trousers, laying them out near the fire to dry. Stripped down to her bra and underwear, Zahi sat down next to the fire with her knees pulled up in front of her and her arms wrapped around her folded legs. She sat there, watching the fire, assuming Quinlan would come over on his own, or not. In truth, she didn’t really like using these abilities at all. She didn’t understand them and Zahi, as a rule, disliked things she didn’t understand.
Quinlan watched her little trick with the fire, settling in just as she returned. His boots were discarded, set out by the boulder and when the flames went up, the smirk of fascination was apparent on his face, and even more so at Zahi's displeasure. He almost mentioned it and then she got undressed. He didn't avert his gaze, eying her mothodical motions as she unequipped everything. She had a whole armory in there, damn!
He followed soon after, placing all his stuff spread out beside the fire. He had an assortment of small dirks and daggers of his own, moreso than any mage might and he even unwrapped the belt of blades from around his waist, the blade contraption from around his wrist, the several hidden along his ankles and trousers and just about anywhere within fast accessible reach.
But unlike her, he wasn't sure he still wanted to be shivering in small clothes, so off those went too and he reached into his jacket pocket for the bottle of brandy, before joining her. "Does brandy go with chestnuts?" he asked, smirking a little before uncorking the drink and taking a small swig.
If Zahi was interested in Quinlan's disrobing, she didn't show it. But she raised her eyebrows when he appeared beside the fire with the bottle of brandy. "How did you manage to hold onto that?" she asked. Between the tussle over the jacket and being ejected from the wagon, she imagined that the brandy was long gone. Well, she glanced at the bottle, it nearly was anyway.
"Speaking of chestnuts, though," she said pointedly, "you think I brought those back so we could look at them? Or do I have to do everything around here?"
Once she said that, she realized something important they hadn't done. She got up abruptly and went over to Quinlan's jacket. From it, she pulled out the maps and carefully laid them out in the cave. Far enough away from the fire that they wouldn't risk catching alight, but close enough that they could get properly dry.
"Would you lighten up? Look we're both cold and hungry and miserable. You want me to get the chestnuts, I'll get them, geeze." Quinlan sighed audibly and moved out to get the damn chestnuts. He'd honestly never dined on them before. But he supposed it was better than starving to death.
"Okay instead of lecturing, why don't you teach me something. Exactly how do you cook these? I'd rather eat some venison, but I haven't exactly heard any deer wandering around. So proceed, teacher, I am eager to learn."
Zahi stared at Quinlan. That was meant to be light-hearted. Or at least teasing. She ran the comment back in her head, and she supposed she could hear how it came out. She still thought that Quinlan was being overly sensitive, though. In reality, Zahi had probably still been a little mad at him for pointing out that she was shivering when they arrived at the cave.
"Who's lecturing?" she asked, giving him a shrewd look. But she didn't stay confrontational. Instead, she took the scarf-load of chestnuts from him, shifting so that she was sitting legs akimbo. Time, she supposed, to get to work. When she opened the scarf, it revealed a load of prickly green chestnuts with the outer shell still on. But the spiky outer shell was fleshy and easy to peel off.
"Step one, take off the green part." She set about doing this herself, sorting the discarded outer peel and the shiny, rich red-brown nuts into two different piles. After shelling a few, she asked without looking up from her work, "You always so sensitive? Or just when you're all exposed and vulnerable?"
Quinlan smirked at her, watching her hands move deftly in peeling the skins off the chestnuts. After a few seconds of observation, Quinlan followed suit and took a few into his own hands, hands peeling off the skin. Her question, admittedly, caught him off guard.
"Why do you think I'm 'overly sensitive'? I never displayed such a thing. If anything, I think you're the sensitive one. You seem to react rather harshly to things. Me? I just go with the flow, yeah." Where she wasn't looking at him, he was most certainly looking at her, peeling as he went, avoiding the spikes where he could.
"'Will you lighten up'... 'I'll get them, geeze,'" Zahi mimicked Quinlan, playing up a whiny tone in the words. She was still focused on shelling the chestnuts, but there was the vaguest hint of a teasing smile on her lips. The vaguest. "I'm not sensitive," she said in her normal voice, "I'm just harsh."
She felt his gaze on her, and she glanced up at him in time to see him not avoid a spike. "You know," she said, "you'll have better luck at that if you look at what you're doing."
Removing the outer shell was easy work, though, and even with Quinlan not paying so much attention, it was quickly done. Zahi pushed away the pile of discarded fleshy green shells. Then, leaning backwards and stretching to reach, she grabbed one of the daggers she'd set out to dry. Picking herself back up, she took one of the smooth, brown shelled nuts and pierced an 'x' into its hard, smooth skin.
"Step two, puncture all of the shelled nuts," she told him, once again settling into the work.
"Those are two sides of the same coin," Quinlan replied plainly, expression clearly amused at her impression of him. In fact it was followed by a laugh and he put a hand up in resignation, grinning as he finished peeling the rest of his skins.
He did jump when she pierced the nut however. But he quickly smirked at her. "Sorry, natural reaction," he murmured and went about to work, following suit. "So where did you learn to forage like this? You like being out in the wilderness?"
Though she didn't look up, Zahi plainly smirked at Quinlan's reaction to her dagger piercing the chestnut. She might have even made a sound something like a chuckle.
But her smirk disappeared in a moment when Quinlan asked where she learned to forage. It might seem like an innocuous question, but Zahi's demeanor became instantaneously icy. She stopped for a moment, her eyes flashing up at Quinlan. She went tense, and almost seemed poised to spring at him. Slowly, the tension dissipated. Her gaze stayed on him a moment longer, then she returned to work.
"Not really," she answered. There was a barb in her voice that hadn't been there before. "I prefer the streets of the city." She stabbed the nuts in silence for a few minutes, more violently than she had done before. Then her mouth opened, as she found herself telling him, "I lived in the forest for a year as a kid. I learned to forage then." She wasn't sure why she told him that. That feral year of fear, starvation, and a sickening desire for her mother, or any human being was not something Zahi talked about. Even most Wolves knew nothing of it. And she grew annoyed with Quinlan that she had, for some reason, shared it now.
"Hm," Quinlan murmured. It was a thoughtful sound, free of derision or sarcasm, as he might have been won't to do. At least the experience taught her something useful, and he was a little surprised that she thought to share such a thing with him at all.
"Well, you're pretty good at it," he complimented instead. But he sensed her tension, and annoyance. "What kept you out there for so long? A year's a long time to be outside."
Zahi was silent for a moment, piercing the chestnuts, before she finally paused and set down her dagger. She looked meaningfully up at Quinlan. The tension was gone from her expression now, replaced by something akin to resignation, perhaps. "You'll have to tell me how you became a Blood Mage before you get that story," she told him. It wasn't meant as an actual offer of an exchange. Just a way to lay the matter to rest.
Zahi reached for another chestnut, but the unpierced pile was empty. She let out a little exhale, releasing the remainder of the strain brought from Quinlan's question.
Gathering the pierced chestnuts, Zahi moved so she was crouched on the balls of her feet next to the fire. Using a stick that hadn't been put in the small fire, she raked out a thin layer of coal and laid the chestnuts on top of the glowing red embers. When she sat back down, she sat next to Quinlan rather than opposite him. Though still with enough space between them.
"Now we just wait fifteen minutes or so."
Quinlan grew quiet at the offer, wondering if the exchange was worth it. So he thought to propose a counter offer. "How bout I tell you one thing and you tell me another? Back and forth," he said instead.
Zahi made a short, derisive sound, her attention fixed at the fire. She had not meant to suggest any such exchange. Finally, she looked over at Quinlan, eyebrows slightly raised. "Only if we can we braid each other's hair afterwards."
Instead, Zahi reached across Quinlan and took the bottle of brandy, uncorked it and took a swig. It had a nice, warming feeling in her stomach and between that and the fire, she was at least wasn't shivering anymore.
"How about we do something useful," she proposed, trying to keep any derision out of her voice, "and double check the map to see where we are."
Quinlan frowned crookedly, but he should have expected as much. Despite her guarded responses and wanting little to do with discussing herself, her silence said more than she did, and he wondered if she realized this. He didn't push it, not right away. He'd let her settle in. The rain was still pouring down around them and the gloom that surrounded them made him feel all warm inside.
It could have just been her half-nakedness. Or the brandy.
Quinlan gave waved a hand of neutrality and reached across to take the maps, which were still a little damp, but dry enough to be handled without completely being destroyed. He opened it up and pointed to Ketra, following the familiar bend in the road where it turned. "I believed you got us kicked off somewhere right about here," he said, grinning and looking at her from the corner of his eye.
Zahi wasn’t dumb. She could tell when she was being baited. Calmly, she took the map from Quinlan and moved it away from the fire. Turning around so that her back was to the fire, she sat on her knees and spread the map out in front of her.
Ignoring Quinlan’s comment, she traced their route from Ketra with a finger until she found the ravine that should be the one they were in now. “I think we’re here,” she said, business-like, her finger on a notch in the ravine. “If we keep going down this until we reach the river, we should be able to follow it to the cave.” She gave a little shrug. “Maybe another half-day’s journey.”
While tracing their journey on the map, Zahi made special care to sound especially no-nonsense. It may, in fact, have been her trying to get a reaction out of Quinlan.
Quinlan reached across to her and grabbed her shoulders. He knew she'd likely bristle, or throw a fit, or knock him into next week. After dealing with demons, nothing really scared him. Not even Zahi's wrath. He didn't say anything and instead pressed his thumbs against the taut muscles there. He kept his grip strong, but not overtly forceful. After all, no good massage was ever too hard.
"Good. Too bad the map won't say how long the rain will keep going," he said matter of factly. He pressed his hands into her back, quiet and methodically and shoved her forward so that he could get into the groove of her spine. "Stay still, it'll only be a minute."
He was finished before long and snatched the bottle of brandy back from her, and intended on keeping the rest of it for himself. There was only enough left for a few more sips anyway, but he was intent on making them last. "If it keeps raining like this, maybe the river'll reach us."
Zahi made a muffled sound of annoyance at Quinlan's uninvited touch. Her first instinct, naturally, was to lay him out. But she was sure he was looking to get a rise out of her, and she wouldn't give him the satisfaction. Though it did occur to her that he could be getting exactly what he wanted, predicting her stubbornness. So instead Zahi endured his ministrations, glaring at the cave wall and determinedly not enjoying any of it.
Even if it did feel nice.
When he finished, Zahi couldn't suppress her glare when she turned back to him. "Normally," she said tersely, "I like to give consent before I let naked men get too handsy."
For a moment, Zahi thought about giving him a good blow to the head regardless. But she remembered how the scuffle on the wagon ended.
Anyway, the chestnuts should be done, so she moved to remove them from the embers.
Hands... That was an interesting choice for a word and Quinlan watched as he let her handle the flames. She seemed to be better acquainted with fire than most people met. The chestnuts were indeed finished and the smell...well, he didn't know what to make of it himself. Was it inviting? Or was it repellant. He supposed he'd have to wait and try it for himself.
He crawled over to help her, pulling them out with a stick (pushing them really). "So, you noticed I was naked, then," he said plainly, as if it were little more than discussion on the weather.
"Don't flatter yourself too much," she answered flatly, "we're in a cave that could hardly sleep four people in it. I didn't really have a choice. Not much room for privacy."
Out of the fire, the hard shells of the nuts cracked easily, exposing the warm, soft, mealy meat of the chestnuts. Zahi cracked one in her hand - perhaps as a threat? - and her stomach gave an appreciative rumble at finally eating.
"Still, you noticed," he said, intent to get the last word in that particular string of conversation. He didn't mind being naked. He didn't have anything to be ashamed of, and he was certain neither did she. He had no ulterior goal in mind, but his eyes kept watching her, her guarded motions, her hands even as they smashed the shell of the nut.
In fact, he smiled and ate his own quietly. It wasn't the best meal he'd ever had, but beggars could only afford to beg so long as there was a reward at the end of it. Hunger was abated and the brandy made him warm and comfortable, even with the chill of rain at his back.
"So the forest. You were wandering for a year. Why?" he asked, his voice a little lower than before, much more curious than it had been previously.
Zahi ignored Quinlan, though his question sent a course of anger through her. She had, after all, backed off on the Blood Mage tract. She supposed it was her fault for saying anything in the first place. But that didn't mean he was getting any more of it.
Zahi got up and carefully turned over her laid out clothes to help them dry. When she sat again, it was noticeably farther from Quinlan than she had been. She poked idly at the fire. The brief period of booyed spirits from the warmth of the fire and food was gone. She chewed on a chestnut for awhile, then finally asked, "How do you want to do the watch tonight? I don't think the rain is going to let up any time soon, so there's no point in leaving here again today."
Quinlan saw she wasn't going to answer the question, even as he kept his eyes glued to her. He watched the fire after a moment of silence, watching the flames stir, the coals glowing and he threw in a few more pieces of twigs, branches and leaves. "You're tired," he said. He looked at her again.
"And so am I. As much as you're used to looking over your shoulder, I think it'd be a good idea if we both just lied down and got some rest, yeah? We're in the middle of the forest, in a secluded inlet. Maybe it's not ideal, but it's good enough. Besides, we'd both be warmer together than separate."
Zahi didn't respond for a few moments. She suspected he was right and used the few momnets of silence to try to think of why he wasn't. After all, they had set a fire. And who knew what was in Draconi Forest. Right?
"Yeah, fine," she said grudgingly, then set about banking the fire so its coals would continue to keep the cave warm without conspicuous flames.
Really? Just like that? Quinlan blinked at her as she set to bordering the fire, but even he knew better than to question small fortunes such as that one. If it could be called that. He supposed any conversation that didn't end in an argument or a stand off could be called a victory; at least in his mind. So Quinlan laid out on his side. They didn't have much in the way of a blanket, but the heat collected in the inlet, as the fire still burned and the chill of the rain had subsided a little.
"Okay, come here so I can spoon you," he said. "It's the only practical option."
"But if we get eaten by a bear," Zahi said as she finished banking the fire, "I'm blaming you."
Zahi finished and looked up. At Quinlan laying on his side telling her that him spooning her was 'the only practical option.' She looked at him, folding her arms.
"I don't think so," she said firmly. "And it's hardly the only option." With that, Zahi stepped over Quinlan and flopped down behind Quinlan. Now he was between her and the cave entrance, and she would be spooning him. "This way, you'll get eaten first."
She hadn't quite brought herself around to pulling herself against him, though.
"What?!" Quinlan turned to her, looking at her with bewildered eyes. "What?" he repeated. "That's just dumb. Looking, I'm taller than you. A little bigger. It just makes sense for me to be spooning you. I'll provide more heat and more cover and if a bear shows up, I'll volunteer to be eaten. C'mon, scoot."
He looked at her expectantly.
Zahi propped herself on one elbow, looking at Quinlan with skepticism and determination. And maybe a hint of smugness.
She shook her head. "What are you afraid of? That if you let yourself be spooned, your dick will shrink up and you'll wake up a woman?" There was a definite shine of amusement in her eyes.
"Plus, you're naked, as we established," she pointed out, gesturing with a tilt of her head down to his bits. "And there's not a chance in hell you're sleeping behind me like that."
She gave a little shrug. "Anyway, I like being the big spoon."
"Oh, you would say something so low as that. Why must you be behind me? What good reason do you have?" he said pointedly. He sat up now and covered his groin with his half-dry jacket. "Look, I'm covered up, huh? And besides you're in your small clothes. No accidents, promise."
Zahi's hint of a smirk grew; there seemed to be a positive correlation between Quinlan being uncomfortable and Zahi being happy. But she stayed steadfast, shaking her head.
"Nope," she said firmly, but she wasn't able to keep a bit of amusement out of her face. "What's your reason for not having me behind you, hm? I mean, there's just as much as you either way. It doesn't really make a difference from a heat standpoint."
She regarded him with an open smugness now. "You're just scared."
Quinlan stopped short. She did have a point and he suddenly wondered just what the hell it was he was mad about in the first place. When she accused him of fear, he quirked a brow at her, catching her expression. "And that makes you smile," he said, careful not to let himself grin.
"All right then," he murmured. "You can spoon me. But you have to really do it. You can't just lay back there and not put your arms around me. You'll spoon me so damn good, your face is going to be buried into my back... The moment you let go, I'm spooning you."
"Pfft, scared. Scared of what? I'm a man. I'm not scared." He laid down on his side and looked partway over his shoulder, nixing the jacket, and throwing it back with the rest of his clothes.
At first, Zahi looked pleased with herself to have 'won' the brief confrontation. But that changed to a look of grudging resignation as she realized that now she would have to spoon him. It was one thing to sleep next to him, nearly nude, but another to be in the active role of keeping them close and warm. Zahi shrugged it off, though. After all, she didn't back down from a challenge!
"I'll do it however I want," she retorted gruffly, and gave him a bit of a clip on the back of the head. She watched him settle down, thinking he looked a bit anxious about the arrangement. Scared of what, indeed. But despite her words, she slipped her arm under his and around his ribcage, even hooking one ankle over his. She pulled herself up against him, leaning forward to ask in his ear, "Happy?"
"Personally, I'd prefer it if you were nude. It'd certainly make things easier, considering your breasts are still wet and cold. Look, if you're gonna spoon, you ought to do it right," Quinlan sighed and scooted up just enough so that her positioning complemented his. He took her arm and pulled it snugly against his belly.
"Y'know, like that look you get when you want to squeeze the life out of me," he critiqued. His tattoos were detailed in the firelight, but probably no easier to see from her side, and in particular the dark spiral design on his left shoulder. "And your leg. Should be higher." He reached down and pulled her thigh up onto his hip, hooking it around his leg. "There. That's better."
Zahi gave a loud, exasperated sigh to express just how she felt about all of these fidgety little adjustments. She didn't fight him on it, though. Zahi was sure it would be easier that way. Much to her chagrin, though, she felt a small shiver go through her when his hand reached down and guided her bare thigh over his legs. When he finally finished, she asked, "Are you always so fussy, Red?"
Quinlan glanced over his shoulder. "Shouldn't you have your face buried into my back? Yeah, that's what I thought," he muttered. His hand lingered on her leg, staying relaxed and he turned his head back to the fire. He immediately began to warm up and thought maybe Zahi being the being spoon wasn't such a bad idea after all.
"You're going to have my knife buried into your back if you don't watch it," Zahi grumbled. She shifted just slightly so that the position he'd moved her into was actually comfortable, her cheek resting against his shoulder.
Well, physically comfortable, that was. Otherwise, Zahi was anything but comfortable. The Blood Wolf didn't normally let people get close to her, figuratively or literally. And here she was. Like this. With a naked stranger. It wasn't that she was embarrassed. But she might have felt a little self-conscious. Sitting with him in the wagon had been one thing; that had been for the benefit of the driver. This, she knew, was for their benefit, in a very real way.
But did he have to leave his hand there?
So now that they were settled, Zahi found herself wide awake, staring at the patterns marked across Quinlan's shoulder and thinking about how she should be back in Arca by now. And about the naked man she was wrapped around.
Where she was wide awake, Quinlan was settling in to go to sleep. Maybe he wasn't much of a cuddler, but something about having another body close by felt nice. Well, as nice as it could get without sex first and being on the cold ground.
Quinlan closed his eyes, saying nothing further as he tried to go to sleep.
Eventually, Zahi followed suit and drifted off to sleep. When she woke, however, it was still dark, except for the glow of the embers and a pale light from outside the cave. The first thing Zahi noticed, with annoyance, as she slowly returned from sleep was that the pair had shifted in sleep so that Quinlan was lying on his back and Zahi was lying half on top of him, her head in the crook between his shoulder and neck.
But that wasn't what woke her up. A tingling crept down her spine. It was a feeling she knew. Lifting her eyes to the cave entrance, she saw what it was: Silhouetted against the forest beyond was a stranger, watching them. When Zahi saw him, their eyes locked and what was probably only one moment felt like many. He was a man, young and strangely dressed, in animal skins and fox tails. Short, spritely, and thin, with bright shrewd eyes. He didn't, she thought carry any weapons on him. Then, what was probably only a second later, the stranger tensed, and flew from the cave.
That's when Zahi sprang into action. Snapping fully awake, she didn't miss a beat springing to her feet and sprinting out of the cave. She didn't even pause as she reached down to grab one of the daggers, Quinlan's, on her way out.
From inside, Quinlan would be able to hear the sound of a rolling scuffle that might have been Zahi tackling the strange man onto the leaf-strewn forest floor.
What he did awake to instead was when Zahi rushed off in a blast of cold air. Quinlan had never been a heavy sleeper. When a lot of people were out to get you, you learned to jump at the slightest noise, or if something was out of place. For the duration of their rest, Quinlan actually slept well, even on the cold hard ground, and even with a fussy person at his back. But adrenaline shot through him when she woke him up.
He hadn't spotted the man, as he was already over the hill, and instead, he just saw Zahi running off. Quinlan had little time for modesty, but he managed to grab his jacket, knotting it around his waist and he bolted up from the inlet.
He took two blades in hand as Zahi was already on top of the other man. "The fuck!?" he growled. "Hey! HEY!" At his sudden hollering, the young, animal-skinned man stopped fighting, staring at Quinlan with fearful wide eyes. He tried to scurry away still, and Quinlan's hand flashed, throwing the knife and the blade moved like lightning, sticking into the cloth of the man's fur-trimmed shirt, pinning him to the dirt.
By the time Quinlan caught up with them, he'd see that it had been the cleanest scuffle. Blood was smeared over both Zahi and the fox-tail man, which seemed to com from a jagged cut or scrape from the side of Zahi's face. The fox-tail man had a black eye that was starting to come in. Zahi had him pinned, though he was struggling.
But when Quinlan's dagger buried into the earth besides them, there was a scramble between Zahi and fox-tail man as the young man reached for it the new dagger. Zahi didn't have time to wonder what Quinlan had been thinking, supplying the man with a weapon!
Fox-tail man managed to grab Quinlan's dagger first, but Zahi caught his wrist. Her other hand clamped hard down on his throat. The balance of her weight was off, though, spread between pinning him at the neck and at his wrist. And the tighter her hold on his neck was, the more fervently he tried to free his dagger-wielding arm.
Littered on the forest floor between them: a dagger, a jagged stone weapon... and a talisman.
He'd been aiming for his face, naturally, but with Zahi in the way, the thought of pinning her had distracted Quinlan. It was for a minor second, but that was all that was needed when the man tried to stab Zahi with it. Quinlan watched him for a moment, considering jumping in when he saw the man's hand slip on the blade amid the struggle. There was no sufficient grip on it.
And at the sight of blood, Quinlan reached out with his magic. He threw his hand out, eyes staring intently at the man's palm, and he suddenly screamed in pain. His cries were gurgled from Zahi's grip around his neck, but Quinlan knew agony when he heard it. He'd set his blood on fire, an effect visible to the naked eye but surely felt by the fox-tailed man. He writhed, and all struggle to fight Zahi ceased immediately.
"Shut up!" Quinlan growled and stalked over, kicking the knife out of the man's hand. Quinlan kept his own hand still out, concentrating on the effect of boiling his blood, setting it down to a simmer, just enough to keep him under control.
"What are you doing?!" fox-tail man gurgled. A tight cuff on his throat from Zahi shut him up.
Though she was wondering the same thing.
Zahi shifted her weight back to to the man's center now that the threat of the dagger was gone, but she didn't get off of him. And her grip on his throat stayed tight.
"Did you see what he dropped back there?" she asked, addressing Quinlan though her eyes didn't leave fox-tail man.
The discarded talisman shone dimly in the moonlight.
Quinlan nodded to her and stepped back toward the discarded items on the ground. He picked them up with his free hand and kept concentration with the other. Killing someone like this wasn't a difficult feat. Keeping him alive while doing so was quite another, and one Quinlan hadn't been practicing. Blood magic was hardly about kittens and rainbows.
He brought the items back to Zahi, though he didn't hand them over. Instead he dangled the talisman and clasped the stone dagger with his thumb and index finger. "Who are you? Other than all the obvious presumptions, what the hell are you doing here? Interesting dagger. I might decide to keep it," Quinlan said casually.
"No, you c-" The man choked on that last word, and he screamed again, lower this time, as his blood heated up.
"We'll ask the questions and you answer them. It's an implied social contract. One I'm sure you know well. Now make your answers short and sweet." Quinlan knew it was probably better to just finish off the bastard. It was better than leaving him like this, and put less strain on Quinlan. Holding the magic was always more difficult. But leaving them with more questions than answers hadn't seemed to help in the past few days.
Zahi watched the man’s face as Quinlan raised the temperature of the man’s blood again. Watched the pain evident there, and the fear.
“Cut it out, Red,” she said in a firm, dark command. Zahi had spent enough time extracting information from people to know that this was an unreliable tactic. People who fear for their life, or fear more pain, give unpredictable information, usually lies, whatever they think the other person wants to hear. A man will say anything to save his own skin. “He’s not armed anymore.”
Fox-tail man’s eyes widened, looking from Zahi to Quinlan.
Quinlan had found his own blood hot, uncomfortable and the pain of using his magic only brought frustration and anger. He wanted nothing more than to make the man suffer, than to make him feel as much pain as he felt. Quinlan wondered if his life really made him so spiteful in that moment, if the bitter taste of what he once hand, wrenched away from him, would have been worth watching this man die.
Quinlan's expression was bitter, maybe even somber when he stopped, clenching his fist and even the blade of the small stone dagger tightly. "Get him, Curly. You've got this. I'm just your muscle," he said, crossing his arms over his chest. The words may have been teasing, but there was no amusement in his tone or eyes.
Zahi thought that was rich, considering she was the one who ran after the man, tackled him, disarmed him (until Quinlan provided fox man with a new dagger), and was presently straddling him on the ground. She was the one bruised and bleeding. But sure, Quinlan was the muscle. Bloody mage.
But fox man turned his eyes back to Zahi, a mix of fear and anxiety and defiance, but also now a glimmer of hope in his eyes as he understood that Quinlan's fury wasn't going to boil him alive.
"My forest!" he spat at Zahi, but at a bit of pressure from the hand clenched around his throat, his tone changed. "My forest. You're trespassing. I took the nice shiny as payment. You shouldn't be trespassing in my forest."
Quinlan snapped his fingers. "Name. You gotta name, Forest Man?" he said, with a great deal of impatience. But despite it, even he knew the advantages this revelation brought to them. His forest. Which probably meant he knew it pretty well. At least Zahi was good for one thing. He could always kill him later if he felt like it.
But the man in rags just spit in Quinlan's direction, clearly angry from his earlier treatment. It was apparent, he felt 'safer' with Zahi. "You ask too many question," he grumbled. "Too many question. Get out! And give me shiny!"
Zahi gave the man a smack to his head. Not hard enough to really hurt him, but to remind him just who was in which position in this situation.
"You're not getting the shiny," Zahi told him firmly, "but you answer his questions, and he'll give you your stone knife back. I'll make him."
Foxtail man squinted his eyes at Zahi as if trying to decide whether or not he trusted her. "You came into my forest! You attack me! I only look, and take shiny. I only look, and you tackle me and he- he-" but foxtail man couldn't bring himself to say what Quinlan did.
But a stern look from Zahi made him grumble, then he said, "RedFox. My name is RedFox." After giving in, he grew defiant again, "But it's my forest! I only looked! Give me the shiny!"
A likely name, he should have known. Quinlan didn't take that look off his face, but at least they had a name to put to the wackjob. He didn't care about keeping the knife. It wasn't worth anything, except apparently to the man. When he mentioned his affinity for the forest again, Quinlan tilted his head.
"You know this forest well, RedFox?" he asked, his voice a little gentler. "What makes this forest yours, exactly?" Quinlan even took the little stone knife and dangled it like a treat, then turned it over in his hands, examining it. "You make this knife in this forest?"
"My forest! I live here!" RedFox snapped, his anger flaring at Quinlan. "No one else. Just me! You trespassers!"
His eyes narrowed suspiciously at Quinlan's interest in his knife. But another look from Zahi got him talking.
"Yes, I made. My knife. You have to give it back. She said so. Give it back!"
At his growing demands, Zahi tightened her grip on him again. She had loosened it with his increased cooperation. RedFox gurgled, frowning. Then asked, very grudlgingly, "You got more questions?"
"I'll give back the knife. If you can tell me about rocks and crystals in this area, I'll give you back the knife... and another shiny." Even Quinlan understood the concept of getting more flies with honey than vinegar.
"Another shiny!?" The man's eyes lit up. "What kind of shiny?"
"Another, yeah. All for you, and that mean woman won't take it from you. And if she does, I'll give you another." Quinlan nodded to the poor man and Redfox visibly relaxed, or tried to. "Let up, on him. He won't do anything."
Redfox looked between the two of them, still quite skeptical, but stilling to cooperate if it meant getting another shiny.
"Can you tell us about any caves nearby? Are there any with really shiny crystals inside?"
Zahi looked hard at Redfox for a moment, her gaze holding the implicit threat that if he didn’t behave, she could catch him again. Then she pushed herself up and stepped away from him. The first thing she did was grab the dagger that Quinlan had kicked away, then wiped at the bloody cut on her face. Like any head wound, it was still stubbornly bleeding. Unlike Quinlan, Zahi had taken no time to dress when she’d chased after RedFox, so now she stood barefoot in her small clothes, covered in blood, dirt, and goosebumps, with her eyes fixed determinedly on the strange forest man.
RedFox scrambled to his feet the second Zahi was off of him. He was tense and his movements were jittery, but it was clear that his interest in shinies was stronger than his fear of the duo.
“Yes, I know. Now give me shiny,” RedFox said quickly. “Then I tell you more.”
"More shinies are back in the cave. " Quinlan motioned for the fox-tailed man to follow them. He hesitated for a moment, glancing at Zahi before bounding off after him. There was a bounce to his step, clearly excited by the thought of having shiny things.
Upon reaching the cave, Quinlan quickly dressed, pulling his belt on and reaching into the pouch on it. He produced a coin, one he promptly tossed to RedFox. "One shiny now. Another shiny later. And your knife too."
Quinlan pulled on the rest of his clothes before turning to Zahi. He didn't say anything, eyes observing the obvious as he reached up and wiped the blood that continued to dribble down. "Relax," he murmured. "Let me fix it. We're a long way from any healers." Sure she could take care of herself. Maybe she could heal well enough on her own, but Quinlan could do more than just burn blood.
He pushed ber blood away from the wound, causing it to clot and stop the bleeding altogether. The cut would have to heal on her own, but at least she wouldn't be bleeding all over the place. After that Quinlan turned, hearing RedFox call out, "Come come. Follow me!"
Zahi followed Quinlan and Redfox back to th cave, quite happy to let Quinlan run the show for a bit. At least the strange forest man seemed to be happy now, and maybe going to help them. Zahi wondered if he wouldn't lead them into, well a spike pit or some equivalent as revenge for the treatment he'd received from them.
Back in the cave, Zahi was about to get dressed as well when Quinlan came over to inspect her face. Her initial reaction to him was to bristle as he wiped the blood away. But she did as she was told and stayed still, twitching slightly at the odd sensation of Quinlan's work. When he was done, she touched the cut gingerly. "Thanks," she muttered.
Zahi got dressed, stowed the remainder of the chestnuts, and made one final sweep of the cavern before following Redfox and Quinlan out of the cave and into the moonlit forest. At least, she thought, the rain had stopped.
Quinlan followed RedFox, but kept a close hand on all his blades. He realized he was one short, though he knew Zahi had it. He didn't care to mention it (what good would it do?) and instead focused on the task at hand. RedFox led them through the ravine, where the ground eventually began to level out. The soil was soft here and the smaller man made it look easy as he hopped up out of the ravine.
Quinlan followed suit. The opening spread out toward a wall of trees that skirted along the cliffside. "Shinies. I know all the shinies! I even take some. Caves do not like when you take things. Scary things in the darkness, shadows that move too fast. But I know their secrets. I see them, but they don't see me," RedFox murmured aloud to no one in particular.
"What do you mean 'they don't see you?'" Quinlan asked as he stepped in time with the crazed hermit. "Who doesn't?"
"Them," Redfox answered in a hushed awe. He still only seemed like he was half talking to Quinlan and Zahi, and half to himself. No wonder, Zahi thought. She was impressed he could talk to others at all, living out here on his own. "Them that hide from the light. Must stay under the light."
"Redfox," Zahi started, pulling the etching Quinlan knicked from Kravitt's office from her boot and unfolding it, "have you ever seen this? Or something like it? In the cave?"
Redfox's eyes went wide. "Once. Bad place. Bad place. You don't go there. Have to stay under the lights. Only one light there. Bad light. Bad place. The big ones live there. Very bad. You don't go there."
"But this is where we must go. You show us where this place is. This bad place, and you'll get all the shinies you want. They glitter in the sunlight. When the sun comes up, you'll see," Quinlan said, holding up another coin as they walked. As they passed underneath a beam of light, it reflected off of it and RedFox stared at it in silence. Then he looked up at Quinlan.
Fear was evident in his eyes, and even Quinlan knew that was trouble. "You go to bad place. You might not get to see even the sun," RedFox said, looking between the two of them again. "You sure, you want to go?"
"Well, shit! I wouldn't have said anything if I didn't..." But Quinlan looked at Zahi and curbed his temper. "Yes. We have to go."
"...why?" RedFox finally said something sensible. But Quinlan was damned sure it wasn't any of his business.
"Our lives depend on it."
Redfox looked from Quinlan to Zahi, who had just answered his question. The answer was true enough, oblique enough, and, Zahi thought, conveyed the urgency of the matter enough for the matter at hand. The young forest man looked between them, considering for several moments.
Finally, he pursed his lips and said pointedly, "Okay-okay. I take you to the end of the cavelights. Then I point you to that," he waved to the etching of the map, agitated, "and you give me rest of shinies. Redfox won't go further. And you probably never come back. I want the shinies when we get to the end of the cave lights."
He said this all rather fiercely, still not trusting the pair. Zahi gave a shrug, "Sure, we'll give you the shinies then." She'd find out just what Quinlan thought of that deal soon enough, she was sure. Maybe he wouldn't have made it.
Redfox nodded and waved for them to follow him into the cave. The moonlight lasted for a few minutes as they ventured into the cave, then they descended into complete darkness. It made Zahi anxious. She didn't like not being able to look over her shoulder. But soon a dim light began to glow ahead and as they drew nearer, there began to appear small dots of greenish-blue lights on the ceilings and sides of the cave. When Zahi got closer to them, she saw that the lights were like strands of glowing pearls hung from the cave side. Some sort of insect?
Whatever they were, even the unsentimental Zahi was struck by their beauty. It was as though the stars had been plastered across the cave rock.
It was a deal that had to be made, one way or another. And not being in town, the 'shinies' had little use being on his belt either way. Maybe all of them, wasn't the way to go, but if was the option he suggested and one Zahi seemed to take to heart. He looked at her, staring at her for a few seconds, with a small knowing smile. As well as he could know her anyway.
Once inside the cave, Quinlan held his breath. And when his lungs began to ache, he exhaled gently, testing the air. Steam flowed outward from his nostrils, and his eyes stuck to the ceiling, watching the lights as they gradually bunched together. Their light shone down onto the flooring, some of which was greatly uneven, and in them puddled water that splashed upward the further RedFox led them into the cave.
Quinlan looked over his shoulder and reached for Zahi's hand, pulling her a long until she was sufficiently beside him, then released her. "Can't stay in the shadows, remember? Bad things linger there."
Surprisingly, Zahi didn't bristle when Quinlan took her hand and led her to him. She was too distracted by the cave and the glowing "cave lights" dangling from the cave like stars. But once she was beside him, she gave him a look. She thought about teasing him that he was scared to be more than a meter away from 'his bodyguard,' but something stopped her. Maybe they should be afraid.
Redfox was definitely getting increasingly jittery. She could tell that he was putting on great airs of confidence as their leader in the cave. And as the people who were going to give him shinies. But Zahi caught the little twitches, glances over his shoulder, into the shadows.
They traveled for awhile through a passage that was increasingly narrow and led steeply downhill. Until finally they had to squeeze, one by one, through a little opening in the rock. But on the other side, the cave opened into a large amphitheater, lit by thousands of the little strings of "cave lights." In the center was a lake. Peering into it, Zahi realized with a bit of a chill that she couldn't make out the bottom of it and she had to wonder what might live in there. Nothing, she told herself.
Redfox pointed to an opening on other side of the lake. Zahi could only just make it out. Like Redfox warned, it wasn't lit by the cave lights and descended quickly into darkness.
"There, go there. There you find drawings, and special light. I was there once. Bad place. You probably never leave it. You shouldn't go. Now give me shinies. I brought you."
If she could read his mind, she'd see he was afraid. But there was no trepidation strong enough to prevent him from venturing further into the cave. But he also wasn't going to leave Zahi behind. Even if she could handle herself.
When they passed through the narrow passageway, Quinlan too stared in awe at the large cavern that opened up before them. He breathed out slowly, and watched as the steam of his breath billowed out. It was dreadfully cold, but nothing he hadn't expected.
Quinlan looked at RedFox and gave him the bag of 'shinies'. "Take care of that. Oh, and your knife," he said, handing him that as well. "We'll be fine." The crazed man took his things and stared at the pair for a while. Then he snickered and promptly departed.
He looked at Zahi. "So how do you propose we get across?"
Zahi watched Quinlan hand over the entire bag of coins. All of them?! When Zahi had said Redfox could have all the shinies when left them, she'd just meant 'all that they were going to give him.' It didn't seem like the time to dwell on it, though. She watched the forest man run off, then looked to Quinlan.
How did she propose to get across.
Zahi walked to the edge of the lake, trying to find its bottom, then around the cavern, looking for any other way to the other side.
She gave the only answer she could think of. "Swim."
"Took the word right out of my mouth," Quinlan murmured quietly to himself. He nodded to her and walked over to the water's edge as well. Thankfully he'd learned to swim when he was younger, but had little need for it now in adulthood. But it wasn't something one just forgot he was sure. Better now than never.
He stepped slowly into the water, braving it first and testing it out. There was a gradual slope, but soon it plunged into unknown depths and Quinlan swooped downward, falling beneath the surface. A second later, he broke the surface, flipping the hair from his eyes and laughed. "Wow that's cold! Come on then."
Quinlan leapt into the water, and Zahi watched as the ripples spread across the lake, wondering what they might disturb. She frowned at Quinlan when he reemerged, laughing. Though she would never admit to being afraid of it, especially since he was clearly making light of it, Zahi was afraid of that lake.
But there was no way around it, so with one last look into the bottomless depths of the lake, Zahi dove in after Quinlan. The cold water was a shock to her system, but when Zahi emerged she was already a quarter of the way across the lake and heading towards the far shore. She wasn't going to waste time hanging about here!
Quinlan wasn't there to have a good time. There were better creeks and rivers for swimming than this lake that smelled of bile. Quinlan swam after Zahi (fear was a wondrous propellant), and soon surpassed her. He used to swim competitively with some of the village children as a boy and he was good at it. Really good.
The glitter of the lights above them reflected out on the water, dancing like liquid stars. As Quinlan swam on, something rippled the surface that was neither he nor Zahi.
The cave was ancient. And the creatures that dwelt in it were equally ancient. Woken from the depths of the lake by the unusual disturbances at the surface, was the Great Olm. Pinkish-white and blind from its life in the cave, the creature resembled a normal olm (http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-u55jToHjlDc/USc5ipEdfcI/AAAAAAAAFgE/UQUY-8NUaWQ/s640/olm.jpg), but its long life in the enchanted cave had allowed it to grow several times the size of its small cousins. The creature was now more than ten meters long: a dragon of the depths.
The Great Olm sensed the ripples penetrating through the lake. Food was few and far between, and it did not miss opportunities to feed. Lurking in the depths, it felt the location of the two intruders through the waves they sent in their wake. Then it struck.
Zahi was annoyed that Quinlan lapped her, but she wasn't far behind him. She was a competent swimmer, not the best, but adrenaline drove her forward. She was about to catch up with Quinlan, when she disappeared. There was no struggle or splashing at the surface. Zahi simply disappeared under the water.
The Great Olm had her by the leg, and was dragging her under.
Quinlan nearly reached the other side when he noted a lack of splashing behind him. He turned about in the water, floating when he suddenly saw the ripple and his heart stopped. "Well, shit," he spat and swam out toward the ripple. With a deep breath, he plunged underneath the surface, seeing only the vague silhouette of her form being pulled under from the lights above.
Quinlan pulled out his blades, holding a long dirk in one hand as he swam downward as fast as he could. The Olm detected the ripples, and the large creature twisted around and swatted Quinlan away. But he reached out in time to snatch a hold of the tail, as best he could under the water and pulled himself forward. He sunk the dirk deep into the pink skin just by the tail, painting the dark water red.
Zahi also had her dagger in her hand, but the Olm had clamped down on her leg up to her knee, and twist however much she might, Zahi couldn't get an angle on the creature. She could feel herself getting light-headed from lack of oxygen and already her vision was graying in and out when Quinlan dove down into the depths of the lake.
The creature jerked around when Quinlan stabbed it, but didn't release Zahi. The sudden snap in its movement, though, finally allowed Zahi to get close enough to it, and she sunk her dagger into its sightless eye. The Olm let go and Zahi swam upwards as fast as she could. The creature, in the meantime, turned its ire to Quinlan, snapping blindly in the direction that the pain in its back had come from.
Above, Zahi pulled herself onto the rocky shore at the entrance to the tunnel. Preoccupied with gasping for air, she didn't notice at first that the beast had turned on Quinlan.
The olm reached out to grasp the unwanted intruder, snatching Quinlan by the leg and pulling him further under. His lungs began to hurt, straining from holding in that air as long as he did. The creature held him onto him, pulling him closer to it's mouth.
In desperation, Quinlan had his dirk at the ready, stabbing the weapon deep into its other eye. But he didn't stop there. Quinlan stabbed anywhere he could, throwing all this strength behind every blow. It released his legs and receded from him, but already Quinlan was feeling lightheaded.
He tried to swim upward, and when he tried to gasp for air, all the took in was water. Quinlan fought, bubbles billowing outward, but darkness took his vision and his body grew still.
Fuck, where was Quinlan?
Now that her wits were about her, Zahi realized that he hadn't been right behind her. She looked rapidly around for him until she found him, down there. She caught sight of Quinlan just in time to see him free himself from the Olm. But he didn't make it back to the surface.
Every fiber of Zahi's body wanted to stay on land, if she could call the cave floor 'land.' But she saw Quinlan try to breathe, saw his body stop moving towards the surface. Swallowing her fear - a more primal fear than Zahi was accustomed to handling - she dove back into the water and clamsily hooked Quinlan's arms around her. It wasn't easy pulling them both to the surface, but thankfully Quinlan had covered quite a bit of the distance himself before he'd become still.
Zahi threw Quinlan bodily on shore before her. The Olm had been thrashing in pain under the water, but when Zahi pulled Quinlan up, lunged upwards toward the pair. Zahi pulled herself out of the cave floor just in time to escape the giant salamander's jaws.
Zahi stumbled over to Quinlan, only then realizing how bruised and painful her leg was left from the Olm's jaws. He was still unconscious and, remembering training she'd received ages ago with the Wolves, Zahi turned him over, Zahi lifted his head forward and cusped her lips over his, forcing mouth-to-mouth breathing.
He was sure he was dead. In fact he was hoping that he was. All he could see was darkness and there was no response to anything that prodded him from the outside world. He remembered being cold, freezing and he wanted to tremble but nothing would move. If this was death, it really sucked. But he supposed it beat the hell out of waiting to die. It beat being slowly killed by the very substance that was meant to sustain him.
Still Quinlan did not move. It was better off this way, he told himself. It was better.
Was it really?
Zahi broke the forced mouth-to-mouth breathing for a moment when she felt no response from Quinlan. She glared fiercely down at him, though he wouldn't appreciate it. He was not allowed to die now! Zahi wasn't even sure why she cared so much suddenly, but she growled at Quinlan, "Come on!" and hit him across the face (well, if he was going to die, it didn't matter; and if he wasn't, well, she could apologize later! and maybe it'd snap him out of it!).
With a growing sense of fear and frustration, she lowered her mouth to his again, trying fervently to get him to breathe.
[Because EMTs totally smack patients when they're unresponsive.<3]
Quinlan jerked, his body trying desperately to cling to life. When he mouth pressed down on his again, he felt his body respond, coughing up hard any water that remained inside of him. Quinlan gasped for breath, coughing convulsively for a few seconds, as he sprung up and leaned on his side. He panted hard, opening his eyes at last, the darkness receding and everything came back to him.
"You hit me," he grumbled, rubbing his cheek. "Ah, it's all right, never you mind."
[Whatever! Zahi's business is killing people, not UNkilling them!]
Zahi backed off as soon as Quinlan started breathing on his own, watching him with an almost feral look to see if he would pull together or not.
Maybe it was the rush of the near death experience, at least for Quinlan, or the fear of the dark constantly creeping in on the edges of her vision, or maybe she was just happy to see Quinlan alive again. But once he was breathing normally again, Zahi grabbed him by the scruff of his shirt and kissed him with a rough urgency. Then, breaking the kiss, she hit him again.
"That's what you get for nearly giving up like a cowardly quitter!" she bit at him, glaring daggers.
Quinlan blinked at her, eyes narrow and suspicious and definitely confused. "I'm not a coward!" he spat back and kissed her roughly back, biting hard on her bottom lip. "That's for saving me! Now get up. We've got to get through that cave. Look like we made it to the other side." He got to his feet and pulled her along with him. Somehow, by a stroke of luck, he managed to hold onto his knife and when he made sure he had enough balance to stay standing, he moved quickly through the darkness.
It was an unnatural feeling, to be suffocated by nothing, by the air itself. It was one thing to drown, to feel air being sucked into your lungs. But Quinlan could feel the bad things creeping in all ready. The air felt humid down here and yet he was half-shivering. The latter was likely from being drenched in water, but the heat? He had no idea where that would be coming from.
"There!" he pointed, off toward the glow worms that flung light down from the ceiling. The lights were more sporadic there, and Quinlan saw another shadow move in front of him. There were whispers now, hissing in both of their ears. Quinlan felt something scratch his arm, leaving three red marks when his hand lingered in darkness. He hissed, receding toward the light and holding it. "RedFox wasn't kidding."
Zahi glared at Quinlan after he kissed her then promptly told her to get up. He was, of course, right, but a healthy sense of competition made Zahi grumble to herself that she'd get him back later.
Whatever that meant.
Once she was on her feet, though, Zahi was glad that Quinlan ventured in front of her. The leg that the Olm had clamped down on her shot with pain when she put weight on it, and she found herself unable to put all of her weight on it. That didn't mean that Zahi didn't stubbornly force her way through, though. And with Quinlan in front, she could hide the way she had to favor the other leg and her awkward gait on the injured leg.
Soon the darkness had Zahi more concerned than the comparably more tangible pain in her leg. Having her back exposed to the all-encompassing blackness left her unsettled and hyper-vigilant. It idd not good, though; there was nothing to see. She could swear that something was pinching at her, pulling weakly at her clothes and skin. But she couldn't see anything, and when she swatted at it, nothing was there.
She followed Quinlan quickly into the soft light of the glow worms suddenly available. Now that they could see again, she worked harder to hide limp on her injured leg, forcing herself to put weight on it to simulate a normal walk. She backed into Quinlan, staring back into the darkness. She wanted to see what it was that was pinching and scratching. But nothing was there.
The dimly lit area was small, though, and ahead the cave passage narrowed and descended again not darkness. It was barely wide enough for one person to go through.
"Yeah," she breathed, looking fiercely into the darkness, "he wasn't."
"Look you go on ahead of me. I'll make sure nothing follows behind you," he said and turned to look at Zahi. But despite her best efforts, he did notice her favoring her wounded leg and he leaned down, doing his best to stay in the light. Though they only spent a short time together, from what he could gauge of her, Quinlan figured she would push on through, even if she shouldn't have.
"You can make it," he said firmly. "Run, as fast as you can. I've got your back. Don't look back. Just yell at me when you've reached the other side."
What? Zahi whirled on Quinlan, glaring fiercely. "What?" she hissed at him, keeping her voice low. "That's the worst idea I've heard from you yet. I don't think anyone should be running headlong into anything in this place. And we're certainly not splitting up."
This was true. The fact that Zahi didn't think she could run anywhere was just a side note. One she didn't voice. And some of the fierceness in her look certainly came from the fact that Quinlan was acknowledging her injury. Who said she couldn't make it??
She gave him a rough push towards the passageway. Her body language made it clear that she had no intention of being anything other than the rear guard. "Go on," she said gruffly, followingly close behind him. Once they were in darkness again, Zahi reached out to put one hand on Quinlan's shoulder. It was the only way she could be sure he was still there. The other stayed gripped firmly around her dagger.
Quinlan set his jaw at her refusal. He almost wanted to smile. Almost. It certainly wasn't the worst idea he'd ever had all week. But if she wasn't going to run ahead and she'd only hurt herself further trying to keep up, Quinlan did the only thing that made sense.
He didn't ask her; she'd stab him surely. He turned on her, plucked her from the ground and threw her over his shoulder, so that her ass was beside his head and he ran like the wind. The passage was narrow but he'd make them both fit otherwise.
She wanted to be rear guard, now she had his ass in her face.
WHAT?!?! Zahi, still holding her dagger, nearly did stab Quinlan! Just instinctually, before thinking about it. Then almost again when she had thought about it! What was the crazy mage thinking? She. Was. Going. To. Kill. Him.
Later.
Zahi had to do a decent amount of twisting and ducking, but somehow they made it through the passage. After a few minutes running down the passage, the would be able to see a dim light ahead (well, Quinlan would). It was a different light than the glow worms, clearer and growing brighter as they got closer.
The darkness was suffocating and despite the rate at which Quinlan ran, for he was nimble still even with Zahi's behind hanging over his shoulder. He saw shapes, ghastly things with glowing eyes like in every children's tale of terror. But it was one thing to hear a bump in the night and quite another to see what made that bump. Quinlan may have seen demons before, but there was no fear quite like the one that enraptured him now.
But he'd never let fear hold him back before. So he reached the glowing light ahead and skid to a halt, boots sliding on the ground and he collasped on his knees before it. He let go of Zahi, looking up at what lay before them.
Jutting from the ground (or perhaps the ceiling) was a crystaline monolith, from it a light emerged that drew away the darkness and Quinlan finally felt like he could breathe. He looked around, finding no etchings anywhere, not even on the cavern walls. When he looked down to push himself onto his feet, his hands felt along something carved and found large stone slabs, etchings of several scenes depicted on the floor.
Zahi gave a grunt as Quinlan fell in a skid, dropping her on the damp cave floor. She skidded a few meters away from Quinlan. She picked herself halfway up, palms on the cave floor. Like Quinlan, this is when she looked down to see the patterns carved in the floor. Underneath her was a depiction of a three-headed monster devouring a maiden. She lifted her gaze, taking in the entire scene in the odd light of the crystal.
Then she realized. Their maps were surely destroyed. Or else, it would be foolish to open them until they could be laid out to dry. So they'd have to go on memory now. Or.
Zahi pulled herself awkwardly the rest of the way to her feet. Biting her lip, she forced herself to walk normally - as close as possible - to the glowing crystal, ignoring the bad feelings in her knee. Its surface was perfectly smooth as she walked around it. Until she found it. A small, circular notch in the crystal surface. Her hand was already on the talisman in her pocket and she pulled it out. It fit perfectly. Focused light beamed out of the talisman, landing on the etched map.
She glanced over her shoulder to call Quinlan over, but she stopped short. In the darkness of the passageway were two very large beady eyes.
Quinlan was still eying the stone slabs, observing the carvings therein and knowing full well this was the place Kravitt had gotten the drawing. They had to get a better look, a broader spectrum that would encompass the whole of what the slabs depicted.
He was about to say something when he felt hot breath spewing down on his neck and his hair blew forward. He looked at Zahi, saw she was staring at something and he immediately rolled forward, turning to look up at a rodent of impossible size.
"Ansgar's balls," Quinlan cursed and retrieved the dirk he somehow saved from the lack. "Is everything in this fucking cave giant or what!?" The rat chittered and continued to stare at them until it emerged closer into the light.
"Those are some big fuckin' teeth..."
It was a rat. Why did it have to be a rat? A flood of memories hit her, forcefully, and for a moment she blanked, staring at the beast. Her skin crawled, and she could swear that the black inky rat on her ankle burned. It wasn't as though she never saw rats. She saw them all the time. But the setting, maybe, or the fact that this one would likely kill them. If they didn't kill it first.
That last thought snapped Zahi back to the 'here and now.' Just in time to see the rat lunge at Quinlan, dirty teeth bared. Now would be the time to have a spear, or a pike, or a crossbow... or anything that didn't require close-range combat! But Zahi had come prepared for stealthy urban combat. And had Quinlan really come prepared for anything?
She threw her dagger and it sunk into the rat's neck. Unfortunately the beast had moved, though, and rather that the blade landing in its throat, it pierced the neck muscle. Resulting in the rat being more annoyed than dead. It turned then in the direction of its attacker, spitting and hissing.
"You don't have any more magic tricks, huh, Red?" Zahi asked, dryly but hopefully, quickly retrieving another blade from her boot. At least if it came for her, she'd have a better chance of getting the creature somewhere vital.
Quinlan muttered an "oh shit!" but it was sufficiently too late for it to have any significant meaning. When the rat came for him, he dodged, moving out of the way in time and turning the beast away from Zahi. He landed hard on his feet, using a second to recover. But it was a second the rat used to close the distance between them. The teeth, those massive nasty teeth!
Quinlan scowled up at those teeth. He wasn't going to die like this. And that's when he saw the blood matting it's fur, where Zahi's dagger stuck out of it's neck. Quinlan moved again, quickly running out of space with a wall at his back and he looked up at the wound. It wasn't very deep, but that's all he needed.
His hand reached out and he pulled the blood from it, the magic tingling in his veins. The rat paused, in momentary shock as the wound was opened and move blood seeped from it. Large droplets were poised in the air and Quinlan felt his blood surge as he forced them to freeze. They turned into three large long icicles and he launched them at the beast. The rat however was already moving in on Zahi. It was remarkably fast for such a large creature, two of the icicles missing. All but one struck true, jamming into the rat's lower left flank, crippling it. Quinlan was panting, breathing hard, trying to contend with the burning in his blood. He got too his feet, dirk in hand and leapt for the creature's belly.
Zahi was tensed for the rat as it closed in on her, dagger poised to strike the rat in its throat or eye or, defending on how things turned out, in the roof of its mouth. As the creature reared to strike her, however, Quinlan's icicles struck its side. The rat turned suddenly to the direction of th new attack. Zahi used that moment to lunge forward. Grabbing the rat's head by the jaw as it turned and was off its balance, Zahi put all her weight and strength behind twisting the rats head upward, breaking the rats neck. In the force of the action, zahi's momentum resulted in her tumbling on top of the rat as they both rolled over, the rat twitching.
Quinlan watched haggardly as Zahi delivered death to that gargantuan creature. What was it about this cave that everything was so goddamned big? They didn't fear the evil spirits that lingered here. In fact they were emboldened where the smaller of their kind might run away. Quinlan could only assume it was the energy of the crystal that somehow attributed to it.
Or maybe there was just something in the water.
Quinlan's blood sill stung as he stood, thought he did his best to hide the pain. It was bad enough Zahi had a ragged knee. But slowly the pain would subside. Quinlan released his hold on his ribs and walked toward her. "Good going," he murmured. "But your knee is bleeding. Let's finish what we came here to do and get the hell out of here."
Quinlan shoved the rat's body out of the way with what strength he could muster off of the stone slabs.
Zahi picked herself up off the giant dead rat and clambered back to her feet. She stood, staring at the dead beast for several seconds. Zahi looked, despite herself, shaken, and tense. An odd reaction, considering it hadn't been nearly as close a call as the underwater struggle against the Olm.
She didn't snap out of it until Quinlan commented on the blood on her knee. She glanced at Quinlan for a half a second before his words registered, then Zahi wiped at the blood. "No, I think it's the rat's," she said. That was true, but she failed to mention the swollen shape and decided purple color of the knee in question. As if to prove a point, she shifted her weight so it was spread equally between both her legs. Her knee shook, but she kept her stance without the pain showing on her face. Mostly.
The talisman was still in the crystal, light defracting through the lens and scattering across the carved map in the cave floor. Zahi's eyes traced over the illuminated map. "Too bad we probably ruined all our maps."
"Yeah, that's too bad. The paper was already worn and sensitive when I found it," Quinlan was aching from the fight, the use of his magic having taken a lot out of him. It'd take some time to recover, but in that moment, they could use it to study the relief on the ground. With the talisman in the crystal, it was time to take his out.
Quinlan stood beside the monolithic crystal, and held his talisman in hand, he gestured for Zahi to move before raising the lens in focus with the first one. The first talisman illuminated the right tablet, where Kravitt had the etching traced. However, the second talisman focused the light further and beneath the tablet etching there was an inscription that was illuminated at the bottom.
"Can you read that?" he asked, trying to keep the talisman level. It didn't look like Common, or any language spoken by any current civilization.
Zahi watched Quinlan add the second talisman to the one she'd placed in the crystal. But more than that, she watched Quinlan. It was clear he was hiding some sort of pain; perhaps from using his magic, though she didn't know what kind of toll that might take on someone. Zahi typically avoided too many dealings with mages. Magic was, in her typical approximation, the lazy way around things. Though she wouldn't complain now that he'd used it to injure the rat. Still. And now that the immediate threat of death had passed - for the moment - Zahi suddenly realized that they were both still soaking wet form the dip in the lake, and the humid cold of the cave did nothing to help. "You don't look too good yourself, you know, Red," she muttered.
Once the inscription was lit, though, she moved over to stand next to Quinlan. She look at it, but shook her head. "I can only read Common," she said. "I wonder if the talisman has a cipher on it somehow." She glanced at the two talismans. Of course, those men had all had talismans. What if they needed more than two? "Should have brought that sneaking scholar from the library with us. By the time we've figured it out down here, another giant will surely come along to eat us."
Then Zahi glanced back at the dead rat, a sick feeling in her stomach. The rat. Again, her memory was bombarded with images from her childhood. She shook them out, then asked Quinlan pointedly, "Hey, could you burn that inscription into something, Blood Mage?"
Skinning a rat, she was sure, would be faster than trying to decipher the inscriptions and the map down here.
Quinlan found her tone strange, commenting on his condition, but he brushed it off. "Don't worry about me. I'll be fine," he said and gestured to the rat. I can burn it on there. Skinning the rat might be a good idea. You look a little nauseated there though, Curls."
Quinlan moved away from the crystal monolith and gestured to Zahi to hold it herself while he cut a piece of the hide of the rat. It wouldn't be easy, tanning it in this area but he just remembered then that he had to pee.
"No, I'm fine," she answered, her tone a bit distant. When he gestured for her to hold the rat, though, she elbowed him harshly away. "I can do it. You figure out what part of those inscriptions you want."
Pushing Quinlan aside, Zahi got to work skinning the rat. Her pallor was a shade paler than usual as she worked, though.
Quinlan didn't fight and let her handle it. The pain wasn't subsiding as fast as he wanted it to. So he resigned himself, moving behind her, out of sight as he pulled a small leather case from against his body. It had been connected to his belt of knives, when he pulled it open and retrieved a glass vial. There was a blue liquid inside, slushing about and he quietly removed the stopper before downing the serum within.
He put it away, gradually feeling the pain dilute and dissipate. With that he was back to work and refocused the light, revealing the inscription within the tablet relief. "Just what shows underneath this part of the etching," he said matter-of-factly. "Just let me know when you're finished there. "
"Great," Zahi said through gritted teeth. Skinning the rat was messy work - especially with the time constraints they were working with - and Zahi was soaked in the giant rodent's blood. It took a few minutes longer for her to complete the process, then she pulled the separated hide from the rat and brought it over to where Quinlan was standing. The skin came down over the area he'd mentioned with a wet smack. Zahi looked at Quinlan, breathing a little heavier from the effort of skinning the beast with her face a mixture of tense and smeared with the rat's blood. "That fine, or you need it moved?"
Quinlan looked at her, coated in blood. He just stared, eyes sizing her up a little and he just smirked. He supposed there were worse looks for her. "That'll do," he said. "Hold the talisman. I'll burn the etching in there."
Quinlan moved down toward the slabs, focusing in on the area where Kravitt had originally copied the relief and focused the blood around it. He took a breath and felt his hands warm up again. The serum would stem the aftermath, and it didn't take much effort to sustain fire.
In a bright flash, the blood flamed, sparking up. The cave suddenly smelt of burning flesh and Quinlan blew out the fire and cut the edges of the skin with his dirk. It turned into a small piece of hide, able to be rolled up, and he looked down onto the other side of it, seeing the relief burned into the skin as he cleaned the blood away. "This'll do. Let's get the hell out of here."
Zahi glared back at Quinlan's smirk. And when she took the talisman from him, it was a bit roughly. But she held it in place as Quinlan worked, stony-faced despite the stink of burning skin and fur. When he was done, she glanced over at it, nodding. "Nice work."
Then, pocketing the two talismans, she looked at their options. One passageway led back to the Olm and the lake. The other was the passageway the giant rat had come from. "Which way do you fancy?" she asked dryly, looking between the two. "The Olm is still alive. But there could be more of those," she said, gesturing with her eyes to the bloody mess of the skinned rat.
"I'm not going back out there across the lake. Let's go where the rat came from. And I wager, that thing" he pointed to the rat, "probably ate anything else that it deemed a threat. I'll take my chances." Quinlan rolled up the cut portion of skin and held it firmly in hand. He led the way into the darkened tunnel, having momentarily forgotten about RedFox's warning.
In the presence of the massive crystal however, and the need to survive, Quinlan wasn't about to let an immaterial spirit attempt to put itself between him and the exit. Despite all odds, he saw a small crack of moonlight pouring through a minute slit between a large pile of rocks. he moved them, pushing them out of the way in a mild-desperation.
Pebbles tumbled down, rocks kicked and rolled down along the path behind him as Quinlan worked to widen the path by hand. He grunted with exertion until the hole was just big enough for him to squeeze through it.
Zahi wasted no time in helping Quinlan once he set to work widening the crack through the crumbled mix of rock, soil, and root. When it was open, she let Quinlan squeeze through first, watching the passageway with her dagger in her hand. In truth, she hadn't let go of it for quite some time.
Once Quinlan made his way through the passage, Zahi pulled herself through after him. She clambered onto the soft, damp, moonlit forest floor. They were on a steep hillside overlooking the ravine valley, and Zahi had to catch herself from tumbling downwards at first. To Zahi's surprise, they were much higher up than they'd started. Somehow in the disorientation of the darkness, she hadn't realized they'd gone uphill. Or maybe the valley had simply cut down. She didn't really care at that point. Much to her relief, on the horizon, the dim glow of dawn was creeping into the sky. Just barely.
Zahi had never been so glad to see it.
She took a few moment to just appreciate that they were out, letting herself collapse against the hillside. Then she picked herself up onto her elbows, peering down at the river below. It was pretty far down, and looked fairly fast and rocky. Nowhere she wanted to end up.
She looked over to Quinlan. "Well, what now?" she asked, soaking wet from lake water and rat blood, with a busted knee, and breath coming out in cold puffs into the night air.
"Find a way down," he said flatly. He observed her knee and made a face, knowing they'd have to deal with that sooner or later. A knee was a sensitive thing, easy to break, snap. And any further stress in the condition Zahi's was in would make fixing it all that much more difficult. And any difficulty concerning Zahi was like walking through fire and hoping not to get burned. Quinlan was actually looking forward to it.
He inwardly smiled at the thought, crawling along the narrow ledge on the hillside. There was a way down, there had to be. Otherwise why would someone put a hole in the wall there? Or try to cover it up in the least? Quinlan continued to move along the river, finding footholds where he could and gripping down. It was by nothing more than pure luck that he didn't slip and break his neck down on the rocks below.
The river rushed through swift rapids, jagged boulders jutting up from both the hillside and bank on the other side. As tired as he was Quinlan continued the downward climb, concentrating until he found a path cut out into the side of the hill, leading back to solid ground. The catch? They'd have to jump the space between their current footing to make it to the other side.
It didn't look like a far jump, but Quinlan considered Zahi's knee. He didn't wait any second longer and when he felt his balance was right, he made the jump, landing with a tumble on ground below. He was more or less in decent shape, dusting himself off and gesturing to Zahi. "Can you make it!?" he called out at her.
Find a way down? Zahi frowned deeply at the idea. She'd been hoping to go up... The hilltop would be flatter and maybe they'd find a proper path down. And it wasn't just that it seemed like the more reasonable option to her... She looked at the steep, soft hillside and the long way down. Going down a slope that steep was hard on a good knee and Zahi worried very seriously that hers simply wouldn't do it. It might not be a matter of whether or not Zahi could endure the pain in the joint, but a simple matter of the knee giving completely.
But before she could voice these concerns, Quinlan was off, skidding and sliding down the slope away from her. Carefully, she picked herself up to follow Quinlan to the footing where he'd found the jump to the other path. Relying mostly on trees, which she held with a death grip, she slowly made her way down to Quinlan. As she suspected, her knee wouldn't take the impact of the downslope journey, so she had to hobble on the good leg and grip tree-to-tree, using her bum leg mostly for balance.
The final descent was to the place Quinlan had just jumped from. His footing hadn't been a very large place, and it was a foot or two down from where she was currently. And decidedly tree-less. Zahi paused, measuring how she would maneuver down without a tree before attempting the jump. Holding her breath, she made the final move down the footing. But the soft forest floor slumped under her good leg and, when she tried to catch herself with her bad leg, her knee went out.
So by the time Quinlan asked Zahi if she could make the jump, Zahi was nowhere to be seen.
Well, shit... Quinlan rushed to the ledge, crouching down by it and watching Zahi crash down into the river. It was a nasty fall, but when he saw her still moving, Quinlan released the breath he'd been holding and he didn't wait to question what he was about to do.
Quinlan rushed alonside the river, trying to keep pace with her. No, to get a head of her. He moved to where the river wrapped around the path he was on and it was then that he jumped. He didn't look down. He just dove for it, hoping the water was deep enough to keep him from breaking his neck. Either the gods favored him, or by some stroke of bad luck, he was meant to make it down into the water. Quinlan was taken with the rush, trying to steer himself just enough to snatch a hold of a root jutting from the opposite edge. Then he saw Zahi coming.
He kicked along a stone, throwing himself out as far and wide as he could and caught her in the hook of his right arm. Quinlan sealed her against him in a vice grip lest the rapids wash them both away. All that tethered them to land was the root he held onto. Quinlan struggled to pull both of them up, pushing up Zahi first and followed by him. In the end, he lay sprawled along the grass, spitting up water.
Zahi tried several times to break her fall as she tumbled down the hill - grabbing onto trees or branches or rocks - to no avail. It meant, at least, that when she finally hit the water, she'd slowed herself down substantially and the weight of the crash didn't crush her.
Once she hit the water, all her energy and focus went into keeping her head above water as the river swept her up in its torrents and bashed her against the odd rock. So that when Quinlan finally caught her, Zahi was too much in shock to be of any real help pulling them out of the icy river. Though she at least tried to pull herself the rest of the way up after Quinlan gave her a push onto the shore.
Zahi lay, sprawled out on her stomach, sputtering and coughing up half-swallowed river water. Finally, she picked herself up into a half sitting position and stared at Quinlan with an open-mouthed expression that was some mixture of shock, anger, and disbelief. She stared at him for what felt like several minutes, her breath still heaving, though it was probably only a few seconds.
When she finally spoke, the first word out was, "Downhill?! Really?!" And then, a moment later, between her still ragged breathing, with even more anger, "Where's the fucking map!?"
The water was icy, freezing cold that it shocked Quinlan to the bone. But the rush of it all, the fall, the river rapids, even catching Zahi made it all worth it. Sure, there was a very real chance he could have died. In fact, it may even be by Zahi's hands. She'd be livid, he knew, and for some reason, all he could do was smirk at her in amusement when he sat up.
"Right here." He pulled it out of his belt, the rolled skin that had stayed secure somehow through all of it. "We got down. We're in rough shape. You look like a drowned rat. But you're alive. So. You're welcome." And his smile just widened.
Zahi just continued to stare at him in angry disbelief. It was clear she was caught. On one hand, she wanted to say, she wouldn't have fallen at all if Quinlan had just taken half a minute longer before running down the fucking hill. On the other hand, there was no denying the risk he'd taken to pull her from the river; he'd saved her and it was clear she knew it. And that, naturally, only made her angrier with him. And she was, anyway, starting to wonder about his risk-taking. Still.
So, recognizing at least temporary defeat, she flopped back onto her, her chest still heaving as she recovered some of her strength.
"Fuck you," was all she had to come back at Quinlan with.
"Rain check," he said as he found his energy, moving up from the grass and leaning down beside her. He was sore from the swim, but was otherwise able to move. It was clear traveling was going to become a hindrance if they didn't address her knee immediately. And there wasn't any way they were going to be able to do it out here. "We have to see to that knee. And we have no supplies out here for that. We're going to have to go into town."
Quinlan secured the rolled skin in his belt again, half-hidden in his jacket and wished the other maps weren't ruined from being in the water. He looked over the horizon, where the river continued downward and he could see just above the trees. He thought he saw smoke and after studying it for a few moments, was sure of it. It was better than freezing to death out here, though the journey would be a long walk.
One he was positive Zahi would not make.
"Shut up," he commanded promptly before leaning down beside her and scooping her up into his arms. He adjusted her weight and tried to avoid her raw knee as best he could. "You can't walk on the thing without slowing us down. An injury is an injury. It needs to be tended to, that's a fact."
Town sounded just fine to Zahi. After all, the forest and the cave and the ravine had been such a ball. She lay there with her eyes partially closed, breathing and steeling herself for the trek. She hadn't put any weight on the knee yet, but she privately doubted the fall had done it any good. Her face ticked in annoyance at Quinlan's pronouncement, though, 'We have to see to that knee, blah blah blah.
"It's banged up," she was saying, "but it just needs some time for the swelling to go do- Hey!"
That was when Quinlan scooped Zahi up, and she was having none of it! She elbowed him hard to get him to put her down. "And you don't have the energy to carry me that far, slow or not," she growled at him, twisting to break free of his grip. "Don't kid yourself, Red." Then, knowing he was partially right and figuring a concession might be her best bet, she growled, "You can help me walk. But you are not carrying me."
Quinlan came after her again and pulled her off the ground, fuming, holding her hard despite all her strength and twisting and protesting. He kept walking, dragging her along like a child in the midst of a tantrum if he had to. "I said shut up," he said firmly again. "You fuss too much."
Quinlan was already adjusting to whatever pain she'd attempt to inflict on him. Nothing hurt like the curse, but with that subsided he had more attention to deal with her. He'd had enough of her temper. In her current state, even if she hobbled along, he wasn't going to have it. Oh, no. She'd settle down when they got to town, even if he had to dunk her in a vat of whiskey.
Whiskey... he thought to himself. And he only smirked then. Maybe bourbon would be better.
[[Can a distinction between bourbon and whiskey really be made in a land without Kentucky and whatever Kentucky spring water is needed to call something 'bourbon?' XD]]
Well, she'd tried to get down nicely. If Quinlan wouldn't let her walk like an adult, she'd have to get down not nicely. So Zahi hit Quinlan, hard, in the throat with the broadside of her arm. Not hard enough to really injure him, but hard enough to make him choke. At the same time, she twisted away from him, rolling to the ground and clambering ungainly to her feet. She limped heavily on the bad knee, but she stayed on her feet, turning to face Quinlan. Her dagger was back in her hand and her eyes shone with a fierce, feral glint.
"I said," she repeated, "you can help me walk. You aren't going to carry me."
[I dunno! We can pretend there is a difference!]
"Then walk on your own, you stubborn brat," Quinlan said blandly. "Well go on then. Lead the way. You are the muscle after all." In fact, to put icing on the notion, Quinlan gave an elaborate bow and walked in the direction of town.
"Too prideful for your own good. Won't accept help from anyone. Not only did I save you. I did it twice. You think I like helping cart your ass around? I'm only trying to help you. But if you don't want it, fine. Don't let me stop you. You're strong and powerful and handy with a blade. Go on then." He said this mostly while walking away, mostly to himself. But his tone was loud enough to be audible.
He shrugged, unperturbed, walking on.
Glaring at Quinlan, Zahi thought that she was not just being 'too prideful.' Quinlan was worn out from their ordeal in the cave, and Zahi might not be so big, but she wasn't so light, either. Why let him carry her half way, if even, only to get exhausted? He was the proud one who wouldn't even admit that. He was the one who would only accept acting as the total savior or nothing at all. Fuck him.
So when he made his elaborate bow, she didn't move. She watched him as he started off. Once he was a few paces ahead of her, Zahi followed him. She was moving slow, there was no question of that, limping along with half her weight on the bad knee every step. It wasn't long before Quinlan was more than just a few paces ahead of her. Let him go on ahead of her. It'd give her a break from the man for the first time in the last two days, and maybe that was worth the slow, painful limping along the path.
She was insufferable. Always the victim in some elaborate scheme that somehow the world was against her, when she had a companion more than willing to tear the skin from his back if she needed it. It wasn't like Quinlan to be so selfless. He didn't care for the recognition. She was big and strong enough, certainly. She complained about his lack of carrying his weight and when he tried to make an effort all she could care about was her pride.
Quinlan was a fool. He should have just left her ass behind when he had the chance. He growled to himself. He could do so now if he wished. She'd never be able to catch him. He did have the map after all. She'd leave him behind in a second, he knew. Somehow he just knew it.
He sighed, burying his face in his hands as he stopped walking suddenly. His mind drifted to his sister, left behind... He left her behind.
Quinlan didn't think about it. If he did, he'd stop himself. Boots churned on the soft forest floor, as he about-faced and walked back toward Zahi. He didn't say anything. He wouldn't let her protests even enter his hearing. He took her arm and put it over his shoulders, meaning to ease the pain in her leg.
Somehow, Zahi hadn't expected Quinlan to return for her. Though once he did, she wondered why she hadn't. He had been pretty consistent on that mark. Counting silently, Zahi realized that the river was - potentially - the third time Quinlan had saved her life. But she wasn't entirely willing to give him the last one. Left to her own devices, she'd never have ended up in the river. But that wasn't really the point, was it?
So when he came back and but her arm around his shoulder, she didn't resist and at first she didn't say anything. Instead she simply complied, walking as best she could along side of him, and looking up at him out of the corner of her eye. She watched him for several moments, as if trying to figure something out about him. She wasn't sure what.
Finally, she said, without grit or acid and maybe a little humbled (maybe), simply, "Thank you."
Quinlan didn't say anything either. There wasn't anything to say. The silence, it seemed, was the only thing either of them could agree upon. And when it came down to it, it was better than her fussing and nagging like a child. He supposed he couldn't blame her too much. She did just fall off a hillside basically. He'd be pretty pissed off too. For her, it probably just another walk in the temperamental park.
When she thanked him though, that did surprise him and Quinlan turned to look at her, but still he said nothing. Just studied her for a few seconds before looking ahead of them once more.
By the time town came into view, the sun was high overhead, afternoon passing over them. Quinlan was tired, but he kept going and they both looked m ore than worse for wear. Maybe the villagers here wouldn't notice.
[[Another walk in the temperamental park! D:< ]]
It was hard going on Zahi, but she knew full well that it'd be much harder alone. And much easier for Quinlan. So she didn't stop and she didn't complain; not that complaining about pain was in her repertoire, really, anyway. And when they finally reached the town, she was worn out, exhausted, and could focus on little else besides moving forward.
But if they were hoping to avoid notice, they would have no such luck. Visitors to these villages deep in the forest were few and far between, and Quinlan and Zahi stuck out not only as foreigners, both, but because they were, well, a mess. The first few people they passed only stared, but it wasn't long before a broad, middle-aged farmer approached them.
"Whoa there," he called out, eyeing them. "You two look like you got scared out of hell! I'm Lenny Oates. Farmer up the way. You two need help?" He might not be the most well-spoken or subtle man, but there was no denying the genuine concern in his tone.
Quinlan peered up at the man, blinking and only then realizing he was there. "Oh. Yes. Yes thank you," Quinlan said. "We were attacked by bandits. Roughed us up real good and took our gold. We don't have much in a way to pay you. But if you can point us to the nearest tavern, I'd thank you kindly."
Oates moved to assess their condition and his frown deepened. "They sure did a number on ye. Hop on my wagon. I can give ya a ride." He assisted them into the back of his cart and he climbed onto the driver's seat and thwacked the reins against the mule that pulled his wagon.
"Tavern's just on the other side of the village."
Zahi didn't say much as Quinlan talked with the Adelan farmer. She let Oates help her up onto the cart, but a problem was bothering her. They'd given all their 'shinies' to Redfox. Once Oates was up in the drivers seat, she peered over at Quinlan, curious what his plan was. She didn't speak her concern, though. In truth, Zahi was feeling a bit abased. Quinlan had dragged her out of the river - not to mention freed her from the terrible Great Olm - and when he tried to help her, she'd clothes-lined him and pulled her blade on him. After he'd likely saved her life. Sure, it wasn't the help she'd wanted, but still. She'd been out of line, and she knew it. And it wasn't, which annoyed her more, how she would normally act. But somehow the blood mage had gotten under her skin, and her normal ability to dispatch annoyances with a cool professionalism seemed to have been thrown out the window.
What that was, she wasn't sure. Was it because she owed her life to him, now maybe three times? As a Blood Wolf, Zahi was used to having her life saved by other Bloods, and vice versa. But there was always a vice versa. Here, it felt the scales were tipping in Quinlan's favor. Was that what was bothering her? She wasn't sure it was. But either way, she decided to stay shut up for awhile. And maybe even be a little conciliatory. Maybe.
It didn't take long for the wagon to bring them to the tavern. Oates came around to the back of the cart. "You two wait here a moment. I'll go talk with ol' Mrs. Bresly the innskeep."
Oakes disappeared around the corner of the old, worn-looking stone inn. It might not be the newest or brightest tavern, but it sure beat freezing in a cave in the forest.
Oates returned a minute or two later with a hunched, wrinkled old woman who looked them over with a, Hm!, that seemed to confirm whatever she'd heard from Oates. "Well, weren't no tall tales told about you two," she announced, shaking her head at them. "Lenny here's 'splained your situation to me. An' I can't offer youse the nicest room with no coin on you, but I can't turn away two downtrodden things like you, can I? I got a cozy little room up in the back. Ain't the nicest, but it's snug and dry and warm enough for yeh, if you want it."
When the old woman came around, Quinlan breathed a sigh of relief. He smiled at her offer. "Thank you. Thank you so much," he replied, moving down from the wagon. "You don't know how much this will help us." The old woman smiled and turned back with Lenny out toward the front of the tavern again.
Quinlan turned back to Zahi, grinning a little. "See, looking pathetic can sometimes work in your favor," he muttered and helped her down from the wagon. Once they were inside, Mrs. Bresly showed them to their room. She was right. It was small but reasonably furnished for what she had, comfortable and would give them a chance to dry up.
"Ya'll tell me if youse need anythin' all right?" Mrs. Bresly said as she was about to depart.
"On that thought could you bring us a bottle whiskey, if you have any, Miss. And a few towels. I've got a knee to fix."
"Hm, yeah, sure do," Mrs. Bresly said. She eyed the limping Zahi with an old wife's eye. "That don't look too good, Missy. I can bring yeh some cloth and and wood to make a splint or summat, too, if you like."
Zahi didn't protest, though she didn't like being the center of everyone's attention. Getting up the stairs had been hard enough work, so once she was in the room, she maneuvered onto the little wooden chair next to the bed, straightening out her swollen knee. Again showing a side she never seemed to show to Quinlan, Zahi gave Mrs. Bresly a tired but gracious smile. "Yes. That would be very kind of you, ma'am."
"Alright, then, I'll be back in a tick!"
Once she was gone, Zahi gave Quinlan a curious look. What the use of 'whiskey' was in tending to a busted knee was beyond her. But before she could ask him about it, Mrs. Bresly bustled back in, carrying a large bottle full of a golden liquid, a bundle of cloth for towels and to bandage the knee, and a few straight pieces of wood. She set the cloth down at the foot of the bed, and handed the bottle over to Quinlan.
"Don't know if you can call it 'whiskey.' Make it myself, though; strong enough to curl the hooves of an ox. Should dull yer pain and bring a bit of warmth back to yer belly, at any rate! You two settle in. I'll be down in the kitchen iff'n yeh need me."
With that, Mrs. Bresly gave them both big, warm smiles, and excused herself.
Once Mrs. Bresly was gone, Zahi slouched back in the chair, wincing a little as she moved her knee. Once settled, though, she gave a look between Quinlan and the bottle of moonshine. "Probably won't compare to dear Mr. Kravitt's brandy. We might need to talk about your drinking, though." Her tone had a distinctly conciliatory, light-trying-to-be-conversational tone to it. Undercut by obvious physical discomfort. Either way, it was clear that she was trying to not fight with him after the long walk in silence.
Quinlan smiled in thanks, taking the items he requested and putting them on the bed. The alcohol, however, he opened up immediately. He backed away however, smelling the strength of it alone and he laughed. "Wow, that's powerful. But it'll do the trick. Zahi, I know you don't drink, but to set your knee straight again, you're going to have to."
Quinlan took two small clay cups that Mrs. Bresly provided and he poured the drink into each of them. He took one for himself and offered the other expectantly to Zahi. "Well tonight, we can talk about your drinking. Now down that sucker. Please."
Zahi frowned at him. "Sure, I drink sometimes," she responded, a touch defensively. "I drank some of that brandy, didn't I?"
Perhaps it was the implicit challenge in his statement - that she didn't drink - that led to Zahi taking the cup from Quinlan without argument. She didn't even need to try to smell it, though, before the wafts of alcohol hit her. "Oh, god,"she choked, "are you sure we won't go blind?" Still, she made a face and crinkled her nose, but she downed the clay cup of moonshine. Faster than she would sip on something nice like the brandy, that was certain! The drink left her choking afterwards, eyes watery. "I don't know if this was meant to be drank before noon."
"Wait, what do you mean, 'set my knee?'" she asked suddenly. She looked up at Quinlan, both defensive and concerned. The last thing she needed was him messing up her leg even worse. "What do you know about setting knees? It's just swollen. It just needs a bit of time for the swelling to go down."
Quinlan just looked at her, about to sip his own drink when she began to question his methods. He quirked a brow. "You need another drink. Here have mine," he murmured. He took her cup and refilled it, smelling the drink first before downing it and coughing.
"Might make us go blind. But I think those are the least of such side effects." He barked a laugh and went about getting a stool to elevate her leg upon. "You know. Maybe the bed would be better. This way you'll already be spread out."
Quinlan reached down to help her move, moving the wooden chair beside her to tend to her better. "Don't get ahead of me, Princess. I need to get a better look at your knee to see what's the real damage. Olm took a nice taste of you, damn. These are deep."
"I feel like you're trying to get me drunk," she said as she took the second drink from him. At first she didn't drink it. But the pain in her leg had become almost overwhelming during their hobbled walk to the village. And it was only two drinks. So, bracing herself for the punch of the spirits, she choked down the second cup.
It was fortuitous timing, because Quinlan moved her to the bed right as she was choking from the drink, not giving Zahi much of an opportunity to protest. Though once she was on the bed, she scooted back until her back was up against the wall.
"What do you mean, 'all spread out?'" she asked, vaguely realizing that all of these 'what do you mean's were sounding a bit repetitives. She looked hard at Quinlan. Her body tense and as far from him as she could manage under the circumstances, Zahi resembled an injured wild animal that hadn't yet decided whether or not to trust the human trying to aid it. She gave him the hard, distrustful look for a long moment, then moved slowly to take off her boots and roll up her trouser leg so Quinlan could see the knee properly. It revealed dark, deep bruises from the Olm's toothless, amphibian jaws directly below her knee. The real damage was in the joint, likely caused when the Olm, with its firm grip on her leg, had snapped her around when Quinlan attacked it in the water. She couldn't, however, get the pant leg rolled up over the swollen knee. But Zahi certainly didn't volunteer to take her pants off. She was still watching Quinlan with the wild-eyed look of a hawk with a broken wing.
Quinlan smirked, though he was sure that wasn't going to help his current image in her slurry eyes. He resisted the urge to laugh, at least, and observed the damage with a frown. Maybe the olm didn't have any teeth, but it could have fooled him. The damage was extensive, to say the least and Quinlan knew he was going to have to dowse her in as much of that 'whiskey' as he could before the night was out.
He turned back to her and gestured to her trousers. "Look, I need to gave your entire leg exposed. It'd probably be best if you took your pants off," his expression was serious and he poured her another drink. "This is going to hurt. But your a champ, right? Right. But you still might want to knock this back. If you want, I'll drink with you. I kinda like the stuff anyway. Got a decent kick to it."
He went ahead and poured himself a cup, and took smaller swigs this time. After all, if he was going to play healer, he couldn't afford to have his hands fidget too much. And he was sure he could hold his liquor better than Zahi. He drank more than she did, apparently. Or if she could hold it...
This was going to be interesting.
Zahi glared suspiciously at Quinlan. She could certainly already feel the creeping effects of the strong drink (or she probably wouldn't be on the bed at all), but she wasn't quite drunk. Yet. "You haven't told me what you actually know about mending anything," she told him firmly. "And whatever you think you're going to do - if you can mend anything - I doubt you're any better at it when you're drunk."
That was to say, Zahi was not interested in Quinlan drinking more.
She still didn't comply with his request, her gaze remaining hard on Quinlan. Then, grudgingly, and without ceasing her glare at Quinlan, Zahi moved to take off her trousers. It took longer than it normally would, carefully removing the rolled up pant leg from around the knee. Once they were off, she scooted again back to the head of the bed, watching Quinlan hawkishly. She still hadn't drank the third cup. Zahi wasn't entirely sure she trusted him on that mark!
Quinlan blinked at her with dull, unimpressed eyes, favoring his drink a little and setting it aside. He put his hands up in something akin to a truce and smiled. "Fine. I won't drink. But you need to. If anything, it'll dull the pain, and help clean out the wound. I've had my share of bad scrapes, I know what I'm doing, okay. Do you really have so little faith in me?" he wondered.
He shook his head, not even sure why he would pose a question. At least he got her out of her pants. That was the most action he'd had in two days. Other than all the rough kissing. "Okay, first things first, cleaning the wound. Now, I need to know right now, will you let me do what I have to do to you? Without violent protest, without too complaining? Because if you're going to cut my heart out before I even start, I'd at least like a forewarning."
[[ D: This is like, the THIRD time she’s had no pants on! :P ]]
Zahi’s frown deepened. “How does it ‘clean the wound?’” she asked, looking at him suspiciously. If Quinlan thought getting her drunk and compliant was going to be easy, he was wrong. “It’s not an open wound that needs to be sterilized. And even then, drinking alcohol doesn’t help clean a wound like that. Do you think I’m stupid? Do you think I haven’t had ‘my share of bad scrapes?’
But Quinlan hadn’t really acted against her so far. So, as a concession, she drank maybe a third of the cup of the moonshine. Even that she felt go to her head. Mrs. Bresly hadn’t been lying about this stuff.
Zahi scooted down a little, so she was half laying down with her knee laid out in front of Quinlan. She was still tense, though, and still watching him with hard, dubious eyes. “I’d still like to know what you’re going to do.”
"Okay, let's try that no talking thing for at time. Sound good?" Quinlan asked and sighed. "It's for your own good. Stop being so defensive. Get off your pony and let me help. The knee looks bad. Fine no alcohol. But it will help with the pain. I'll make you a goddamn splint and that'll be the goddamn end of it."
He sighed though his nose and took her trousers, throwing them off toward the other side of the room. It was only then that he remembered he was still soaking wet from the river and he left her side for a bit, to start a fire in the small hearth. Good gods, did the alcohol just not make her shut up? Quinlan wasn't about to give up though. So when he had a fire going, he took off his jacket and anything else mostly wet - yet again - and sat in small clothes back on the stool beside her.
Quinlan quickly went to work, observing the bruising and poking the flesh around her knee. He never said he was a professional.
[[Absolut Emergency Response Training.]]
Clean the wound, her ass. Even if Quinlan believed that, Zahi certainly didn't. What, did he think that the alcohol entered your bloodstream and raced to the site of the injury like emergency healers? Stupid blood mage.
However, as grumpy as she might feel with him, even Zahi couldn't pretend that having a fire in the room wasn't a source of comfort and she relaxed just a smidge. Well, until he undressed. She let out a small groan. At least he left his small clothes on this time.
When he returned and started poking at her knee, though, she had to muffle a sudden sound of pain. And Zahi finished the cup of spirits she'd thus far neglected. In all, it had been a pretty short period of time to have three such strung drinks. Laying down, Zahi wouldn't fully feel the effect of it. Not unless she stood up. At least she wasn't at risk of that. But she watched Quinlan poking at her, her face still tensing with pain even if she didn't make any more noise. And as she watched him, mostly naked, she found herself saying, "You know, you're really skinny." It didn't occur to her just then that the strong drinks were making the path between her brain and her tongue a little shorter than usual.
Quinlan didn't look at her as he assessed the wound. As far as professionalism went, Quinlan was about a D-, but he would do his best considering having her in less than agreeable condition would only make her sink her teeth into his ass more often. Like trying to pull a splinter from a dog's paw, and having it howl and bark and snap at you. Yeah, it seemed a lot like that.
He made no promise not to drink, so his hand immediately went for his abandoned drink and he downed it in one shot, letting himself warm up. It relaxed him, even if it made Zahi tense. He always thought better with a few drinks in him. In fact, he even poured Zahi another, in the even she wanted it, but made no effort to offer it to her.
"I'm not skinny," he said to her, keeping his eyes on knee and letting his hands gently bend it. "I've got what you'd call an athletic build. You're probably just used to bigger muscles. Men come in all sorts of different sizes." His tone was conversational, at least to serve as a distraction from the movement. Sure her knee probably had all the exercise it needed and any further bending to it would likely stress it unnecessarily. He then tried a different approach.
He took some of the rags Mrs. Bresly provided and wrapped them around the cold container of the moonshine. He wondered if she had any ice, and cursed himself for not thinking to ask. It wasn't like this was the tundra or anything. He bundled several rags into cold bundles and placed them around her knee, to deal with the swelling. "I've got muscles. You're just not paying attention."
Any response Zahi might have had at first was cut short when he bent her knee. She winced, her face screwing up momentarily until he unbent it again. She wished then that they'd stopped earlier than the village. Though she couldn't pretend she wasn't happy to be in this warm, dry room in the inn; she didn't think the walk here had helped the knee much. Against her better judgement, she took another swig of the booze. Just half the cup. At least it loosened her up. And it did dull the pain. She knew that being tense wouldn't help anything, so she tried her best to relax her muscles. With the light, swimmy feeling in her head, it wasn't as hard as it might otherwise be.
And it was easier still when Quinlan wrapped the cold rags around her knee. She let out a slow exhale.
She gave a snort at Quinlan's comments. "Please," she said, her voice still edged with discomfort, but at least talking was distracting, "I have more muscles than you do. Maybe you have an athletic build for a teenager. I thought you Connlaothians were supposed to be stocky and solid. You're more... twiggy and," she reached out and poked his ribs, something she would not normally do, "bony."
[Maybe we just have different visualizations on what Quinlan looks like? xD I just imagine he has more of the build of a gymnast. Maybe you think he looks like some scrawny wannabe buff anime character? Lol.]
Quinlan quirked his brow, unsure what to make of her poking. "I assure you, I'm strong enough. I pulled you out of the water. Water makes things heavier. How could I have thrown your ass onto shore if I wasn't strong enough? I am not bony," he said again, giving a sniff of amusement and pressing down onto her knee a little, moving the cold rags around to ensure each rag was as cold as it could be.
"Why? Are you making some kind of visualized comparison to someone else?" Quinlan focused on her knee in a few seconds of silence. "I've got my father's chest and stomach. You hit hard, but I've been hit harder. I get by."
[[Maybe Zahi’s just obnoxious… >.>]]
Zahi grimaced when he pushed down on her knee. She wasn’t sure if that was a ‘medical necessity’ or simply revenge on her calling him skinny. She certainly had nothing to say while he was keeping pressure on her knee. It was all she could do to not yelp in pain. Once he released the pressure, she drank the rest of what was in her cup. Funny how much easier it got to drink, she thought, peering into the empty cup.
“Maybe I shouldn’t say anything more. It’s too easy for you to take it out on invalid me and my invalid knee,” she said. But for some reason she kept talking. “But since you asked, sure, you’re way smaller than he is.” Right as she said that, a thought struck Zahi. Funny how much easier it was to have thoughts strike when your head was swimmy. Right before she left. Bujari was the Spirit Wolf now. Of course she wouldn’t see him anymore. Not even in the tenuous, on-and-off fashion of the last five years. Of course she wouldn’t. She knew it as soon as the thought struck her. “I lied before, though,” she said suddenly, always a tell that the drink inside a person is speaking more than they are, “I don’t really have anyone ‘back home’ like you asked. Not anymore, I guess. It seemed like a convenient lie at the time, though.”
It didn’t occur to Zahi, yet, and might not until much later, how candid she was being. And, more specifically, how much more candid she was being. In truth, she never drank this much. She didn’t realize she was drunk, per se. She wasn’t, right?
He wasn't trying to cause her more pain, but the swelling had to go down somehow. Pressure and the cold seemed to be doing the trick. Well, mostly since they didn't really have any ice and he wasn't really in a position to go and get some. He wondered if he could simply use his magic to make the swelling to down. He could push it around a little.
Only if this didn't work. He'd keep it on at least ten minutes longer. Quinlan did look at her then, when she turned the subject away from him. "Oh?" he murmured, raising a brow at her in interest. "It's all right. We all lie. Sometimes it's the only option we have, ain't it? When your back is to the wall. When it's the only way to get out." He grew quiet a little, thinking about his father and the last time he saw him. It was so long ago, it seemed almost a dream. Maybe it was.
"Why do you say 'not anymore?'" he pressed lightly, glancing at her from the corner of his eyes. He stood then and reached for one of the pillows on the bed, elevating her leg and being mindful of her knee as best he could.
“Pah. I’d hardly say you had my ‘back against the wall,’” Zahi retorted. “You don’t have to give me some kiddy lecture.”
Normally, Zahi would leave it there. Normally, she wouldn’t have said half of what she had already, anyway. But under the current circumstances, she just gave a shrug, letting him prop up her leg. “Oh, well. Too uneven now, I guess. Got a big promotion. I mean, he’s always fucked around all the fucking time, fucking Yorequi. But it was one thing when we were both doing this job. But now, I’m not going to be some fucking harem girl to the fucking Spirit Wolf. Fuck that.” It was the first direct reference Zahi had made to the Soot Wolves. But it was also the first time she’d spoken about the relationship. Ever. To anyone. In all likelihood, that was the reason it was the first thing to tumble out of her mouth now that the alcohol had loosened her tongue.
She winced again a little at the pressure on her knee, but she didn’t protest. “Maybe it sounds stupid,” she said, peering at the bottom of her empty cup, “but I can’t. Not professional, anyway.”
His initial assumption had been the correct one. Alcohol only made her seem to talk more and Quinlan was beginning to see it was both a good and a bad thing. He watched her expression, saying nothing and he reached for a drink himself, feeling himself grow cold a little, his body yet to dry completely from the chill of being dunked in freezing river water. He downed another shot, coughing a little off to the side. Maybe it was because he didn't want to drink alone, or she seemed more comfortable with another drink, so he poured her another.
The rags were removed from her knee and it didn't look any better than it had ten minutes ago. Maybe just the tiniest smidgen but it wasn't enough for him. He knew a massage wouldn't be the be solution, but the best way to enact his magic would be to do so subtly. He could always feel the blood inflaming her knee and wouldn't get any better any faster after all the stress it endured.
So he put his hands on either side of the bruising, gently pressing his hands into her skin, rubbing it thoughtfully and would work his way closer in. He didn't say a word about it.
"Yeah, fuck that guy," he replied. "Doesn't sound like he could give a shit. Why should you? Why be strung along? You've got your own life to live. Too short to be wasted."
Zahi propped herself up a little more to glare down the bed at Quinlan. “You don’t need to comfort me,” she said coldly, “I don’t need it.” Even after the drinks, Zahi was already regretting saying any of that - much less all of it. She was already in the more vulnerable position. What was she doing, telling Quinlan about her fucking love life? Pull it together, Zahi!
She looked at the filled glass. But her stomach wouldn't let her drink it quite yet. Instead, her eyes narrowed at Quinlan, suspicious of being patronized. “You asked, anyway,” she said, more than a touch defensively. Brow knit and frowning, she added, “And I thought you said you were just going to make a splint.”
"I will. Hold your fucking horses. Besides, we're just talking. I didn't say I was giving you any of my pity. Gods be damned if I ever want you to give me any. I'm keeping up your morale by talking. Now lay back. Your leg's gotta stay level." Quinlan pushed her back a little and kept massaging her leg, a little more forcefully now.
"Just stating the obvious that's all."
Zahi glared, but did as she was told, leaning back against the head of the bed again. A little sulkily. She choked back another drink of the alcohol. She couldn't get down the whole glass, though. It was quite a bit to drink over a pretty short interval. And it made her feel much more... sulky, chatty, belligerent, vulnerable... simultaneously.
But, for once, she didn't really feel like fighting. So trying to keep suppress the grumpiness in her voice (and not entirely succeeding), she asked, "So how much did Kravitt offer to pay you for this job? It better have been a fucking gold mine." Then, after a moment consideration, she added, "And you better have been real hard up."
"Hard up? Always," Quinlan muttered. "I mean for money. I mean...well, not like that. I need it. I always need it. Who fucking doesn't right? Why do a job, if not to get paid. I'll do anything. I've done just about anything you can shake a dagger at. Kravitt found me in a bar -lucky guess right? - and get me out of trouble. I didn't need him. I could've taken the fucker down with swift kick to the nuts. Works every time."
Quinlan worked in closer to the bruising, his hands tingling as his magic began to focus. "Kravitt offered me twice my weight in gold. Despite your inclinations to think I'm 'skinny' that's a lot of gold. I think he probably would have only given me half that one the job was finished, or killed me. All his kind are the same. A cheater's a cheater, right? I imagine once we find, whatever it is we're going to find, I can charge whatever I like. Selling it, does seem to be the clearest option, at least to me. If you have something else in mind, I'd love to hear it. Oh, and fifty-fifty. Just in case you were going to ask."
Quinlan smiled at her, just eying her curiously as he watched her struggle to maintain her grumps. "Demon," he said at last, looking back to her knee. "That's how I became a blood mage."
Even grumpy, Zahi couldn't help but sniggering at Quinlan's floundering around the term 'hard up.' Laughing at him, as always, lightened her mood and she watched him curiously as he told her about how he got the job. It kept her sufficiently distracted to not notice what he was doing to her knee.
"Well, you never know," she said. "Some things are valuable to someone but are otherwise junk. Doesn't seem like the case now. Assuming we get to anything before our friends catch up with us - that can't take too much longer, I think - and sacrifice us to their giant newt god or whatever. I don't know if I've earned fifty yet, though." She took another drink, then focused on Quinlan. "I keep owing you too much. You gotta cut out all of this saving business, or I won't get any cut at all."
Whatever other half-teasing she might have done, though, she was cut short. She raised her eyebrows curiously at Quinlan, and propped herself up on her elbows a bit to get a better look at him. A demon. Interesting. She just watched him for several moments, then said, "I had nowhere else to go. That's why I lived in the forest, and in that temple, that time."
Quinlan nodded, pushing and pulling the blood in her knee. He could burn it, he wondered, but that might only make her jerk her leg up and land him one square in the chin. No, maybe better to pull it out somehow. "Good to note," he said idly.
"How do you feel? Room spinning yet?" He refrained from laughing. "Sorry for, er, rubbing it in. I know you don't want to owe me anything. Just to set the record straight, here and now. You don't. Straight and simple, fifty-fifty. You're not good to me dead, since you got me into this mess in the first place. Besides, if anyone's hard-up, it's you."
[[I can only hear that in a Boba Fett voice. "He's no good to me dead."]]
Zahi was in the middle of finishing her cup when Quinlan asked if the room was spinning, and she nearly coughed it up. "What? No," she answered. That was the up side of being forced to stay lying down. If she had to get up now, she'd probably fall straight over. But what did she know? "I told you. I drink sometimes. I'm fine." The obviousness of the lie wasn't lost on anyone, though, even Zahi.
She frowned thoughtfully at Quinlan's remarks on who owed whom what. She certainly disagreed with him. But why argue? He could think whatever he wanted. "Well. Maybe. But I'm pretty sure you got yourself in this mess. I found you covered in blood carting around a carcass. You really think me being there had anything to do with those goons finding you? My guess is they were there the whole time. I probably just made them pause to see what I was all about." She shrugged. Maybe, maybe not. But it was her best guess.
Even if she disagreed, though, the gesture of telling her that she owed him nothing wasn't lost on her. Even if he didn't consider it a gesture. It made something stir in her stomach. Maybe a desire to hit him to knock some sense in him. But maybe not.
"I'm not hard up, though," she said plainly, breaking the rules about no moving to scoot down a little closer to him. "I got somewhere to go, and don't have to worry about money too much as long as I make myself useful. And I'm usually pretty good at my job. When skinny redheads don't get me all tangled up in their own adventures."
"I'll have you know I coulda had the body stashed somewhere and been out of sight before those bastards caught me if you hadn't been there to stop me," he griped a little, but there was a glint of amusement in his eyes when he glanced at her. He both knew it probably wasn't true. But there were too many uncertainties to know if anything was really true. Quinlan, least of all, wasn't going to decide that.
Quinlan congealed her blood, then thinned it and he kept his hands on her knee and slowly the swelling began to go down, like a gradually deflating balloon. It'd probably still need the splint. He doubted any pressure would help it's recovery.
"You didn't have to stick around y'know. I wouldn've been just fine on my own. And I'm sure you would found some clever way to outsmart those cultists. Even if they'd've caught up with one of us eventually." He looked at her now, noticing she was closer than where she was. "But I'm glad you did."
“Oh ho!” she scoffed at him. “That’s what you say now that I’m gimpy and stuck with you! I don’t remember you saying that before. ‘If you go off on your own, they’ll find you for sure,’” she repeated in a cartoonish imitation of Quinlan’s voice. “‘These types don’t let a thing like death stop them.’” She looked at him with a half smirk. “But, yeah, sure, now it was my choice. I just stuck around because I’m such a social fucking butterfly. That’s it.”
Zahi inched a little closer, watching Quinlan closely in silence for a few moments. She wasn’t sure for what.
When she opened her mouth again, it was to address an earlier point, and her smirk was gone. “That wasn’t really a fair exchange. I mean, ‘demon’ is much more information than just saying I didn’t have anywhere else to go. That’s obvious.” Zahi brushed back a stray curl. She told the rest with a conversational lightness that betrayed how closely she usually kept it to her chest. “My mother was killed. I was just a kid. Seven, maybe eight. She was a prostitute, and not by choice. Dragged her out of the Kishahn jungles. Anyway, some john killed her. Grisly job. Didn’t know all the details then, though. The other women, well, kids sell, you know?” This was another thing Zahi never talked about. Or almost never. But again it came tumbling out thanks to the alcohol swimming in her stomach and her blood and her head But there was something cathartic about saying it out loud.. “Especially a mixed-up foreign-looking kid like I was. Two of them snuck me out, told me to run. Get out of Zantaric, never come back, that sort of thing. They couldn’t do much else. So,” she gave a little shrug, “I listened to them. There aren’t any nice cute villages like this in those parts, though. So I scavenged and scraped, mostly starved. Learned by trial and error and nearly killed myself a handful of times. You know, wrong berry, shit water, that sort of thing. Well, eventually winter really hit and that was that. But I certainly remembered which things you can eat, and which will throw you into a two-day hallucinogenic fever,” she finished with a half-smile. Always best to end on a light note.
"Hey I was just trying to warn you," Quinlan muttered. He snorted a little and shook his head. Of course she'd find a way to turn this back around on him. She was sufficiently distracted however, for the swelling in her knee had gone down significantly and she didn't even notice. This was good. In face, the bruising had lightened as well.
Then she began to talk. Only then did he look at her. His stomach dropped a little and he stared, trying to push away those memories, those old feelings. "My mother was tortured and killed by Mordecai, arrested for a crime she didn't commit. Killed because they thought she was a mage," Quinlan said, looking back down to her knee.
He kept those memories down as best he could and glanced back up at Zahi. "I can put the splint on now," he said and picked up the pieces of wood and bandages and placed them in supportive positions, being gentle with her knee when wrapping the bandages around it.
Well, go figure. They were sob story twins. That's what Zahi thought, but the look on Quinlan's face stayed her tongue. Even with the route between her thoughts and what she spoke so direct at the moment, she could still tell it was the wrong thing to say.
She nodded her consent to him setting the splint. But her eyes never left Quinlan and her gaze stayed fixedly on him as he worked. Finally, she said, as carefully as she could in her current state, "But you were the mage."
It was an invitation to elaborate, if he wanted to. But without forcing the topic. In truth, it was probably not as smooth as it seemed to Zahi.
"My father was," he added and made an amused expression. "Quite the mix-up. Of course nobody in my family had anything to do with it. My father was a mage of insignificant consequence, or so he would say. He made trinkets and knick-knacks, imbued them with mild enchantments that made them unique."
Quinlan smirked at the memory. "He was good at hiding it. You would never know by looking at him. But that was all he wanted, to stay hidden, stay safe. Keep us safe. So much for that."
Zahi found herself resisting the urge to put a hand on Quinlan's shoulder. That must have also been the drink. But she hadn't forgotten what he'd said about pity. And it was certainly how she felt. "Guess we all come from mixed-up families."
This wasn't really her forte, though. How to appropriately show sympathy. So she changed the subject. She looked at her knee for the first time. "Hey, that looks much better. What did you do?" She eyed him suspiciously. "And all your clothes are getting nice and dry," she added, "while I'm stuck here shivering."
Zahi tried to sit up to take off her shirt, but then the room was spinning. "Oh boy," she said, slouching back down. "I think I need another drink."
Maybe neither of them wanted pity, but they were still both very human, prone to the same vulnerabilities. In need of the same comforts. Quinlan watched her expression for a time, watching her inward dilemma, indeed even smirking. He managed to refrain from snorting, just barely.
Quinlan moved around her, not answering her question about healing her leg. Last thing they both needed was for her to kick him and injure her knee even further. So instead he got her that drink and then gestured to her shirt. "Can't have you getting sick too," he muttered. His hands felt along her sides, feeling the coolness of her flesh after being in contact with the shirt before pulling it over her head. He put it by the fireplace, adjusting his clothes so the other side could dry as well.
"I would have asked you earlier, but I'd prefer to have my ass bitten about one thing at a time." He chuckled a bit before sitting back down. The room was a bit unsteady for him to move too much. Sitting was always better.
Zahi let him remove her shirt without protest. She held the drink in her hand without making any immediate move to drink it. Her stomach, it seemed, was less interested than her eyes. She frowned at his last comment, though, scooting closer to him again.
"Who's biting who?" she asked, putting on an entirely unconvincing mask of innocence. "Not me. I'm a harmless little butterfly." She watched him, thinking despite herself of the coolness of his hands against her skin when he'd removed her shirt. "I wouldn't hurt a fly."
"Hm, now that think about it. You do sort of resemble a butterfly," he said, amused and grinning as such. He returned to her side and fixed the bandage atop the splint. He'd done the best he could with the limited materials available to him. He saw no reason to not be amicable, she was an invalid after all.
"Or maybe a gnat," he laughed. "Or am I the gnat? I can never get that straight. I suppose if I resemble any kind of creepy crawly it's a spider." His hand mimicked the motions of one to crawl up her thigh very rapidly. "A very stumbling, about-to-get-squashed kind of spider."
"Emphasis on squashed," Zahi said, smashing her hand on top of Quinlan's to 'squash' his spider. Sh left her hand there, though, as she looked him over. "Anyway, you're definitely the gnat," she said very seriously. "Impossible to get rid of, always whining," she paused for effect, "skinny."
"I'll accept that. I'm under no illusions as to what you think of me. But I suppose it doesn't matter," Quinlan smirked at her, but it was curious and he studied her face. He didn't think about it. His inhibitions were already iffy at best; add alcohol for best results.
He leaned in and kissed her cheek. It wasn't like the usual exchanges that went on between them. Despite his liquored up state, he thought the moment needed it and he couldn't really find anything to say afterward.
"Okay, okay, I guess you're not that skinny. I'll lay off that, I -"
But she was stopped short when he kissed her cheek. The gesture was, perhaps, the last thing one that Zahi would have expected. And it wasn't one that she was used to receiving, from anyone, much less Quinlan. She looked at him with unmasked surprise - it was, indeed, unlikely that she could still convincingly mask her emotions at this point, anyway - her hand still gripping his on her leg.
"What was that for?"
He didn't bother to pull his hand away. Quinlan caught her surprise and it made him grin. Just at the crook of his mouth. He shrugged. "I just felt like it I guess. You can decide what it was for. I'm not particular."
Zahi just stared at him, a little suspiciously, for a few moments. As if to figure out what he was after. Why else would he do something so strange, so sweet? But when she came up with nothing, she followed her own impulses. Leaning forward a bit too quickly for her swimmy, boozey head, she caught him in a proper kiss. Perhaps it couldn't be called 'gentle' - that would require a level of control the moonshine had robbed Zahi of - but it certainly wasn't rough, or forceful. It was nothing like her previous kisses.
And it didn't last long. Zahi pulled away just far enough to focus on Quinlan. She felt warm, and flush, and uninhibited. "You're alright, you know that?"
Quinlan kept his eyes clothes and lips puckered just a few seconds after she kissed him and his face was flushed and the kiss left his lips tingling. Oh, that's right she said something. Was she expecting an answer. All he could do was nod for a second before grabbing her face and going back in for seconds. His was a little more stumbling, as could be expected as the moonshine really started to take effect. It might have even been a little sloppy. But he pulled away long enough to catch his breath, half-startled to find his hands had wandered a little, well, the one not on her thigh.
It was down by her side, somewhere along the small of her back, fingers pressing into her spine a little.
"You're not so intolerable yourself, yeah?" he replied. "Not a bad kisser either." He chuckled. "You feeling okay?"
If it was sloppy, Zahi was in no state to notice. Her hand left his on her thigh as she lifted both her hands to the side of his face, fully returning his attention. She felt her heart thumping loudly, her stomach clench, her skin flush. She pulled him closer to her, or maybe her closer to him, she wasn't sure, shifting her weight to close the distance between them as best she could without moving her banged up, bandaged leg.
"Nah, I'm a mess," she answered when he paused, her breath heavy between speaking, "but I feel fine."
She smoothed her hands back from his face to the back of his neck, her fingers clutching lightly at his hair. Then she pulled him back to her, kissing him with more force than before, but still not quite roughly.
Where she didn't kiss him back as roughly, Quinlan pushed back against her. Maybe he was just more accustomed to the roughness. Most nights that resulted in any sort of heavy contact started out this way. Too drunk to register reality, when every sensation was simultaneously heightened and blended into one.
This was different, and he didn't quite know how to react to it. So he found himself falling back on what he knew and sunk his teeth lightly into her bottom lip, just a little, not like before. And before he knew it, his hands were exploring all those muscles she was so proud of. Zahi was a strange one, that was for sure. Most women prided themselves on having a soft body, complemented by soft curves, but not her. And something in that difference made Quinlan's blood tingle.
He pushed her back against the bed, crawling over her and minding her propped up leg. Last thing he need was to land on that thing and have all his hard work go to waste.
If alcohol made this situation possible, it might also be its demise. Four drinks, no, wait, was it five? Five drinks was a lot for an inexperienced drinker, in less than an hour, and on an empty stomach, after all.
While sitting upright and fairly stable, Zahi only felt her body tingle, heat, and ache for more as Quinlan's hands ran over her. She kissed him with growing fierceness, mirroring his energy. She buried her hands in his hair, clutching it in her fingers, pulling herself to him, him to her. Zahi had no intention, this time, of stopping with just rough kissing.
And while most of her body was wholly on board, one crucial part was not. She had been fine sitting up, but when Quinlan pushed her back, Zahi felt a lurching sloshing in her stomach. She tried to ignore it, pulling Quinlan into another kiss. But it was not going to be ignored. Abruptly, she broke the contact, her eyes scrunched shut.
"Oh Kia," she finally said, "I think I'm going to be sick."
[xD]
Quinlan pulled back when she said that, eyes wide, the drunkness stemming just enough that he knew he didn't want to lay in a bed full of puke. So Quinlan pushed her, just a little off to the side. "That Bresly woman left a bucket there just in case. For the rags, or for business, or anything just in case, I imagine," Quinlan said, rolling off to the side.
"Just let it out," he muttered, sitting up against the headboard and sighing. His scalp was sore from all the hair pulling he wondered if she took out clumps with a grip as strong as hers.
Zahi groaned, rolling over. She wasn't drunk enough to not be embarrassed at all, but that would have to wait. There was no stopping herself getting sick now. She pulled the bucket to her, leaning over the side of the bed as her body heaved, rejecting Mrs. Bresly's oh-so-strong moonshine. She wasn't sure how long it took, but it must have been several minutes. A few times she thought it was over, only for a new wave to take over again.
When finally it was done, after waiting a minute to make sure, Zahi pushed the bucket away. Gross. She rolled back onto the bed, laying on her back, and groaned again, covering her face.
"Fuck me," she groaned, not thinking in that moment what a poor choice of a curse it was. "One point Mrs. Bresly. Zero points Zahi."
"Well, that I was just gonna get to that," Quinlan muttered to himself, looking down at himself after getting all hot and bothered. He should have known better than to try and drown a lightweight. Maybe just four drinks next time, for sure. Despite it all, however, he was smiling and laughing.
And the laughter came in waves, much like Zahi's puke, and he held his belly to keep from puking himself. When at last he relaxed, Quinlan rolled from the bed and set the bucket outside and sat beside her again. "I think I saw a boot come out of you. Maybe a couple of rocks and half the forest."
He snorted and laid back on the bed. "You okay there, butterfly?"
"Ugh, don't joke like that, you'll make me sick again."
She took a moment to consider his question, listening to her stomach. "Yeah. No. I guess. I mostly feel gross."
She moved her fingers to uncover one eye, the hazel one, to peer over him. Putting on her bravest face of dry humor, despite the still squishy feelings in her stomach, she commented dryly, "Guess I'm a bit of a disappointment."
He put a hand up, swearing to not joke about puke any further. But it was funny enough just to watch her expression. Did she always have to put on a brave front? He was curious when she said that last thing however.
"Not at all," he replied, shaking his head promptly. "Just rinse your mouth out and if you still want to go, I'd be happy to oblige." He laughed though he wasn't joking. And he eyed her with brows raised.
Zahi uncovered her face to look up at him with an amused, but still vaguely sick expression.
"Ugh, I think I'm going to have to decline," Zahi said, shaking her head, her voice a little queazy. "Nothing personal." But one of her hands drifted over to his thigh, her fingers moving unconsciously. "I don't think my stomach's up for it, though."
"I blame you, for the record," she said, reaching out with her other hand to put a finger on his nose. Eventually. It took a bit of effort to actually accomplish such a feat of hand-eye coordination. "'You have to drink,'" she imitated him, "'so important for your knee, blah blah blah.' You're so full of shit," she said, but she was grinning rather than scowling. "You wanted to get me drunk."
"Hey! Don't blame me," he murmured, watching her hand from the corner of his eye. He snickered a bit and looked up at her. "I only wanted to help. This is just an unexpected, but not unwelcome side effect, I swear."
Quinlan just looked at her expression and laughed again. "Besides you ought to enjoy it while you can. You'll feel like you got trampled by a band of horses come tomorrow."
Zahi decided to ignore the last bit about horses. She didn't want to think about feeling worse. Instead she decided to focus on the first comment, looking up at him with a broad, laughing grin. "What's the 'unexpected, not unwelcome' side effect?" she laughed. Though she was still a bit nervous about her stomach, she also still had the warm, unguarded, and mostly happy feeling of the alcohol. "Getting a poor girl heaving sick before you have the chance to so much as cop a feel?"
She smirked, her hand on his thigh creeping upwards - just a smidge - then gave him a sidelong look. "But I don't believe you, for the record."
Quinlan looked at her, as if she couldn't be serious, but he was quite pleased that she was, at least in so much he could actually joke with her. Who was this person!? "But of course. Maybe getting drunk wasn't the ideal situation, but I'm not minding the circumstances it landed me into. Aside from the puking, something tells me you don't really mind either."
He put a hand dramatically on his chest. "Oh however will I go on!?" he said with clearly feigned melodrama. "You're just peeved I was actually able to get you drunk. And you like it."
Zahi glared at him. He was, of course, right. And that left her without any good retorts. Instead she decided to just lie. "I don't like anything," she said, removing her hand from Quinlan to stretch. When she settled back again, laying with her back flat on the bed and looking up at him, she gave a very serious look and said very seriously, "Couldn't allow it. It'd interfere with my serious, steely reputation. Can't have that, can we?"
Quinlan's eyes gleamed, watching her body stretch and the muscles of her abdoment move. Hm, maybe he really was a gnat. "Don't worry," he said and leaned in, kissing her softly, braving the puke breathe anyway. He pressed his mouth deeper to hers.
"Your secret's safe with me."
“Mmhnn, no, come on,” Zahi protested the kiss, pushing Quinlan lightly away. “Gross.”
Zahi made a face, then pushed herself up into a sitting position, head swimming int he process, and eyed her knee. “Well, guess I may as well try this thing out.” Carefully, she pushed herself up onto her feet, carefully keeping most of her weight on her good leg. She had to stay standing still for a second just to get her bearings. Then she grabbed the bottle of moonshine and hobbled, scarecrow-legged to the room’s square little window.
She turned to Quinlan, pulling a very brave face so she could appreciate the very serious sacrifice she was making on his behalf - well, also hers, really - then took a swig of the moonshine, nearly gagged, swished it through her mouth and cheeks, then spit it out the window. She couldn’t swallow it. She just couldn’t. She made a few choking sounds, then closed the window, leaving the bottle on the window sill.
Then she hobbled/scarecrow-walked back to the bed. Zahi wasn’t sure how much of it was her knee and how much of it was the alcohol. She guessed it was a generous helping of both. When she reached the bed, she didn’t ‘get back in’ so much as awkwardly fell back in. But, to her credit, she at least managed to land on top of Quinlan.
Propping herself up by her palms, she leaned in and kissed him. Properly now that it wasn’t gross. Then she pulled away, looking at him with a mock-serious look. “Secrets are never safe,” she said plainly, probably joking. “I guess I’ll just have to feed you to that great big salamander thing after I’ve had my way with you. Only way. You understand.”
[Oh Zahi. so brave.]
Quinlan made a loud OOF! sound when Zahi promtly landed on him after rinsing her mouth out. Oh she sacrificed so much! He couldn't blame her for wanting to rest after all she'd been through. Oh woe be her. But he also remembered her splint. "Hey! Watch it. Don't let all my hard work go to waste on your leg," he grumbled after her kiss. He laughed, pleased she thought to clean her mouth out.
"I promise I won't even put up a fight," he said, understanding completely and leaning his head upward and sealing her lips to his. He pulled away with a smack and grinned with a look of the pure-hearted caregiver. It was in jest of course, but he at least looked genuine.
"So what, you on top, me on the bottom? You sure your leg can handle that?"
[[The bravery was in swigging from the bottle again! Come on, right after being sick, that is brave! :P I mean, I'm guessing. I wouldn't know.]]
No, she wasn't sure. She wasn't even sure her stomach could handle any of it. But mostly she thought that Quinlan asked too many questions. Buzzing, skinny little gnat indeed. She answered by catching him in another kiss, more forceful, shifting more of her weight that had been propped up on her palms into the kiss, onto Quinlan.
She broke away just enough to speak, her nose still touching his. "Anyone ever tell you you talk too much?"
Anyway, they were still (minimally) dressed. There was plenty of opportunity for reshuffling. But Zahi couldn't admit that she shouldn't stay on top!
There was a risk, very great indeed, that all of this could end in disaster. Or at the very least, a very undesirable mess. But Quinlan didn't care. He was a man after all, wasn't he? He'd rolled around with her on a bed of burning coals if she wanted. He wasn't picky. Admittedly, however, this was much better than coal and she'd feel his lack of inhibition against her leg through his small clothes.
"Yeah, yeah. Less talk, more tumble. We can try different things and see what works," he panted lightly back to her. He didn't say anything more and just leaned in to seal the gap between them. He kissed her hard, roughly, letting his hands do most of the talking. He learned a lot about her body, committing what he did to memory, where the small of back, rose up to her behind, the curvature of spine and the muscles along her hips.
She almost had to tell him to shut up again, but thankfully he finally did. She leaned her weight into him, kissing him deeply and seriously. Her body arched in response to his wandering hands, finally pressing down into the growing bludge beneath her, her hips grinding lightly.
Zahi was no longer thinking about whether or not she'd be sick. Everything was swimming and blurring into the heat between their bodies, overpowering any uncomfortable fluttering in her stomach. Her hands moved from holding herself up to move over Quinlan's shoulders and neck and back. She kissed him fiercely, then broke the contact, her lips wandering to his stubbled jaw, then grazing over his ear with a combination of kisses and teeth. Her mouth traced down his neck and only when she got to his collar bone did she move away.
Pushing herself up as best she could with one reliable leg, Zahi reached to undo her brassiere; a more utilitarian garment than an alluring one. Figures, she half thought as she tossed it aside, she had to do all the work - as usual!
Quinlan panted hard, already his groin ached, ready and eager. His arms snaked around her, hands grabbing at heated flesh when she pressed down on him. No, she wasn't doing all the work and he'd be fairly indignant if he could hear her thoughts. Which was a blessing that he couldn't read minds. He pushed at her underclothes, sliding them off her after she took off her top. He rolled them over, pushing her down with no small amount of force, yet somehow mindful of her leg.
Quinlan's hand hiked up her good leg, hooking it around his hips. Somehow in the rolling around, Quinlan lost his underclothes and he shuddered at the sensation of the pooling heat between her legs. His hand slithered downward, feeling along the folds of her sex and finding the warmth of he clit. Somehow, despite the swimming in his head and the hunger of his body, he managed to focus on the rhythms of her body. With her beneath him, Quinlan stretched her out, his mouth and lips lingering down to her chest, kissing along her breasts and only when his hand vacated her sex did he push deeply into her, following her committed rhythm.
Well, at least Quinlan was finally pulling his own weight. Zahi only had a moment or two to be peeved that she'd ended up on bottom (because this was obviously a competition) before his hand found her clit and her thought evaporated into a short, heavy gasp. She buried her fingers in his hair as his mouth explored her breasts, her breathing hard from the attention he was paying between her legs. When Quinlan finally withdraw his hand and entered her, her hips bucked up to take the length of him inside of her. She moved in rhythm with his thrusting - well, not always quite in rhythm and sometimes a bit sloppily if truth be told, but she could blame that on him and Mrs. Bresly. Never one to make a lot of noise, call it the looking-over-your-shoulder instinct, Zahi bit into Quinlan's shoulder to stifle her moans as the pace quickened, her fingers likewise digging into his back.
Quinlan wasn't particular of their positioning, but he considered the condition of her leg and wondered if she'd have it half hanging off the bed if she remained on top. The splint he'd fashioned wasn't a small one. In fact, the positioning was a bit off even now. But he wasn't complaining and he moved enthusiastically within her. Maybe it was his body's way of making up for lost time, or maybe he just wanted to find the parts of her that made her buck and quiver.
As if the teeth and nail marks on his shoulder and back weren't enough.
After all, all work and no play made for a dull Zahi. Not to mention this Zahi was much more pleasant.
Quinlan held himself with one hand and gripped underneath the thigh of her good leg with the other, pulling them tighter together.
Quinlan's motions caused Zahi to gasp once or twice, releasing her jaw's clamp on his skin. The whole thing was a bit of a blur of heat and sensation, the alcohol still tampering with her senses, and a few times she forgot just where she was and who she was with. But every time she came around to remember, it was accompanied by an increase in enthusiasm. After all, a stranger was more exciting than someone familiar. Even if he was skinny.
Unfortunately, it also made her forget in the moment about her knee. Frustrated with being stuck on bottom, Zahi kissed Quinlan roughly and pushed up, rolling them over rather roughly. The effect should have been to end with Zahi straddling Quinlan, but the force of the movement smacked her injured knee - hard - against the heavy wooden frame of the bed.
"Fuck!" she swore, breaking the kiss a bit sloppily. Instead of straddling Quinlan, she ended collapsed on top of him, cursing her stupid knee.
"Nevermind the knee," he muttered and scooted them both off to the edge of the bed where her leg could rest. He pulled her body back over him, sort of, encouraging her to sit on him. They disconnected somehow in the exchange and her growing frustration was something that was familiar to him, and it made his blood run hot.
His hands gripped at her ass, adjusting her position and pushing her down on him. "Shit," he griped, having to look up this time to see where he was aiming.
Zahi shifted back over Quinlan, her bad leg draped over the edge of the bed, her good leg wrapped around his side. A moment of annoyance flashed in her eyes, though; what a whiner! She had half a mind to just walk away. Well, stumble. Well, maybe a quarter of a mind. Okay, maybe less. Or maybe her mind had nothing to do it with it as she reached down, guiding him back into her.
Her annoyance was forgotten, though - or at least put on a back burner - as she wrapped her arms around Quinlan, pulling herself tight against him and finding a rhythm in her hips again.
Quinlan sealed his arms tightly around her, binding her to him in a heated blur of grunts and groans. Maybe he hadn't had as many drinks as her. Or maybe he did and he could just hold his liquor better than her. Or maybe he was just trying to tell himself he was okay when he wasn't. Aw, fuck it, he was just distracting himself from the heat that was riding him.
He moved his hips along with hers, or tried to, half-blind, as he pushed into her sex with eager force, undulating his hips in powerful strokes. Already he was sweating moonshine, hair plastered across his face and hers to as he pressed his forehead to hers, his lips finding their way down her jaw to her mouth, feeling her breath splay across his skin. The sensation drove him wild and he buried a hand into her hair to pull her head back just enough to bend his head into the crook of her neck, kissing and breathing along a burning pulse.
Her earlier annoyance and the distraction of the pain in her knee both melted away as she rode Quinlan, her breath turning into rhythmic gasps as he thrust upwards into her. She brought her hips down with increasing force to meet his thrusts. Zahi had to bite her lip (Quinlan's shoulder being no longer an option, though she dug her fingers into his shoulder blades) when he pulled her head back to expose her neck, stifled moans escaping her lips as she neared her climax.
Quinlan could feel her body shudder and writhe against him. Every sensation was amplified and feeling her ride on him steadily made him moan loudly against her skin. He released her hair, instead burying his face into her shoulder, finding a sensation and nurturing it, encouraging it to grow and burn as hot as it could.
Heat burning inside her, she dug her fingers hard into Quinlan's back, perhaps drawing a little blood as she was pushed over the edge. Zahi's body rocked and shuttered, her sex spasming around Quinlan's, as she rolled through her climax.
When he felt her body burn, Quinlan shuddered. His heart pounded in his ears and he barely remembered to pull out in time as he peaked. He heard the racket of a platter being dropped and he turned his head in time to watch a fiercely blushing Mrs. Bresly stammer and close the door. And on the floor were the spilled remains of stew.
Zahi didn't really register Mrs. Bresly - or the remains of Mrs. Bresly having been there - until after she collapsed, her heart and breath still heavy and beating wildly, onto Quinlan. The site of the spilled stew, the bits of cut up meat and potato in a thick brown liquid spread all over the floor, made Zahi gag. Too reminiscent. She rolled off of Quinlan, covering her mouth. It took a minute before she felt confident she wouldn't be sick. Not the best ending. Then again, not the worst.
She looked at Quinlan afterwards, her eyes a little watery from the wave of nausea. "We should probably apologize," she said, still grimacing a little. "She's been really nice to us. And," she looked at the mess, gagging a little again, "clean up, I guess. And by 'we,' I mean you," she said. Pointing to her knee and trying very hard to replace the look of suppressed sickness with something approaching wide-eyed innocence, "I can't. Gimpy."
Quinlan just smirked, amused by her reaction. The beef stew did paint a rather awful picture on the floor but at least Zahi was able to hold herself together. "Fine fine. At least I'm good for something," he muttered half-indignantly and flashed her a grin. He leaned across, kissing her gently before vacating the bed.
He hoped Mrs. Bresly wasn't scarred for life, but she probably didn't expect to see them quite like that. How does one fuck an invalid after all without worsening their injuries? Quinlan wasn't sure Zahi wasn't more banged up than when they started. He supposed he'd know when the pain made her more irritable after her hangover in the morning.
He took a few rags and cleaned up the mess, throwing them back on the platter and placing it outside the door. He looked out to the empty hallway, finding no trace of the proprietor. "I'll apologize in the morning. I can barely stay on my feet," he grumbled as he stumbled back to the bed.
Zahi slunk down into the bed, frowning at Quinlan's incessant smirk. She should get sick, just to spite him. She pulled the blanket that was still partially folded at the foot of the bed up over her, trying not to watch as Quinlan cleaned up the soup. Everything was still a bit spinny, though, especially when she closed her eyes. Ugh, why did anyone ever drink so much?
She didn't look over again until Quinlan stumbled into bed. She lifted up the cover for him, but only scootched over a bit. She ran a hand through the damp coils of her hair. "Ugh, we're the worst guests. If we make it out of this, I'm giving Mrs. Bresly a tenth of whatever we get for whatever we're after."
If Quinlan was used to drunk sex with strangers and had defaulted to what he was used to, Zahi was opposite and had the opposite reaction now. After all, she was too drunk and now exhausted to think too hard about anything. So when Quinlan was in bed, she scooted up against him without thinking, draping her good leg and an arm over him and resting her head next to his. It was, perhaps, a strange juxtaposition from her behavior only a few hours earlier! She turned her head to look over him for a moment. Finally she asked, a hint of a smirk in her still-queazy voice, "So you always get girls drunk first?"
Quinlan grinned at her, eyes half-drowsy. "Only the pretty ones," he said. "Cheesy I know, but it works. Sometimes. Maybe very few times. Well, it does work when you can find one interesting enough to talk to. Sometimes breasts can only be entertaining without a brain behind them. I realize not all men would agree. The drunk part keeps me from realizing how daft they are."
He stuck his tongue out. "But it worked this time."
Zahi caught his stuck-out tongue in a kiss, pulling herself a bit closer to him. But just to show what she thought of the childish gesture, she bit down on his lower lip like he was always doing. Maybe a bit harder, though.
"God, do you ever shut up?" Zahi realized that she'd asked the question, but she wasn't expecting Quinlan's rambling and contradictory answer. "I don't think you even kept that straight. So now I'm not sure if you're hinting that I'm pretty or daft," she said through a yawn.
She settled back down, resting her head against Quinlan's. "If you want to know a secret, though," she said sleepily, in the great tradition of drunk secret-telling, "you probably didn't need to. I'm pretty competitive. You'd just have to set it up right."
Quinlan raised his brows listening to her little secret, his tongue nursing on the bottom lip she so graciously thought to tear apart with her great and terrible fangs. "I'll keep that in mind. As a man, I've got to make sure I stay on top," he said, intending to bait her. "Besides you were only on top because I let you."
"Yes," Zahi said sleepily, putting a finger on his nose, "exactly like that. You get the idea." She was, at the moment, too sleepy and drunk to be baited just then. Plus she'd just told him! He couldn't trick her that easily. "Can't promise it'll still work now that I've told you. But maybe," she yawned again, stretching, "you'll get lucky and I'll forget by tomorrow."
Quinlan laughed. "Point noted," he sniggered and just let his hand drift up along her side as she laid beside him. He observed her leg, relieved that her splint had stayed intact, somehow.
"Go to sleep now, Princess Gimpy," he said, sighing though his nose and feeling his eyelids grow heavier. His hand lazily cupped her breast, thumb brushing across her nipple.
"I'm not a princess," she muttered, already half-asleep. And though she made a small sound when his hand came to her breast, it wasn't long before Zahi was completely asleep. And, for the moment, peaceful.
That, however, wouldn't last. When the sun of the next morning crept into the room, the Zahi that woke up feeling thick, aching, and sick was not the cuddly, warm, drunk, post-coital Zahi at all. Groaning before she even moved, the first full motion Zahi could bring herself to commit to was to hit Quinlan hard in the arm.
"What did you do to me?" she demanded in a groggy, grumpy voice that came out somewhere between a growl and a whine. She felt, much as he'd predicted, like she'd been trampled by a herd of horses.
Quinlan awoke with a jerk when she hit him hard on the arm. He opened his eyes, holding his arm and turning wildly to her. The motion made him dizzy suddenly and he held his temples, slowly sitting up. "Don't talk so loud," he groaned. "And I didn't do nothing. Evidently."
Quinlan rubbed his face and head, pulling his pillow up into his lap and buring his face in it to try and cushion the headache away. "Guuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuugh," he groaned.
"You should be thanking me. We had a good time."
Zahi hadn't made it as far as sitting up. She lay on her stomach, face buried in a pillow. That was, until Quinlan yanked the pillow away to cradle his head in his lap. "Hey!" she bit as her head bounced back onto the bed.
It wasn't until he'd said that they'd had a 'good time' that the night's events came back to Zahi and felt the evidence of it. She gingerly lifted the blanket to peak underneath at their nude form, just as confirmation. Well, shit.
With a muffled groan, she did her best to bury her face in her arm and in the bed since Quinlan snatched away her pillow. Not only did she feel trampled and sick, but her knee hurt like hell. "Well, I hope you enjoyed yourself, because it was the last time. I don't think I'm ever going to be able to move again."
Quinlan took a deep breath, and steeled himself for the brighter light in the room. His eyes didn't really adjust, but he forced them slightly opened and propped the pillow down on her head. "Oh, don't be so sourpuss. Kiddie-baby-whiner," he said and moved down to inspect her knee, moving slower than expected to keep the room from spinning.
'Cause it was totally spinning.
Quinlan steadied himself on her knee, or beside it and sat down. "Splint's fine. Don't sweat it. I'll go check our clothes. I don't think you ought to be on that knee for the next few days though, it'll only get worse if you walk on it," he said and rubbed his head, hoping the headache would subside sometimes soon. It didn't, but it was worth a try.
"You'll get the feeling back in your pelvis. Soon enough," he muttered, snickering even and stood from the bed, getting dressed. "I'll head downstairs and apologize to Bresly. And see if I can't beg for her to give us something to eat and drink. Don't you move."
In response to his snide comments and snickering - especially 'you'll get the feeling back in your pelvis soon enough - Zahi took the one pillow on the bed and hurled it at Quinlan as he left the room to go apologize to Mrs. Bresly and beg food. Kiddie-baby-whiner, she thought grumpily to herself. He was the whiner! (Thankfully Zahi was not yet awake enough to hear how kiddie-baby-whiner such thoughts sounded).
Damned was she going to be told what to do by some skinny redheaded mage, though. Even if she suspected that he might be right. A couple of days... she couldn't stay in bed for days! So moving carefully, mindful of the lurching in her stomach, Zahi slipped out of bed and got, very shakily, to her feet. Her knee protested and the room spun, but she managed to stay upright. Cursing her leg, as well as Quinlan though she wasn't sure why other than he must deserve it somehow, she hobbled over to the rolled up rat-skin map. She nearly got sick again when she unrolled it in front of the fire. The stench of the dead hide mixing with her own emotional hangups of the furry rodent variety. But she choked it back.
Spreading the map in front of the fire, Zahi lowered herself into an awkward sitting position in front of it, with one leg tucked under her and the splinted leg stretched out. It was quite a bit of effort to focus on anything on the map and, at the moment, she couldn't make heads nor tails of it.
But it felt good to feel like she was back to work.
Needless to say, Quinlan looked even more pathetic when he came back than when he left the room. There was a clear visible red mark on his cheek where a hand had met his face, and his hair was a little damp from a pitcher of water being tossed on him. He had to beg the old woman not to kick them out after that day, even offering to clean up in the kitchens afterward to smooth things over. After agreeing to patch some roofing and clean out the chimney and washing the windows and repainting the sides of her tavern, she at last agreed to let them stay and even offered a hearty breakfast at no extra cost.
Considering it seemed he was doing a week's worth of work for her for free!
Quinlan returned with the platter of fresh eggs, potatoes and bread. Thank goodness it wasn't stew, and he set it on the dresser next to the moonshine. She offered another pitcher of water, this time not in his face, and he poured himself a hefty glass of that, downing it messily while Zahi fiddled with the map.
Zahi looked at Quinlan when he re-entered, arms laden with breakfast, and face red. She was actually a little surprised that he didn't scold her for breaking the 'don't you move' command. She shifted on the floor to look up at him instead of the map, raising an eyebrow at the red mark on his face.
"Mrs. Bresly took the apology well?" she asked, suddenly wondering if Quinlan was even capable of apologizing for anything. Maybe she should have gone after all...
Sitting naked on the floor, she frowned at the food, though. "Oh no, I hope that's all for you." She scrunched her face up. "I don't think I'll ever eat again."
In the face of her remark, Quinlan smiled snidely, but it quickly faded. Through a sigh, he nodded despite the nausea of the motion. "Actually she took it better than I expected. I think I maybe turned myself into her indentured servant. But she promised not to turn us out into the street and that's enough for me. That and I maybe have said you'd darn her stockings for her."
Quinlan took the plates down beside the small table opposite the dresser and cut up some of the eggs. They were hot and smelled delicious, but much like Zahi he wasn't sure he could muscle it down. Oh, be a man, he griped to himself.
"You've got to eat something," he said. "If you want, just have some water. Or this black bitter crap she called coffee? Seems strange to me, but it's smell is certainly provocative. Have some. You'll like it. It's just like you."
Quinlan brought down a plate to her. "Eat. You're my invalid. If you die, then what am I going to do with you? Here have a blanket." And he yanked the one from the bed and draped it around her.
"What," she asked, peering into the mug of black liquid Quinlan handed her, "black and bitter, with a provocative smell? I think I'm more of a brown," she said, steeling her stomach to sip the bitter liquid. It wasn't good, per se, but it did something to fight the queazy feeling in her stomach, that was enough for her. "But point taken."
But when Quinlan brought food down to her and draped a blanket over her and called her his invalid, she eyed him darkly and suspiciously. But she took the blanket, wrapping it a bit tighter around here. "Now look here," she started, "just because I fucked you doesn't mean you need to start being all," she waved to the blanket, the cut up food, and general evidence of his pleasantries, "nice all of the sudden. I won't die of a bum knee, but if I did, you'd dump me in Mrs. Bresly's garden and have 100% of the sale of whatever-it-is for yourself. Got it?"
"It was more in reference to your darkened outlook, than to the color of your lovely skin," Quinlan said, sitting down beside her and cutting up some of the eggs on his own plate and eating a little at a time. He had a small cup of his own 'coffee' - it was a strange word - and made a face at the taste of it. It would take some getting used to, but at least it helped with his headache, a little.
"Noted," he said, nodding to her last statement. "But don't act like it wasn't a team effort." He grinned at her and continued to eat and pointed to the rat skin map. "Beats paper any day."
Zahi poked at the eggs, moving them around a little but not yet brave enough to eat any. So she stuck to the strange drink for now. She couldn't remember feeling quite so bad before, and she got pretty banged up in her line of work!
Needless to say,the hangover did nothing to improve her naturally oh-so-sunny disposition. So in response to Quinlan, she just grumbled, "I acknowledge no team effort." It wasn't clear if she was just grumbling, goading him, or sick of all his grinning. Probably all three.
Quinlan didn't say anything, and just ate in silence. The fire had since gone out and though it was morning, the room was rather chilly. At least he considered maybe Zahi was chilly, so he thought to make a fire. He shuffled the coals around before dumping more kindling in and setting it ablaze. He wanted to talk, but knew what Zahi thought about his ramblings.
He was content to resign himself to staring at her instead. Slowly slurping his coffee and eating his eggs.
Zahi watched Quinlan stalk around (sulk, she thought). But she couldn't deny that it was nice to have a fire again. And when he finally set to eating and just staring at her, she gave an exasperated sigh and set down the mug of increasingly cool coffee.
"I was joking, alright? Sure, team work, it was a good time - except for my knee - you're not such a bad guy, you're not skinny," she recited the list with the grudging grace of an annoyed teenager. Thankfully for her the hangover kept her from really hearing herself. "Now what are you sulking about?"
"I'm not sulking," he said plainly, sipping the dark drink and making a face. He quirked a brow at her, making a crooked grin and he gestured with his fork. "It's just that I noticed one eye is slightly bigger than the other. Never mind the colors. They're just slightly disproportionate. But your breasts are fine, don't worry. Fascinating, really."
Quinlan shrugged and looked over her shoulder at the map on the floor, knowing they'd have to find someone to translate that inscription sometime soon. Maybe he could take a look around town if he had a chance from all the work he had to do around Bresly's tavern. What the chances were of there being some kind of scholar in these backwoods, were beyond him.
"No they're not," Zahi said quickly. She rubbed her eyes, surprised by her own defensiveness.
She hmph'd, but turned to follow Quinlan's gaze to the map. She put away (most of) her hung-over annoyance with the mage, perfectly proportionate(!) eyes looking over the map. "Don't think we'll find anyone who can read that here," she said, forcing her tone back to 'business casual.' She gave a little shrug, "I guess you never know. But we might find someone who recognizes the features on the map. At least point us in the right direction. Maybe the inscription just says, 'Here there be many giant man-eating newts.' I'd rather be taken by surprise," she quipped dryly, "keeps the spice in life."
"You're right. When my head stops pounding, I'll head downstairs and see who knows what, ask around," he nodded to her, cleaning up his plate. "I can't imagine too many scholars hanging around the boonies can you? Seems unlikely, but it's a risk I'm willing to take."
"Looks like we have one more thing in common. Who'd've thought?"
Zahi nodded. She didn't comment on whether or not they had anything in common. After all, she hadn't really been serious. But putting light on what was probably the reality of knowing or not knowing what the inscription said.
In her silence, though, she heard her stomach growl. Pulling a brave face, she picked up the plate of cold eggs and cautiously ate one. After successfully swallowing it and keeping it down, she looked over at Quinlan. "So what am I supposed to do while you're out fixing Mrs. Bresly's roof and asking around about maps and whatever else?"
Quinlan raised a brow at her and gestured to her leg. "Make sure that heals for one," he said. "I guess you'll just have to stay in the room and darn those stockings." He put away the dishes on his platter and sipped the rest of his coffee and following that with water. "Sorry. I know you probably want to not be useless."
Zahi just frowned, shoulders slumped a little. It wasn't like she was expecting any other answer. She looked about the room, trying to think of anything else she might do, and finally said glumly, "Well, if we could get our hands on some paper and charcoal or something, I could make some copies of the map, I guess."
It wasn't really her area of expertise, but at least it would be something. Doing nothing was even less her forte.
Resigned, she pulled the plate of eggs into her lap and cautiously ate the cold breakfast. "Maybe," she said to Quinlan after swallowing a bite, "while you're running around being Mrs. Bresly's maid, you can wash the mud and rat blood out of my clothes, too?" she tried her best to flash him a charming smile, probably failing. "I promise I'll darn all your socks. Whatever 'darning' is. Actually, I don't promise that. It's bad form making promises you can't keep."
Quinlan nodded and grinned as he stood beside the door, making his exit. "I'm sure you'll find something useful to do while I'm out. In the meantime, however, I'm going to borrow this map. I'll bring it back. That, I can promise," he said and quietly stepped out. Sure, maybe doing chores and paying his way through labor wasn't Quinlan's idea of time well spent, but they had nowhere else to go and turning Zahi out in the wilderness with a bum knee would probably have him being dead in a ditch somewhere, likely killed by an annoyed Blood Wolf.
He always favored a ditch, over other possible places to be thrown into when dead. It beat looking all bloated in a lake, or being burnt to ash by fire. Being eaten by passing animals, or rotting gracefully; that was his kind of final resting place.
These were meager thoughts between washing Zahi's bloody clothes all the while painting the side of Bresly's inn. The old woman kept a hawk's eye on him as he worked, making sure he was putting on exactly two coats. After a few mild arguments, the old bat granted Quinlan a small work break, even offering him some lemonade and when at last she was assured the work would be done and vanished into her building, Quinlan was off, asking around town.
It was a small village, somewhere between that and a good-sized town and just about everyone knew everyone else. As he stepped away from Bresly's tavern, he hailed down a young woman carrying a load of laundry. "Excuse me, miss?" he called out.
She stopped, stared at him wide-eyed.
"Hello. I was wondering if you know anyone around here that's a bit of a history buff, a scholar of some kind?" He laughed, jokingly. "Maybe someone that can tell me about the area."
But the girl just stared at him.
"Hello?"
The woman stared at Quinlan for another long moment. It was a little as though she were asleep, or maybe in a trance. Overhead, a crow cawed and she suddenly shook, looking at Quinlan anew.
"Oh!" she said suddenly. "You want Ol' Sarov, the hermit. Lives just outside the village. He's sort of a scholar; closest thing we have here." She shifted the load of laundry on her hip, looking Quinlan over again. "My husband could take y'out there, if you like."
Quinlan looked back at Mrs. Bresly's half painted building and then abruptly nodded to the young woman. "Oh, if you could do that, I'd be very thankful. I'm a bit of an explorer. I like the rush," he said with a sheepish grin and gestured to her. "Lead on, Miss...er... I'll follow."
The woman gave Quinlan a strange look to show how she felt about his attitude about 'rushes.' But she didn't say anything, just beckoned for him to follow her back to her home. It was a just on the edge of the village, but since the village was small, it didn't take long to reach. The woman set down her basket of laundry on the porch of the small stone house.
"Gregory!" she called around back, towards the chicken coop.
Gregory appeared a minute later, a just-recently-dead chicken in the crook of his arm. The husband and wife greeted each other warmly and the farmer looked inquisitively at Quinlan. They didn't get strangers here very often!
"This gentleman was asking after Old Sarov," the woman explained. "Needs to know something about the history of the area, and I didn't know who else to refer him to. Think you could take him out there?"
Gregory looked from his wife to Quinlan and back. For just that moment he looked confused, then had the look of suddenly remembering. "Oh, wanna see Ol' Sarov, eh?" he asked Quinlan genially. "It's a bit out of the town, but I can take you there. Here you go, darling," he said to his wife, handing her the chicken. "I should be back in an hour or so. Come on then, Mister...?" he gestured for Quinlan to follow him.
The way led out of the town and into the forest on a path that was not well-trod. Greogory seemed ambivalent about it, however. After twenty minutes or so, they arrived in a small, oaken glen. In the center was a round hut made from stones and wicker with a long, high copper chimney from which spewed a purple-ish smoke. "Here's Ol' Sarov's place," Gregory said to Quinlan, then trod up to the little hut and rang the little bell there.
A sound of clattering came from inside, but soon appeared a tall, wizened man with a long grey and white beard and a slight stoop. He wore old, worn robes that certainly supported the idea that he normally lived alone and away from people. There was certainly an interesting smell coming from the little hut.
"Yes?" he asked, looking from Gregory to Quinlan. "How can I help you? I don't often get visitors!"
"Jessup. Mister Jessup will do," Quinlan answered with a smile as Gregory led them off. He knew it wasn't a good idea to simply follow a stranger out into the woods. He was more surprised however that this Gregory seemed to go along with it. Perhaps that was to be expected of simple country folk, and Quinlan had no trouble to give. He was a little rough around the edges, Gregory, but he kept up the conversation and once they were near their destination, Quinlan felt a little more at ease.
Just a little.
Ol' Sarov.... There was a man that came right from a children's fairy tale book. Every child in Connlaoth knew what a big bad wizard looked like, and this man...was hardly it. Admittedly, he did have an odd stink about him.
"Garlic cloves," Quinlan said suddenly, looking at Sarov and then Gregory stared his way. Quinlan cleared his throat and put his hands behind his back. "Erm, you smell like garlic cloves. You must be making something in your hut there."
Sarov still stared at him and then at Gregory before suddenly bursting out into laughter. It was a gargling cackle, not the booming heavy voice Quinlan would have been more comfortable with. At least he didn't spit on him.
Quinlan gave a sheepish smile and then glanced at Gregory. He peered back to Sarov and nodded his head respectfully. "I...heard you're familiar with the history of the area. I am just a traveler. An explorer. I was wondering if you could tell me a little bit about it," Quinlan said, grinning charmingly.
"Ahhhhh, an explorer!" the old hermit clapped his hands together. "So was I, in my youth. Back when the world was young! Hard to ever settle down in a town or a city when you're used to the open road. That's why I keep to myself, out here. Well," he folded his hands together, nodding to Quinlan, "come in, come in, my boy."
He turned to Gregory and said, "I know you're busy with your farm. I can point our young explorer here back in the direction of the village. No need for you to waste your time."
"Right, sir," Gregory nodded, then bade his farewell to 'Master Jessup.'
"Now, now, if you don't mind the smell of garlic..." Old Sarov said as he led Quinlan into the dimly lit hut, "tell me more of what you want to know. The history of the Draconi Forest, now there is a subject that I could spend weeks telling you about. Full of basilisks and ancient trees and magic caves and great beasts. What is it you want to know?"
Quinlan followed Sarov into the hut. His eyes had to adjust to the darkness and he blinked until he could see and found the hut littered with all manner of hermit paraphernalia. It was no wonder this man lived alone. He lived like a rat, scuttering around the place no doubt with birds nesting in his beard and lizards laying eggs in the corner. Quinlan noted the faint stench of incense and wrinkled his nose.
"Ah," he turned to look at Sarov. "This is quite an interesting place. You must have been out here for decades. This is fascinating stuff."
He recalled he asked him a question and Quinlan gestured to the forest that lay beyond. "I was wondering if you knew anything about the history people that once lived here, in this area. Any kind of old cultures of note?"
"Of course, there are many, there have been many. One day these Adelans will be an ancient civilization that once lived in the forest," the hermit answered vaguely. It was clear he did not normally talk to others in the oblique manner of his speech. "There was the Jeweled People, oh, from a bygone era. The Telaca, who lived up in grand houses in the forest... not much left of them. The mysterious Dragonkin, who claimed to be the humanoid descendants of the Thunderblack dragons. Still a few of them around!"
He turned to regard Quinlan, catching sight of the rolled up map under his arm. "Ah, but what is that?"
Not much of what he said made sense, but when he referenced to the skin map rolled up under his arm, Quinlan cradled it gingerly and gently took it out. The leather obviously wasn't as fragile as the paper map had been, but he still felt he ought to be careful with it.
"I found this in a cave not far from here," he said and unfurled it out to the old man. "Seemed like it's been there for ages. Who know who could have made this carving. Seem familiar to you?"
The old hermit's eyes widened as soon as Quinlan rolled out the rat-skin map. He was clearly impressed, and perhaps a little surprised. "How did you come by this?" he asked in an awed voice. "You were... inside the cave of the Great Olm?"
The hermit settled back a bit, making various 'hm' and 'hrm' noises as he looked over the map, looked at Quinlan, and again at the map. Then he drew closer into the map again, his hands tracing above its surface to a specific location: a howe at the foot of the Thunderblacks. But still he said nothing. Then finally settling back again, he looked at Quinlan with keen interest.
"So you are searching for the fabled Devonian Gateway? Do you believe it's real?" He muttered again, then suddenly said, "Oh, my manners! Would you like a drink or something to eat?" Without waiting for an answer, he produced two beakers of strange, herbal-smelling tea and a loaf of heavy brown bread.
"Legend has it that this map, in this cave, guarded by the Great Olm, points the way to a gateway of sorts. Of great power. Perhaps it reaches other worlds, or the land of the dead... the stories vary. It is in all likelihood a myth; though once I did not believe it to be so. Once, when I also braved this cave... But that was a lifetime ago," he laughed, "when I was young like you. But there are those who believe it, and guard it fiercely. An ancient order. I do not know what they call themselves, but sometimes they are called simply the Keepers or the Guardians. Thousands of years ago they - or some group preceding them of similar nature - made that map in that cave. And bred the first Olm to guard it. Among other things that they set to lurk in the shadows. It is a terrible place."
He took another sip of his tea, tracing his finger over the words at the bottom. "Can you read this? I guess not, if you're asking for the help of a garlicy old hermit! Well, it says that the key to the gateway lies in the heart of the Guardian's Howe. That's here," he tapped on the feature he'd already looked up. "Not the gateway itself, mind you. Even this does not say where - or what - that is. I've heard legends, rumors.... but I do not know if they are anything more than myths. Some point to the heart of the mountains, others to the shadowy places beyond the Thunder Blacks." He gave a shrug. "My guess is that there is no answer, no gateway. Just the remnants of this religion that believes in one. Perhaps that's part of their Great Mysteries, eh? One of the one's you're not supposed to solve. Faith and all that nonsense people use to give their grumbling little lives meaning. Who can say?"
He said nothing to interrupt his reverie and Quinlan only listened with keen interest and just watched him in silence. He was animated for one thing. A hermit by any other name was probably less sprighty but Quinlan supposed it had something to do with the topic he was divulging and then some.
"Myths, fables, tales of legend, true or not, are always fascinating," Quinlan said, taking the map back in hand. Do you know anything on the history of these Keepers? Who founded them? I guess, the more you learn about something, the more questions you want to ask."
"Yes, yes," Old Sarov agreed, "but getting too close to myths that some still believe true can be... Well, I suppose danger doesn't dissuade a young adventurer like you! But when you get to be my age... Hrm, well, yes."
The old man sipped his tea, keen eyes peering at the map over the rim of the cup, not answering Quinlan's question at first. "About their history, no, I do not know so much more. They are an ancient order, and their own founding is a thing hidden in the mists of far history. Perhaps they do not even know the truth of it now; it has become part of their myths. And of those, I do know some things.
"The Devonian Gateway, what their key is said to open, was according to the Guardians set their by the Gods. Which gods, who knows. A dime a dozen, aren't they? But in their stories, it was the gateway the Gods used to visit the Earth in the lovely bygone days before we became the wicked, sinful things we are these days. Then there was only one race: no humans, or elves, or what-have-you. But as time went on, and the people of Earth became more wicked and divided into battling tribes and the like, the Gods turned their back on this world. There was, in their story, only one order of beings still pure: and to them they gave the Key and the task of guarding the closed Gateway. After the Gods left, all the warring tribes became, eventually, the different races we have today and they forgot their true gods, the ones who had left through the gateway.
"All except the Guardians, or the Keepers, or whatever you want to call them. They have never been large in numbers, but I think they are nonetheless dwindling. But they are zealous and dangerous. I sought them out in my youth, when I was much more naive and, well, willing to believe, but they chased me off and I barely escaped with my life. Not many can even find them. They weren't pleased I had. But I got into all sorts of troubles in those days. Yes...
"However clearly it may sound like a myth to us, they do not believe it so. If the gateway is anything of note, surely it isn't the 'gateway to the land of the gods' or whatever nonsense they believe. But it might still be some magical gateway, hmmm." He took another long sip of tea, making various thoughtful sounds. "Perhaps. Perhaps not. I think now it is merely an object of worship. It's a nice mystery, though. Adds color to life, don't you think? Having all these mysteries? What a boring world it would be if everyone turned into a disbelieving old hermit like me!"
At this he gave a hearty laugh, then fixed Quinlan with a keen eye. "And what about you? Not many risk such a task if they don't believe."
Quinlan wasn't sure he'd swallow it all. Bresly's moonshine went down easier than this. There was something off about Sarov. Maybe it was eccentricity brought on by old age. But only rich people could afford to be eccentric; which he most definitely was not. Poor people that acted odd were just crazy. That was the way of things.
But somehow that didn't seem to cover all bases.
"And why do you no longer believe?" Quinlan asked, curious.
Old Sarov laughed at Quinlan's question. A hearty, wheezing, sour laugh.
"You get to be my age, boy, and see how much you still believe. I've seen a lot of the world. Seems to me now that most of it's bollocks. But you'll have to forgive an old man the bitterness of age."
He laughed again, shaking his head. "But don't let Ol' Sarov ruin your adventures, lad. One day when you're done adventuring and I'm long dead, there'll be an old hermit's hut waiting here for you."
"Oh, I think that'll be a long time coming," Quinlan said as he eyed Sarov from the corner of his vision. Maybe he was just crazy, but a part of him told Quinlan that a lot of what he said made sense. The Keepers of Cathar seemed to like keeping the parts of their puzzles into separate pieces. He wouldn't have known on his own to take two talismans after all, one to light the tablet and another to ignite the inscription.
But something just didn't seem right. That he would happen to run into the very person with the information he needed. It seemed too...lucky.
Quinlan looked at Sarov. "So what led you here?" he wondered. "I mean to occupy an old cottage like this in the woods. You just like the area?"
"I like the forest, yes," Sarov agreed, raising his eyebrows curiously at Quinlan's question. "Draconi Forest is full of mysteries and magics to aid an old man in his age and keep him busy. And I can't say I like the constant company of other people. Why else travel so much in my youth?" He gave Quinlan a wry smile, as if guessing that Quinlan might be a little bit the same.
"Here I can get what I need from the village when I do need something from other people. One of the humilities of age, you see. But no more than I need. And they are a superstitious people here, who mostly are happy to leave me alone. But too kind to let me die. It is not a bad set up."
He set down his mug, opening his palms to Quinlan. "But you don't want to learn how to be a hermit. What else can I do for you, boy?"
Quinlan gave the man a small smile and shook his head. He rolled up the rat-skin map and tucked it back underneath his coat arm. "Actually, you helped me a great deal, Old Sarov. It was a pleasure to meet you. But I really ought to be going now."
He bowed his head to the old man and stepped out, the door closing behind him, and a murder of crows surround him among the tall branches. Quinlan's smile had faded and he felt uneasy about the birds. Oh, fuck it. They were just birds. Probably waiting for the old man to come out so they could pick his bones clean.
He stepped off the trail, heading back to town. It was a long walk, and when he was back at the tavern, Mrs. Bresly was waiting for him...
"Well, I hope you had a better day than I did," Quinlan said later that evening, coming back into the room with another red-hand-mark across his other cheek. He glanced at Zahi. "The leg feeling any better?"
Zahi's day had not, by her approximation, been any better than Quinlan's! In fact, it was probably much, much worse! Quinlan would return to find the usually somewhat-scruffy assassin cleaned and dressed in a simple, but pretty pink Adelan peasant dress. The messy curls and coils of her hair had even been carefully coaxed back into a braided knot, adorned with pink and blue ribbons that matched the dress. She might actually look pretty, if she didn't look so uncomfortable. And she was sitting in a chair by the fire, covered in a pile of stockings that needed to be 'darned.'
What the hell was darning?!
And there was a similar-sized pile near the fire of stockings Zahi had grown frustrated with and thrown at the flames.
"A better day?" she repeated, giving Quinlan a look that made her seem simultaneously angry with him and very glad to finally see him again. Him, that was, instead of Mrs. Bresly. "Look what that woman did to me! I'm like her fucking doll! And while you were off not doing her chores, she came up here to grill me about: Whether or not we're married; Don't we have any children yet; The importance of not conceiving children while a woman is under physical stress; and worst of all," she said with a wide-eyed horror that Zahi never used for, say, things like violence or killing or torture, "she told me all about how she and the late Mr. Bresly managed to conceive so many children! Did you know they have 14? All advantageously married throughout this area of the forest? And one in Ketra! Can you believe it? A banker! How proud!" She let out a long puff; she'd clearly been storing up her list of complaints about Mrs. Bresly. Still, it didn't seem aimed at Quinlan so much as something built up that she just had to release. "And all these fucking socks!" she concluded, throwing the one she was currently 'working' on at Quinlan.
She slunk back against the chair, still seething for a moment, then looked sideways at Quinlan, her built-up anger dissipating a bit. "You better have been finding out something good, going off and leaving that old bat with me for so long."
Quinlan caught the sock, fumbling a bit and saved it from the fire. He got a load of her get up and had to try hard not to snort out a laugh. He tried to placate his expression, just managing in time to not grin widely at her. Her misery was amusing to say the least and he strolled on over to her and sat down on the edge of the bed.
"Well hopefully neither of us will be concieving any children anytime soon," he mumbled and went about darning the sock she had grown tired of. "Kinda hard to beleive you went you're entire professional career and didn't learn how to sew your own socks? Even a survivalist can get a nasty blister if their socks aren't done right."
He would hold off on answering her regarding the map. At least until her steam came down a bit. "Look you just take a bit of thread. Patch up the little holes like so. Easy. "
"Yeah, yeah, laugh it up," Zahi said, glaring at Quinlan, “I can see that grin you’re trying so hard to hide.” There was something different about her harsh look, though. There may even have been a smile hiding behind her glare. The humor of her current ‘predicament’ wasn’t even lost on Zahi.
Or maybe she was just glad to be with Quinlan now, instead of Mrs. Bresly. One perk of the day (and perhaps, though she’d never admit it, the previous night) was that Zahi was at least more comfortable with the Connlaothian now that she had the old innkeeper for comparison. It helped, too, that the hangover was now more or less gone. And while she might be as grumpy as ever, she was maybe a little less hostile. Maybe.
Still glaring darkly at him all the same, Zahi got up and half-hobbled over to the bed, landing with a ‘plop’ next to him. Not quite light on her feet yet. She didn’t address any of his comments about socks. After all, she spent most of her time in the city. There weren’t too many rival crime gangs to intimidate and beat up and kill in the middle of the forest. Instead, she hiked up the hem of the dress to reveal her knee. It looked much better than the previous day. Still off-colored, but back to more or less its original shape and size.
“My knee’s much better, though,” she said. "I think by tomorrow we could go on." Then she looked sidelong up at him, “I know you used some sort of blood magic voodoo on it, by the way.”
In truth, she didn’t know know. She was far too drunk the night before to notice then, but she was fairly certain she was right.
“Now, where you off to while I had my lovely day with our lovely, overly informative hostess?”
There seemed to be a lot of tension relieved from her expression. He didn't know if that was attributed to her growing 'comfort' or if getting laid really worked a miracle. Either way, Quinlan felt a little more at ease around her and he stopped darning the sock in his hand and reached into his jacket, pulling out the rat-skin map.
"Playing detective at best. I asked around if anyone knew of a scholar around. Seemed strange. You blink and suddenly the name pops to the top of your head," he said, noting the way the woman just seemed to know who to point him off to. "Villager pointed me off to a hermit in the woods, went by the name of Old Sarov and he told me the map depicted a 'Gateway'. The Devonian Gateway, he said precisely. Somewhere in the Thunderblacks. But the only way to open it was to find a key someplace called the Guardian's Howe."
If Zahi could read Quinlan's thoughts, she'd be a lot less friendly - if that were really the right word - real quick. Thankfully for them both she couldn't.
"I'm surprised there was anything close to a scholar around here at all," she said as her eyes roved over the map again. She traced the distance to the Thunderblacks... This little excursion was getting longer and longer all the time. "He say anything more about what kind of 'gateway' we're talking about? Or, better yet, where any of these places are? This map," Zahi paused, looking it over again, then gave a little huff of an exhale, "to me, it could be anywhere on the southern borders of Adela. The ravine and the cave aren't on here to orient ourselves."
She paused for a moment again, then looked back to Quinlan. "You sound uncertain about him, though."
"He pointed to a howe at the base of the Thunderblacks, likely deep into untamed territory. Cultists like to have their altars and bases away from society at large. It likely will not be easily accessible, a lot like the crystal cave with that big ass Olm in it!"
Quinlan shook his head. "That doesn't give much, I know. There was just something off about him. He had all the answers, or most of them anyway. It just seemed too convenient, y'know. Or maybe he was just a crazy old man."
"You think he might be related to the goons that chased us through Ketra? Leading us into a trap or something?" Zahi frowned, though, thinking through the possibility. "But if they knew we were here, why not just find and kill us? Seems like what they were interested in before."
Hm. Zahi wondered again idly if she shouldn't just high-tail it back to Arca. But she felt in it now. Her curiosity was piqued, and her return to the Den would be better received if she could bring some gold in with her.
"Well, don't really have any other leads, do we?" She shrugged. "I say tomorrow morning we see if anyone recognizes the landforms, can point us in the right direction. Take off by noontime. I think I can go on by then. Might be a bit slower for a day or two, but I'll manage. Anything's better than another lecture from Mrs. Bresly!"
Quinlan looked at all the socks around them. Leave by tomorrow noon! "I promised Mrs. Bresly a week's worth of work. I said I'd finish painting the sides of the tavern tomorrow. Oh and you're clothes.... Aw shit."
It wasn't that they had to leave by tomorrow. Zahi just wanted to get the hell out of here. Fuck Mrs. Bresly and her socks! Of course, that was a far cry from Zahi's attitude before when she promised the woman 10% of her profit from the venture, but that was before the old bat had forced her to play dress up!
So in response to Quinlan's sudden, stressed outburst to her suggestion, Zahi put on what she imagined was her best wide-eyed, pleading face. (It was probably a total failure). "You're not going to make me stay here longer? Think of what she might lecture me on tomorrow. And the day after that!"
Quinlan rubbed at his beard stubble and itched for a drink. But the thought of taking a swig of Mrs. Bresly's moonshine made him sick to his stomach. He put his hands up in mock despair. "Oh, no! Not a nother lecture! Ugh....maybe she'll lecture you on the proper way to fuck with a bum knee."
He sniggered suddenly and threw the sock he was working on into the fire, watching it join the rest of the ones in there. "Maybe you're right. The sooner we get out of here the better. If you can run down the stairs without breaking your face, we can leave. I can't be using my blood magic to put you back together all the time." And at that he grinned.
"Hey," Zahi snapped, cuffing Quinlan on the back of the head, "are you saying I need a lecture, eh?" She scoffed, looking darkly at Quinlan. "Next time I'll just let Mrs. Bresly have you. She's been awfully lonely since Mr. Bresly died, you know. I'm sure that can count against the work you owe her."
"Pfft. As if. She's not even my type." Did he have a type? That thought left him very doubtful and he shrugged it off.
"All right. We'll make it up to her in the 9 percent cut she's going to get. I'm sure she won't care if her tavern is half-painted if we leave a hefty bag of coins on her doorstep with a thank you note. I know one thing for sure, I'm no chore dog, to be kicked off and around to whatever need doing. I hate it. If I wanted a regular job, I wouldn't be stuck in all this mud. And you and that dress..." He shuddered. "Weirdest thing I've seen all day."
Mrs. Bresly's cut was getting smaller and smaller all the time.
Zahi fixed Quinlan with a look of mock-pity and tweaked his ear. "Yeah, poor Red, stuck painting barns and hauling firewood like a mere peasant! I'm shocked you even made it through today!"
Her eyes darkened again, though, at the mention of the dress. "Careful there, or you'll be the one wearing this thing before too long," she threatened. "Then we can see what's 'weirder.'"
"Hey! It ain't a bad look," he said with a shrug, grinning at her. "But...you don't look comfortable. You can take it off y'know. It's not like Mrs. Bresly is in here to make sure you're wearing it."
Ain't such a bad look indeed. Zahi felt ridiculous in the dress. Not only was it a bit constricting, movement-wise, and rather low-cut for Zahi's preferences... it was pink! Pink! Like she was a little girl.
She was sure Mrs. Bresly chose this dress just to spite her. How would the old woman know it would spite her? That Zahi had no answer to. But she must have known somehow. She just must have. The old bat.
But, "The other ones are still wet," she answered Quinlan.
She pointed to where her washed clothes were hanging by the fire. As she looked to the clothes, though, Zahi saw something move in the window and instantly tensed, grabbing for a blade that wasn't in the belt that the dress did not have. But as soon as she realized there was nothing to grab, whatever it was was gone. Or maybe it had never been there. It was probably just a bird or something. God, was she getting jumpy.
Quinlan jumped at her sudden reaction. "What?" he said, startled. "What the hell was that?"
Zahi stared out the window for another moment, still a bit tense.
"Nothing," she said hesitantly. "Must have just been an animal or a shadow or something. Or," she glanced over at Quinlan, noticing his startled expression, "I'm just having belated hallucinations from Mrs. Bresly's moonshine."
He might not have seen what she saw, but the fact that she jumped at all, unnerved him. Quinlan got up and took a look for himself out the window and saw nothing. But he was careful to look for shadows and blinked when he saw a crow sitting out on a branch like he'd always been there. Beady eyes met his annd Quinlan stared at the bird for a good long while.
He closed the curtains and sat back down on the bed. "I don't think it was moonshine, but it might be a good idea to keep watches again. I can take the first one. I have a funny feeling we're being watched."
Zahi watched Quinlan curiously as he stared out the window. She didn't ask then what he saw. Not just then. But the change in his demeanor from joking to serious, maybe even dark (usually her role) made Zahi frown.
She just nodded in assent to his suggestion that they go back to keeping watch. The first time, she noted, he'd made the suggestion - in fact, the first time he hadn't argued against it! She gave him a look, though, and in perhaps an off-kilter attempt to lighten the mood a little, said dryly, "But I'd just gotten used to spooning."
Despite her flat-falling attempt at a joke, her look was serious, and she glanced back to the now closed window.
Well, if they were breaking up the night, she ought to try to get to sleep now. Or at least lay down. So Zahi set about the seemingly (to her) complicated task of getting out of the stupid pink dress. She certainly wasn't going to sleep in it!
Quinlan still managed to smile at her antics in trying to remove her dress. He supposed sleeping naked was better than sleeping in an itchy dress. He reached across and pulled the knot in the back of the dress. "You got to undo this first," he said and pulled the cloth a little. "There. Now I can gaze upon your breasts."
Zahi didn't quite manage to suppress her glare at Quinlan as he graciously undid the knot at the back of the dress. After all, she was supposed to be playing it cool again, not letting the mage get under her skin. But he was just so smug sometimes.
Still, she gave him an inquisitive look, one eyebrow raised, as she slipped the dress the rest of the way off and tossed it over the chair.
"I thought you were supposed to be on first watch. I don't think anything's going to sneak up on us from there."
"Your breasts were pretty sneaky last night," he said with a shrug, but the amusement was all too apparent on his face. "Look, I promise I'll behave," he put his hands up in declared innocent. "Get some sleep."
Sneaky indeed, Zahi thought. She rolled her eyes at Quinlan, then regarded him for a moment from where she still stood next to the discarded dress. She took a step towards where he still sat on the bed and tipped up his chin to kiss him. It was not the urgent, sloppy, moonshine-fueled kiss of the night before, but calmer, and more detailed oriented, and briefer. It could have even been a test of whether or not Quinlan could be trusted to behave, or maybe she was teasing him, or maybe she’d just wanted to. Zahi didn’t really dwell on it.
“You better,” she warned afterwards, her tone and expression dark and overly-serious, “or I’ll feed you to Mrs. Bresly.”
He got a chill. It was weird. It was one thing to get a shiver at the prospect of bopping your bubble, but this kind of shiver just made him feel awkward. And he didn't know whether it was good or bad. He didn't say anything, especially with her warning gaze and he just crossed a finger over his heart and even propped a pillow for her.
"Good night, Princess Grumpy," he said and leaned his head back against the wall. Keeping watch. Just like he said. And for once, he didn't feel like drinking.
Zahi stood her ground for a moment, eyes intent on Quinlan. But only for a moment longer, before she flopped much less threateningly onto the bed. Slipping under the covers. "That's right, I am Princess Grumpy, and don't you forget it," she grumbled.
Zahi pulled the proffered pillow under her head and let out a long exhale. She had to wind herself down to get anything close to sleepy. But she'd forced herself to sleep after odd-houred jobs before. As she felt her breath start to slow, though, she suddenly remembered,
"Hey, what did you see out the window? When you got up to shut it?"
He wasn't afraid she'd throttle him. In fact, he probably would have welcomed it as it would have brought about some sense of normalcy that he lacked throughout the day. Quinlan crossed one leg over the other, and took out a dagger and busied his hands with cleaning it. It would keep alcohol off his mind, keep his nerves together, and give him something handy in case he needed it.
Then she asked him what he saw.
Quinlan didn't stop what he was doing. In fact he shrugged nonchalantly, wiping the edge of the dirk with a handkerchief. "Oh, just a bird," he replied.
The nonchalance of his answer did not convince Zahi. In fact, if anything, it raised her suspicion. She shifted in the bed onto her back and looked up at Quinlan, watching him for some indication of what he really thought about it.
Finally, she said cautiously, "You watched it for an awful long time. For just a bird."
She didn't want to outright tell him that she thought he was holding something back. Despite the fact that she was normally the source of friction between them, they were getting along more or less at the moment, and she didn't want to rock the boat too much. But something about his casualness told her he wasn't saying everything. And she didn't want to go to sleep knowing half the story.
Quinlan looked at her then, hands still cleaning the knife. He frowned at her expression. "It was a bird. A crow in the tree," he said and pointed toward the window. "I didn't like the way it was looking at me. Like it was watching me. So I drew the curtains down."
"Hm." Zahi thought it over in silence for a moment. It could very well just be a bird. She had a nagging suspicion that they might both be a little jumpier than usual after the passage through the cave. But then again, it might not be just a bird.
"A shapeshifter," she mused aloud, "maybe. Hopefully not. Or, you didn't like the feel of that old hermit. Could be a familiar or something like that. If he's more than just 'an old hermit.' You get the impression that he might want to keep an eye on us?"
"I don't know. He might have, he might not. But I think maybe it was just a bird. I never liked crows. Connloathian superstitions coming back to haunt me I guess, but nevertheless, there it is." Quinlan smiled at her, his grin crooked.
"Look, I'm sure it's nothing, but it never hurts to be prepared. Besides, you look like you could use a long nap after all the torment Mrs. Bresly put you through."
She watched him a moment, then nodded. "Alright," she said, pulling the pillow under her again and shifting to her side. "Just throwing out ideas, anyway. Didn't want to make you feel bad for being spooked by a bird."
She settled in, closing her eyes and pushing the day's thoughts out of her head. "Yeah, Mrs. Bresly left me with more scars than all my working years. Gotta sleep that stuff off. You wake me up halfway through the night, you hear, Red?"
It wasn't too long, though, before Zahi drifted off into a half-sleep.
Quinlan was silent, thoughtful, thinking about what she said. He cleaned his knife for about five minutes before he nudged her suddenly, frowning at her. "What do you mean 'spooked by a bird'?" he grumbled. "You saying my suspicion was just a tad frivolous?"
Zahi had just fallen into a deeper sleep when Quinlan nudged her and it took her a moment to understand what he was asking.
"Huh? What?" she muttered sleepily. "What? No. I was just teasing you," she grumbled, not impressed that he'd woken her up just to ask whether or not she thought he was being frivolous.
Zahi buried her face back in the pillow, but she was awake now. With a frustrated sigh, she picked herself up to lean on one elbow, looking at Quinlan. "Did you really wake me up just to ask that?" she asked him, more awake now, but still grumbly. "Or are you just too scared to be up alone? Don't want that nasty crow to come in and gobble you up."
Quinlan nudged her again, laughing. "No, I just wanted to see if you were really asleep," he replied, grinning. He shook his head, knowing it foolish in reality to look at a bird funny and get spooked.
"Look, get some sleep, for real this time. I won't wake you unless it's life threatening."
"Okay," she agreed eventually, canting her head to the side and regarding him curiously. Zahi considered telling him that if they were just talking about birds, maybe he should sleep, too. They'd likely have a long day tomorrow and it'd do them both good to be rested. But something stopped her. Probably the fact that it was Quinlan who wanted to keep watch. Even if he was just spooked - and who knew? - she figured she ought to reinforce such 'good behavior.'
"Okay," she said again, settling back in and scooting a bit closer to Quinlan. "But you just wake me up if any big scary birds come after you."
An hour passed without incident and Quinlan started to fall asleep. He slapped his face a little, trying to stay awake. Maybe he was just being paranoid. It wouldn't be the first time. It was just a bird for crying out loud!
Quinlan watched Zahi sleep so soundly and he yawned suddenly. He was being foolish. So he scooted down and settled in, spooning beside Zahi and quickly falling asleep.
That was until a few hours later, there was a sudden tapping on the window. Quinlan jerked awake, sitting up and rushing toward the window. He snatched open the curtain and found a small parchment note tucked against the glass, but no trace of it's deliverer. He opened it, just enough to pull it from the glass, and slammed it shut.
Zahi jolted awake when Quinlan jumped out of the bed and opened the window and slammed it shut! She sat up in the bed like a bolt, immediately grabbing the dagger she'd left by the bedside.
"What the hell!?"
She stared at Quinlan breathless, wide-eyed from being dragged out of deep sleep. But once she saw the parchment in his hand, and stumbled out of the bed. She'd forgotten again for a moment about her knee. It wasn't in so much pain anymore, but the splint made walking awkward.
"What is that?"
"A note," he said. He rolled his eyes to himself. Obviously it was a note. She was gimpy, not blind. He sat down beside her and unfolded the parchment and he frowned as he read the flowing script.
"Leave now," he said. "Someone wants us to get going apparently."
Zahi almost hit him for that. She knew it was a note! She was obviously asking what was written on it. Instead she sat down next to Quinlan, pulling the blanket up around her naked form. Nothing was worse than getting out of a warm bed into a cold room.
Well, except maybe threatening mystery notes.
She frowned at the note. "What do you think the chances are that we have any 'friends' warning us about imminent danger... Versus someone wanting to hurry us off into a trap?"
"I'm as doubtful as you are," Quinlan replied, brows furrowed. He presented it to her to have her inspect it for herself and he looked back at the window. The tapping that woke them sounded remarkably like a beak and he glanced back at her, but did not speak of this thought.
"It could be both. I have doubts on the friends bit. That I do not have. Least of all any that'd give me warning. But...maybe it wouldn't be a bad idea to get out of here. Sooner the better no?"
Zahi stared at the note in her hand. She didn't like it. Not even a little. Who, after all, knew they were here? Of course, that begged the bigger question, just who was it who cared in the first place? She thought about what Quinlan had sad about the hermit; that he seemed too convenient, knew too many of the answers. But somehow she didn't get the sense that the man was related to the cultists who'd tried to kill them the few days before. Just a gut feeling. Zahi wished very much that she'd been with Quinlan when he met the old codger. Got a look at him for herself.
Zahi didn't say anything. She handed the letter back to Quinlan and simply got up out of the bed and went over to where her clothes - her normal ones! - were thankfully dry. She wordlessly went about getting dressed, carefully pulling the trousers up over her splint, which she decided to leave for now. It might be awkward, but if they were going to set off, it was probably better that the knee have some support. She put back on her top and her jacket and scarf, carefully placing her blades back in the belt under her trousers. A blowdart-like contraption that was strapped inside of her jacket, taken out before the garment had been cleaned. Finally her boots, and the blades that went in there.
She opened her mouth to tell Quinlan that he was right, they may as well go - When the distinct click of the tavern door opening could be heard. It was the main door and the sound likely would have gone unnoticed had they been talking.
Zahi doubted very much that it was Mrs. Bresly. She froze for half a moment before moving silently to the window. There was nothing outside there, except for one lone crow in the tree. And the tree, she thought, was just close enough to provide a route down. She looked back to Quinlan, gesturing with a nod of her head that they should get out this way. Then she pulled herself up into the window and out the window, Anchoring herself with her better leg, she pushed off and jumped to one of the big branches of the oak. Grabbing on with her arms, she carefully worked her way down, sticking a near-silent landing on the dewy grass below. Her knee only buckled a little. But Zahi wasn't thinking about that. She moved into the shadow of the thick oak trunk, a dagger at the ready as she waited for Quinlan to follow.
Now was as good a time as any to get going. And with it still being someone gloomy outside, it was just quiet enough to get out without anyone seeing them. Quinlan perhaps wasn't quite as graceful as Zahi, even with all her gimpy grumpiness. He didn't question it when he heard the sound of the door opening. He knew the sound of trouble just before it was going to rear it's ugly head at him.
His landing was a little less graceful than Zahi's as he stumbled a little upon doing so. But he caught himself in the tree and looked around to the emptiness that surrounded them. Strange...when they jumped from the tree, the bird didn't even budge. "Stupid bird," Quinlan whispered and led Zahi off out of town, heading out toward the western road.
As far as he could tell, they weren't being followed. No footsteps came after them, no one called for them to halt. And yet the hairs on the back of his neck were standing on end and Quinlan kept looking over his shoulder. "Keep moving," he pressed, giving Zahi support when she needed it. They weren't alone, he could feel it.
Zahi put up no argument following Quinlan out of the little village, moving swiftly along the western road. Even if she normally didn't like being herded, she liked the idea of a potentially outnumbered fight with mysterious creepy cult-followers even less.
She only stopped when an overwhelming feeling made her look back at the town. Maybe she'd heard the crackling, or seen the glow of light from the corner of her eye. "Look," she said under her breath, grabbing Quinlan by the arm to direct his attention back to the village. Through the trees and the forest gloom, one could just make out a growing glow and the rising smoke coming from Mrs. Bresly's inn. It was shortly followed by the sound of villagers waking up and shouting. Despite herself, Zahi found herself hoping that they'd get the old bat out alive.
But she certainly wasn't going to go back for her. Moving a bit faster her, Zahi kept going. For now any pain in her leg was outweighed by the urgency of getting out of dodge. As they continued on, the road dwindled into an ever-narrowing path and the forest gloom set in heavy around them. Zahi also couldn't shake the feeling of being followed, though she could hear no sound or sense no sign of human pursuers.
"Alright, Red," she asked Quinlan under her breath, glancing sidelong over to him, "where to now? You think we should stay on this road? It's an obvious 'escape' route if anyone wants to find where we've gone."
Quinlan's heart was put to slight ease when he saw that they were a decent distance from the village. But the road they were on, wouldn't be safe at all. "We could trail it, but we won't get anywhere that way, except right into the arms of those cultists sonsabitches," he said with a shake of his head.
Despite not being alone, Quinlan didn't feel the hackles rising on the back of his neck. He took Zahi along with him and scurried off the beaten path. The trees at least would conceal them from easy view and with hope cover their tracks. That was if Quinlan didn't suddenly fall over.
He turned over to inspect what tripped him and saw a thin thread held between two small spikes. Well it was before he saw a cut tree trunk suspended via rope over a thick bough. The snapped twine sent the log barreling down toward him and Quinlan rolled out of the way just barely. The slamming of the log on the ground was loud. And a man appeared at least a hundred yards away that had come to inspect the noise.
[I imagine the man is one of the cultists keeping watch in a small scout camp maybe? They could probably find the directions they need to the other Shine thing there. Just thoughts!]
Despite their misadventures "off-road" in the previous days, Zahi was happy to leave the open, exposed road for the hidden shelter of the forest. She was less happy when Quinlan tumbled over his own feet (at least, that's what it'd looked like) onto the forest floor. She was about to give him a hard time about it when, half a second later, the log came swinging dangerously through the forest. Zahi jumped in the opposite direction of Quinlan, falling into the shadows of the forest just as the strange man arrived.
She watched him guardedly, and motioned to Quinlan not to make any sudden actions. Moving silently, she withdrew the blowgun and a green-feathered dart from the inside of her jacket. Loading the weapon, Zahi waited until the man was within range and with a sharp puff! sent the poisoned dart flying through the air and into the exposed skin of the man's neck.
He swatted at the dart, staggered, then fell with a thud to the forest floor. Zahi leapt to her feet, and went to retrieve the dart from the man. He wasn't dead. The green-fathered darts only knocked someone out for a few hours. And left them wretchedly sick for a day or two, but that wasn't Zahi's problem. The next thing she relieved the man of was his crossbow and bolts, which she swung over her shoulder. Only then did she pull at the chain around the man's neck.
Another talisman.
"Look at this," she called quietly to Quinlan. "One of our friends."
Quinlan released a sigh. That was as close a call if there ever was one! The man had been armed and it was only after Zahi dropped him like a fly that Quinlan realized he hadn't actually seen them. Or maybe he had, and he just didn't have the chance to do anything about it. Quinlan scurried to his feet and stalked after Zahi.
"Shit," he grumbled, examining the necklace. "Looks like there's more around than we thought. Look there." Quinlan pointed down toward the muddy footprints in the soil and the traces of it over softened underbrush. He gestured his head toward her and began to follow them.
The man likely wasn't alone, and if they were going to stick to the not-so-beaten track, he at least wanted to know what he was in for.
Zahi looked at Quinlan with raised eyebrows, as if to ask 'Are you crazy?', when the man first started following the footprints of the cultist. She even watched him go for a few steps. Her first thought was that this was a great time to disappear, get away from the goons. But there he went, marching straight into the lap of danger.
Zahi sighed in resignation, stooped down to pull the talisman off the man's neck (they'd come in useful thus far) and gave a shrug. In for a penny, in for a pound. Loading a bolt to the crossbow, she followed Quinlan.
The trail wasn't far and when Quinlan approached the point of the man's initial post, he froze. "Rawlin! Rawlin, where are you!?" another man's voice called out.
Quinlan ducked low and moved behind a tree as another of the cultists came out form behind a set of bushes. "You're not to leave your post!" he growled.
Quinlan coughed and cleared his throat loudly.
"Rawlin! You ass-faced bastard. When I get my hands on you, I'll skin you alive!" The other man walked out further, heading towards the trail that the other man had left and when he rounded the opposite side of the tree, Quinlan came from round, pulling the blade out from the contraption on his wrist and put a hand over his mouth, pulling him back and sinking the blade across his throat. He struggled for only a moment before dropping him into the soft underbrush.
Zahi ducked into the undergrowth of the forest when the second man appeared, yelling for Rawlin. Who, she reminded herself, was still alive. They'd have to correct that on their way back out... If there was one. Zahi pulled the crossbow up to strike this man, but Quinlan got their first, dropping the cultist to the ground with a gurgle as the blood poured from the man's neck.
She stepped back out from the undergrowth, looking from the corpse to the direction it came from. It led, naturally, underground. Figured. Not far from where Quinlan had opened the man's throat - maybe 50 yards or so - was a low, stone-lined entrance into the hillside. It didn't look, from out here, like the entrance to a cave. More like a hollowed out space in the hill. Like, she thought with a chill, the hermit's cave they'd nearly been lured into in the ravine. She looked at it for a long moment before giving Quinlan a meaningful look.
But it was where the man had come from, so Zahi figured it was where they would go. Holding the crossbow ready to send a bolt into anyone they might encounter, Zahi approached the low entrance. Even she had to stoop to pass through it, which made her feel vulnerable despite the fact that she didn't hear anything in it. A narrow entrance limited your field of vision. But it turned out there was no need. This had been a two man post, it seemed. Or, Zahi realized, the rest were in the village, burning down Mrs. Bresly's inn... Those would return soon. They didn't have much time.
The space was small, carved into the dirt and stone of the hillside, and empty. There was a small stash of food, mostly dried things that could be easily stored and carried, and a barrel that she guessed contained either water or wine or spirits. A small stash of weapons and supplies to make the fire bombs. A low wooden table that held on it only a nearly burned-out candle and a ragged, leather-bound book.
Back underground again? He was pretty sure it was only a matter of time before they turned into blind giant Olms themselves. Well, if it meant he didn't have to suffer the curse anymore, he was just about up for anything. He let Zahi lead the way into the small cut out against the hill; better her first if there was something nasty in there. She proved she couldn't handle herself so far, even with a gimpy leg.
Quinlan took up the rear, watching her limp as they entered the cave. "Looks like they were here staking out this side of the road, just in case they ran into us," Quinlan noted, knowing he was stating the obvious. He moved past her to grab the only thing of interest in the cave - aside from the cask in the corner - and snatched up the leather bound book. "Holy shit. Zahi, look at this," he muttered, and turned beside her so she could get a better look.
"It has directions and notations, rituals and translations. Practically a how-to guide to being a crazy asshole. Even to making the fire bombs. And maps...who knew?" Quinlan actually smiled despite them being pressed for time and began to flip through it. "The Guardian's Howe.... Looks like it's a lot closer than we thought."
True to her nature, Zahi had more practical matters in mind. While Quinlan flipped through the cultists' book, she was loading one of the packs in the little outpost with the dried fruit and meat in the cultists' store. She thought about taking a few of their weapons and bomb supplies, as well, but decided a light pack was more valuable than a heavy one laden with too many supplies. After all, they had enough between them already when it came to blades. She did stuff some crossbow bolts into the bag, though.
When she was done, she set the bag down on the table Quinlan was occupying. "Yeah, that's all very fascinating, Red," she said distractedly, her eyes fixed on the entrance to the underground hovel. "Now shove it in here and let's get out of here. It won't take the goons that tried to attack us in village too much longer to get back here. You can carry that, by the way. Big strong gnat that you are."
She didn't waste any time. Zahi left the pack there for Quinlan and ducked back out through the cramped entrance, leading with the crossbow. "All clear for now," she called quietly back to Quinlan. "Let's get lost."
Quinlan reached for the pack and tucked the book into the rucksack. He was behind Zahi, clinging to her like her shadow as the sounds of another man came stumbling through the woods. "Shit!" he hissed, ducking low and catching the glint of a talisman around his neck.
Quinlan moved quickly, clinging to the cliff wall until trees covered their passage.
A crossbow bolt stopped the man dead in his track, quite literally. Zahi wasn't messing around with darts now that she knew who they were dealing with. She waited for a minute to make sure there wasn't another one coming, then darted forward to retrieve the bolt with a jerk from the man's body. For good measure, she pocketed the talisman, too.
"Alright, now let's get out of here," she said as she returned to Quinlan, glancing over her shoulder. "Then maybe once we have some distance behind us we can scale up a tree or something to have a look at that book. I want to stick to places where we can see what's coming."
They moved and fast, scurrying through the trees like rats in a sewer. Quinlan hadn't felt like that since escaping capture in Connloath. But he wasn't sure which was worse, being chased by Mordecai or Cultists. They were both plenty crazy.
It seemed like they were walking for hours, though it may as well have been for their sakes. When he felt safe enough he looked to the trees. "Too bad we couldn't take the cask with is. Coulda used a drink by now," he said and shook his head. "Picked a favorite yet?"
"I don't know, I think we've both had enough to drink for awhile," she answered mirthlessly.
She was already looking around as she said it, eyes up at the trees surrounding them. Finally she approached a wide old oak and, temporarily disarming the weapon, slung the crossbow over her shoulder. The lowest branch of the oak required a bit of a jump for Zahi to reach - no point in making it too easy - but she caught it and pulled herself up. It was a wide-trunked tree with large, sturdy limbs that should have no problem supporting them. Zahi climbed high enough that she could keep her eye on the ground, but was well above typical eye level.
Hoisting herself up onto a broad limb, she leaned against the trunk of the tree and, rearming the crossbow, set the weapon in her lap. She waited for Quinlan, also curious what was in the book and just where they'd be going - and what they'd be walking into.
"This skinny little gnat went to the bakery. This skinny little gnat got squashed. This skinny little gnat learned how to climb trees," Quinlan mumbled inconsequesntially as he jumped up after Zahi along the same branch. After a good hoist, he was up in the tree and climbed up toward her bough.
"Here," he said, catching his breath as he opened up the pack and took out the leather-bound book for her to examine. "You'll like it. It's like a children's story but with plenty of blood sacrifice."
Zahi made no response to Quinlan's little line about how she would like the book of a 'children's story, but full of blood sacrifice.' She had her working face on, and her brow knit as she flipped through the pages. They were written in a strange script, much like the one that was carved into the floor of the cave, but it seemed to vary slightly. Zahi understood neither of them. Translations in Common, however, were scrawled into the margins through much of the tome. Quinlan was right: it certainly wasn't pleasant. She only scanned it, though, until she got to the section outlining the Guardian's Howe.
It was mostly drawings and diagrams. The howe was much like any other, tunnels and chambers beneath a great earthen mound. Zahi thought this group had a bit too much of a preoccupation with the underground. She vaguely wondered if they had a giant mole or something stashed away there. Tear them apart with its giant claws, or fucking tickle them to death with its weird mole-nose. Who the fuck knew.
"Look at this," she said, tapping a page that was primarily an elaborate drawing. It was a close up of the heart of the Howe, and resembled some sort of altar. At its precipice was a device that looked a bit like the talismans they'd been collecting from their friends, but... more involved. More intricate and detailed. It was hard to tell from the drawing, but it almost seemed like a timepiece or compass, inset with a precise lens. She frowned at it. For some reason, Zahi didn't much care for it. "I bet this is our key. What giant mutant creature do you reckon is guarding it?"
Quinlan examined the page she showed him, eyes narrowing in focus. Oh, this little adventure was just getting more and more fun by the second! At least there was never a dull moment and for that Quinlan decided he could be thankful to the Cultists for. He didn't respond right away and looking the page over, and the detailed 'talisman'.
"What if we didn't have to find out?" he replied instead. "I mean...what if we went in look like the rest of them. We have the talismans, obviously that's as much a entrance key than anything else. We go in, get what we need, make it as simple and easy as possible. And we have a book of theirs, we can learn all of their secret words and codes. We study the map, find the best exit route. Hell, we could even make ourselves smell like cultists, so at least we won't have to get eaten by whatever's waiting for us down there...
"Unless that thing is hungry for cultists, then it's not a bad idea to keep that crossbow with us."
"Find somewhere to hole up for a few days?" she half-asked, half-mused. "Teach ourselves the A-B-C's of newt worship? Quiz each other on secret codes and clandestine handshakes and how to scowl while throwing a firebomb? Then sneak in undercover, swearing or faith and fealty to ol' Newty?"
It seemed as good a plan as any. Except for the little hitch that the creeps kept catching their trail.
"Sounds like an okay plan to me," she said with a shrug, "if you think we can find somewhere hidden enough to buy us some time."
Quinlan quirked a brow at her, a curious grin playing on his lips. "What? Is that an assumption that it was my fault we got caught at Bresley's Inn, hrmm, Miss Suspicious Pants?" he said. Sure his tone was playful and couldn't come at a worse time, but he just couldn't help himself. After all, how could one be serious all the time and not get sick of themselves.
"We don't need that much time to study this book, I don't think. I've seen a lot of dark rituals, and they are more or less the same. They require at least three key things: Focus, a Catalyst, and a Vessel. The focus is the easy part, people or a person putting all their energy into said ritual, through chant or otherwise. A catalyst, something to fuel the ritual - magic, blood, etc.. And a vessel....well, that would be a willing - or sometimes not so willing - participant.
"I'm not saying we can exactly wing it, but if we try to hole up somewhere, time may be the least of our worries."
"Ooh, ooh, me, pick me," Zahi drawled dryly, her voice laden with sarcasm, and held up her hand like a school child might. "Pick me for your 'willing or not-so-willing' vessel 'participant'. My life's greatest honor: sacrificed to the Newt God by a skinny ginger gnat."
Despite the jest, Zahi supposed her offer was sincere. If posting as a cultist and a tribute was their best bet in, she was game. When it came to work, she usually was. This was close enough to work. If it was their best bet.
"But I want to see where it says that, first," she added, eyeing him with exaggerated suspicion. Then she leaned back, giving him a look. "And 'Miss Suspicion Pants' just doesn't want to go in flying blind. Or you just don't want to be left alone with me?" she asked, raising her eyebrows and smirking slightly, just slightly. "Afraid Mean Ol' Zahi will take advantage of you again." He wasn't the only one who could joke.
She gave him a funny smile, then said, "Alright, since you're already the expert on dark rituals and all that spooky voodoo nonsense, I'll let you be the one to do all the studying." She foisted the book back onto him. "You just tell me what to do."
Quinlan rolled his eyes in amusement at her sorry attempt at a jest. But it was nice to see her try. Did it mean she was getting - heaven forbid! - comfortable around him? He supposed there couldn't possibly be a worse time to think about that in the moment. There was much more going on that there was plenty to think about without such minor distractions.
He took the book in hand and ran his hands gently along the leather cover. "Okay Mrs. Pants," he said and opened the book to the first few pages, reading over the translations, which had a lot to do with darkness, shadow, death and abandonment, didn't look too important. "Pass phrases. This might be important," he said and took it upon himself to relax in the tree.
"Kiui'et jot-kah," he read, enunciating each syllable. "The salamander devours suspicious pants." He snorted a little. "Okay, okay. It's noted here in the margin, the Salamander Devours the Dawn. Er....this looks like it reads qxduk-czhak-met-felezphet-na. Uh, the rags, wine, er...eggs? Oh, that's a shopping list. The real translation I think is, The Gods Will Weep. Not sure what that means."
"They sound like a real cheery bunch," Zahi muttered as Quinlan read out the list of various dark and, she thought, dramatic phrases from the book of culty secrets. She pulled a piece of dried leathery dried meat from the bag of supplies and chewed thoughtfully. Now seemed like as good a time as any for breakfast.
"Does it say anything in there about how large the Howe is," she asked, giving up on joking and getting back to business. "Or roughly how many soldiers or priests or whatever these people consider themselves to be it houses? Also, I think we might need more than talismans to 'blend in.' They seem to know what we look like, or enough of them do."
Then another thought occurred to her, and she looked suddenly seriously, and a little suspiciously, at Quinlan. "Hey, we're just getting the key, though, right? Then we'll take it back to Ketra or Zantaric or something to sell it. You don't actually want to track down this 'gateway.'"
Quinlan found the place that described the Howe, which offered quite a detailed layout. There were sections laid out for their cultists to train in the art of combat, an alchemy laboratory to create their fancy little firebombs, even a room for diplomatic study. They were militant for one, and prepared to take their own lives for everything they believed in.
Only fools died for their gods. Or maybe Quinlan just wished he had the courage to die for something.
He had zoned out at her questions and only blinked at Zahi when she spoke last. "The notes in the margin describe the Howe has being pin-wheel shaped, with a deeper underground chamber that is where the rituals take place, or so it says. Small reminders on the bottom say to 'Get heavy wool robes. Shazram got mad last time.'" He smiled at Zahi. "Looks like it's back into the dress for you."
He shook his head and kept studying the book. "The goal wasn't for the key, Zahi," he said. "Kravitt was paying for the Gateway. What he wanted was inside of it. Why, had ice skating plans this cuts into?" And with that he snatched Zahi's jerky away and ripped it hungrily with his teeth.
Zahi's expression darkened. She didn't like Quinlan's answer or his joke about 'ice skating.' He sealed the deal by taking her jerky. She glared at him, but resignedly took another piece of dried meat from the bag.
"I told you from the beginning that I'm only in this until we can get out of it," she answered tersely. "I got a job outside of madcap adventures with you."
She huffed, but her expression cooled a little. But didn't lighten. "You didn't even remember half your meeting with Kravitt when I found you," she told him pointedly, "and the bastard's dead. Maybe he wanted the key. A 'gateway' doesn't sound like something you could bring back to him, heh? How do you even know the key is to anything? It might just be some mumbo-jumbo. Mumbo-jumbo we can sell, mind you. And if we can sell it for a decent price, why go further?"
It wasn't fear that was driving Zahi's words now, though she didn't particularly love hanging out with the cultists. She was, simply, a creature of practicality.
"Well maybe you half-ass jobs, but I don't. I might not be super Zahi but I intend to see what's behind the door," Quinlan replied, eating the jerky slowly before looking up at her with half-lidded eyes.
He grew quiet for a moment and gestured to her leg, eager to change the subject, "How's your leg?" he said.
Zahi glowered at Quinlan's remark. If Quinlan was hoping to distract her by asking about her leg, it looked like he failed.
"Look, let's get one thing straight," she snapped, "this ain't a 'job.' Your employer in this endeavor is dead, and mine doesn't pay me to go on romps through the underground temples of Adela. This is more of a fun little holiday that will hopefully pay off. And I don't see any reason to pursue it further than the pay-off, unless you've got a death wish. We get the key, sell it to whoever the highest bidder is, and our culty friends can sic their giant newt on that unlucky bastard. We go on our way, gold in tow, back the way we came.
"And before you go on telling me that these nutters won't give up on us after we've sold the 'key' or whatever," she cut in before Quinlan got a chance to respond, "I'd like to hear your explanation as to why they won't want to kill us that much more if we step on their sanctum sanctorum."
"Well, seems like you've got all the answers then, huh," Quinlan said, half-amused with a raised brow. He didn't comment on the rest of what she said and continued to chew slower on the jerky, tearing it with his teeth and eating thoughtfully.
"And if the key isn't worth anything. What then?" he asked. "What if the real treasure is in the Gateway?"
"Unlike you," she snapped back at him. But she didn't have 'all the answers.' And neither did he. Zahi was pretty sure they didn't have any of the answers. "Let me remind you that when I found you, you didn't know you were looking for a key or a gateway or whatever. So forgive me if I'm a little skeptical of your sudden certainty."
She watched him, her expression hard, as he chewed at the jerky and posed his hypothetical questions. They could make any number of hypothetical questions! What if they key wasn't in the Howe? What if the key had no power? What if they were killed in the process? What if the gateway doesn't even exist?
"You have something you say is valuable, you'll always find someone dumb enough to buy," she answered. She'd cooled down, but she didn't look any happier. "Look, what's your end game here? Because a key sounds like a perfectly portable, tangible thing that'd be easy to sell. A 'magical religious gateway' sounds like something that doesn't even fucking exist. It's sounding less and less like you're interested in money, and more like you just want to throw yourself in the shit and see if you can get out without dying."
He couldn't deny her point. And he was always desperate to make a lot of money and fast, but some things were worth the risk, and why not? He had nothing to lose, he was a nobody and if he died he was demon bait. But Zahi had a life, eh? People that would come looking for her if she went missing.
Quinlan considered that for a moment, and knew it was all or nothing for him. Especially at that last statement. Quinlan looked at her with a serious expression, no amusement evident in his eyes. "Maybe that's just a bonus," he said. "There are no guarantees, obviously. So why settle? I risk my life either way, going into the Howe, or the Gateway. Maybe I'm curious. Maybe I'm a fool, you certainly think as much of me. But I'm going, that's that. Maybe the real reason I want to go is to destroy these morons. Cultists give blood mages like me a bad name."
He closed the book shut and stared off into the branches, and stuffed the rest of the jerky into his mouth.
Zahi's eyes went black.
"You want to do this because... they give you a bad name?" she repeated slowly, as if she didn't believe it. She stared at him for a moment, mouth half open, the anger behind her expression growing more and more apparent. "Are you fucking kidding me? You risk your life twice by going to the Howe and the "Gateway" - if it even exists. Why? To destroy the cultists? Which you don't even know if you can do. Because they give you a bad fucking name. Who the fuck cares! When we're done with that, let's nip down to Zantaric. There's a mean girl who used to call me names that I need to off. I can't believe you."
She snorted, looking away to calm herself down. Finally, she looked back at him, trying to look more reasonable and less angry. "Look, I've been pretty committed to this venture. And I haven't regretted it. But I'm only going to commit myself to an achievable end. I'm happy to take risks when there's reason, but there's no reason in this. There's no profit in whatever you're planning, and I think you know it. Now stop being an idiot; let's get the key, sell to whoever'll pay the most for it, and go on our merry way - lives in tact."
At her initial outburst, Quinlan gave Zahi a snide grin and said, "There really is one born every minute. Like I give a shit about my sterling 'reputation'" He laughed and looked at her when she didn't. He nodded to her. "Look, let's just get into the Howe and see if this 'Keystone' even exists. We're still in this together aren't we? If not then, you're more than welcome to go back to your 'life' and your steady job."
He sniffed irritatedly and went back to observing the book.
At first, Zahi's anger deflated at Quinlan's reasonableness. Sure, they'd get the 'key' and see if it was anything first. They were still in it together, she thought, though why they should be, she wasn't sure. And she didn't think about it just then.
Then Quinlan finished his prodding and her relaxed expression turned into a scowl. It was something about the sarcastic tone on 'life.' As though having a somewhat stable, reliable situation was something to be taken for granted or cast aside. As if she were somehow less serious or less committed than him because she didn't share in his blatant disregard for his life, or because she didn't share what she was increasingly suspecting was his death wish.
Fuck that.
"Fuck you, Quinlan," she finally said after a drawn out silence. She had half a mind to listen to him. Pick herself up and drag herself back to Arca to get laid into by Carraway on disappearing for no good reason. But she remembered Quinlan diving in after the Olm. And dragging her out of the river. So both Zahi, and her scowl, stayed firmly put.
If she watched his lips, they would slowly curl up into a grin, almsot devilish. And irritatingly sly. "Good," he said at last and soon he tossed her the book. "Here you take a look at this thing and read it over, my head hurts just looking at it. I need some sleep."
His expression sobered, and he laid back against the bough he was on and closed his eyes.
Zahi didn't stop glaring at Quinlan - oh, she did see that grin - as he settled back onto the bough and drifted to sleep. Hadn't he just told her, a few moments ago, that they shouldn't rest yet? Jack ass. In a thoroughly bad mood now, Zahi looked down at the book he'd thrust upon her. She made a half-hearted effort to flip through it, but it wasn't long before she closed it again. She wasn't in the mood to do as told.
Instead, she stowed the book in the rucksack, threw it over her shoulder, and crept silently down the tree to avoid waking Quinlan. Frustrated after their spat and with their current situation, Zahi decided she might as well blow off some steam and forage for something. Anything to get away from Quinlan for awhile and stretch her legs.
She'd been gone for maybe half an hour when she heard footsteps on the soft forest floor. Without time to scale a tree without making too much noise, Zahi stepped back into the shadow of the undergrowth and silently withdraw the blowgun she'd used earlier.
"...followed their tracks from the outpost," a voice was saying. "Walked right into the trap. Unfortunately for Rawlings and Cathiar, but now we know what they're after. No common thief steals plain, old book and leaves behind the poorly hidden stash of coin."
The men didn't have the chance to discuss the issue any further before two of Zahi's darts stung their necks. She didn't bother to wait to retrieve their talismans. Moving as quickly as she could without making an undue amount of noise, Zahi sprinted back to where she'd left Quinlan.
But when she returned to the tree, all she found was evidence of a scuffle. And no sign of the skinny redhead.
He was asleep. Or he had been sleeping, when he heard the sound of a twig snapping. No matter how quiet you tried to be, you couldn't hide how much you weighed. And years of sleeping in ditches and the backrooms of taverns and lofts up in barns had kept Quinlan's ears trained to wake at sounds that had no place in their present area.
They snatched him, yanking him out of the tree and he'd fallen hard to the ground. He was dazed and had landed on his hand when they proceeded to tie him up. Quinlan growled and pulled the dagger from his sleeve and slashed at the ones closes to him. But four to one were never great odds, and without being able to focus, the scuffle was quickly had with a pop on his skull. And they dragged him off.
Smoke... god the room smelled funny.
"He'll make a good vessel," a voice murmured. A feminine one, Quinlan noted, as he opened is eyes to a torch in front of him.
"That's what stinks," his voice croaked.
"Ah you awaken. That is...unfortunate. But you would not have stayed out for long, considering where you are," the woman said.
Quinlan's vision came into focus and when he tried to move, he found he was bound and thankfully, not gagged. He was strapped to a flattened contraption, made of wood and iron and bound by shackles with his arms beside him, and legs held down. "Seriously!? You had to go all out? A simple cell wouldn't do?" Quinlan spat, able to turn his head up just enough to look at the masked woman.
She gave a laugh. "You're an interloper that's proven to be more than a nuisance. Perhaps we can find some use out of you after all," she said, and leaned down over Quinlan.
He made a face, turning his head away. But quickly changed his mind. Instead he gave her a grin. "At least you got a nice rack to look at."
She ran fingers across his cheek before slapping him hard with biting nails that tore his skin. She licked her fingers of his blood and then quickly spat. "Yes, he will make a perfect vessel. Break him."
Above ground, Zahi followed the tracks of Quinlan and his attackers through the forest. The cultists might normally be good at hiding their tracks, but it was harder to go unnoticed when carrying a captive. She moved as quickly and as silently as she could, but her knee was slowing her down and she knew it. And it was making her already bad mood even fouler.
What had she been thinking, leaving him asleep and alone? Though she wouldn't admit it, Zahi was furious with herself. This was precisely why she'd tried - sort of - to be so careful with the watch. Now just because a bit of a spat, she wanders off the second Quinlan's eyelids drop and of course he ends up nabbed by the fucking newt worshipers.
She followed the tracks until they came to a broad, shallow stream. Her eyes scoured the near bank for signs of their footsteps. Then the far. But she found nothing.
"Fuck," she swore bitterly to herself. Zahi waded out into the center of the stream; it was shallow enough and smooth enough that it was easy to walk in. But the flowing water destroyed all signs of whoever may have passed through here. She looked upstream, then downstream. There was no way of telling which direction they might have gone.
Then she heard a cawing from a branch above. Zahi looked up to see a large, black crow staring down at her with its beady and, she thought, intelligent eyes. She remembered the crow that had tapped on the window pane, giving them just enough time to escape the old woman's inn before it was set alight. And in the same moment that she figured, 'What the hell, might as well trust the bird,' it flew downstream. And Zahi followed it.
Below ground, two masked men stepped forward. Between them they carried a large, gleaming metal disk, a meter across and covered in engravings. In its center was an opening just wide enough for a fist, or a knife. Whatever metal it was made of, it was clear that it was heavy and the two men grunted as they hefted it on to Quinan's bare chest. It came down none too gently.
Then the men reappeared with two, heavy mallets. In turns, the brought the mallets smashing down onto Quinlan, the force of each blow made crushing with the weight of the disk. The sound, for Quinlan, would be deafening and would send painful reverberations through his body.
The woman stood behind it all, smirking. But for all the pain she was causing him, she asked no questions. She produced a long, ceremonial-looking dagger and began, casually, almost lazily, heating it in the glowing flames of the oil lamp.
The bruises that began to form along his chest were deep and purple from the beating along the disk. The vibrations coursed painfully through his body. And the only thing that could be heard were his screams. He thought they were going to break through his chest; for if anything would've killed him, surely that was it.
Quinlan spat to the side, muttering nonsensical things when the two men stopped, removing the disk and leaving behind the engravings impressed upon his skin from the beating. The throbbing remained and left him dazed. The pain in his blood had been one sort of torture, but this was quite another and he fought to regain control of his senses.
"That...all ya got!?" he grumbled and spat in their direction.
"We're only just getting started," the woman said coming forth with the heated dagger and smiling gently at the blood mage.
Quinlan jerked at her approach and saw the knife come forth, and he tried to hold back his screams when the knife set about to carving those engravings into his skin. He bit down hard on his lip, and drew blood when the knife turned into a curve. But he couldn't hold back forever and fought against his bearings.
"Zahi!!!!!!!"
But he knew somewhere behind the agony, she would not come. He'd chosen his fate.
"Oh, you can scream all you want," the woman cooed as she curved the knife oh-so-delicately into his skin. "No one will hear you here."
After they were done with him, the men removed the crushing stone from Quinlan's body and unbound him from the table. His hands were bound tightly over his head and the men hefted him upwards until the bindings of his hand latched into a hook that held Quinlan, dangling, a few feet above the ground. If that weren't enough, they similarly bound his feet and tied another gold plate to the foot binding, stretching his body out as he hung like a piece of meat at the butchers.
"Let him bleed," came the woman's cold command. "Soon he'll be ready. Then we can begin."
The crow flew directly overhead. So directly, there was no mistaking the fact that it was guiding her. At the moment, the normally suspicious Zahi didn't question the creatures motives, or who was really controlling it. In the back of her head, she kept herself prepared for a trap or for a catch, but time was running out. She followed the creature at as steady of a pace as she could manage, a hobbled run. Just what she would do when she got there, Zahi had yet to figure out.
It didn't take too long, however, before the crow let out a warning caw and Zahi stole herself, coming to an abrupt halt and slipping into the shadows. On the other bank of the river they were following were two of the cultists. How many of these fuckers were there?
Forcing her breath to steady, Zahi drew and loaded the crossbow. She let the first bolt fly, piercing the first man in the throat. But the second must have heard her, because as Zahi quickly reloaded, she could see the other cultist take aim in her direction. But before the person, a woman, she realized, had the chance to send an arrow towards Zahi, in a flash of shadow and feather, the crow dived at the woman. And in the next blink of an eye, a black haired man stood behind the woman, her neck at a sickly angle as she dangled limp in his arms.
For a moment, Zahi just stared.
It was the black haired man, the crow, she realized, who spoke first.
"There is not much time. We are very close to the Howe now. Your friend is inside, as is the key. My brothers and sisters and I will draw them above ground, but we cannot enter." At that moment Zahi looked up and saw, in the trees, a murder of crows. Were they all like this one? "Take the woman's clothes and disappear into the Howe, Soot Wolf." Wait, how did- "Retrieve your friend. But do not - do not - leave without the key."
Then in another flash of shadow and feather, the man was gone and Zahi was surrounded by the sound of flapping wings as the crows took to the air, flying in the direction of the Howe.
Zahi watched them go, letting out a long exhale. She should have gone back to Arca. But it was too late for that now. Quickly, she disrobed the dead woman and dressed in the cultist's clothing. Finally pulling the black hood over her head. The crowman's message hadn't been lost on her; She was a Soot Wolf. Disappearing into the background was their modus operandi.
Time to go back underground.
Zahi followed the direction of the crows to the Howe. It was, from outside, unmistakable after seeing the maps. A large, rounded hill backlit with the setting sun. It didn't take her long, now that she 'blended in' to find her way in. After sticking the door guard with another one of her darts, of course. Once she was inside, she heard more than she saw. The corridors seemed deserted. Whatever the crows - or whatever they were - were doing outside, it seemed to have their attention.
Now where?
Zahi remembered Quinlan saying that everything in the Howe went down, down to the center. So that's where she went. Somehow, she was just certain that creepy goons like this had some creepy voodoo ceremony in mind for their captured prize. The idea that she was walking into a trap, that the crows were not to be trusted, only crossed her mind in passing. As she worked her way down, there began to be little windows in the tunnel, all looking down onto a fire-lit amphitheatre with what looked very much like an altar in the center. Zahi sped up. Surely the 'vessel' would be somewhere near that.
Finally she found a door with two large guards stationed outside. These men, she guessed, would not leave their post for something as superficial as a surface attack. She felt inside her sleeve where she'd stowed the last darts. Last dart. She'd have to act fast. Positioning herself hidden behind the curve of the wall, Zahi darted her head around just fast enough to stick the first guard. Then she quickly fell back and drew and loaded the crossbow. The second guard was looking stoicly at his stricken companion, confused by his sudden collapse. Zahi ended his confusion with a bolt to the head.
Rushing forward, she fumbled through the guards robes until she found a key. She trust it into the door's keyhole and pushed the door cautiously open.
The chamber was dark, damp, and full of smoke and the smell of blood and burnt flesh. Zahi could hardly see a thing.
Cautiously, she called out in a whisper, "...Red?"
They'd done more than simply cut and bruise him. His face was beaten, savagely, and he was sure he had several broken ribs from the bashing. Quinlan was more shocked that he was still alive. He was dazed from the blood loss and he could feel his arms like heated needles poking into him. He whimpered pathetically and knew that if Zahi were here now she'd probably call him a skinny weak little gnat and he knew she'd be right.
He hung over what looked like a grate, and where his blood dripped, it seeped through below. Quinlan could barely remain conscious, just long enough to look down and see the reddened amphitheatre that awaited him. He knew they were collecting his blood for their ritual. Heh, to think somebody might've gotten some use out it. Pragmatic, even unto death.
It was just a shame it had to end like this.
"Red?"
He'd heard the whisper, but he couldn't be sure that it was real. Quinlan's vision was blurry and he knew he was going in and out of consciousness. His blood was draining in quickened deposits. Blinking, he could've sworn he saw poofy hair in the doorway, but he spooked and tried to wiggle on his hook.
"NO! Get the...the hell away f-from me!" he grumbled, seeing the color of her robes, and being unable to distinguish a face. Any movement on his part however, was quickly punished with throbbing pain from his side.
Zahi followed the sound of Quinlan's panicked grumbling through the smoke. "Hey, hey, it's okay, it's me," she whispered into the smoke, then added so he could be sure, "Curly."
But she stopped short when she finally found him. If Zahi had been hoping to find him caged but essentially intact, her hopes quickly evaporated. She stared at him, mouth slightly open, for half a moment. This was bad. But Zahi didn't waste time.
"Hold on, I'll get you down." Moving quickly, she drew a dagger from her boot and cut the bonds and the weight from Quinlan's feet. She carefully carried the weight to the side and set it silently down. Anything that happened in here would echo through the whole 'bee-hive,' surely.
Looking at him again, she wondered if he'd be able to walk at all once she got him down, and she guessed not. Furthermore, Quinlan was hung from fairly high up, and Zahi wasn't quite the hulking giant those guards had been. She could lift him from his hips, but his weight would be well above her center of gravity. Well, she'd just have to try to get him down without inflicting too much further damage.
"I'm going to get you down. Stay quiet, okay? Try to keep your arms straight." She risked setting down the crossbow, then she took hold of his pelvis and pushed him up so the bonds around his wrist lifted above the hook. She managed to release him from his hanging position, but much as she feared, she wasn't able to support his weight once she did.
In the tumble that followed, Zahi lost her grip on Quinlan, causing them both to fall to the ground as Quinlan fell - and Zahi was fallen upon. Well, at least she was able to break his fall.
Quinlan managed not to scream when Zahi held him up from the hook and promptly dropped him to the ground. But he was glad for it and were it not for his inability to move much, he would've kissed her until she finished the swelling on his left eye with another punch. He fought to regain some sense of motion and balance, as he crawled off of her and tried to avoid lying on his ribs for any prolonged period of time.
"Came just in time...I just...about had 'em licked," Quinlan muttered with a groan. But even he couldn't keep up his joking front for long. He scowled at the damage that had been done to him, and he could tell from Zahi's lack of quipping retorts that his condition was far from bad. And he silently wondered if either of them could make it out of here alive. Maybe Zahi, she had working limbs after all.
But he wasn't going to throw away the chance that she'd come back for him on an opportunity to wallow in his misery. He'd have time for that later. "Let's get the fuck out of here," he spat, a little more confidently. "Er, hobble I guess....is the more accurate word."
"Well, at least you still have a sense of humor," Zahi muttered, but she meant it. The fact that he was talking sensibly - or as sensibly as Quinlan ever talked - was a relief to her.
She got back to her feet and immediately started taking off the robes of the cultists. Quinlan's clothes were long gone and as much as Zahi could use the disguise, it was more important to get Quinlan covered up. Now that she'd found him, the last thing she needed was him to die of hypothermia with his body unable to cope with the damage inflicted on him.
"Sorry if this hurts," she whispered gruffly as she pulled the cultist's robes over him without bothering to ask.
"You're not hobbling anywhere, darling," she told him firmly once she had him dressed, pulling the hood over his head. And with that, she hoisted him up and over her shoulder. She staggered only a little, her knee complaining a bit, before she got her footing. "But we can't get out of here just yet. I have to find somewhere to stash you so I can find that damned key of yours. Or I think there will be a different kind of trouble once we're out." She'd explain about the crows later.
She grabbed the crossbow, then moved carefully out of the room and into the corridor. There'd be no pretending to be anyone else now, so she stuck to halls where she could hear no one. For now, she wanted to get closer to the exit. They passed a small, open door to a room that looked empty. Zahi ducked inside and set Quinlan down as gently as she could, panting lightly. It was a food store, filled with barrels and sacks. Good enough. "I'm going to leave you here. Have any suggestions on where to go? You get a look around this place before they strung you up?"
Quinlan whimpered when she lifted him from the ground, his torso having taken the brunt of the beating she had given him. At least he had some fancy robes to keep him warm, and they smelled like Zahi's sweat, which was mildly comforting. He'd take that smell over burning flesh any day.
He just let her do the heavy lifting. He wasn't in any position to complain anyway, regardless of any stipulations toward so-called 'masculine pride' – which he didn't really have. Quinlan just close his eyes and tried to stay conscious, until Zahi found a place to set him down. "You're still...still getting the key?" he croaked out. "It's likely down there...with that bitch that cut me up real good... Cut her throat would ya? She's the one with the real sly grin...and a squiggly looking dagger."
He coughed up some blood and wiped his mouth. "They were preparing me for the ritual. I didn't get much of a look, since I woke up...in that room. Gah. She is the priestess here, I'm assuming. From the sound of it...sounds like they went south, and down. Always down. They probably have some kind've preparation chamber. Where she'll have all her fancy regalia and tools, etc. She seems the type."
Quinlan moved his arm slowly, finding he could move one more easily than the other. He looked at Zahi for a brief second before his good arm shot out and grabbed her by the shirt collar, pulling her in (about as strong as he could pull in that moment) and kissing her roughly with his bruised and bloody lips. "For luck," he croaked, and gave her a weak, toothy grin.
[[OOC: To avoid writing an EVEN LONGER narrative of what happened, I'll let it all come out later in conversation. If Quinlan bothers to ask. XD Hope that's okay! But I do know! I do have ideas! Honest!]]
"Well, unfortunately I think I have to," Zahi answered in a grumble. Given her druthers, she'd rather hightail it the hell out of here, but something about the way that bird man had told her not to leave without the key told her that he meant business. She knew, somehow, that when she'd accepted his help she'd agreed to some sort of pact. And Zahi knew better than to break a pact with a strange magical creature.
She was about to say something more when Quinlan grabbed her. His lips felt chapped and swollen, but it made something stir in Zahi's stomach. She was going to kill that bitch. Was it possessiveness?
"I don't believe in luck," she told him as she moved him carefully further back in the room, behind a stack of crates. "I'm going to push these in front of you so you won't be obvious if someone stumbles in here. Not best, but it's the best I can do. Hang in there until I get back, okay?"
Zahi didn't wait for an answer. She pushed the crates in front of Quinlan, essentially hiding him to the casual observer. And, of course, trapping him. But he wouldn't get far on his own anyway. Crates or no.
The door closed with a heavy 'click' behind her, and Zahi was gone. For a long time, maybe half an hour, maybe an hour, nothing happened. Then the sound of some sort of great lurching shook through the core of the Howe. Then there was a tumult of sound from beyond the door, feet running down corridors and hushed mutterings. It was followed by another period of silence. The next thing Quinlan would notice would be a thick, choking smoke that started drifting upward. It wasn't the incense-laden smoke of the preparation room. There was something sulphiric about it, ashen. It was only creeping tendrils at first, slowly seeping.
Another earth-shaking lurch reverberated through the Howe, causing some of the crates in the little room to tumble over and knocking the door slightly ajar. Now smoke billowed into the room and, in the corridors beyond, was nearly blinding. Another quake rocked the walls and ceiling of the Howe, which began to shed earth onto the floors below.
It was then that Zahi reappeared, some time over an hour later. She stumbled into the room, breathing heavy. It was clear she'd been sprinting and choking from the smoke. She wasted no time pulling back the crates. She was smeared with thick blood, bruised and a bit roughed up, but essentially intact.
"Red?" she choked as she shoved the crates out of the way. "You better fucking still be alive."
It was the longest hour of his life. Just trapped in the dark between a wall, crates, and delicious smelling foodstuffs. Quinlan knew he should've eaten more than just Zahi's stolen slab of jerky, he thought, pouting to himself. But food, really, should've been the last thing on his mind. He kept an arm clasped around his side as he sat in the corner, trying to keep the anxiety from waiting seeping into his mind.
He jumped what he heard the crash of the crates. He was still jumpy from the beating and wished that Zahi had left him with a weapon of some kind. But maybe it was best that she didn't, or she might've had something odd sticking out of her neck for scaring him like that.
"Barely," he whispered. He struggled to move, biting down hard on his lip as he wiggled enough to grab her arm, signaling her to pull him up. "I'm guessin' that's her blood all over you. And that you got the keystone. Just what we need to get us out of here, fire up our asses."
"Some of it, sure," Zahi answered hurriedly as she took Quinlan's arm and pulled him first shakily to his feet. She looked him over once, just for a second, noting the way the robes now oozed with blood, and wished that she could do something for him here first. But there was no time for that. So she grabbed him and hoisted him over her shoulders.
"I'll tell you all about it later," she promised him. Then she carried him out of the store room and half ran, half staggered through the corridors. They were running blind, the smoke and ash far too thick to see anything through. But they didn't run into anyone. Everyone else had already filed obediently into the core of the Howe. Into the fire.
Finally Zahi caught a whiff of fresh air and, following it, found a small-ish exit to the outside. She shoved Quinlan through it, as carefully as she could, but probably not carefully enough. Then she crawled out behind him. In the night outside, it would be more plain what was happening.
Black smoke billowed from the top of the Howe upward into the sky. Sparks and bright flames lept around it. The Howe was no hill. It was a volcano. And it was spewing forth its molten core.
Zahi was no more gentle with him than he would've asked her to be. But when she shoved him through the small opening in the side of the volcano, Quinlan yelped. It didn't matter if they were quiet anymore however, certainly not as they were trying to escape. Quinlan pushed the last of his strength into crawling out into the blackened night.
In the end, it proved to be more than he could handle. Quinlan saw the fire, felt soft soil under him, saw Zahi. And before he knew it, his vision went black.
[Just passed out. Feel free to spirit them away somehow by any means XD Dragging him or finding a cart or otherwise.]
There was no time to waste gazing at the might of the volcano. Pulling herself back up to her feet, Zahi pulled Quinlan back over her shoulders. He'd been heavy before, but with his limp weight nearly caused Zahi's knee to buckle. But she regained her footing, grumbling, "Maybe you're not such a skinny gnat after all."
Then she simply moved away from the whole scene as fast as she could, staggering off in whatever direction she'd been facing. The forest here was giving way to rolling hills and a more shrubby, open landscape. Zahi had no idea where she was going, until she saw another crow. A bad feeling turned over in her stomach. She did not like these creatures, whatever they were, and the deal with them she seemed to be digging herself deeper and deeper into. But she couldn't question it now. She wouldn't be able to carry Quinlan forever, and he certainly didn't have forever.
So Zahi followed the bird until it disappeared, but she already saw halfway up a shrubby hill, made of stone and tucked into the rock, a small, empty shepherd's hut. She climbed her way up to it and, once she got there, pushed her way through the little wooden door. Inside there was a fireplace with some cooking equipment, some mats, and a wooden bed. Zahi nearly dropped Quinlan onto the bed, panting from the exertion of the journey. Not skinny at all!
Carefully, she pulled the soiled robes away from him and balked at the sight of the damage they'd inflicted on him. Almost immediately Zahi set out to find moss or something to clean the bandages. And as soon as she was outside of the hut, she heard a familiar, reedy voice.
"Give this to your friend." It was the black-haired man, holding out a corked flask. "Or he will die. You can rest now. Our eyes will keep watch from the sky."
Zahi opened her mouth to question him, but the man had already disappeared in a flash of feather and shadow. She looked down at the amber liquid in her hand. She didn't want to trust him, she didn't want to give it to Quinlan. But she'd seen the state he was in. She knew he would die.
So Zahi returned to the hut and tilted Quinlan's mouth open. She dripped a quarter of the liquid into his mouth, slowly. She decided she would see what happened, and give the rest to him soon. In the mean time, she set about starting a fire with the dry wood in the hut and gathering damp moss and rags to clean the wounds properly.
Quinlan was out during all of the ministrations, the blood loss having taken a toll on him. But his heartbeat remained, at least insofar to be felt should Zahi press her ear to his bruised chest or fingers to his neck. He was breathing shallowly, just enough, eyes moving beneath their lids.
He was delirious, eyes opening just enough but not making much of his surroundings. "Curly....got busted ribs... But no two dice to roll on the ice... Gonna die...anyway... No da, don't want to go to church...today."
Zahi had just finished setting the fire when Quinlan's babbling began. She frowned deeply at him. She'd be damned if she dragged him out of there to have him die now. But now that he was at least semi-conscious, she sat beside him and lifted his head up. She took the bottle of amber liquid and held it up to his lips.
"Here, drink this. No one's gonna make you go to church today."
Then she tipped the bottle so the liquid would slowly pour into his mouth, tilting his head to encourage him to swallow. "Drink up, and we'll skip church all month."
Quinlan sputtered and weakly resisted drinking whatever it was she was trying to dunk down his throat. But it didn't last long and he eventually swallowed it and laid back lamely against the bed. "Good... Church is a waste. Maybe.... Only good people go to paradise... Don't deserve it," he muttered.
He tried to open his eyes, but the effort proved too great. "You sound different, da. You sound like...Princess Butterfly...."
"Well, you go to sleep now, and when you wake up, Princess Butterfly will be here," she told him in her best 'soothing' voice. She smoothed back his hair to encourage him to sleep. If he kept struggling to be awake for too much longer, she might have to 'encourage' him with a knock to the head.
Quinlan snorted a delirious laugh. "Okay. Just don't go away like you did last time, when the moon went out. I had bad dreams and you weren't there. If I have bad dreams again, I'll need you," he muttered and grinned toothily at Zahi. Her face was blurry and he sighed heavily, falling limply into the bed and closing his eyes, relaxing, or trying to.
He wouldn't awaken until the following morning, breathing shallowly still, but found himself to be much more conscious than he was previously. "Gah... Who slammed my head in with a pot?" he croaked. He couldn't move his left arm much, and found it was in a sling, and his right arm was too lazy to respond to him. Opening his eyes, he saw poofy hair silhouetted before a fire.
"Grumps? That you?" he murmured.
While he'd slept, Zahi had stripped him of the old robes and cleaned his wounds the best she could. Improvising, she'd used her scarf to wrap a tight bandage around his torso - both to stabilize his ribs and to hold together all the lacerations the woman had carved into him. One bright side of the knife being hot, at least, was that the wounds had at least partially cauterized. Quinlan might end up with some funny scars, but he hadn't lost quite as much blood as he otherwise might have. No doubt in some effort to extend his bleeding rather than letting him bleed out all at once.
When Quinlan came to, he'd find Zahi in front of the fire and, laying on the floor next to her, a large, shaggy white sheep dog. Zahi, for her part, seemed to be doing her best to ignore the animal. But when Quinlan woke, the dog shuffled to its feet and, tail wagging, went over to place its wet nose on Quinlan's arm.
"What's this? Has that lazy layabout actually woken up?" Zahi asked. Staying a bit mean, aside from coming naturally to her, was a good way to mask her actual concern over Quinlan's state.
"Ouch... Head, heavy, and breath, stinks," he quipped and pushed the dog's head out of the way. It was futile at best when the dog came back and began to lick Quinlan's face. Quinlan turned his head away and grumbled. "Ugh, get your stinky breath out of my face!" The dog just persisted until Quinlan weakly set a hand on his head and pet him in appeasement.
Quinlan groaned. "Layabout? I feel like I got run over by a wagon train. Gods, what the hell happened?" he sniffed. "You look like shit too, by the way. Dark circles under your eyes. And where n the hell did that dog come from?"
"I think he comes with the our cozy new home," Zahi grumbled as she bodily pulled the dog away from Quinlan. "Tried to get rid of him, but he just barks at the fucking door until he gets let in. So it was easier, and quieter, to let him have his way."
With the dog out of the way she sat perched next to him on the edge of the bed. "I'll tell you about what happened later," she said absently, eyes scanning him with concern that wasn't entirely masked. She put a hand to his forehead, then pushed back his hair. "At least your fever seems to be subsiding. You think you could drink something?" she asked. Then, before he got any ideas, she said firmly, "Water, I mean."
"As long as it's laced with something stronger," Quinlan said, managing a laugh, and immediately regretting it. He winced upon doing so and wanted to reached down to hold his side. He looked down at himself from the angle where his head lay and he frowned. He didn't know how he was still alive after all that. But by the pain that still lingered, he half-wished he wasn't.
After taking a few sips of water, he coughed and frowned, glaring at the wall. "Can you at least tell me where we are? Dog's okay I guess. I just hope nobody else is coming along. Room feels crowded as it is."
"Sure, we're in this little hut, in some hills that I think are south of the forest. But honestly, I wasn't paying tons of attention while hauling your ass around. I just went to the first place I found," she answered honestly, then gave him a look. "Sorry it isn't more spacious and luxurious," she said pointedly at his complaining, "you're not such a skinny little gnat, after all, it turns out. Think we'll be laid out up here for awhile, though, by the looks of you. If you think I look bad - thanks, by the way - it's only because you can't see yourself."
She huffed, looking away towards the little wooden door. She thought about whether or not she should tell him now about the crows, but decided to wait until he was doing a bit better. And, at some point, she needed to do what she very much did not want to do. Apologize for leaving him alone in the first place, if she hadn't... Well, she decided to leave all of that to later. Instead - possibly out of guilt - she lowered herself and kissed him briefly on the lips. "Sorry if it's 'too crowded' for you, though," she said, her face still near his, half-smirking half-heartedly.
Quinlan's eyes widened a little more at the impact of the kiss. His lips were still very much sore, but the bruising had gradually subsided and he managed a grin when she pulled away. "No, it's okay. I'll just think of it as the room being cozy." Quinlan turned his eyes over to the dog, who was oh-so-obviously watching them. He peered back up to Zahi and carefully lifted his head and parted his lips enough to kiss her, tilting his head.
The dog whined and covered his face with his paws.
"That's what you get for rubbernecking," Quinlan quipped, eyeing the dog. He snickered just enough and laid his head back down. "Okay, Zahi, so what's the verdict? On my condition that is. Do I really look as bad as I feel?"
"With that ugly mug of yours, you probably look much worse," Zahi answered dryly, but her gaze had already shifted from his face down his body. Her expression was mostly neutral - she was used to dealing with blood and gore, after all, and with her comrades as well as her targets, if a job went bad - but concern creased her eyes. "Now that you're awake, that's actually what I'd like to check."
She got up and moved down to Quinlan's torso. Carefully, she unbound the scarf-cum-bandage, loosening it so that she could lift it a little and peak at Quinlan's bruised flesh and wounds underneath. She did this from his abdomen up, so that he wouldn't be able to see for himself. Just in case. But lifting the bandage revealed wounds that still looked sore and new, but which had already started to heal over. None were still raw and open. It was, of course, much faster healing - and cleaner - than could have naturally occurred. She thought of the crow man, and what she owed him now. One never received help, she knew, from a magical creature or spirit or whatever without owing them in return. Even Miss Skeptical Pants Zahi knew that.
"Your wounds are healing okay, considering," she said. She slipped her hand carefully into the bandage, onto the healing flesh. It was warm, busy knitting itself together, but it didn't have the heat of an infection. "Feels okay." She wondered if Quinlan remembered the potion she'd forced him to drink. She left her hand there for a moment and looked up at him. "I think you'll pull through."
Zahi withdrew her hand and set about tightening the bandage again. Trying to be gentle; not her forte. In fact, Zahi felt a bit awkward. Quinlan needed a caretaker, and given his condition, a good one. Zahi wasn't a care taker. She dealt with the opposite end of life. She'd had to take care of other Blood Wolves before, but always more as a first response thing. Then, if they pulled through, they went to the healers for any longer-term care. She stood there, looking at him, and some of her thoughts must have been obvious. Finally, she asked, "You think you could eat?"
Quinlan busied himself with watching Zahi carefully. He saw that tentative look, trying to somehow mask something she was clearly uncomfortable giving - concern. It beaded her brow. Hell, it may as well have been a puka-shell necklace for all the good it did in trying to hide it. He smirked as he watched her inspect his body, assessing the damage. No more skinny gnat; he'd probably miss that. But he'd quickly decided he'd get over it.
"I could eat, I think. Just a little," he muttered, eying her over. He too was as unaccustomed to being coddled as she was with giving care to an invalid. He didn't want her pity, per se, but admittedly, it was nice. Gentility really wasn't Zahi's middle name. And care? Forget about it! Something about being under her supervision was both unsettling and incredibly amusing. So he'd forget the distaste for sympathy; it was too late, after all, to rescind that part of their partnership. Because deep down he knew he'd do the same for her.
Then something jogged his memory and he peered at her with an all business-like tone. "You DID get the key right?"
"What are you going to do to me if I didn't?" Zahi countered, raising an eyebrow at him. "Throw me over your knee and spank me? I'd like to see you try, you skinny little invalid."
That, it seemed, was Zahi's way of saying, 'yes.' Their stores were meager, but they still had some flat, cracker-like dried bread, which she brought over to Quinlan. "Don't wolf it all down. I got some sort of grouse eggs or something, too, and some roots. But I didn't go far while you were under. Once you're fit enough to hold a crossbow and shoot anyone who tries to come in, I'll see what I can do with the fishing stuff I found in here." As though Zahi had ever fished in her life. "But let's start you off with this, eh?"
She shuffled onto the bed, sitting with her legs in front of her, opposite of Quinlan so she was facing him. But she didn't say anything, just watched him carefully.
Quinlan felt very uncomfortable. Zahi watched him like a cat would watch over a mouse, not intending to hunt it that day, but wouldn't be afraid to pounce on it if it tried to get away. Despite the unusual feeling, he knew it was just Zahi and maybe he couldn't count on her being respectful enough to let him heal up before deciding to smack him for disrespectful behavior. He grinned inwardly and took the offered bread, sampling it with a nibble.
"You okay?" he said, looking back at her. "You look...very focused."
"I am," she answered flatly. "I'm focused on you. The last thing I need is for you to choke to death on a piece of old bread after dragging you out of that hell hole. Then I may as well have just left you there in the first place."
She joked, but something ticked in her expression. If she hadn't left him there in the first place... Her eyes darted away in momentary annoyance. Guilt was an unfamiliar and uncomfortable feeling for Zahi. She did not like it.
Puffing out a little exhale, she turned her gaze back to Quinlan. "Well, eat up," she grumbled, "you probably shouldn't stay awake for too long, anyway."
Quinlan gave her a brief, ghost of a smirk. He kept chewing on the bread - nibbling on it really - and his eyes watched hers, gauging her carefully. He wondered just how much she would squirm. "I think I might...need a bath. I feel icky," he said.
Zahi made a face, something between a frown and a scowl, at Quinlan's request.
"Well, alright, then," she said with a loud, put-upon sigh. "I suppose it's my responsibility to take care of you. Make sure you get what you need."
Then she whistled for the dog and patted Quinlan, prompting the dog to trundle right over, tail wagging happily, and set to work giving Quinlan a big, happy, slobbery 'bath.'
"No....NOOOoooOOOOO! Not what I meant! Now I'm filthier! Zahi!" Quinlan sputtered and began to spit ferociously when the dog's tongue slipped into his mouth. He shoved the canine away and moaned loudly at the pain in his ribs from having to fend off the dog.
"No! NO wet dog kisses!" he sputtered and winced as he tried to keep himself from throwing up. "Now you have to give me a real bath! With a sponge! And LOTS of bubbles!" he mumbled indignantly.
Zahi watched smugly, snorting a laugh, at Quinlan's predicament. When it seemed like he was going to hurt himself, though, she whistled for the dog again and threw a stale bread crust over by the fire for it. The big white sheepdog went over to much the bread then settled down by the fire, tail thumping against the floor, sure that he had done a very good job!
"I don't know," she said to Quinlan, looking him over, "you look cleaner to me. Not sure where you expect me to get 'bubbles' or a sponge, anyway. How about this: when you're better, I'll take you down to the stream at the bottom of the hill. Real cold. Very icy. You'll love it."
Quinlan smirked at her smart-alec remark and glared at her. "Only if you join me stark raving naked. Emphasis on Stark, and Naked. You don't have to be raving." He snorted a laugh and when the movement hurt too much, he sobered quickly and closed his eyes tightly shut.
"Guess this is what you wanted, yeah?" he muttered. "Now we're even?" He reached across with his only good arm and grabbed her index finger, holding it weakly. "Thanks though, for saving the gnat."
"I'll even cook you breakfast naked, if you pull through this in one piece," she remarked dryly, but she wasn't smirking anymore. She watched him as he winced and closed his eyes, and frowned when he took her finger. For a long moment, she said nothing. Then, carefully, she moved to lay next to him, making sure to not bump or press against him.
She lay on her side in the little space still available on the bed, head propped up on her elbow. "No," she said flatly, "this is not what I wanted." And she wasn't really sure they were even, either. "I'm glad I got there in time, though." She hoped she got there in time.
Quinlan turned his head weakly to her. "I'm..glad too..." He squeezed her hand, feeling along the skin of her palm before resting his hand on his side. The effort had been enough and he gave her a weak smile. "I promise not to die without warning you first," he murmured before falling asleep.
Zahi frowned as she watched Quinlan settle in to sleep. She didn't like the direction this was going. It was getting too... personal. But she was in too deep now; responsible for too much. Silently, she wondered how long it would be before the crow man returned.
She looked at her palm where his fingers had just been, suddenly annoyed. With herself, or with him, or with the whole situation. Zahi wasn't sure. She watched as his breath slowed and, when she was sure he was asleep, she moved the elbow that had been propping her up and lowered her head down next to Quinlan's.
"I'm sorry I left you alone in that tree," she murmured.
She meant to get up then, but she hadn't slept since they'd left Mrs. Bresly's and before she knew it, Zahi was waking up and late evening light was peeking into the little hut. She crept up carefully over Quinlan to avoid waking him as well. The first thing she noticed was that the dog was gone.
Finally, Zahi thought to herself. But when she stepped out the little wooden door, there he was, sitting dutifully on guard over the hut, tail thumping once he saw her. "Well, at least someone can keep decent watch," she muttered to herself.
The landscape here was broad and open. Her fear that the cultists were still looking for them remained, as unlikely as she intellectually knew that was. Not after the previous night... She could see for miles.
"You stay here," she said to the dog, deciding to risk going a little ways off. Starving was no better than any other way to die, and she could go a little ways and keep her eyes on the hut. So she returned an hour or so later with two long, leggy hares slung over her shoulder. Each gored through the head with a crossbow bolt. She patted the dog's head on her way back in. "Alright," she grumbled, "I guess you're not that bad."
Maybe it was too much too quickly. Quinlan hadn't planned nor expected to become somebody's invalid, but neither had Zahi and perhaps they were both quickly becoming victims of circumstance, growing dependent on each other in order to survive.
Quinlan's slumber was quiet, restful, and he awoke to the smell of burning flesh. He yelled out into the dark of the hut. "No! STOP!"
But he only found a fire roaring and hares roasting over the open flame. He blinked at Zahi's form, admiring the way the light and shadow played across her features for a time. His body still hurt, but only a little less and he looked around the small one-room hut. There was nothing in here that belonged to either of them.
And he was naked under the blanket. "Zahi. Where are my clothes?" he asked, looking across to her.
Quinlan’s sudden outburst startled Zahi and she jumped, just slightly, and turned to face him. Knowing why he’d reacted so violently made her simultaneously feel a desire to go comfort him, and revulsion at that instinct. So instead she just frowned from where she sat by the fire for a moment. “Well,” she finally said, “you can have it raw if you prefer. I won’t promise you won’t get sick, though.”
His question, though, made her tilt her head and regard him in bemusement. “You got me. Getting you out of there was task enough for me. Whatever happened to your clothes, they were gone long before I found you.” She looked him over, then added, “But if you want out from under the blanket, I promise not to peek. If you’re feeling shy.”
"Very funny," Quinlan said, rolling his eyes. He was half-amused however. Thinking over her words it slowly dawned on him that he now had lost everything, For a man who really had nothing left to lose. He paled and felt his stomach turn, knowing he had no more elixirs.
"I have to pee actually. i might need a little help with that," he said, trying to stay on the subject of being clothes-less. Anything to distract him from the thought of the curse. He looked at her expectantly. "With the getting up I mean. Not the peeing."
"Aw, it's okay. I'll hold it for you if you need me to," she clucked jokingly, but her expression soon changed. She saw the way he paled and the worry that flashed across his face. Her brow knit. "What is it?"
"Huh?" he looked at her blankly. She'd noticed his expression and he could've kicked himself for being so careless. "It...it's." He began to breath harder, shaking his head knowing that if the poison in his blood began to worsen she'd know anyway. "My things are gone. I don't even have my knives. Goddammit....I need my elixir. My vials.... And I don't have a single one... Gods."
Zahi only watched him for several moments, frown deepening. Who cared about some knives? But then the truth came out. "What elixer?" she asked carefully. Then, turning the roasting hares once over the fire, she left cooking to come sit beside him. "What are you talking about?"
"I need my elixir. It's a mixture that helps keep me sane. Without it, it's like my blood is on fire," he said, feeling the distress of realization spreading through him. He breathed hard again. "I need it. They were a set of blue vials that I always kept on me.... And without them... " He stopped and shook his head.
"Hey, calm down," Zahi said, placing a hand on his shoulder. Panicking wasn't going to help anything. But the more she thought over what he was saying, the more she felt an unexplained anger creeping on in her. Even now... that they were safe-ish and she'd probably traded all they had going for them with the crow man to get him out of that Howe... It might not fucking matter?
Zahi shook her head, stamping down her own frustration. Well, mostly. It clearly lurked right beneath her words. "How do you normally get it, huh? I can go find... somewhere. Leave you here with Fluffy and a crossbow or something. You would have had to resupply, right?"
She frowned at him, then said half mock-seriously, half-seriously, "You don't think I'm going to let you go mad over a few little vials at this point, do you?"
"It's...it's not that simple. You can't just get it in any alchemical shop. Many of the ingredients are rare, very rare. I make it myself because without it, the pain just gets too much." He shook his head. "My blood magic came at a price. But I broke the pact and this pain is my punishment. My blood congeals and burns and my magic turns against me. It's unbearable." He didn't know if he should tell her that it was killing him too, after all the hard work she put into saving his life.
For a moment, Zahi simply glared at him, her frustration no longer masked. Finally, in a movement that at first seemed a bit threatening, and more than a bit aggressive, she swung her leg over him so that she was straddling him (though she was careful to keep her weight on her legs and not on him), and at first it looked like she might hit him.
"Listen here, Red," she growled, glaring fiercely "you have to let me know if you're just going to weep over your lost potions, or whatever. Or if we're going to fucking do something about it. Because, Mr. 'Oh, Zahi, you're such a quitter, you're always doing everything half-ass, you don't care about seeing anything through to the end', if you're just going to whine and give up - I'll stop wasting my fucking time on you."
In reality, she knew she probably wasn't being fair. And she hated that she cared at all about the goddamn elixer. It wasn't her business if the stupid bloodmage had made a pact with some demon, and been dumb enough to break it. But the truth was she did care, and being angry with him came more naturally than being sympathetic.
Quinlan only felt himself burn at her anger. His face grew hot and though he was injured, his own anger overcame any pain he might have been preoccupied with. He could've spit in her face for all the good it would've done either of them. He trapped in this bed and for her to spring on him for his own inability to do anything about his predicament made him boil over.
"Well, there isn't much to be done about it now is there!?" he growled back and even snatched his only good arm up to snatch her by the collar, bringing her in close to his bruised and healing face. "Oh, shit, Zahi. What else would you expect me to do!? Make me drink your...blood."
He paused and remembered the ritual that would stave off the pain. He shook his head, pushing the thought away from his mind, forcing it brutally in fact. "Look, Zahi, I'm just under stress here, as I'm sure you are. Just forget it. I'll be all right, I promise. Why don't you tell me how you got us the hell out of the Howe, okay? Which you can do while helping me get out of bed, because I still have to pee."
"Fine, if that's what you need," Zahi spat back at his suggestion. She didn't even think about it before throwing it back at him, failing to ask questions like, How much blood they were talking about. She'd let him pull her down by the collar - he might be healing, but he was still weak - and she shook him off now, sitting back up straight and glaring viciously down at him. Again, she looked like she was poised to strike him. She was angry, furious, but not really with Quinlan's attitude. Though she might not realize it herself. Zahi was angry that she cared at all what happened to him, and that she seemed to care a lot.
Finally, after a tense minute, she gave a sharp 'tsch! and climbed off of him and back to your feet. "Come on," she half-scowled, snaking an arm around him to help get him into a sitting position before he could then get to his feet. "Let's get you outside. The dog can manage it, so so can you."
Quinlan didn't whimper or complain when she yanked on him. She was already mad enough, so he had no regrets about not telling her about the little dying facet of the curse. Maybe she would've been pissed enough to put him out of his misery. Despite his death wish attitude, he decided he still liked living very much. There were more thrills be had in being alive than being in the grave, after all.
He found some strength in his legs and leaned his weight on Zahi, hobbling out the door. "Thank you," he said, panting with effort. "Dogs are such useful creatures. Unlike me. I'm a vegetable clearly."
"Nah, vegetables are still useful," Zahi answered as she led Quinlan out of the hut, her anger dissipating a little. "You're still a gnat. Useless, annoying, whining... you've just had your wings clipped. What's that? A maggot?"
She brought him around to the rock face the hut was carved into, far enough away to keep the hut clean, but only as far as needed. She leaned him against the rock, then waited, hands on hips. His privacy, it seemed, wasn't something she was worried about.
Unless she wanted him to piss at her feet, Quinlan would watch that tongue of hers. Bah, forget it. She earned her right to whine and complain as much as she wanted and he wasn't in any position to retaliate. Not yet anyway. He was leaning against the stone and looked at her for a second before just letting go, with the one good arm he had.
"The gnat isn't the only one that likes to complain," he said with a gratified sigh.
A flash of anger shone in her eyes, and Zahi scowled.
"Keep pushing," she retorted, "I can get up and leave your sorry ass whenever I want. You and Fluffy can spend out the rest of your days in this cozy little hut for all the fuck I care. Starve to death or burn in your own blood or however you want to go."
It was a lie, of course. They both knew Zahi wasn't going anywhere. It was gratifying to pretend that she might, though. She could, after all. Whenever she wanted.
But she hooked her arm back around Quinlan when he was done, shifting most of his weight onto her shoulders, and helped him hobble inside. Once he was back on the bed, she returned to the fire without helping him lay back down. "You think you can eat?" she asked without looking back at him. Annoyance was still obvious in her tone, and it didn't seem her mood was going to improve too quickly.
Quinlan wondered for a moment if apologizing would do anything to help assuage her irritation. He then thought instead it might be better to simply try and be a good patient, even if he knew she wouldn't leave. Well, sorta knew. She wasn't flighty like he was, but he couldn't really go anywhere at this point in time. He just watched her, quiet-like, like the gnat she'd named him as and nodded at her question.
He ate in silence still and waited until he was done - lest she take it from him - to ask, "You didn't tell me how you escaped. With me on your back no less. I've got to know the details. Or else how can I think of a proper thank you in return?" He gave her a smile, slick and sly as always. "You know you want to tell it. Look at that face. Zahi, the hero."
Zahi watched him, cat-like, as she'd done before when he was eating. Patient, observant, silent. When he first asked to hear what happened at the Howe, Zahi began to formulate her words - but quickly stopped short when he called her, 'Zahi, the hero.' And she shot him a dark, unamused look. "Fuck you."
She should smack that stupid smile from his face, and she half considered it. She had the unmistakable glint in her eye of a provoked wild animal.
"Anyway," she finally continued, "I didn't really do much more than get there in time and drag you out. It was your woman who brought everything crashing down into the pit of fire, or whatever."
Quinlan's smile faded, growing more serious at her curse. "No, really. I want to know how you did it. I want to feel the excitement. I want to know everything there is to tell. Don't think of it as boasting. Instead just think of it as regaling me with a fanciful tale. I like stories. And I like the way you tell them."
He partly wished he had something strong to drink then and there, but as he settled into the bed and got as comfortable as he could, whimpering only a little this time. Even the dog would be proud.
Zahi glared at him for a long moment more, then let out a resigned exhale through her nose. She left her own food, for the moment, untouched and stood up. She took the bones and scraps left from Quinlan and brought them outside for the dog, then carefully stepped over Quinlan on the bed. She lowered herself so she was sitting between him and the wall, her back against the stone and her legs folded over his abdomen without actually putting any weight on him. Just her upper thigh and calves touched lightly against him.
"Fine, but only because you're so pathetic," she said grudgingly. "But I wasn't being modest. I really had very little to do with it. I don't know what you remember... But I was a bit away from the tree we'd hid in, half-foraging, half considering leaving you behind and dragging my ass back to Arca," she said flatly. "Heard a few of those goons talking about how they tracked us from their outpost. Knew we weren't regular crooks since we left the coin and took their holy book or whatever. Which I had to leave behind," she added as an aside, then she nodded to a rolled up skin by the door, "but I still have the map.
"Anyway, by the time I got back to the tree, you were gone. Followed your tracks, more or less, to the Howe." The 'more-or-less' she could go back to later. "Stole some robes from a woman guard or something and snuck in. By the time I got there, they were all heading down, down, down to that chamber you were strung up above. So I didn't have too much resistance. Well, then I found you, hid you, you know that part. After I left you, I followed everyone else - from a distance: down. The priestess or whoever was holding court down there. Going on like a mad woman about how the signs were clear, the gateway was threatened, batty 'the end is nigh' stuff. I was a bit above, and I could see what I guess was the key - it matched the drawings in the book - at the bottom of a basin they were filling with blood. The woman over it. I guess she was waking the volcano, time to destroy it all, only safe way, blah blah blah. All I had to do was hide out until she'd done herself in - and everyone else blindly did the same - then grab the key from the basin and high-tail it out of there before choking to death on all that smoke, or burning up in the fire. Grab you, and get out."
She shrugged. She'd been looking more at the fire than Quinlan during her telling. "I won't say it wasn't a little spooky, or a close-call, but I can't really take credit for anything. It was that woman who self-imploded it all." She glanced back down at Quinlan, as if to check that he were still awake, "I just had good timing."
Her story was putting him to sleep, but not because it was boring, but because he was just that tired. He kept his eyes open long enough to listen to the end of it, and he smiled weakly at her. "That sounds like you," he said and had placed a hand on her knee nearest him. He pat her leg weakly. "Though I'm a little disappointed that you didn't get to cut that bitch's throat. But maybe you did? You were covered in blood when you can back to get me." His eyes were half-lidded, sleepy-like as he looked up at her.
"Covered in blood from the basin," she corrected him, watching the way his eyes drooped, "when I got the key out. Are you bored with the story now that you know I didn't kill her myself?" she asked, eyebrows raised. "Guess I didn't tell it 'fancifully' enough." she added, and even stuck her tongue out at him.
Quinlan snorted a laugh. Was she...flirting with him? In the sort of awkward super serious, half-temperamental way he'd imagine Zahi would flirt? He didn't know, but he smiled at her anyway. He patted her knee. "I dunno. I guess I just imagined you nailing Cultists left and right, one over your shoulder, BAM! Crossbow bolt to the face. Knife to the heart. Kicking ass and taking talismans. But I like this tale just as much. "But she still died anyway and so I'll give you the credit."
“Well, I’m flattered that you think I would have been able to get you out of there if I’d been quite so… direct,” she said, glaring sidelong at the hand that had oh-so-condescendingly pat her knee. “But I’m only human, I guess.”
She frowned thoughtfully, then added, “While we’re talking about it, I may as well tell you now that I didn’t exactly work along. Exactly.” She made a face that said she didn’t really like what she had to say now before she continued. “I lost the trail when I was first following you to the Howe,” she admitted, sneering in frustration with herself. “Stupid of me. Guess I was panicked. Anyway, I saw another one of those crows and… I followed it back to your trail. I figured, what the hell, I didn’t know where to go and a crow warned us out of that inn.”
Zahi’s eyes turned back to the fire, her expression a bit uneasy, frustrated. “Then when I got to the Howe, I nearly got run through by one of those goons. But the crow…” She pursed her lips; she wasn’t sure she’d believe the next part if she’d been told it. “Turned into a man and snapped the woman’s neck. Told me to take her robes, showed me where to get in, told me you were in there, and not to come back out without the talisman. Said him and his ‘brothers’ would distract the cultists. I guess that was part of the ‘signs’ that made them decide to blow up the ship... Well,” she puffed out a breath, leaning back against the wall again, “that’s why I went back for the key after I found you. Otherwise I would have just gotten you the hell out of there.”
She glanced sidelong back down at Quinlan, and a small grimace said that she wasn’t quite done yet. “He led me here, too. I mean, I didn’t know where to go with you. I’m strong, but only so strong. And,” as if that weren’t all enough, “he gave me the potion that’s why… eh… you’re healing so fast.” By which she meant, ‘why you’re not dead.’
“So I expect,” she said, a bit awkwardly, a bit self-consciously, in fact, “whatever we might get from this key. We probably owe it to them now, him, it, whatever.”
She glanced sideways down at him again, tense, and waited to hear his reaction to Zahi having likely blown whatever pay off they could expect, and with the crow that had spooked him before, none the less.
If Quinlan was falling asleep before, be was awake now. He blinked at her, not fully absorbing everything she had said all at once and he had to do a double-take to her and the fireplace. "You did what?" he said sharply, not quite angry but it was clear there was an edge to his tone. "You realize you were all over me for complaining over my lost vials and you literally just went and signed a deal that would lose just about everything we came this far to get.... Right?"
He huffed and shook his head, as if finding it hard to breathe. But he quickly kicked himself out of it. Holding a hand over his mouth he looked over his wounds and recalled his shoulder. He knew better than anyone deals with magical creatures were not easily broken.
"Did the bird man say anything else? Like about us getting to the Gateway and what would happen if we didn't?" he said, peering at her more clearly now.
"What, would you rather I have just abandoned you?" she snapped back, eyes flashing at him defensively. "You'd have bled to death and I wouldn't have shit, 'keystone' bullshit or anything. So I think I took the best option I had."
She huffed, glaring tense and defensive at him. And again she had the distinct look of a bristling wild creature.
"No," she answered after a minute, "he knew what state you were in. I imagine he's giving us time to recover before coming for his pound of flesh."
Quinlan rubbed his brow and found more strength returning as he sat up in bed, not realizing how little pain coursed through him. "Shit, Zahi! You're insane if you think we're giving him that keystone after getting this far! You pulled my ass out of the blaze for crying out loud! I..." He buried his face into his hands.
"I would say no deal, but something tells me they have something else in mind," he said, looking at her haggardly. "I hope you know what this means. You're just as nuts as I am. There's no doubt about it."
“Fuck you, Quinlan,” she bit back at him, for what must have been the third or fourth time that day. But this time she really meant it. Or, at any rate, meant it more. “You’re a piece of fucking work. What the fuck was I supposed to do? Sorry that I had the fucking nerve to decide finding you was more important than your fucking key.”
Zahi got up off the bed, taking less care to not push against Quinlan than she had before. If she’d been annoyed with him- or with herself- before, she was beyond angry now. It was almost funny. Hilarious. Of course he still cared more about the fucking key. It’s not like she risked her life to pull him out of that Howe, it’s not like he’d be dead and utterly key- and life-less if she hadn’t compromised.
What a fucking asshole.
If she wanted to know ‘what the fuck she was supposed to have done,’, though, she didn’t wait around to get an answer. As soon as she was off the bed, Zahi marched straight out of the hut, the wooden door swinging loudly shut behind her. A few minutes later, it pushed slowly open again. But it was only the sheepdog, who padded over to Quinlan, resting its head on the bed and whining quietly to be pet.
When she walked out the door, Quinlan jumped. He sighed heavily and mulled over what she said. He would've done the same for her he knew and maybe it sounded a lot like be was blaming her. Gods what was this? Was he starting to care? God! He was! Oh damn this all.
He pet the sheep dog and looked into his encouraging eyes. "You're right, you're RIGHT! Damn mutt," he said with a roll of his eyes. That potion they gave him was making him stronger. He would see just how much. He grunted with effort, using the dog to steady himself very much like a cane and forced himself to stand. He cried out a little, biting his lip more.
He managed to stay on his feet and the dog gave him an encouraging bark. He hobbled over to the door and peeked through it, limping slowly to Zahi "You know I would've done the same for you," he said and poked her shoulder gently. "I wouldn't have left you behind."
Zahi heard Quinlan approach, but she ignored him. Part of her wanted to yell at him for being up on his feet on his own. But he was an adult. Let him hurt himself limping around if he wanted to. Maybe she cared about whether or not he got hurt; maybe she just wanted to yell at him. Either way, she held her tongue.
But when he came up behind her and poked her shoulder, she stiffened and did not turn around to face him.
"Bullshit," she said flatly. She had no idea whether or not he really would have done the same, but somehow she doubted it. Saving her from the river was one thing; that, she was sure, was part of his knack for foolish, life-threatening risk-taking. But a direct (if implied) exchange of the key and the path to the gateway and all the money he'd get out of it for her? No, she doubted that very much.
Quinlan felt that single word as if it were a slap to the face (though he knew very much that Zahi did not slap, she punched - and hard at that). He winced and stood with all the strength he could muster to maintain his balance as he moved a little toward her side, so that he might look over her shoulder. He could still only see the profile of her face and he reached to poke her side a little.
Maybe she'd knock him on his ass even though he couldn't defend himself very well, but it was a risk he was willing to take. "I would," he said again, leaning down this time and kissed the skin just beneath her earlobe. "I'd show up when you'd least expect it." He kissed her jaw this time and gave a smile, a small one. "Gnats are hard to get rid of like that."
Oh no, she wasn't going to hit him. She wasn't going to let him get that big of a reaction out of her. And Zahi certainly had nothing to prove by knocking around an invalid. She had every intention of just icing him out until he limped his sorry ass back into the hut.
But he didn't. And a chill ran down Zahi's spine when his lips made contact with the skin below her earlobe. By the time he kissed her jaw, it had settled as an uneasy feeling in her stomach. She stayed stiffly facing away from him for another long moment. When she turned to face him finally, she couldn't help but notice how close he was then. She looked him over, unsmiling, and placed a hand on his cheek.
For half a moment, it seemed like she was about to kiss him, and maybe she was considering it, but instead she said, quieter now with reconciliation obvious in her voice, "Come on, princess, let's get you back inside. Can't have you catching your death out here in the cold."
[I just realized that Quinlan walked outside in the brisk cold completely naked just to console her. That's dedication.]
"Not quite yet," he said after a few seconds of thought and he leaned in to kiss her lips, however briefly, for a few seconds, tasting her just enough to see if her reconciliation was genuine. He sobered his expression and nodded. "Yes, ma'am," he said and hobbled back inside. And before he knew it, he plopped down by the bed, beside the little fire and exaggerated a shiver.
"Wow, it really is cold outside," he said with a cough. "Oh, don't worry I'm not coming down with anything."
Somehow not expecting something so brief, Zahi was left hanging a little at the end of Quinlan's kiss. She watched him hobble back, on his own, back towards the hut. She stayed in place for a moment, then followed, muttering to herself, "Look at Mr. Gimpy there, not going to need me at all soon enough."
And when he really didn't need help, she knew, that was when the crows would return.
But she pushed that thought aside for now and pushed open the door to the hut to find Quinlan coughing and shivering by the fire - not, she noted, in bed where he belonged. Instead of hauling him back into the bed, she rolled her eyes at his comment, and dragged over the thick wool shepherd's blanket and draped it over his shoulders.
She watched him, arms folded, a strange look on her face for a moment, as if trying to decide whether to join him under the blanket or resume her solitary post outside. In the end, she just remarked, "You seem to be regaining some of your strength, anyway. Assuming that cough doesn't turn into consumption."
Zahi stayed where she was for the moment, still caught between the two options.
"I'll feel a lot better with a not-so-hairy warm body next to mine. Sorry, shaggy dog, you'll have to wait your turn," Quinlan said with an innocent widening of his eyes. He reached up however and didn't give Zahi much of an option to refuse before he pulled her down to his level. Well, more like a weak tug on her arm.
"You make me feel all warm and manly inside, the hair on my chest is practically curling out as we speak," Quinlan said, nudging her and carefully using his arm to drape the blanket over her as well. "Which is good. You need someone strong to protect you."
Zahi obliged, letting Quinlan pull her down with a roll of her eyes. Once she was plopped down beside him, she took on a look of serious concern, “What chest hair?” she asked. She smoothed a hand over his bare chest and craned her head around to peer at it, pretending not to see any fuzz that might be growing there. “I can’t find any.”
She pulled back and gave him a sympathetic look and pat on his (good) shoulder. “Ah, don’t worry. It’ll come in. Once you hit puberty.”
She might not have been in much of a mood for joking earlier, but now joking seemed like the much easier option. Better than examining anything she might actually be feeling for the skinny, pathetic blood mage.
"Oh!? Then maybe you should examine your chest. It's like a jungle down there. See?" he said and raised his hand and slipped it down between her breasts. "But don't worry, I'm not one to judge. Maybe we can shave some off and you can adhere it to my chest. I have a reputation to uphold. I'm Connlaothian after all."
He stuck his chin out at her and gave a haughty turn of his head. "Maybe you like the dog better. He's pretty hairy."
At that the dog barked and gave a happy wag of his tail, minding himself with chewing on some left over bones.
“That’s right, we wouldn’t want to tarnish your cold, northern, Connlaothian reputation. What would the famous whores think?” she asked, eyebrows raised. She glanced down at his hand, cool against the warm skin beneath her shirt, and slowly removed it. “Nah, I think my hair - ample as it is - is too dark for you. Can’t have pretty Red looking all swarthy.”
She shifted her position so she was sitting on her legs facing him. “Here,” she said, mostly-gently pushing him back to lie against the wool blanket. “I’ll have a closer look,” she murmured, lowering herself to lightly kiss the area between his shoulder and collarbone. “Has to be something here somewhere,” she added as she slowly moved her lips across to the center of his chest, careful to only touch him lightly. “Huh, nothing yet,” she muttered, kissing lightly down the center line of his chest and stopping where his ribs met his abdomen.
“Here,” she said, putting a finger to the spot, “I found one.”
Quinlan tried to hide his shiver at her investigative kisses. He might have been injured, but it was good to know his body still remembered how to shiver as tiny jolts passed through his nerves. Good jolts and he kept his lips from smirking - to refrain from killing the mood.
"Oh no, that's just a pimple," Quinlan said, observing her curiously. His good arm came up and reached up underneath her shirt, pulling it up just enough to expose her hard belly. "My hair is usually quite visible here, up," he said and ran his finger from just below her belly button upward along her abdomen. "And spreads out from there. Like wild fire."
"Huh, you don't say," Zahi said contemplatively, her abdomen tensing under his touch. "'Like wildfire'," she snorted, with a small roll of her eyes. "You really know how to flatter yourself, huh, Red? I guess I should check again, anyway. See if there's actually anything to flatter yourself over."
Then she leaned down to kiss him again, this time starting just below his belly button. The wounds the woman had inflicted were already well on their way to becoming scars, but Zahi avoided them nonetheless. As she worked her way back up his abdomen, however, she used a little more pressure than before, her tongue occasionally tasting the salt of his skin, just.
She worked her way up his chest, then neck, finally stopping just behind his ear. "Oh, I think I found it," she said, her voice muffled by his hair.
"Well, I flatter myself. I'm hot stuff," he said with a huff as she kissed up along his body. He'd found himself relaxing instantly and he didn't even think about the possible damage that this could lead to. They were both owed at least a few quiet moments of reprieve, of relaxation.
"You should consider yourself a very lucky woman," he replied with a grin that he pressed into her own neck. He rolled over, just enough to make it seem as if he was going to put her on her back (and he knew just as well her aversion to that) and immediately began to kiss at her neck, deepening it with hungered force as well as one in his condition possibly could.
"But don't worry," he whispered in her ear. "I know you don't believe in luck. So let's just call this a happy accident." And gods if only his body didn't already show he was happy so soon, but it couldn't be helped.
"Hey, careful there, princess," Zahi chided as Quinlan rolled over onto his side, her words melting into a low exhale as he kissed her neck. She let him stay like that for a moment, before she pushed him back onto his back. She sat up over him, out of his mouth's reach. "Can't have you overexerting yourself. You better stay put."
And even as she chided him, her hand crept down the bare flesh of his body, brushing only lightly against the swelling sign of his excitement. She ran her thumb down the underside of his cock. Then her hand moved down to cup his balls, gently massaging them as she kept her eyes on her face, lips pursed as if trying to decide what to do with him. After all, Quinlan was the naked invalid. Zahi was fully clothed and more or less fit. She had him, quite literally, by the balls.
"I certainly do believe in luck," she told him, hand still working slowly on him, then a half-smirk played on her face, "but I don't know who the lucky one is."
His body jerked by the sudden, but not unwelcome, motion. It wasn't his fault he was rather easily excited. Okay maybe it was sorta his fault. And if worse came to worse and he at least had a good arm to ease the ache of a turgid appendage. But hopefully, he might not have to.
He swiped a hand over his face, moaning lightly at the pressure of her hand. When he looked at her, he stuck his chin out in challenge. "I might be injured but you're not going to keep me down. I'm a man after all.... But I'd like to see you try," he said, eyes daring.
Zahi’s smirk widened at Quinlan’s words, her hand squeezing a little harder around his balls. “You don’t want to make this a challenge of strength, princess,” she warned, “I’m stronger than most men. Uninjured. Don’t make me prove it, or you’ll distract me.”
From what? In answer to the unasked question, Zahi shifted so she could kiss his neck while keeping her hand between his legs. She worked her way down, covering his throat, over his collarbone, grazing her teeth over his nipple. Then down his ribcage, his abdomen, pausing to run her free hand up the reddish hair of his chest. Then she continued past his bellybutton, kissing hard against the sensitive skin of his groin, biting a little, then his inner thigh.
Finally her lips grazed up the shaft of his member to the head. But she teasingly held back, instead saying seriously, “Well, at least you have some hair down here.”
She WOULD tease him and continue to boast at the same time. But she was right, why turn it into a contest when she was already giving him plenty of attention. It wasn't smart to always question good fortune. Especially this kind.
He hissed, sucking in a sharp breath at her ministrations. His hands wound their way into her hair, brushing through her curls as she kissed down along his body and when her lips found his member his face was flushed. Maybe it wasn't the raw and drunk sex they had before, but something about it didn't make him mind so much. He just wished his body was a little less weary to enjoy it. "Don't worry about me," he said, looking at her with a genuine smirk. "I can handle it. Princess."
A somewhat skeptical, and perhaps somewhat smug, "Hm," was all Quinlan got in reply. Zahi opened her mouth just enough to take in the tip of his manhood, rolling her tongue over the head. She brought her free hand around to slowly stroke his shaft while she teasingly played with her tongue around the glans. Always one to prefer doing to talking, Zahi was an old pro at exchanging meaningful conversation for sex. It was much easier to fuck someone than to say such disgusting phrases as 'I'm sorry' or 'I got scared' or, worst of all, 'I care about you.' It was a craft she'd really perfected over the years with the damned Yoreiqi, but it applied well enough here. So rather than pursuing an open reconciliation with Quinlan, she finally took him properly into her mouth, working at slow but committed rhythm. After all, like she'd said, they wouldn't want to overexert the invalid.
Quinlan's head fell back and his mouth open. He grew sick of his arm being bound and gently removed it until it was free. When it was, he found he could move, indeed his fingers wound their way into her hair and he pulled it gently. It was plenty sore, but any discomfort he might've been feeling was quickly shot out of mind. Quinlan forced his head up, looking down at her just enough as he panted.
It was odd to think he might enjoy sex at all without being blind drunk. Somehow it made more sense to be sober... Quinlan moaned beneath her, not bothering to hide it. "You really...should have less clothes for this..." he panted.
Zahi made a muffled, dismissive sound in response to Quinlan's 'advice.' Who did he think was calling the shots here? Instead she increased the pressure from her lips, her tongue, and her hand still massaging his balls, taking him deeper until he was prodding against her soft palette. She kept working like this, ignoring Quinlan.
It wasn't really a matter of whether or not she was clothed, or whether she minded stopping to get unclothed... It was more a matter of who was in control. And that 'who' was Zahi!
His body jerked upward at the increased pressure and he whimpered, both from pleasure and from pain. The movement sent a jolt up his back, but it wasn't anything that wasn't quickly replaced by the blood roaring in his ears. It was torture, but goddammit, it was the best damn torture he'd ever received. He was helpless underneath her and a part of him reveled and loathed in that prospect. Maybe she was in control, but he wasn't going to just lay there and do nothing.
Though maybe he should.
Well, damn him if he ever listened to reason.
He didn't bother talking anymore and just leaned up in one fell motion and snatched onto the ends of her shirt, yanking it over her head. Or trying to at least.
The sudden upward yank caused Zahi, in her current position, to choke and she nearly clamped her jaw shut in an automatic response. She managed not to, instead letting out a muffled sound of surprise and frustration. Just what Quinlan thought he was doing - or how he expected to remove her shirt with her hands and mouth otherwise occupied - were beyond her understanding!
She pulled away from him and sat up with a look that pretty clearly said, What kind of idiot are you? She stayed there like that for half a second, shirt askew but still more or less in place, then she leaned over him, propping herself up on her palms so that her body wasn't really touching his. There was a definite amused glimmer in her eyes, though.
"You knew, Red," she said, lowering her face close to his, a half-smirk on her face, "you can always say 'stop' if you don't like it. No need to try to rip me off of you. That could've ended badly for you, Princess!"
She moved so that she was straddling his abdomen, still carefully supporting her own weight and keeping it off the injured Quinlan. "Anyway, I thought I told you to stay put," she admonished.
"All right," Quinlan said with a sigh and a half-frustrated huff. "I'm just not used to just lying there you know. But I won't do it again." He didn't waste any time in kissing her, sucking in a sharp breath through his nose and turning his head into hers.
He pulled away with a smack and just laid there, "You have my word. Not moving,"
Zahi kissed him again after he gave her 'his word,' but when she broke away from the kiss, she didn't budge. Instead she stayed right where she was, her half-smirk growing a bit.
"Who's to say the offer's still on the table?" she asked him with an eyebrow raised, a glimmer in her mismatched eyes, and a bit of a challenge in her tone. "Maybe I'm not in the mood anymore. Very rude, being yanked away like that! Maybe you've injured my pride too much."
At her tone he jerked his head up. "What?! You've got to be joking. You better be in the mood Zahi, currently I'm not good for much else," he replied. "Besides if you were naked we'd have more options to explore!" He huffed a little and looked at her from a sidelong glance. "C'mon. Don't make me beg. It's unbecoming of my manliness."
Zahi's smirk grew from ear to ear. She was obviously enjoying herself. She sat up, still straddling Quinlan, and gave an airy, oh-so-not-bothered shrug.
"Well, you seem to have gotten your arm out of your sling," she commented nonchalantly, still smirking like a wildcat despite her detached airs, "so I'm sure you could manage on your own."
"Zahi, come on!" he huffed and grunted with effort to sit up enough to face her. He didn't wince for long, his hands resting on her thighs and moving upward along them until he found the hem of her shirt.
But he didn't lift it and instead ran hands up along her belly. He leaned in and kissed at her throat. "You would see me beg," he mumbled against her skin. "The mood isn't gone. You've just got to turn the heat up a little."
Zahi clucked her tongue, still smirking at him. "'You've gotta turn up the heat.' Always Zahi having to do all the work," she said, not at all concerned that she was contradicting herself.
Then she pushed herself up off of Quinlan and up on her feet. In no particular hurry, she started undressing. But while she did so, Fluffy trundled over to the prostate Quinlan and started happily kissing his face.
"Aw, lookit Fluffy," Zahi laughed as she pulled off a boot, "keeping it warm for me."
Quinlan gave a huff and just when he was going to lie back down, the dog attacked him. He sputtered and fought to defend himself. "Fluffy! Bad dog! Bad!" he spat and the dog continued to lick him furiously.
"Fluffy! Sit!" he commanded, holding the dog's head at bay. The dog sat and his tail wagged excitedly, hardly able to contain himself.
Zahi actually laughed at the sight of Quinlan and the dog. She let him struggle for a minute or two before pulling off her trousers and grabbing the dog. Lifting 'Fluffy' from the middle, she walked the dog to the door and shoved him outside.
Still snickering, Zahi returned to Quinlan and flopped down on all four on top of him. "Sorry, I hope I didn't interrupt you two."
When the door closed behind him, pawing could be heard on the other side and nails scratched against wood. The dog barked and promptly trodded off when there was no response. Quinlan was red faced and irritated and made a face at Zahi when she plopped back on him. She was clearly enjoying this. He glared at her and he noted her smirk.
"At least somebody's enjoying herself," he said, managing a laugh and huffing just a little. He rolled his eyes and brought his hands up along her sides. "Now we can get somewhere," he murmured and brought his lips back up to hers. His hands did their own exploring, remembering her curves and angles and slipping his hands along her ass and running his nails down along her thighs.
"I take great offense to that," Zahi muttered between kisses. As though nothing were going on before!
She didn't discuss the point further, though, as she kissed Quinlan deeper, pushing him back flush against the wool blanket. It was, perhaps, just a small demonstration of the fact that she certainly could keep him down. If she wanted to.
Her hips arched into his wandering hands as they slipped over her behind and down her thighs, then she lowered herself enough that the slick folds of her sex rubbed against Quinlan's, without yet allowing entry.
Now they were getting somewhere, indeed! Quinlan liked a little force, not at all bothering to be gentle. Sure he was wounded, he appreciated it, but he appreciated a little fooling around even more. He kissed her hotly, a little roughly and was quickly becoming glad he was sober to actually appreciate it.
He panted, breathing hotly at the feel of her sex slicking against his and he undulated his hips against hers. That much he could manage with little mind for discomfort. His hands continued to rove over her, feeling the ridges of her back , digging his nails in where he could.
He could feel her clit along the tip of his sex and he panted harder, his heart beating so heavily in his chest he thought it was going to shoot straight out of him. He softened his kiss, moving his lips sensually against hers as his body continued to grind upward against her hips.
More doing, less talking. He could get used to this.
A low moan escaped Zahi as his manhood rubbed against her clit and she rocked her hips to foster the contact. In truth, before Quinlan had tried so unsuccessfully to remove her shirt, Zahi hadn't really been in the mood for proper sex. But as she felt him moving under her, that feeling was rapidly changing.
She moved her hips a few times to almost grant him entry, but each time denied it, sliding the folds of her sex over his member, heat pooling between her legs. Still working the angle between their hips, she sat up a little to free her hands. She took Quinlan's and led them away from the ridges of her back to cover her breasts.
His injured state forced him to be gentler than he otherwise would have been. Being forced to go slower made him focus on every sensation. As she ran her body down along his, his sex grew soaked with hers. He was abruptly more aware of everything, the heat, the breath between them and he could even feel her heart beat as it resonated within the confines of her chest.
He didn't say anything, grasping her breasts in powerful hands that were otherwise gentle. Palms pressed against the warmth of her chest, massaging them until he brought his mouth down, dragging his lips across their tips. He hungered for heated flesh and relished in those sensations that resonated like echoes in a cave.
Zahi let out a prolonged exhale when his mouth came to her nipple; at least he didn't need too much direction. She ran her fingers through his hair, grasping at the back of his head and encouraging his mouth to be more forceful.
Her breath was heavy as she continued to grind her hips against him, running the length of his manhood along her clit and the wet folds of her sex until she couldn't stand the build up anymore. In one motion Zahi took his sex inside of her, letting out a low moan as it filled her. The initial motion was fast, but she began to move slowly, clenching her sex tight as she moved her hips against him.
As she moved with him inside her, Zahi felt a need she hadn't before. Not just to alleviate a tense situation, but a physical need for him that drove an intensity to her slow, controlled motions.
Quinlan's entire body shuddered when her sex enveloped him. He groaned heavily against her skin, breathing hotly against her breast. He continued to lap against her nipple, moaning as she moved her hips. He panted and undulated his hips to meet hers.
There was something oddly intimate about it all, her name on his breath. He felt exposed and vulnerable and was otherwise comfortable with that knowledge. It didn't feel like just sex, but far be it from him to make it out to be more than it was. The question was on the tip of his tongue, but he knew better than to speak now. Perhaps it was just the familiarity that came with companionship, when people were thrown together and trying to survive.
Quinlan didn't want to think about it, perhaps it didn't need thinking about. Just being in the moment, that was enough for him. And so he was, moving to fulfill her need, and feeling his growing need for her, reality awash with body and soul.
It only vaguely occurred to Zahi how unusual it was to finally shut up Chattermouth Quinlan. But it only pinged at the back of her mind, barely registered, as she moved over him. And it was Zahi who finally broke, if briefly, the growing intensity of the silence between them.
"By the way, you don't... have to pull out again," she told him, panting lightly. "My body's too mean and steely to have to... worry about babies."
That was all she had to say, though, and she was soon lost again in the sea of sensation between them. She undulated her hips so that she nearly took him out of her, then taking in as much of him as she could. Zahi continued to work like this for awhile: slow, controlled, intentional. But as the physical ache inside her grew, her movements began to gradually increase in speed and intensity, sex clutching tightly to his, and grabbing onto his hair and his shoulder as she brought her hips down to meet his.
He still said nothing. All he could do was nod back vigorously to her in response. And hold on as she began to ride harder on him. He felt his whole body shudder withe each stroke, feeling that fire building, helpless to do anything about it.
He breathed heavily, clinging to her as he met every stroke, until he could feel his body begin to tremble, his peak so close. He clung tighter to her, bring his hips up harder, nurturing that fire until it just about consumed him.
He wrapped around her tightly, hugging her to him. He gave a shudder, feeling himself burst suddenly, buried deep within her heat.
Zahi had been teetering on the edge for what felt like an eternity. When she felt Quinlan's release inside of her, her body bucked and shuddered and her sex spasmed around his as she climaxed.
She stayed frozen how they were for a moment, breathing heavily. Then she slowly pushed Quinlan back down into a laying position on the wool blanket. But rather than lying next to him, she sat back up to silently examine him for signs of being 'worse for the wear,' so to speak, even as her heart thudded loudly in her head. Always the pragmatist, Zahi.
She ended up tracing her fingers lightly over the ritualistic scars left across his abdomen, still saying nothing.
Quinlan laid exhausted underneath her. And yet he couldn't remember feeling more physically relaxed in a long, long time. He watched her quietly for a moment, watching her through drooping eyelids. He smiled and placed his hands on her hips, fingers likewise tracing along her skin.
"So what's the verdict doc? You think I'll live?" he asked, giving a smlll grin.
"Hm," she made a thoughtful sound in response to Quinlan's question, looking him over again, this time a bit more faux-seriously than before. But there were still lingering signs of genuine concern lurking in her eyes. She ran a finger down his middle from his throat to belly button. Finally she leaned forward, kissing him gently.
"For awhile," she answered. "We should probably get you back into bed. Princess."
"Aww," he huffed playfully. "I like the floor better. Being stuck in that bed makes me feel old. Just stay here on the floor with me." He laughed a little, leaning his head up to kiss her a little harder.
His head fell back with a soft drop on the wool blanket and he just smiled back, eyelids slowly sliding shut, and gently fell asleep.
Zahi shook her head as she watched Quinlan fall asleep, right there underneath her. She supposed he should get a pass this time, all things considered. She watched his chest rise and fall slowly for awhile and, once he seemed to shift into a deep sleep, she carefully got up and got dressed.
Then, feeling generous, she even went to the door and let big ol' Fluffy back in. The dog wagged his tail happily, pressing his cold nose into Zahi's palm. "Yeah, yeah, just get in," she grumbled.
By the time she turned around, the dog was sprawled out on the ground right next to Quinlan, head down and eyes drooping. She shrugged and wrapped the blanket over the pair, then set her self up on the bed, keeping a sleepy watch over the door and slowly eating her abandoned roast hare.
Quinlan spooned with the dog through the night and when morning came, Fluffy turned toward him and licked his face. "No! Zahi! Not now! Too early for sex!"
He saw the dog and yelped loudly. "Fluffy!" he howled and pushed the dog away. Fluffy panted and moved toward Zahi, rewarding her with the same treatment.
Zahi looked up from where she lay on the bed, propping herself head up on an elbow. She pushed the dog forcefully away. Used to rejection from her, he returned to Quinlan. After all, Quinlan had spent all night with him!
"'Too early for sex?'" she repeated, cocking an eyebrow curiously. "Who knew you were so conservative! I wouldn't want to intrude between you two, though," she said, nodding to the dog. "Should've seen you. Spooning like babies all night long."
"The dog kept me warm, I'll give him that," he said with a grin. He sat up a little and took the dot into his arms, scratching behind the ears the dog laid down on his lap, clearly enjoying himself.
"Speaking of spooning," he said. "You didn't happen to find any farmer clothes...or any clothes around here for that matter did you?"
Zahi watched Quinlan and the dog for a moment, trying to deny to herself any affection she'd started feeling for either of them. To his question, he gave a little shrug. "I cleaned the robes from that cultist. You can put those on. Better than nothing. Some boots in here; not sure whether or not they'll fit you."
She shifted so she was laying on her stomach, and laid her head cat-like on her folded arms. "Does that mean you're actually feeling well enough to get off the floor and join the world of the living again? There's still an ice-cold stream bath waiting for you."
Quinlan gave her a look and was almost tempted to grin devilishly. He had enjoyed, somewhat, being taken care of...even in Zahi's offhanded gentility. He continued to pet the dog, the animal making itself perfectly comfortable on his lap. "Probably," he said with a nod and felt his body was a lot less sore than before. Even after sleeping on the floor.
"If we get the chance, I've got to find out what's in that miracle serum," he said with a grunt as he found the strength to stand and wandered over to where she left the discarded robes. "And yes, I'd love that bath now. I'm sure you'd love it too. I mean for me that is. Shoving me into some freezing water!"
Zahi grinned and gave a little shrug. She let her head rest to the side a little, against her folded elbow. Despite having slept alone in the bed - or perhaps partially because of it! compared to sleeping up in a tree or in a damp cave - she still had a sleepy, content air about her.
“Well, a fresh bath may do you some good,” she said with a cat-like grin, “get rid of that dog smell from you. And better than just shoving you in, I’ll even scrub you clean with a pine cone or something equally… effective. Get you good'n'clean.”
He slipped into the clean robes and laughed, knowing she was probably half-serious about the whole pincecone thing. The boots were a decent it and it was better than being barefoot. "Take me to the stream. You can scrub me with all the pinecones you want as long as you don't throw a thorn bush in there."
Zahi frowned as he dressed and clucked her tongue. "And here I was, hoping you were joking about that 'too early for sex' nonsense," she said, mostly joking. Unlike about the pine cone... who said that was a joke! Well, maybe it was. Depending on whether or not Zahi could find any pine cones.
She stretched cat-like on the bed, then swung her legs around so she was sitting up. She gave him a teasing look and opened her mouth to say something about thorn bushes, when a crisp knock, knock, knock came at the door.
Fluffy immediately sprung to his feet, hackles raised, growling. And the teasing, sleepy, almost happy look evaporated from Zahi's face as she reached for the crossbow and sprung to her feet. She passed Quinlan, pushing him bodily further back into the cabin. Holding the crossbow ready to strike, she slowly opened the door, body tense and ready for a fight.
Once it was open, her blood immediately ran cold. She didn't recognize the tall, old man at the front - though Quinlan would surely remember Old Sarov, looking much more impressive and less like a hermit now - but she immediately recognized the pale, black-haired man behind him. The crow.
"May we come in, my dear?" the old wizard asked, voice dangerously sweet and courteous
Quinlan gaped when he saw the old man and even moreso at the raven haired man at his side. "What? Hell no! Go away! This is a private moment Sarov!" he spat. "I thought you had a hut to keep!"
"I'd watch my tongue if I were you Quinlan," the old man said with a snarky grin and he even had the audacity to stroke his beard. "Shape up. You'll be writhing on the ground soon."
Quinlan had been feeling his blood itch. He'd been so focused on his physical ailments that he'd forgotten about the vials. He kept his mouth shut then and kept his distance. "What do you want?"
Zahi shot Quinlan a warning glare that said, loud and clear, Shut up. Throwing a fit like a child wasn't going to help anyone here. She rounded on the two strangers, her initial surprise replaced by an unflappable confidence that came 'naturally' when one's job was to kill, intimidate - and occasionally negotiate with - rival criminals.
"What do you want?" she asked. It was a repetition of Quinlan's question, but she wanted to make it clear that whatever the old man - who'd already threatened Quinlan, in a way - had in mind, he'd have to get through her first. Her hand was still poised ready on the crossbow, though it wasn't aimed at the pair. She didn't want to appear threatened.
"Simply to talk, Ms. Akello," Sarov said in the same pleasant, saccharine tone. Zahi's face twitched at the use of her name, but her stance didn't change. "About debts, and about payment. I'm sure you understand that you owe a debt to my colleague here," he gestured to the crow-man behind him. "I can see that you do. That debt has been transferred to me. But," he held up his hands before either of them could protest, and his eyes fixed on Quinlan, "I also wish to discuss the matter of my payment. To you. If you complete the task I set out for you."
Quinlan didn't like being backed into a corner, either by Zahi or by the intruders. He knew to trust his funny feeling about the old man, that it was too good to be true. But he also likely knew Quinlan was foolish enough to go through with pursuing a false legend. And suddenly everything Zahi had said before in the tree was sinking in far too realistically, that they should have cut their losses when they had the chance.
And the real prospect of dying terrified him now more than ever. He didn't let it show....but likely the old wizard could see through his expression. Quinlan could feel his blood burning slowly, creepingly the way a spider would crawl across your skin while you slept. And he knew it was only a matter of time before he'd feel its bite.
"Speak quickly," Quinlan said with no small ounce of venom. "What is this payment your speaking of? I imagine it means pushing us along to get to the Gateway, old man." The statement was much less a question than saying the obvious.
In another circumstance, Zahi might have been amused by how Quinlan was now talking about being 'pushed along' to the Gateway. It hadn't been that long ago, after all, that he'd adamantly exclaimed that they could not possibly think of doing anything else! But now wasn't really the time to be amused.
Zahi moved just slightly to admit Sarov a little way into the hut, the crow man shuffling behind him. She still kept her body poised between the pair and Quinlan, however. Quinlan, she guessed, wouldn't like it, but in her experience being a bit more diplomatic than he was at the moment was usually more useful than harmful.
Sarov, meanwhile, seemed perfectly delighted by the whole situation. And, despite Zahi's efforts, perfectly in control. "You were much better mannered when you came to find me outside of the village, Quinlan," Sarov noted amiably, "when you needed my help. Perhaps you don't realize that you need it still. But yes, in answer to your question, I do want you to continue to the gateway. There are very few people in this world who have the ability, so to speak, to open it. But you two," his eyes flicked to Zahi, sizing her up with a strange appreciation, like a piece of meat or a peculiar and coveted object, "do."
Zahi bristled under his gaze, but her expression and stance stayed steely and poised. His words, and the look he gave her, left her with the creeping feeling that it was no accident that she'd been sent down to Ketra to see to Mr. Kravitt. But she didn't say this aloud. All she said was, "Go on."
"Well, quite," Sarov said, still smiling sweetly and speaking almost like a kindy grandfather, but with danger looming behind his voice. "As you can imagine, I am prepared to pay a good deal for you to complete the task, considering your unique skills, shall we say. But I do not deal in gold. But in things far more valuable." He smiled a self-satisfied smile and let that land for a moment before continuing. "Ms. Akello, you have, of course, already taken your payment, from my associate here," he said, and for a moment Zahi's mismatched eyes met the beady black eyes of the crow man. She knew it was true. She had known, she supposed, at the time. Her price had been finding Quinlan, the self-immolation of the Howe, and the potion. She frowned, but offered no protest.
Seeing that his statement was accepted, Sarov nodded and turned to Quinlan, grinning encouragingly and leaning forward. "Now you, Quinlan, now that your woman here saved you... How long do you think you have? Without your elixers? Or, better yet, how long do you have with them? Before the curse in your blood consumes you."
These words took Zahi by surprise, and in a lapse her eyes left her houndish watch on Sarov and glanced at Quinlan, as if for confirmation.
"If you complete this task for me. If you retrieve the power I seek from beyond the gateway, it can all be over. If you bring to me what I seek, I can remove the curse that is slowly killing you."
Quinlan sat down, rather forcefully, on a stool in the corner of the shepherd's hut. Despite his clear unhappiness to the whole situation, there was no doubt that the old wizard and the crow had his complete attention. And all the while he could feel his stomach turning sicker and sicker until he thought he was going to retch out on the floor.
Somehow, by a cruel miracle, he managed to hold himself together. He firmly knit his brows together at Sarov's snarky biting baiting questions, the likes of which of course Quinlan had no answers. He almost couldn't contain his anger and the very thought of making the old man writhe on the ground until he was spilling his innards out of his ears was quite pleasing.
But Quinlan's eyes widened in a 'how did you know that' expression. He didn't even look at Zahi, his eyes were glued to Sarov the entire time. Oh...but he wouldn't bite. He knew better. "You're full of shit, old man. There is no cure," he said adamantly.
"You should show your elders a little more respect. I didn't get to be my age because of blind luck," he said, laughing hollowly. He smiled warmly at Quinlan.
"If there was one, I would've found it by now!" Quinlan spat again, this time followed by actual saliva.
"Zahi, talk some sense into your partner if you would. I'm sure you know by now how much of an idiot he is," Sarov said cooly and wiped dust off his sleeve.
"We've established that you've already paid for my services," Zahi answered stonily, hawkish eyes watching Sarov. "If you want his, you'll have to convince him yourself."
Sarov turned to look at Zahi for a moment, then smiled. "True, that's true. I have. That is a comfort. I tried to purchase them some time ago, you know," he told her cheerfully, "from your old, ah, 'boss' in Zantaric. He would have none of it, though. It's a nasty business, anyway, the buying and selling of human lives. I'm very glad we were able to circumvent it."
Zahi frowned, standing stiff. His words sent a chill down her spine. Zantaric? It had been over ten years since she'd left that place behind... But somehow she didn't want to ask just why he was interested in her.
Sarov turned back to Quinlan, giving a loud sigh like a parent trying to convince his stubborn child to do the right thing. "Well, you heard her, Quinlan. I can always find a replacement for you. But I would much rather not. Enough time has been wasted as it is. But I won't make you this offer a second time," he said, his voice turning sterner now, a darkness falling over his face, "so choose wisely. And soon."
Quinlan could feel the walls closing in on him and he frowned heavily. He started to breathe more shallowly and he saw something glint in the crow man's hand, a blue vial and Quinlan suddenly straightened, lunging for the man. But a quick turn had the man on his belly on the floor. "That's mine!" he wheezed, feeling his blood turning like fire. He writhed, struggling beneath his weight until Sarov commanded him to back off.
"So you've made your choice?" he said, delightfully curious.
Quinlan looked at him haggardly, drawn, the pain evident in his expression. "You're a sick old fuck, y'know that," he huffed. "You better cure me. Or I'll cut your throat myself when all this is over."
"An adorable promise," Sarov grinned. "There's a good lad. Can't have you dying on me just yet."
Zahi looked like a chained attack dog when the crow man laid Quinlan down on the ground. She half-lurched forward, but she knew better than to attack either of these men. Right now, it would only cause more harm than good. But she looked like she strained against invisible bonds to retaliate against the crow man until Sarov pulled him off.
"Well, well, I'm glad we're all in agreement," Sarov said pleasantly. "In that case, I have some things for you to help you on your way." He produced from his robes a crisp paper map, rolled and tied with a dark blue ribbon, and a small copper spyglass. He handed them to Quinlan, and directed his next instructions to the blood mage. "You'll find these both invaluable. The map takes you to the likely location of the Gateway. It'll be a few days journey from here. And gives some clues what you'll find there. And the glass," he tapped the little copper spyglass; it was plain-looking, old and worn, "will let you read the inscriptions you will find there. You will know when to use it."
Sarov smiled pleasantly, then rose to his feet, "Well, then, in that case. I think I will be seeing you all again soon. Follow the map. You're a smart pair. You'll know what to do."
With that, Sarov turned and left the hut. The crow man paused only long enough to toss the blue vial to Quinlan. Once they were out the door, the mysterious pair disappeared. Literally.
Zahi darted to Quinlan. She put a hand on his shoulder, and her eyes were obviously looking for injury caused by the crow man, but she didn't say anything.
Quinlan's breathing gradually hastened as he watched in ragged silence. They couldn't have left any sooner and every prolonged second had Quinlan squirming inside. He quietly whimpered as if he'd been kicked and looked at Zahi, desperately trying to hold himself together.
He reached for the vial with trembling hands and popped off the cork. And he dunked it into his mouth, drinking it all until it was all gone. He gasped. Gradually he could feel the burning subside and he gave a soft sigh when he could breath again. "Sorry," he managed to cough out. "For not telling you."
Zahi squeezed Quinlan's shoulder, but didn't say anything for a long moment. She moved a little closer to Quinlan so that their bodies were touching, without embracing him or leaning her weight against him.
Finally, she gave a snort and said, "Who'd've thought I risked all that for a lost fucking cause." But despite her words, her eyes were uncharacteristically soft and she had a half-smile on her face. Another flat attempt at humor from the hilarious Zahi.
At that Quinlan gave her a toothy grin and reached up to squeeze her hand. "Clearly I made an impression," he said and struggled to find the strength to move. When at last he was on his feet and leaning on Zahi considerably before returning to the stool. He cut his eyes down to the objects Sarov had left at their feet. "And I wonder how soon he expects us to get started. After what he put me through, I'll be more than happy to take my damn time with it," he muttered rather indignantly.
"Hm," was the only reply Quinlan made. She helped him up to his feet and into the stool. She followed his eyes to the map, the spyglass, and last of all to the blue vial left behind by the crow man. Hm, indeed.
Zahi stood behind Quinlan and wrapped her arms around his waist, resting her chin lightly against his shoulder. Too intimate and gentle of a posture for her? Maybe. But Quinlan was shook up, she told herself. And neither of them had come away from this particular confrontation with the upper hand.
"I think we can at least give you another day," she answered. "He won't be any happier if we get there before you can walk more than a few paces and end up newt food. I'm starting to think, though," she added after a minute, "that it wasn't such an accident that I ran into you in that back alley in Ketra."
Quinlan turned to look at Zahi, noting the odd position. Instead of shrinking away, Quinlan leaned his head against hers and let himself relax.
The whole situation didn't exactly sit well with him. But he supposed getting eaten wouldn't make things any better. One more day to enjoy stationary life before moving on. It was just as well that Quinlan had a lingering suspicion that Sarov would have a way to ensure they move along.
Fluffy came by, whining and wagging his tail lowly, ears back and leaned his head up against Quinlan's leg. "I wonder if we can take the dog," he said with a laugh, petting the dog's head.
That made Zahi stand back up, hands on her hips. She looked suspiciously down at Quinlan and Fluffy, who was wagging his tail vigorously and was trying hard to lick the hand that was petting him. She might have warmed up to the dog - a bit - but she'd never really been an 'animal' person and her tolerance of the dog was still pretty grudging.
"He's sleeping with you if we do."
"That's fine," Quinlan said with another toothy grin. He pet the dog vigorously, smooshing and wrinkling the dog's face until he looked like an old man and ruffled the fur around his head. "He can be my little spoon. And you can be the big one."
Zahi rolled her eyes, then flopped down on the hard shepherd's bed.
"How about I sleep on the bed, and you guys sleep on the floor?"
They couldn't joke about the dog forever, she knew. They'd have to turn their attention soon enough to 'what to do next', studying the map and making a strategy. But she was willing to let this go on for a little longer. Let them find their footing again after their rocky encounter with Sarov.
"Dog, you sleep by the door. And I'll take the bed. Can't have the big spoon getting cold now," he said and pat the dog, finding the strength to rise and the dog whined indignantly but did as he was told, laying down beside the hut door.
Quinlan carefully laid down beside Zahi, or on her depending on if she made room. He stared up at the ceiling. "I'll be right in the morning. We can leave then. No going back now, right?"
He turned his head to look at Zahi and nodded to her, it was short and firm. But within it contained no small amount of thanks. And that he would see it through to the end.
Zahi didn't budge, letting Quinlan lay half on top of her. Her eyes watched him carefully. No going back now. No fucking kidding.
"We have awhile before tomorrow morning," she reminded him. After all, it was only late morning now. They'd barely had time to bicker about cold stream bathing between getting up and Sarov and the crow man inviting themselves in. "We'll probably need it to figure out what our next move is.
"But for now, what about that bath?" she asked, then scrunched up her nose. "You smell like the dog. And I can see if I can turn that fishing gear in here into lunch."
Quinlan was perfectly comfortable just laying on her, completely smelly. He looked up at her and gave a small grin. He crawled over her and hovered over her with hands on either sides of her head. "Don't forget the pinecones," he said as he leaned down and kissed her with some force.
He pulled away and rolled off of her, sitting at the edge of the bed. With a grunt he pushed off. "A bath sounds good. Just hurry up before I change my mind. Gods, I feel like I have a second set of skin on me."
"Oh no, you're not changing your mind now," she told him as she sat up and dusted what she could of his grime off of her. Zahi gathered together the fishing gear and opened the cottage door, gesturing for Quinlan to go through. "Ladies first."
It was a ten minute walk down to the stream. It was fast and clear and cold, a tumbling mountain stream. There was a pool maybe five feet deep, though, at the base of a cascade of rocks.
"You wash," she said, plucking a pinecone from a nearby tree and tossing it to him, "and I'll work on lunch."
She laid out the tackle upstream of the little pool. While Zahi would never ask for help - least of all from Quinlan, she was a bit awkward as she set about getting the fishing gear together. Or trying to. Having lived in cities nearly all her life, mountain fishing was not particularly high in her skill set!
He mentally stuck his tongue out at Zahi, but hobbled down to the river anyway. The serum the bird-man had apparently given him had worked wonders. His body's strength was returning, and coupled with his elixir, he felt something akin to a new man. Well, as close to his beat up body could ever be to that.
Once he was at the foot of the water, Quinlan carefully slipped. The cold made him gasp and he shivered but otherwise, dunked down into it until he was completely drenched. Maybe it was a decent joke, but Quinlan found some use for the pinecone and with some gentle use used it to scrape the grime from his body.
From the corner of his eye he watched Zahi struggling with the fishing gear. He remembered fishing all the time back in Connlaoth, before everything went to shit. He remembered pushing his sister into the water, then diving in after her, slinging fish to the bears... He smiled, watching her idly.
"You knot the ends together," he said, gesturing to the rod. "And secure the line, and then the bait to the hook. But you got to cast it far. And don't hit me if you can."
Zahi hated when someone knew how to do something better than her... hated it more when she didn't know how to do it in the first place... and hated it most when that 'someone' was a smarmy know-it-all like Quinlan!
So she didn't respond to his fishing tips, she just grumbled darkly without so much as glancing his way. But despite the dark curses she mumbled about the skinny blood mage, she followed the directions he'd given her. Though she stayed hunched over the pole as she did so, so that Quinlan wouldn't see her doing it. She had half a mind to cast the hook directly in his direction, though!
Finally she got the pole and the tackle sorted, and cast the line. Still grumpily ignoring Quinlan. She held the pole idly while Quinlan bathed, grumbling about the apparently not-hungry fish and the know-it-all Connlaothian.
((OOC: Sorry for the long delay!))
Quinlan watched her the whole time and he couldn't help the smirk that played on his lips. He knew she was doing exactly what he advised her on but said nothing on the matter. He just scrubbed himself with the pinecone. Oh he guessed he was better off just minding his own business.
That was until he heard a splash in the water and saw the line tense abruptly as something was caught on the hook. It was strong enough to yank Zahi from her initial position and pull her into the water.
Zahi wasn't an idiot. She tried to hold the line for a moment, but as soon as she felt the strength of the pull, she let go of the pole all together. The line and pole were pulled under water. Zahi leapt to her feet, eyes darting to the water to try to get a good look at the dark shape moving in there. But it disappeared into the dark, murky water under a large rock in the stream bed.
Images of giant, killer newts played in her mind and she drew out her crossbow. "Hey princess," she called warily to Quinlan, "you might want to get out of the water..."
She kept her crossbow aimed at the dark area in the water, waiting for another movement to strike. But when it came, it surprised her. Instead of an ugly, monstrous newt, what appeared out of the water was a happy-looking, if giant, otter. The playful creature was nearly the size of Fluffy, and splashed in the swiftly-flowing creek, looking expectantly at Zahi. Clearly it expected another treat, as it had no problem getting the first bait off the hook!
Even if he did get out of the water in time. It wasn't nearly enough! Quinlan only turned half way when he suddenly saw giant paws on him and yelped, floundering in the water as the fat otter paddled away. He found his balance again and swam away from the otter that clearly wanted his attention and swam after him.
"Hey! Go away! And stop eating our fish!" he said, splashing at the otter. "Go."
The other swam around on its back and brought its hands up to his mouth, putting hands together as if withholding a laugh. Quinlan resided by the shore, watching the creature as he laughed at it's silly antics. "If you give us a fish, you can have this pine cone," he said.
"'If you give us a fish, you can have this pine cone. If you give us a fish, you can have this pine cone.'"
At first, Zahi thought it was still Quinlan talking. Then she thought she might have dreamed it. Then, shaking her head, she realized it was the otter. It was the goddamn otter.
"Fucking Adela," she found herself saying outloud. Everything was so woodsy and... alive here. And suddenly she yearned to be back in the city, away from all the giant, living, mutant nature of it all. Sure, a rat might be the size of a cat every so often, but at least it didn't talk.
The otter swam in circles a few times, rolling and flipping in the water, chortling Quinlan's words to itself, interspersed with a few 'fucking Adela's. It dove to the bottom of the pool, and when it reemerged it was right on the banks, only a few feet from Quinlan and Zahi, and regarded them with curious, bright black eyes.
"Fish, fish! You want fish! Too fast for you! Fish too fast for you!"
Zahi glanced over at Quinlan, looking thoroughly unamused by the chattering, laughing creature. "Can I just kill it?" she asked dryly. But clearly she wasn't going to, not yet. Zahi didn't ask permission when she wanted to do something.
She wasn't the only one shocked by the suddGiveen talking otter. "What the fuck! Can we get through the rest of this journey without encountering anymore fucking talking animals!" Quinlan huffed, rolling his eyes. The otter's chortle was particularly irritating, and it was clear even to the Connlaothian that the animal was laughing at him. For all his experience with magical phenomena, it never really occurred to him that an animal might possess the power of speech. How very...Connlaothian of him!
Quinlan shook his head at his companion. "Give us fish. We let you live. Deal?"
The otter chortle again, clearly mocking him. "Let you live.Let you live! ALL for a fish!"
"Mean mean mean! You make no friends like that! No fish! No friends! No fish!"
The otter dove into the water, rolling tight circles, before surfacing again, in the middle of the pool now.
"You want fish? Need friends."
Zahi hated to say it - so she didn't - but she did think the otter had the smallest of points. As much as she wasn't one to 'make friends,' this certainly hadn't been the first time that Quinlan had resorted directly to threats to get what he wanted. Or try to. As much as she preferred threatening people to being chummy, it was usually paid better to work with someone than force their hand.
Still. She wasn't going to butter up a talking otter.
So instead she nudged Quinlan with her elbow. "Hear that? It wants to be your friend."
"What?" Oh she couldn't possibly be serious. Was Zahi of all people telling him to be friendly with a fucking talking otter? Quinlan stared at her until the splashing of the otter caused him to look back at the animal. Well, even he has to admit that it did look pretty cute for a talking animal. Even if it was about as big as he was. He didn't argue with Zahi as he slipped back into the water and waded away from the shore.
The otter chittered, or made a sound akin to it and it kept some distance from him. "Friend?" it asked. Quinlan inwardly ruled his eyes. But he smiled nevertheless.
"Friend." He held a hand out to the animal and it too placed it's paw in his palm. "Do you want to play?"
"Play? ...Play!" And it promptly splashed him and began to swim in circles.
Just because Zahi had no interest in making friends with a giant talking otter didn't mean that she couldn't enjoy Quinlan's discomfort. Smiling slyly, she perched up on a large rock by the river and watched, thoroughly amused, as Quinlan splashed around the pool with his new 'friend.'
"Playplayplay!" the otter was chittering happily, diving down to the bottom of the river. It reemerged and without warning, lopped a pawful of river mud at Quinlan's face. "Playplay, mudpuppy! Lookit the muddy mudpuppy! Hehehe!"
Zahi snorted a laugh and called out, "That's a good look for you, Princess."
"Princess Mudpuppy!" the otter declared happily. Everyone, it seemed, was thoroughly amused.
Except for Quinlan and despite playing with the otter, he was getting pretty steamed. He just wanted a bath after all, and had barely even begun scrubbing himself. But at the sound of Zahi's voice he gave her a smug grin, turned around and sloshed mud right at her.
"Same for you, butterfly!" he laughed.
Zahi tried to duck, but wasn't fast enough and the mud got her with a smack! on the side of her face, dripping down her check and neck and onto her collar bone.
Okay, this wasn't funny, and she glared icily at Quinlan. She looked very distinctly like she wanted to hit him. And not with mud.
Smearing the mucky river muck off her face best she could, Zahi turned her attention to the otter. Back to business. "You must know this area pretty well, otter. You can tell we're totally lost here in the mountains," she said, deciding from its last words that the creature might like to be flattered. "Do you think you could help your friends?"
The otter had been chittering a happy laugh at the mud on Zahi's face, but looked curiously at her question. "Yesyes. We know it best. All the mountain rivers. We know them best. You right. You awful up here. Can't even fish! No fish! No fish! No fish for friends!"
"Can you give us a fish, otter?" Quinlan asked. "We will share and when we are finished, you can show us all the river paths for your new friends, yes?" The otter clearly was considering his offer and soon flung mid at him. It shuttered again in laughter before diving beneath the water and seeming to have tired of their play.
But after a few minutes the otter reappeared again and flung a fish at Quinlan. The Damn thing slapped him in the face and he barely caught it in time and held onto its squirming body firmly in both hands. The otter chittered again and flung a second fish at Zahi!
"Bad fishers. Good fish! Fish for friends. Share share!"
The sight of Quinlan being smacked in the face with the fish was enough to brighten, a little, Zahi's darkening mood and a sly smile crossed her lips. Having Quinlan serve as a warning, Zahi managed to catch her own fish before it hit her in the face - only just. The damn thing was slippery!
And.. well... only mostly dead. She whacked its head hard against the rock until the squirming fish went limp.
"Thanks, friend," Zahi muttered as brightly as she could. The otter kept diving into the water and reappearing, when she really just wanted to talk to it for a moment. And she had to catch three more fish before she got the chance.
"Fish fish fish! Fish for friends! Fish all together! Eat eat eat!"
"Yes yes, we'll eat," Zahi agreed, "but can you tell me something, friend? Something you may have seen?"
The otter cocked its head at Zahi. "Yes yes. We see many things. Know mountains good. Not like you!"
"Right, not like us. Have you ever seen a mountain of fire... next to a mountain of ice?" Zahi was thinking again to the map. The map that would lead them to the Gateway. They couldn't play with the otter forever.
In response, the otter shook its fur. Somehow its expression seemed dark now. "No no. Yes. We know it. You don't go there. Too far. You stay here. We're friends! Friends friends play play!"
Quinlan turned toward Zahi, letting her do the talking, as he busied himself with keeping the wriggling fish in his arms, as he waded back to shore. He looked between her and the otter and wondered who had the will to win the upper hand. The animal perhaps.
"We will still be your friends," Quinlan said, sitting down beside Zahi. "We are on a very important journey and it is of the utmost importance tht we get to this place. Will you help us?"
The otter swam around in circles of apparent consternation. Finally it stopped, flopped up on the bank by Zahi and Quinlan, and gave a great shake of its fur, sending a shower of water droplets.
"Bad place. Don't go, don't go. You have to go? Bad place for friends. But we're friends, so we take you. 'Utmost importance.' Two ways," the otter said with another shake of its fur, "fast way and long way. Long way over hills and steep valleys. Fast way through underground river. Which way friends go?"
"Fast way," Quinlan said. The thought of an underground river was sort of thrilling but his stomach rumbling reminded him of more immediate problems. He moved away from the bank, and down up the hillside a few yards away to focus on making a fire. His blood was good at sparking that, even magic fire was better than no fire and he began to cook the fish over a stick.
"Can you tell your friends about this underground river?" Quinlan asked. The otter grumbled on over and munched at one of theraw fish, holding it in his smallish hands and teeth tearing at the head.
"River fast, water rush. Rush! Everywhere! You swim good? Swim good, friends must."
Zahi did not like the idea of going back underground, and her face showed it. But she gave no protest. Instead, she frowned at the otter's insistence about how they must 'swim good.' She looked sidelong at Quinlan. He was recovering well, that was true, but she wondered if he had the wherewithall yet for a long swim through an underground torrent.
For that matter, she wondered if she had it.
"What about a boat? Or a raft?" she asked the otter. "Could we bring something that floats into the underground river?"
The otter chittered thoughtfully. "Too small for boat. Too small in places. SMASH! Boat would smash. Maybe maybe raft, or log! Log log log. Maybe two. Two logs for two friends?"
"A log? How would a log fit through a small, narrow river. Is it big enough for you to swim through?" he asked, tearing fish between his teeth and finally soothing his empty stomach.
"Fit? What is fit? What that mean?"
"Y'know when things go together, they fit. Like how you fit that whole fish in your mouth just now." Quinlan made a face watching the otter chew, but all the creature did in return was chitter.
"Oh FIT! Yes, fit! Friends fit good. But must swim, even with good log. Many rocks down below. Cut soft squishy skin."
"'Cut soft squishy skin,' great," Zahi muttered darkly. It was clear to all that she did not like this plan one bit. Had Quinlan not answered first, she probably would have opted for long way. What would it be this time, she wondered, a giant albino crayfish? Crushing them in its claws before they ever reached the other side? Or would the rocks do all the work first?
The otter looked for a long time at Zahi, then scuttered over to Quinlan, and said in a stage whisper, "We think your mate is scared. Scared scared scared."
"Hey!" came Zahi's immediate and indignant reply, at each and every part of the otter's statement. She glared daggers at the otter. Zahi wasn't, it seemed, good 'making friends' material. The otter, for its part, chittered an amused laugh.
But Quinlan was focused on something else and he looked between the otter and Zahi and made wide-brows at the little critter. "My mate?" he asked, unsure on how or why the otter made such an assumption.
Or maybe the Otter was just nosy and liked to make wild fantastical claims to get a rise out of people. He seemed to laugh at just about everything else they did or said.
The otter blinked, and looked at Quinlan a bit confused. As if Quinlan were questioning the most obvious thing. "No? Yes? Yes yes. She is. We can smell it."
"Gross," came Zahi's response to that, muttered darkly and mostly to herself. This day was just starting off fan-bloody-tastic. Between the crazy old wizard and the crow man, Quinlan's decision that they should go through a fucking 'underground river,' and now the nosy, chittering otter whose head she was very seriously reconsidering putting a crossbow bolt through.
The otter looked between them curiously, confused about some subtext of the situation that it couldn't quite put its nose on. Finally it decided that everyone looked unhappy because they were scared. It beamed, bouncing happily. "No scared, no scared! We keep friends safe! We do we do! Underground river not so bad. Only the eels and the rocks dangerous. We keep you safe. No scared, no scared!"
Quinlan quietly got his fill on the fish, though he was sure Zahi didn't find this whole conversation the least bit appetizing. He needed at least a decently filled stomach if he was going to concentrate on anything, and if they were going to die anyway on this journey, he didn't want it to be from something as lame as HUNGER! He as a bloody blood mage for Ansgar's sake!
"Wait!? WE? Who's we? Are there more of you? Otters I mean, giant, talking otters with peculiar senses of humor?"
The other chittered again and bit into another fish. "We are many friends, friends. Don't worry! Friends protect friends!"
"Friends... Right," he said. He almost scoffed at the animal, but caught himself just in time. He looked to Zahi, her face clearly unhappy. "He said not to worry. Or she. I didn't ask, it. There are worse things we can trust than an otter, Zahi."
"Who's worried?" Zahi snapped back, bristling. "I never said I was worried," she grumbled grumpily. "I mean, we've had such great luck underground so far. What's not to look forward to? I'm excited about it, really. Especially all those 'eels and rocks.' I hope they're the size of fucking wyverns."
As she grumbled, she left her perch on the rock and begrudgingly came down to sit by the fire and took a piece of fish. In a surly silence, Zahi ate.
The otter stared at her. So grumpy! Otters were never grumpy! They were all friends! "When go? When go?" it chittered, addressing Quinlan. "Go soon, soon soon soon. We get all the friends? Then we go?"
Quinlan laughed a little, but tried to hide it from Zahi, which was hard to do since she was right next to him. But he wasn't entirely unsympathetic to her concerns, and quietly finished eating his own fish. He was used to Zahi's sour disposition for the most part. The moment Zahi surprised him would be the day he was cured of blood curse. "Soon, Otter, soon. We can't swim in a full stomach, now can we?"
"This is true. Others do not want friends to drown. We like new friends!" The otter cleaned his face with his tiny hands and wiped his muzzle. Quinlan looked at Zahi, noting her sour expression. He nudged her shoulder.
"Butterfly, we'll survive. If anything, I know you will. We've been through much worse. We go the long way, I could die before we even reach the mountains. The faster way is ideal, for both of us. You gonna let a bunch of eels and stinking rocks hold you back?"
Being 'comforted' was the last thing Zahi was interested in. She snapped around when he nudged her, and the sneer she gave Quinlan was so sudden and severe that it was a miracle she didn't actually strike out and hit him clean across the face.
"Did I fucking say I wasn't going to go?" she asked, annoyed. "I don't need to be fucking reassured like a child. Especially not by you, Mister Deathwish. Kia's tits. One of these days I'm going to cut that incessant tongue out of your mouth. Finally shut you up."
"And you keep up threats like that it's no wonder no one else wandered out here with you on your Ketra job, solo-mission or not," Quinlan said steadily, but his eyes were not hard or angry, even in the face of Zahi's typical temperament. "But I've stuck with you, even with my so called Deathwish. Do I wanna die? Maybe, but not today, and not tomorrow if I can help it.
"So you could lighten up, maybe a little, because I've been there with you, through all this shit. And I'll be there still until we get through it, so you don't have to bite my head off all the time," he finished, raising his brows at her, expression no-nonsense.
Zahi's expression grew increasingly unimpressed through Quinlan's (at this point, she thought) oh-so-typical exposition. She stared at him for a few seconds after he finished, then groaned and rolled her eyes. In the same motion, she pushed herself back up on her feet.
"You keep our new friend company, I'm going to go pack up what we need from the hut."
Byt he time she'd finished talking, she was already walking away back towards the shepherd's hut. The otter, for its part, chittered, then looked to Quinlan. "Friend always so angry?"
"Friend very grumpy. Miss Temperatmental Pants is what we call her," Quinlan said, rolling his eyes and resigning to finishing eating his fish. He didn't know if he had an appetite for anymore, but it seemed that didn't matter now. His body felt much better, strong enough to least stand. Swimming might not be so easy, but he'd manage. He would have to.
It wasn't like they could hang around the little stream for long playing house, Quinlan didn't have the temperament for it. And Zahi? Well, she'd just find a way and a reason to scratch his eyes out and make him eat them.
"We go soon, okay friend," Quinlan said with a smile, at least, for now attempting to appease the otter. At least someone was in a good mood.
"Okay, okay, we go get more friends. More friends! Need lotsa friends for the dark river. We get lotsa friends, then we go. Friends take friends to the fire mountain."
That was all the otter said before it leapt into the stream and disappeared. While it was gone, Zahi reappeared, Fluffy trotting alongside her. She didn't have much more with her than when she'd gone up to the hut. After all, there wasn't much they could carry that would survive a swim in an underground river. And carrying too much might spell certain death. But she got the map - burned into the rat skin, it should survive as long as they could keep their hands on it. And she brought the talismans they'd taken off the dead cultists, as well as the stranger, larger talisman that Sarov had left for Quinlan.
She tossed it to him as she came back to the fire. Then she plopped back down on the ground. Fluffy plopped down next to her, resting his big furry head in her lap.
After a prolonged, grumpy silence, Zahi finally said to Quinlan, "You have to explain to the dog that he can't come with us."
Quinlan looked down to the sheep dog, kneeling before the fluffy animal that panted in his face. "Princess says it's time for you to find your real master," Quinlan said, addressing the dog in the usual turn of phrase Zahi seemed to comfortable with giving him freely. The dog panted still and licked his cheek.
"No, you can't. Dogs gotta do what a dog's gotta do, but sometimes that means goodbye. If you ever catch my scent again, feel free to say hi, but you just gotta follow your nose, boy. And go on to wherever that leads you." Quinlan couldn't be sure the dog understood everything he said, but something in his eyes registered, or so he assumed.
The dog whined loudly, paws antsy on the ground and he leapt up, licking Quinlan's face furiously, ears down and tail wagging submissively. Quinlan held him back firmly and put a hand on his muzzle to keep the animal still. "No," he said firmly. "No. You can't. You've got to go on to a real home where somebody will take care of you. Princess said so. Go on boy. Go! Get out of here!"
The dog was stubborn and barked and tried to nip at Quinlan's hands. "Go! GET!" Quinlan grabbed the dog by the scruff and tried to pull it, but to no avail and Quinlan stopped himself and paused, putting his arms around the dog's neck instead.
"Oh, give me a break," Zahi groaned as she watched Quinlan collapse into a hug with the dog. "For Kia's sake, it's just a dog. And it can't come with us."
And with that, she got up and picked up a rock and threw it at the dog. Not hard enough to hurt it too hard, but enough to sting. And Fluffy gave a sharp yelp and turned to look at Zahi, tail down and whining. She picked up another rock and threw it before she could see the dog's sad face. Fluffy yelped again and ran a few meters away before turning around, tail low and wagging and ears laid back, and gave a whining bark. But Zahi wasn't having it, and threw two more stones at the dog until it retreated further, and another two when it stopped and barked at them again. Until finally Fluffy took off.
But when he was gone, Zahi just stood there for a moment, staring at the place on the horizon where it disappeared. And even Zahi looked sad, and maybe even hurt, by what she'd had to do. But it was better. For Fluffy. Stupid dog. She'd never liked him anyway. Really.
Quinlan was quiet, and he gave Zahi a scowl. She didn't have to throw the rocks, but Zahi was a bitch anyway with no friends so what did it matter to her. He turned back to the river and saw the otters swimming toward them, just as big as the first one, a whole herd of them, if that was what you called it. He pointed out to the water.
"Looks like our friends are here," he said with a forced smile. He laughed as they all chittered in the water together.
"What?" Zahi snapped at Quinlan, a little too defensively for someone who didn't care. "I asked you to do it and you couldn't, so just shut up. Fluffy would have just, drowned to death or something if he'd stayed with us. So you can take that look and shove it."
She didn't have long to pout, though, before the otters showed up. There weren't so many of them... maybe six or seven? Eight? They were up and down and in and out of the water so constantly, it was hard to tell. It was just so many of them all so big. One had been enough, but all of them... Zahi blinked. Well fuck.
"Friends friends friends!" the otters chittered together. They all clambored up onto the shore, nosing and prodding and sniffing Zahi and Quinlan with their wet noses and whiskers. "Hello friends! New friends!"
“Yeah, well, he was our friend,” he said. He just gave a shake of his head, trying to put the moment behind him. It wouldn’t do to dwell on it when there was so much to be done.
He was a little awed by the appearance of so many otters, and just as big, at once! When one otter sniffed his hand and tried to bite him, he snatched it away in time before it could sink its teeth in. "Looks like you brought a lot of friends, Otter. The, uh, first one we were talking to. You never did tell me your name. So uh, for now, you're Otter 1."
"NAMES? NAMES NAMES NAMES NAMES NAMES!" they all chittered at once. "Friends. NAMES!"
"There really isn't enough times to worry about names," Quinlan said hastily, putting his hands up. "Look we need to get to the Underground River. Can you all help us get though without drowning?"
And the chittering in unison continued.
“SILENCE!” Quinlan shouted abruptly and all the chittering abruptly ended. “Okay! Okay! Now, friends! We are ready to leave for the river. Will you show us the way?”
Otter 1 spoke up, scittering to Quinlan and taking his head, and another otter took Zahi’s hand and pulled them both into the water. “SWIM, SWIM! Swim good! Down from pond! Tunnel, tunnel! IN WE GO!” And Quinlan just got a breath of fresh air in time as he pulled underneath.
Zahi didn't even try to intercede with the chittering mass of otters. If Quinlan was 'happy' to be the one to talk to them, she was happy to let him. Plus she was still a little mad at him for making her chase Fluffy off. And then being mad at her about it. Bastard.
But she didn't have long to think one way or the other about Quinlan, Fluffy, or the jostling otters before one grabbed her by the wrist and dragged her towards the pool. She yanked her arm away from it, scowling, and made sure the ratskin map and the compass-like glass from Sarov were secure. But there was no stopping; the otters pushed and bumped and herded her until she was on the edge of the pool and before she could even take a proper breath in, one bodily forced her into the waters.
At first she couldn't see where they were going, but at the downstream end of the pool the water disappeared into the earth. And Zahi, Quinlan, and the otters disappeared with it. She was submerged into a breathless darkness, the water icy around her as the light from the pool faded and the current pulled them into the earth. The water filled the stretch of cave entirely and she started to wonder how long the otters could hold their breath and whether or not they knew that humans couldn't manage quite as long. But she swam down into the darkness - what else was there to do? The light from the pool vanished. She could feel the slick wet fur of the otters around her, and occasionally the cool, smooth skin of Quinlan. But otherwise the experience was almost without sense. No sound except the roaring of the water. Weightless. Sightless.
Breathless.
Zahi feared she would pass out and right when she could feel her consciousness dipping from lack of oxygen, a strong push from an otter below shoved her up and she felt herself break through the surface. She gasped, sputtering, for air. Still she couldn't see a thing and the current was getting stronger.
"Careful friends!" one of the otters chirped, maybe Otter 1 for all she knew, "many stones! Stones smash soft squishy bodies! Friends protect you, friends protect friends!"
And so they were! Swimming as best she could blind downstream in the current - or, at any rate, swimming as strongly and cautiously as she could - Zahi felt the otters ocassionally body check her away from what she could only assume were unseen perils. Most of the time. She let out an audible off when she hit a rock stomach-first and had the wind knocked out of her. But there was no time to waste on it. All she could do was follow the flow of the Dark River and their 'friends.' And hope that Quinlan was still there somewhere in the darkness.
((OOC: Sorry again for the delay!))
The rush of the river was enough to surge adrenaline through any man, but for Quinlan he felt more alive than ever. Perhaps it was a cliché, and maybe if he did it again, he wouldn't have another chance to swim with talking, fat, squishy, giant otters, and he would likely die from those sharp, dangerous rocks Otter 1 was so keen on talking about.
He was senseless, and deprived of even touch, save for the sometimes painful prods of tiny hands with sharp nails and the cold rushing water that sometimes went into his mouth and made him cough hard, trying to gasp for the next breath. He floundered, the darkness encapsulating, and paws pushing him on through, and then he hit a rock and bruised his shoulder, but he hoped he would emerge mostly unscathed by the time they reached the other side.
He gasped, and floundered again when he felt his foot stuck between two rocks. He tried to hold himself up, and grabbed blindly onto one of the otters. The otter pulled him, and others pushed, but he only struggled further.
"FRIEND! NO DROWN!" he heard a chitter and felt small hands wrap around his ankle and tug it loose, and he went tumbling down the river once more.
Zahi wasn't sure how long the tumultuous trip through the Dark River went on. The constant struggle to stay swimming, keep breathing, spit out mouthfuls of water, and recover whenever she slammed against a rock was too encompassing. But it felt like it had been going on quite a long time when she felt the otters sudden push her - hard and bodily - to the side. At first she had to try not to struggle because they were so forceful, but then she found herself spit up onto what felt like a damp, flat, silty shore.
"Rest friends! Rest here! Friends rest. Soon friends exit Dark River. Very Dangerous. Dangerous for friends."
Zahi shivered on the bank. This trip had given her ample opportunities to appreciate how much she did not like being wet and cold. A likely side-effect of her fiery djinn blood, though she wouldn't know it. She sputtered, trying to keep her teeth from rattling, and asked pointedly, "Dangerous how?"
"Oooooohhhhh, big drop. Big drop." All the otters chimed in, so "big drop" was reverberating around the room. Until (maybe) Otter 1 cut in again. "Dark River turns light in the mountains, big drop. WHOOOOOOOSH! Down down down. Deep pool below, have to dive and swim HARD HARD HARD. Or friends get pulled by waterfall. Down down down, drowned."
"Yes yes," another otter chimed in. "And light is dangerous now. Sudden light - ow ow ow! for friend's eyes."
"How big is the 'big drop?'" Zahi asked, though she wasn't sure she wanted the answer.
And it didn't help, anyway, because the otters all answered together in a very earnest chorus of, "Big."
A few moments after Zahi came ashore, Quinlan followed, sputtering. Not being one hundred percent healed made the going a little more worse for ware. But the journey had been hard for both of them (maybe he a little more than her). Quinlan regained some sensibility, fingers digging into the shore until he pulled himself up, trying to collect his head as the otters chattered incessantly.
"Great a big drop. I hope the landing is soft. Do we go on alone or are coming to the big drop with us?" he asked.
"Friends stay with friends!"
Well, that was some comfort... Maybe. As long as they didn't stick around for too long.
"Landing very hard if no dive. Friends must dive. Or landing VERY HARD. Once friends see light, must be ready to dive, then swim hard hard hard. Friends ready? Ready friends? Ready ready?"
Zahi frowned, though no one could see. "Ready as we'll ever be. How you feeling, Red? Still in one piece?"
"Red" spat water into the ground and nodded. "Yeah. Let's do this."
That was all it took before they were swept away into the Dark River once more. And a with a powerful swish they were off and the bright light was just off to the next exit. Quinlan felt another shove, but he was ready this time and dove out into the water, arms pointed in front of him.
Zahi took a breath and, urged on by the otters, plunged back into the Dark River. Like they said, it wasn't long before light began to creep back into the tunnel, first as a dim point in the distance, then growing to the full, blazing day outside. And the intensity of the current increased along with it until, just as the otters said, the river surged out of the mountainside into a deep pool below. Zahi shut her eyes tight, prepared to dive, then disappeared into the rushing waters. The roar of the water around her was deafening and when Zahi hit the water below, she didn't surface. The pull of the waterfall kept her almost in place under the water. Until finally - as she felt her own oxygen running out - she found herself in a place where the water wasn't pulling her under, but pushing her forward. When she finally broke the surface, gasping, she had been swept somewhere downstream. She was alone in a forested stretch of the river, but at least the water had calmed and she was able to swim to the bank and drag herself out. She lay out on the bank, catching her breath and felt in her tunic to ensure she still had the spyglass and the map. Well, at least that was something.
Back at the waterfall, the otters followed, one by one, after the two humans, diving elegantly into the water and resurfacing. They pushed Quinlan up onto the bank, but a mass of chittering soon followed and it was clear the otters were distressed.
"Friend? friend? friendfriendfriend?" they chirped, taking turns diving into the pool and resurfacing, shaking their furry heads.. "Where is other friend!?"
Quinlan gasped, breaking the surface, laughing. "Oh what a rush! Zahi!"
And then the otters' panic over the loss of their friend. "Zahi?" He swam through the water to the shore, wondering where n the hell she could have ended up. "ZAHI!" He stalked alongside the shore, until he saw where the water flowed all the while calling out her name.
The otters loped alongside Quinlan, at his side and in and out of the water. "Friend! Friend! Friend!" they called. "Friend! FRIEND! Friend? FRIEND FRIEND FRIEND!"
When Zahi heard Quinlan's call followed by the chorus of otters, she thought very seriously (well, not VERY seriously) about not responding. She didn't really like calling out blind, anyway. And she could tell that his voice wasn't as close as she'd hoped.
"Here," she called out into the forest.
The chittering of the otters made it nearly impossible to hear any sort of response. Quinlan turned around, raising his arms. "Quiet down!" he called out, his hands waving. Otter 1 made an odd noise to get them to fish up, which they did in unison. Quit honed his hearing, straining to hear a faint, "Here!"
He followed it, running toward that patch of trees. And when he saw her, still mostly intact, he flew to her and snatched her up against him.
If Zahi didn't resembled a wet, bedraggled, grumpy cat before Quinlan suddenly appeared and snatched her up, she certainly did after.
"Gah, let me go," she protested, pushing against him. She was not in the mood for a cuddle. But before she could break free of Quinlan, the otters joined in, jostling around the pair in happy adulation.
"Friend, friend! We found the friend!" the chanted while pressing their wet noses and wet fur and wet claws against Quinlan and Zahi. "Friends forever, friends forever!"
Unable to extract herself now that the team of otters had surrounded them, Zahi gave in and resigned herself to scowling grumpily at the happy animals (and Quinlan) while they chittered and chirped. "I hate all of you."
Of course Grumpy Gills had to do everything her power to kill the moment. But Quinlan wouldn't let her, even if he wasn't one for squishy squashy emotions that mess everything up. Because a moment he had seriously considered the thought that she had drowned. And after all that crap about him dying on her, it really would have killed his vibe.
In the middle of the crowd of otters, he gave the soot wolf an impassioned kiss and removed his lips with an loud smack. "Just to get you to shut up," he grinned at her.
Letting her go, Quinlan parted the otter crowd. "We have to go, friends. Thank you for all the help. You fat, talking otters."
For a moment, Zahi let Quinlan kiss her without protest. She even kissed him back a little. Until she remembered, of course, that she was cold and wet and grumpy, and they had a job to do. And all this "getting close" nonsense they were letting happen wasn't going to help anyone in the end.
"Yeah, yeah, okay princess. Calm down, I'm not dead," she grumbled as she pushed him away. "We got a job to do. Busted up and pathetic as we are. You especially. "
The otters, whom Zahi had been ignoring, hadn't missed what Quinlan said though and cried out in an indignant chorus, "'FAT?!?'"
Quinlan shook his head at the otters. "That just means friends I want to hug!" he amended quickly. The otters chittered between each other and Quinlan parted the crowd of their friends and motioned Zahi along.
Perhaps if they got away fast enough, the otters would get over it. And that's when Quinlan saw the mountain, stopping dead in his tracks.
Even Zahi thought Quinlan was being a little short with their 'friends,' considering all the help they'd provided the pair. So that when he started off, she stayed behind and gave them as gracious of a thank you as she could manage, and grudgingly promising that they would be careful, and that they would come to visit, of course, friends forever, and no, she didn't think they were fat, and just when she was ready to ring their little necks, the otters suddenly were satisfied, chirped a final goodbye, and dove back into the water, chittering all the way as they headed back to the treacherous Dark River.
Zahi exhaled. Well. At least that was over.
That was when she followed Quinlan, but stopped short behind him. Her eyes followed his to the mountain. It was massive, bare, and even for the cynical Zahi, awe-inspiring. Only when she shifted her gaze did she see the second mountain looming behind it. The closer peak was a chain of craggy, snow and ice-covered peaks. But behind it rose the conical peak of a volcano.
The fire mountain.
"Let's start by finding somewhere we can dry out and have a look at the map," she offered practically. "Maybe with the spyglass thing that crazy old wizard left you, you can make some sense of it. Managed to hold onto both in the fucking dark river. And the keystone. You're welcome."
While it was difficult to take his eyes away from the mountains, so close in vicinity to one another and yet somehow capable of maintaining their own elemental spheres, Quinlan knew there were more important matters at hand. Like avoiding hypothermia and getting cleaned up, and doing all the things Zahi recommended.
Quinlan led them up the shore, taking careful strides until they found a suitable place to make temporary camp. He shed his shirt and rung it out on the ground, and he idly kicked a rock. When the spyglass and map and keystone were laid out before them, he sat down beside Zahi and peered it over her shoulder.
"Are you staring at something in particular?" he mumbled.
[Just magically retconning him having clothes. xD I don't think he had ANYTHING really.]
[Haha, I thought about that, too!]
Zahi followed Quinlan along the course of the river until the found an exposed, sunny area where they could at least pause awhile and dry. She followed suit, removing her soaked boots, trousers, and tunic and laying them all out against the sun-warmed rocks after removing the map, spyglass, and keystone from their pockets.
Even without being able to read the words on the map, it was clear that the mountains marked here - one of ice, one of fire - were the ones before them. And the 'Gateway', whatever it was, lay in between them. Remembering what Sarov said about the spyglass, she picked it up and looked at the map through it. But nothing was revealed to her. It looked the same jibberish.
With a little huff, she handed it over to Quinlan and remarked dryly, "Maybe it just works for scrawny blood mages."
[Of course, that's the idea exactly!]
"Only because you are trying too hard," he said in afterthought, pulling the map and spyglass before him. "Sarov said it was meant for the Gateway. I think he meant when we actually approach the the entrance." The observation was half mumbled as he leaned over and set the odd spyglass aside. "Or maybe he meant for us to look at it in a different light..."
With that he stood and brought the ratskin map up to the light, where it reflected through the small clearing they were in. Quinlan saw dulled highlights that had been compressed into the skin. He hadn't noticed those before when he had burned the flesh. But they were brought out by the sunlight, symbols hidden beneath the mountains.
He held the map out with one hand and snapped the spyglass opened with the other. And when he peered through it, the symbols need though the paper and suddenly became clear and changed into letters he could understand. He didn't know whether it was because it automatically transformed into Common, or because it merely interpreted the symbols into a language the user could understand.
"Follow the Path of Four Stones. The first is the Wolfhead Stone. The second is the Great Olm's Tree. The Wolfheas Stone, the Serpent Stone, the Stone of Two Faces, and the Great Olm Stone. Each must be marked with the Blood of the Devoted."
Zahi took the opportunity of Quinlan studying the map to lay back and stretch out in the sun. After all, it made no sense to stay miserable and wet and cold, and anyway, Quinlan was the cryptic blood mage whose job it was to read the bloody cryptic map and lead them to the damned 'gateway.'
She was just the muscle.
It all sounded rather riduclous to her, anyway. 'Wolfhead Stone', the 'Serpent Stone.' Mages were always so dramatic. But the last thing he said caught her attention and she half sat up, propping herself up on her elbows.
"'Blood of the Devoted?'" she repeated. "Doesn't this just keep getting grislier and grislier. I think all the 'Devoted' entombed themselves back at the Howe."
Quinlan looked at her and frowned deeply. His chest still throbbed with that little reminder. But he seriously doubted that those crazy assholes could do them any good now. "I think they means us," he observed. And sat down beside her, crossing his legs and laying the map over it.
"I'm going to assume that each stone is a seal, unlocked, or awakened by a said blood. Question I'd wondering, just how much blood is required."
"Oh good," Zahi quipped dryly, "I love it when they mean us." This adventure was just getting better and better. "We should have kept one of those otters, just in case those stones aren't too picky. Or," she scanned the sky with her eyes, "maybe we can find some crows to use."
The thought of the crow man still cast a dark feeling over her. Would she still be here if it weren't for him, she wondered? Probably not, but who knew.
With a resigned sigh, she sat up and leaned against Quinlan to get a better view of the map. Part of her thought she should keep a greater distance, but if they were going to kill themselves opening up the gateway, what the hell.
"Does the map at least lead us to where we get to bleed ourselves over the stones?"
Quinlan mulled over the smelly ratskin for a few long seconds, making a humming sound his father used to make when deep in thought. That subconscious reaction was mildly comforting despite their situation, and made the thought of bleeding out over some ritual stones even a little less disconcerting.
"It seems so," he said, as he pointed down to a picture of a massive wolf's head on the map, baring teeth and everything, even in the minute detail the map provided. "Looks like we aren't far from it either." And when he peered up, eyes temporarily blinded by the sun. He shaded his eyes, and saw a large stone just beyond a few hills, a crudely carved stone in the shape of a wolf, frost pattered over it's head, as it resided closest to the frost mountain.
Zahi followed Quinlan's gaze over the horizon. Well, at least they had a first goal. Who knew what would happen once they got there. Blood of the devoted. Great. She eyed Quinlan side long and wondered just how much more blood he could lose. He was doing worlds better, that was true, but Zahi was skeptical how much more be could sacrifice.
She let out a breath she hadn't realized she'd been holding and reached out to the clothes. Still wet. Resigned, she flopped back onto the ground, folding her hand behind her head.
"That thing have any other exciting news for us? "
"Not that I can see. But I imagine if it did, it wouldn't be any good." Quinlan sighed and rolled the map back up. He couldn't shake the feeling of being watched, but when he cut his eyes to the trees, he saw no sign of life. Not even a bird. "No doubt, Sarov's got eyes all over us..."
Zahi gave a little huff, eyes scanning the skies above. The thought of the crows and the crow man left a cold feeling in her stomach.
"If he's so fucking omnipotent, why can't he get this 'gateway' thing for himself?" she complained, not really asking the question.
Then she looked sidelong over at him again, and something in her tone changed when she asked, "Hey, you up for this now? That fun trip down the 'Dark River' can't have done you any good, busted up thing that you are." That said, though, Zahi didn't really want to linger and wait. She wanted to get this whole venture over with and behind her.
Quinlan blinked at her concern. It didn't feel as awkward as it had been before. In their short time together, Quinlan hadn't figured Zahi to be anything close to the sympathetic type. Which was fine with him. But even that small difference made him smile a little.
"I'm ready," he said with a nod. "I've been beat up pretty bad before. Even the ribs don't feel so bad anymore. Now give me a sappy, slobbery kiss, and I'll be right as rain." Sure he was teasing her, and even laughed about it. "Look I know that look, and we should get going as soon as our clothes dry. I don't intend to climb up that frosty mountain in the buff."
[[I couldn't resist! >.>]]
All Quinlan got for that was a sharp smack to the back of his head. Sappy, slobbery kiss, indeed. "I'd just as soon kiss an otter," she grumbled, glaring darkly at him.
Well, mostly darkly. Even Zahi couldn't conjure up a look quite as genuinely grumpy as she may have just a few days prior. The look was clearly, a little, forced.
With another huff, she plopped back down onto her back. "Alright, then, but don't expect me to carry you anywhere again. Big fat lump." She settled in, closing her eyes. "Wake me up when my boots are dry."
"And I'm sure they'd want to kiss you, with their little hands and big whiskers!" he huffed, grinning despite the headsmack. He ripped a clump of grass and shoved it in front of his mouth before leaning over her and giving her that big slobbery kiss.
He pulled away with a haughty aha! and he spat the grass out. "Kiss good, Friend!? Friend! FRIEND FRIEND!"
Despite herself - and despite her very strong determination to stay grumpy - Zahi actually laughed at Quinlan's antics. A real laugh. Especially watching him spit out the grass and despite having to pull some of the same grass from her own mouth. Which she obviously threw at him.
Then, without really thinking about it, she sat up and took him by the shoulder, pulling him into a proper kiss (minimal slobbering). She pulled away after a minute and looked at him, shaking her head. "Careful there, 'friend.' I'd hate to have to leave you with those otters when this is all done."
"Hey, they'd hug me and chitter and swim and get fish for me. It'd be great!" he said, half-smugly. "Except for the loud proclamations of 'Friend! Friend!' Other than that it might be pretty interesting to live next to some otters. But maybe after this is all over."
Quinlan realized he was being more optimistic than he really felt. It was a little better than dealing with the fact all his elixers were fine and that he'd have to start from scratch again, and that it was back to wandering. Especially since he didn't really but that Sarov could cure him.
"Big fat lump indeed. I think that's better than skinny gnat."
"Yeah, somehow you seem to be working your way up from 'gnat' category," Zahi observed. But she was paying more attention to Quinlan's expressions than to his words, and a slight frown shadowed her face.
After a moment in silence, she got to her feet. "Come on, you big fat skinny gnat. You keep lounging around half-nude like that, I won't be able to control myself," she joked dryly, nudging him with her foot. "Our things ought to be dry enough by now."
With that, she went to shake out her clothes and boots and started getting dressed. They weren't entirely dry, but they would have to do. Sitting around here waiting wasn't good for anyone.
They were set enough, though Quinlan still felt a little squishy in some places. It was better than waiting around, and without the distraction of fooling around, it was too easy to get antsy. He followed after Zahi, moving up a small, narrow stone-laden path.
The ground gradually rose up and up and the air grew chillies still. Frosts began to form on the rocks and looked on blades of grass. Despite the cold, Quinlan kept going. The Wolfhead Stone was not far in the distance.
Zahi trudged on in silence. And soon enough she was half-heartedly wishing that they had stayed behind in the sunny forest to pass the time with some fooling around. Because as they gained altitude, the temperature dropped considerably until she could see her breath in cold puffs before her. But she didn't think too hard on it, instead just keeping her eyes on he Wolf Head's Stone in the distance.
It took maybe an hour or so before they reached it. It had been mostly uphill until they were a quarter of the way up the mountain. Zahi turned to look back over the hilly expanse of Draconi Forest behind them. In other circumstances - and maybe if she were another person - the view would be beautiful.
As it was, Zahi only glanced at it before pulling a dagger out of her boot and deftly drawing it across her fingertip so a pool of bright red blood sprung forward.
"Might as well start small," she said, then looked at Quinlan. "Do you need to start with some sort of blood magic-y thing, or can I just smear it on?"
The Wolfhead Stone was indeed just that, a massive head with the mouth opened and fangs pointed out toward them. It was a macabre invitation into that maw, one Quinlan could see demanded the taste of blood. Once Zahi was ready, Quinlan took her knife as well and made a small knick on his index finger with the other end. "We could try a bit of blood magic..."
He squeezed her finger, popping out a droplet onto a bowl. Quinlan did the same with his own finger and hissed words that made his blood tingle. Both droplets began to move together until the Stone began to sizzle and the wolf's eyes turned alight with a bluish glow, and the Path to the next stone was opened before them, orbs of light mapping the way.
Zahi sucked her pierced finger, watching Quinlan 'work' with suppressed interest. In principle, she didn't care for magic. It seemed like the the easy way around things and was frequently - and their current 'adventure' was the perfect case in point - so dramatic. But she watched curiously as Quinlan cast the spell that stoked the eyes of the wolf head and lit their next path.
Maybe it was just interesting to see him be useful for a change.
"Nice trick," she muttered.
Zahi's eyes followed the lighting orbs into the distance. They climbed up, hugging a perilous craggy rock path in the mountainside. It couldn't be more than a foot wide in most places and a fall would spell the quick end of their task. The orbs disappeared in the distance, where the light was blocked by flurries of snow.
"Kind of wish we'd kept Fluffy with us," she said, eyes on the snow. "Could've turned him into a coat." She glanced from the lighted path back to Quinlan. "After you, Princess. Someone needs to be there to catch you if you fall."
Quinlan wrapped his arms around his body, trying to shield his chest from the cold. Neither were dressed for the flurry of snow they trudged through, and Quinlan could feel his muscles tightening and clenching harshly.
He glanced at Zahi behind him, flicking a brow up. "Then who's going to catch you?" he posed, but kept on trundling. Quinlan held his finger tightly, focusing his magic to congeal the blood. But already his veins felt those fiery needle prices coursing through him. God, and for once he hoped Sarov actually could cure him... It was a fantasy worth holding onto, for now anyway.
It took his mind off the cold. And when he could make out the final orb in the distance, he saw the faint shape of the Serpent Stone.
"I don't fall," Zahi answered, though even if she said it, the normally rational Zahi wondered if she weren't 'jinxing' herself. Wouldn't that just be perfect; fit right into this adventure. Of course, she already had fallen once, when Quinlan dragged her out of that river, but that had been his fault. So it didn't count.
Other than the quip, Zahi focused on going forward, and trying to keep her teeth from audibly chattering. And mostly failing. The snow that swirled around them caught in the frizzy, frazzled, tight curls of her hair and froze there. By the time they got to the Serpent Stone, she felt stiff and frozen through. The Serpent Stone was coiled mid-hiss, mid-bite, and Zahi scowled back at it.
When she tried to reopen the prick in her finger, though, she failed to get a new pool of blood from the frozen, numb appendage. Swearing, she fumbled to get her dagger back out of her boot, numb hands clumsier than they would normally be.
Quinlan was no better off than she was and as the Serpent Stone grew before them, he huddled in his stiffened, aching arms, wishing now more than ever to have Fluffy there. Not for his coat, but because he could cuddle with the dog and not feel ashamed about it.
Not that he ever would otherwise.
"Hold on there," Quinlan said, reaching for her hand before she could get the knife out. "You don't need to keep puncturing your hand. Let me see that." And before she could protest he put her pricked finger into his mouth and lightly sucked on it, heating the flesh underneath and pulling the blood out as best he could.
With some tingling left from magic, he repeated the ritual that opened the Wolfhead Stone, squeezing out a droplet until the blood hissed into the stone. The snake came to life and began to move, crackling and turning it's head in the direction of a bridge, barely visible in the distance, covered in mist, and hovering over a massive arctic canyon.
And orbs began to light one by one, igniting the way as they got closer, and the previous orb promptly vanishing.
Much to her own embarrassment, Zahi jumped when the stone snake began to move. Fucking magic. She hated this shit. She longed for the time when she could go back to her regular life of knocking together the skulls and slitting the throats of plain, old, mundane, everyday criminals.
She watched the orbs light after the snake had pointed the way to the perilous-looking bridge. But just as she was following it into the distance, the orbs closest to them started to fade again. Just as the sunlight was sinking below the horizon. "Time to get moving, Princess," Zahi muttered. But despite the weak attempt at teasing, she didn't sound too happy about it herself.
She gave Quinlan a prod to lead the way, but followed closely behind. When they got to the bridge, the peril of it became much clearer. It was a narrow bridge of solid stone, no more than three feet wide, with no railing or role. Below it was the cracked, deep blue ice of a great glacier, full of deep crevasses that she imagined left little way out. As if that wasn't enough, the bridge was covered with a thin layer of frost, and the wind coming down from the mountain was picking up speed.
They wouldn't be able to hesitate long, though, because just then the first orb of light at their end of the bridge went out. Time to cross.
Fucking hell.
"This is a great recreation, really. I should go bridge skating more often," Quinlan quipped. It was more out of an effort to keep himself sane than to provide laughter. He took the first precarious step, and immediately began to slide along the narrow expanse of the stone bridge. "Shit!" he cried, nearly losing his footing.
Every step, was more of a slide and his feet had already lost all feeling in them, which made navigating the bridge even more difficult. The orb at the other end of it began to flicker and dim, which only made him hurry all the more. Every shuffle took an eternity until it seemed he was finally halfway there. Or was it half way away!?
Quinlan cursed under his breath, heart racing and only making every appendage ache with fury and pain, until he threw himself in an effort to make it to the other side, and just nearly fell off the ledge, hanging on the precipice of stone and frost.
Zahi looked at the bridge, looked at Quinlan stepping and slipping, looked down to the glacier below, and decided that she valued her life over not looking silly. That decided, she got down on her butt and started scooting across the bridge like a crab. It wasn't ideal. Her hands were freezing and numb already and the cold, icy stone didn't help, but it was safer from the wind and kept her center of gravity low, so she kept on. A bit slower than Quinlan, but she felt steadier. She just hoped she could catch up with the orbs once she was on the other side.
Quinlan was almost there, and then, suddenly, he wasn't. Zahi stopped for just half a second. No. This was unacceptable. They had not made it this far for Quinlan to fall off a fucking bridge. She'd pulled him out of that Howe full of loonies, for Kia's sake! But then she saw, just visible on the side of the bridge, where his fingers were still clutching onto the edge of the stone.
That got Zahi to her feet and, carefully as she could, she slipped and skidded to where Quinlan was hanging onto the bridge. It was close to the end, at least. Moving deftly and silently, Zahi took off the scarf from around her neck and - telling Quinlan quite firmly, "Hold on and stay still" - tied it tightly to his wrist. Then she carefully made her way to the solid ground on the other side and grabbed hold of a crag of the mountain to steady herself.
"See if you can edge your way to the end," she called to Quinlan, now unseen beyond the edge of the mountain.. "And pray that if you fall, I can tie a decent knot. Once you're here, I can pull you up."
Despite her joking and attempts to stay casual, Zahi felt her heart pounding. No. The stupid blood mage wasn't going to end up squished and splattered on the ice below. She wouldn't let him.
Quinlan didn't look down. That would be a most fatal mistake, he knew and was already trying to find a crevice to grip onto. He honestly doubted Zahi's ability to tie a decent knot, especially when all that secured him to her was a flimsy scarf! Oh maybe he wasn't really afraid to die, but he certainly was not going out like this.
Needles stuck his fingertips and as he shuffled along the ledge. Quinlan said nothing, for fear of distracting himself and missing a proper ledge to hold onto. And the end of the bridge, stone jutted out partway, allowing him some leeway to rest on his belly and he slowly managed to pull himself up until he was flat on the ground.
"Shut. We have to hurry," he breathed, and pointed behind her. "The orbs are going out!" He climbed a little unsteadily to his feet, but with solid ground underneath him, it was time to get back to business.
Without realizing it, Zahi half held her breath while Quinlan edged his way back 'onto land.' But once he was there, there was no time to dally around being happy he wasn't dead. She ran carefully as she could after him. The orbs were going out a few paces ahead of them now, and at the same speed roughly that they were running.
They ran along following the disappearing orbs until they came to a break in slope and a stop in the snow, and the orbs began a rapid decent down the mountainside and into the flat plain between the ice mountain and the fire mountain beyond. It was an amazing sight now that darkness had fallen on them. The line of lights stretched out for miles.
And it was rapidly going out.
Zahi glanced down, loose rock and scree lined the bare side of the mountain, mixed with snow and ice. But if they didn't go now, they would lose the path. So she jumped down, skidding precariously down the scree slope. There would be no stopping until they reached the bottom. At best, it could be called a 'controlled fall.'
Once they reached the flat plain, they would have to run. Already the lights were going out at a faster and faster pace.
Quinlan pushed all thoughts of pain from his mind and once they reached flattened ground, he gunned it, running full force, like he did through the trees of that forest that trapped him. But here there were no trees, none on the mountain and the air began to turn acrid.
There was no time for pain.
He reached the first light, and then the second, as each one subsequently dimmed with rapid force and when the plain opened up to a narrow path going up again, before stretching out and around a natural barrier, he just about collapsed at the base of the Stone of Two Faces.
There remained two bowls, one on each face, inlaid at the base of the chin. Quinlan did not know if he even had the strength to stand, and he grabbed onto the bowl to pull himself up. The blood would not come from his finger and he struggled with trying to concentrate hard enough to summon it even from his own hand. A few breaths. Relax, he forced himself to think. And when he snatched Zahi's blade from her boot, he cut it across his palm, and watched more blood drain out of him, burning outward as it went, setting his palm on fire.
[Figurative fire]
Zahi panted hard next to Quinlan. She kept herself in shape, but the long distance sprint left her whole chest burning and get muscles like putty. She barely even reacted when he yanked the knife from her boot.
"Hey, wait a minute," she began to protest, "let's at least catch our fucking breath - "
But Quinlan had already drew the blade over his palm. Why did he always have to make everything so difficult?
She took the blade from him and did the same, keeping her palm cupped upward so the blood formed a small pool there. After all, there were two bowls and she wasn't the one who knew how all this spooky magic worked.
Quinlan would let Zahi punish him later about being hasty. It seemed there truly was no rest for the wicked and his rest would come in death. He gripped his sliced palm, the blood pooling out into quickened droplets into the center of the bowl. But he hadn't quite observed where the statue before pouring his blood into it. From the rear edge of the bowl, the edge was bent down and curved around to allow the blood to flow out and down into the mouth of the statue.
"Zahi, we cannot delay," he said, standing, regaining his strength.
"Just waiting for you to do your blood magic thing," she panted in response, offering out her palm. "I don't know how these things work."
Quinlan had after all had to mutter some mumbo jumbo the last few times.
"Just pour the blood. I honestly don't even know if my magic did anything. But dribble it and I will do it again." He poised her hands over the bowl and squeezed, more blood dribbled down the inlaid carving and into the mouth of the statue. And just when Quinlan was going to chant, the wind began to howl and he cried hsparsely above it.
The eyes from the two faces turned alight once more, and the only orb that appeared was a single floating one that drifted along the path, leading them on.
If there weren't so much adrenaline coursing through her, Zahi would probably be annoyed with Quinlan. Very reassuring that he didn't even know if his blood magic worked. What exactly did Sarov see in him, she wondered vaguely. But she watched with a tense expression as her blood dripped into the statue and before she'd even pulled her hand back, the wind roared around them and the next lighted orb appeared.
It bobbed through the air in front of them, reminding Zahi vaguely of a fairytale one of the women at the brothel had told her when she was a girl. Something about floating lights that lead travelers astray. It seemed to fit pretty well here.
But at least this one moved at a more reasonable pace. And as they followed it, thankfully just walking, Zahi was beginning to become suspicious of just how easy it was. Worn through from the traverse of the ice mountain and the sprint through the plains, she only barely registered that the ground underneath her feet was getting softer. Until her foot fell through, sucked knee-deep into the swampy mud.
The orb carried on its slow bobbing, heading straight into an expanse of misty swamp spread out before them.
The air was no longer cool and Quinlan coughed, trying to clear his breathing as they trudged along. Even walking felt taxing, though he didn't know if it was because he was truly tired of if it was due to the anxiety that made his hands tremble. With one hand he kept his sliced palm in a tight fist, trying to keep the blood from being wasted. Though not much had been spent, he was feeling lightheaded and dizzy.
The air seemed to grow a little warmer too, but luckily it wasn't completely unbearable. When Zahi went down into the mud, Quinlan's footing was little better, as he helped pluck her from it and offered an arm to help the both of them keep balance.
He considered where the orb bounced along, where it's light ignited the ground and thought to step where the orb lingered, and did so in hopes of refraining from any further mudsinks.
Quinlan trudged along in silence. Perhaps the longest stint without talking they'd undergone since their meeting. But it seems all he could do was focus on the path before them.
Zahi wasn't feeling proud or confrontational enough to reject Quinlan's arm, and she held onto him as they continued to traverse through the swamp. For the next stretch, they got sucked in up to their knees, then thighs and hips. Before long, there was no question of keeping their feet on solid ground and they were trudging - and then wading - through mud up to their waists and sometimes their chests. More than once, both disappeared momentarily entirely, sucked below the surface of the dangerous mix of mud and water. But they were able to pull each other out and carry on. From time to time they hit patches that were more water than mud, requiring them to swim.
It went on like this for awhile until at some point a thick, nearly opaque mist set in while they were struggling through a patch thicker, stickier mud. It slowed them down and, in that time, the orb disappeared as the mist surrounded them.
They were lost in a sea of gray. With no orb and no view of where they were going, or where they had come from. For a moment, Zahi just stared. Her blood running cold. Finding the next stone aside, they could get lost easily in the swamp - how large was it? - and their chances of getting out without anything to guide them felt precariously slim.
But she only paused a moment, before putting a hand on Quinlan's arm again and continuing in the direction she thought was forward. "Come on," she said firmly, though she didn't sound as confident as she'd have liked to, "let's just keep going the same direction. We might catch up with it."
Mentally, she braced for Quinlan's almost certain outburst.
[[ In case you weren't already thinking of it! (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=y688upqmRXo) ]]
But Quinlan had no response for her.
He focused instead on every breath and every step, that seemed bored exhausting than the last. He didn't think of being filthy, cold, or miserable, though he certainly was and kept the pace going steadily. Even his grip on Zahi tightened, pulling himself along just a few inches further, maybe even a few feet, and the mud only seemed to thicken, or grew deeper.
He didn't know if he could go on, maybe he didn't care if he slipped and grew too tired to move, only to drown pathetically. These were questions he could think of later, answers he knew wouldn't come. He just kept going even as his blood burned and the needles honed and his expression grew pained and tears escaped his eyes.
This was his curse, his burden. But at least for now he wasn't alone, and he thought he saw the orb just ahead of them, then the mist would pass and it would vanish again...And appear light someone flickering them dimming a candle in the distance. But then he fell to his knees and struggled to stand. He didn't know if he wanted to either.
The ground was getting a little firmer and just then the mist cleared momentarily and they could see the orb in the distance. But just then Quinlan sank to his knees and didn't get up. Zahi turned, a mixture of annoyance, concern, and disgust on her face. She was also cold, tired, wet, and miserable - and moreover, aside from her 'deal' with Crowman, she didn't give a fuck about this Gateway Quinlan had been so eager to find up until now.
"What's wrong with you? Get up," she growled at him, but worry edged the anger in her voice. As if to make the point that she was not going to tolerate this sort of behavior, she hooked his arms under his and pulled him to his feet, or at least tried to. She gave him a hard look, mismatched eyes blazing.
"I-I can't," he panted, trying to catch his breath. Everything felt so raw, and his blood congealed inside of his veins, burning it, and it took everything he had not to scream. So instead his grip on Zahi's arms were as tight as he could manage and he just knelt there, heavy and unwilling and perhaps even unable to stand.
"Just...just give me a minute. I...I feel like I can't breathe. Please, Zahi. Have mercy. This once."
Zahi frowned. His words were strange, even for Quinlan. She knelt down beside him, smoothing her hand against his forehead, then down his cheek. He was burning up.
"Hey, what's going on?" she asked, gentler now, or as 'gentle' as Zahi could manage. "Talk to me."
"My blood. It's on fire. I just...I need a minute. I'll be okay." But as they waited precious time was wasting and the orb was getting further and further away. He gripped hard into Zahi, waiting until the pain began to pass. He let out a low moaning whimper when it did, and he was a clammy mess, skin cold and hot at the same time. "Help me up."
He used her as if she were a statue meant to carry him. Sure they were both tired. But even he wasn't going to let his condition stop them. No, only death could make that claim. "We gotta hurry, butterfly. Orb's almost out of sight."
Zahi didn't make a retort to his insistence that they needed to hurry. As though she'd been the one slowing them down. She didn't say anything, but studied Quinlan from the corner of her eye as they walked. He was a mess, and Zahi wondered if she hadn't risked so much, stupidly, on a lost cause. In fact, she was sure that she had. In that moment, she thought, if she had the chance to go back in time and ignore the crow that had led her to Quinlan, never strike the bargain with the Crowman that saved Quinlan's life - for now - she would.
She should have gone back to Arca ages ago.
Well, she could kick herself later, if she got out of this. There was no turning back now.
By the time they got out of the swamp and its shifting fog, the orb of light had completely disappeared. Likely it had already made it to the next stone and extinguished itself. But in the flat expanse in front of the fire mountain, which now loomed large above them, a dark form stood out against the horizon. It had to be the last stone. Redirecting their path from where it'd gone wrong in the mist of the swamp, Zahi plodded them along towards the stone. When they reached it, Zahi couldn't help but scowl a little. Its resemblance to the Great Olm who'd tried to take her leg off was a bit too realistic.
She took her knife out. The swamp had caked the last cut across her palm with silt and mud and it wouldn't bleed now. So, rather than injuring both palms, she cut a fresh line next to it, then handed the blade to Quinlan.
Quinlan eyed the blood pooled in her palm. It glistened even in the darkness. And though it had been ages since he'd last drank any blood, he had no more elixers, no serum to to stave off another attack. He needed to rejuvenate himself and so without asking, he dipped his head down into her palm and took a long drink of it. Already he could feel warmth spreading through his body and making him stronger.
At least the palm didn't stay bloodless for long, and plenty pooled there, fresh red and ripe. "Sorry," he breathed and turned to look up at the statue. What was up with the obsession for giant fucking salamander type things? He scowled at the thing and slowly moved to inspect it, looking for a bowl of some kind. When he found it it was much larger than the others, and in fact appeared to required even more blood than before. He didn't know if he could provide any without passing out. However that wasn't really an option.
When his own palm was split in two, he squeezed out as much as he could, the stream freshly draining away into it. Though it seemed they would need much more.
Zahi's eyes widened, then narrowed, at Quinlan's actions. Though she understood why he'd taken the blood from her hand, she couldn't stop herself from feeling repulsed by the action, and it showed on her face. But she didn't say anything.
Instead, she followed Quinlan to the sacrificial bowl, and saw what a pitiful amount of it Quinlan's own blood was filling. She looked at him; no, she thought, he wouldn't be able to give more. It was amazing he was still standing on his two feet as it was. So she took off her scarf, handed it to Quinlan, saying, "Here, you can tie the bandage when I'm done."
Then she took her dagger and carefully cut a small knick in the croof of her arm where she knew she would bleed. The stream of blood began immediately, trickling down her arm and over her hand into the basin. Zahi could feel herself getting woozy as it filled; light-headed and pale. And as it went on her vision started to tunnel a little. But they were almost there. This was the last stone.
And when the basin was finally full, a weak Zahi stepped aside, holding her arm out for Quinlan to wrap the scarf around, the stone newt opened its mouth. A stream of light wafted out, like spring petals caught up on a spring wind, and blew towards the fire mountain. And then they were gone. That, it seemed, was all the direction they would get.
But it was all the signal they would need. Quinlan was watching the light intently for a moment when Zahi needed her arm wrapped. It wouldn't help to not know where to go afterward. When he was sure he had it in his head and wrapped the scarf around her arm. Reaching out to steady her, Quinlan put one arm over around his waist in order to help her walk along.
He expected Zahi to still be Zahi, even if woozy, and half figured she'd nudge him off her and try to scarecrow walk on her own. He snickered at that thought, at the memory of her leg. "How's the knee?" he asked, finally talking as he always did. "I know I didn't say so at the time, but your hobbling along, even drunk, was pretty funny. Even when you hurled out the window." He gave a soft laugh again.
He didn't keep talking, however, and followed a narrow path that led out of the edges of the swamp. The path was well-concealed and soon a crack between the mountains revealed itself, been away by men of ages past, and a stone door with a detailed relief on the front of it. "Well look it here, home sweet home."
As they hobbled closer, the doors opened at last. Finally something that didn't require blood.
Zahi didn't respond to Quinlan's nice little trip down memory lane. (If one could call it that when talking about something that had only happened a few days prior... though it felt like an eternity). She didn't even defend herself; she certainly had not 'hurled out the window.' That had all gone into Mrs. Bresly's bucket. She only looked sidelong up at him as he steadied her along the path. She was still wondering how she'd let herself get caught up in this mess. How she'd let herself get tugged along by this man who was clearly a lost cause. If not today, tomorrow, or the day after. Either by his cursed blood or his own foolishness or by some thug when that mouth of his caught up with him.
But there was no time to berate herself now. Anyway, her boss would do it for her when - and if - she made it back to Arca.
So she followed along with him in silence until the reached the stone door. She hung back a moment when they opened, the brimstone smell of the air that wafted out of the mountain hitting her like a wall. "Let's find your gateway," was all she eventually said, then led the way into the fire mountain. The stone passageway was lit with orbs not unlike the ones they'd seen before, beckoning them onward.
He had feared they'd be encased in darkness. An odd consideration since he'd just been tortured and plummeted down a dark river, and had been hounded by odds and ends since the start of this ludicrous journey. Quinlan was not scared of the dark... Perhaps it was its suffocation.
With the orbs to guide them once again, it looked very much like the temple he expected it to, and he remembered the keystone they had. When it was in hand, Quinlan held it from the chain and watched the light of the orbs change through it, but they offered nothing significant. Then he reached for the spyglass, extending it. The light changed again and glittered letters along the floor, the same odd symbols found on the ratskin map, but broadened, and leading down further into the temple room, proper.
And there was the ark at the end of the path, half-buried on a raised dias.
Quinlan paused and viewed the ground between them, where the stone was scorched with fire. "Wait," he murmured and took the spyglass to his eye again. And there the inscription glowed, made visible and readable by the orblight. "'Stand Now before the Cleansing, Only one may open the door, And the other must walk through it.'"
Zahi looked at the floor where Quinlan was reading. But it was all nonsense to her. She frowned at the words Quinlan wrote. Somehow she was sure that if they split up, it’d be over for both of them. So she didn’t like this ‘only one can open, and the other walk through’ business.
“Is that all it says?”
The writing on the floor wasn’t the only writing on the room. Written in a smaller script around the base of the dias were the instructions:
The lifeblood marked by the forgotten temple is the key.
Quinlan was silent, much like he was in the marsh. He swallowed hard on his raw throat - which hurt more than it should have. He knew he was swallowing the dust in the air, where old bones that had been ground away by decades of sacrifice now burned at his nostrils. It was not just the ash of the fire mountain. It was the ash of flesh.
He eased out a breath and turned to look at Zahi. "Only one of us can cross," he said. "Only one of us can get the to the ark over there. And only one of us can make it out of here alive."
The hair on the back of Zahi's neck stood up. He might have said it casually, but his words could only mean so many things.
Immediately she pulled away from him, turning to to face him, stance tense. She hadn't yet drawn the dagger from her boot, though she wasn't sure what stayed her hand. But she was certainly ready to.
"What do you mean?" she asked gravely. She was weak, worn through and worn out, but there was still a fire in her gaze, hard on Quinlan.
His face remained drawn, the lines of exhaustion so clearly written. He likely appeared much older in that mystical lighting. He expected her to feel defensive, and to react just as she did. He refolded the spyglass and then looked down toward the scorch marks left on the stone. "The lifeblood of the Forgotten Temple."
He tried to give a shrug, but even he didn't mean it. "Isn't that where you're from? Or where you remember getting those odd markings from? From that place in the Zantaric... What else could it mean?"
He sighed and tried to take a step near, wondering if maybe if he moved fast enough he could somehow leap across it. Perhaps he might even emerge unscathed! He took a deep breath and suddenly felt the heat that emerged from the holes below and upon approach a great burst of flame rose up toward his face.
He yelped despite himself, stepping back before the fire engulfed his face and body. "Cleansing fire. Just fantastic."
Zahi didn't waste time on disbelief. And the dagger that had been in her boot was now in her hand and she'd taken a few steps back from him. But not so many. Zahi was ready for a fight, if she had to. She couldn't read the inscriptions on the dias, but Quinlan's meaning was clear.
"What the fuck are you talking about? You think you're going to bleed me like a lamb to get that fucking trinket for Sarov?" She felt like her tattoos were crawling on her skin. She knew what he was talking about. And suddenly it all made sense. Why the old man had been interested in her. Why she'd found herself in Ketra at the same time as Quinlan. It'd all been orchestrated. And then a more chilling thought occurred to her...
Her eyes narrowed at Quinlan. Had he been working this angle all along? Had she been had by this scrappy, whining Connlaothian?
Finally she asked, her voice low, "How long have you known about this?"
Quinlan blinked at her, but his eyes remained on the blade. His hand unconsciously reached for the pocket watch he thought he had on his person. But then he remembered only his father did that - constantly look at his time piece as if somehow he could magically make it turn back the years, turn back his son's foolishness.
But magic didn't solve everything. Sometimes it just made it worse.
Quinlan remained still, eyes finally looking up into hers. "About five minutes," he answered, voice devoid of dishonesty. "I had no idea. Really. In fact, if you stick me like a pig, you'd probably be doing me a favor. At least one of us might do something useful with our lives."
“Oh, for Kia’s sake, stop your fucking constant spew of self pity,” she snarled at him. “I kill people for a living, Quinlan. So you can cut that crap about ‘who’s life is useful’ and who is pathetic - even though you are.”
For a moment, she had wanted to believe him. Almost had been ready to relax, just the smallest amount. But his last entreaty raised the red flag again. ‘If she wanted to stick him like a pig...’ and all that nonsense. It felt like bait to draw her back in. Her instincts told her it was a trap, but when she looked at Quinlan… She wasn’t so sure.
So she held her ground, tense, blade ready. But ready to act in defense. Not ready to attack. The tense silence felt like it stretched out a long, long time before Zahi finally asked. “Fine. Then what do you want to do?”
Quinlan rolled his eyes at her. "Fuck off, Zahi. Suddenly no one has the right to acknowledge their shortcomings without coming off as a pissant. As if you're no more pathetic than I. We're the same, and all that bull shit. I was more than ready to do this alone, and you chose to stay, need I remind you. Yeah sure I like you. You're some sentimental crap, off the top of my head, or whatever more bull shit people say in situations like these. You think I want you to fucking kill me to end my misery? Fuck you, I like living. I like fucking. I like drinking. And maybe I like being an asshole."
He exhaled hard through his nostrils, blowing dust our harshly.
"You talk to me like you don't have fucking problems of your own. What was all that bitching about that fucking Yoreiqi you have back home? And what the hell is so wrong with having someone relate to you!? Maybe you're just as fucking scared and pathetic deep down in that hard exterior, and you're too scared to admit it. "Oh, I kill people for a living. I'm made of stone. I don't fucking whine like that scrawny mage.' Fuck you, Zahi. Fuck it all. Oh, and side note: Yeah, I kill people for a living too. What difference does that make? None. I think you're the one that's pathetic. You're buried."
"That is not what I meant," she answered coldly to his onslaught of complaints against her. He sure had all that stored up, though. "I meant that I'm no fucking hero, so you can stop acting like you'd be doing the world a great big tragic favor by 'letting' me 'stick you like a pig'. Poor tragic fucking Quinlan."
Zahi knew she should just shut up now. But his list of accusations against her left her rankled, especially bringing Bujari into it. And somewhere in the back of her mind she knew that this argument was putting off the real confrontation. Maybe that was why they were having it.
"And you can drop that shit about either of us choosing to be here while you're at it. I'm here because I needed help saving your ass from the Howe. Period. You think I don't know I have problems? Because you and keeping your ass alive are Problem Number One." Then she added sourly, "Right above 'my fucking Yorqei back home.' And what the fuck for? So you can keep running down some blind insane suicidal path until you finally fucking fall? You know why you're a lost cause? Because it suits you. Because you can't be bothered to be anything fucking more."
She glared hard at him, seething. But she wasn't sure it was really Quinlan she was angry with. And not the stupid, impossible situation they found themselves in now. And, maybe, herself. For caring in the first place.
"Oh what a tragedy. Excuse me while I play you a sad sad song on the world's smallest violin," he retorted with a scoff, before throwing his arms up in the air. She was impossible! Obstinate, pig-headed, poofy-haired soot wolf! What was he thinking getting mixed up in this with the likes of her.
As entertaining as it was watching this little lover's quarrel, there was business to attend to. Sarov didn't send them this far only for them to pause just at the most important precipice. The crow man had hung back just above the light and in the midst of another exchange between them, he'd decided that time had been wasted enough.
"You know what. I'm sorry for being such an inconvenience. Be sure to list your concerns and I'll promise to repay every one of them for your troubles. Fucking -" He stopped suddenly when he saw the massive bird swooping down from behind her. The crow held out his clawed feet, reaching out for Zahi, aiming to yank her into the fire. Quinlan didn't think about everything he'd just said, or how this would end between them.
The crow man's feet were just about secured around her shoulders when Quinlan lunged toward her legs. The crow had not expected the added weight, and the momentum set him off course. He screamed when he hit the fire, feathers taking to flame with ease. Quinlan yanked Zahi's ass back from the flames, and the stench in the air was replaced something that resembled roast chicken.
Zahi saw Quinlan's eyes snap up to the crow but only had half a second of confusion before everything happened at once. The crow man dove for Zahi from behind, and Quinlan from the front. She felt the bird's razor-like talons graze against her shoulders, drawing thin lines of blood. The bird even pulled her forward enough that the edges of her 'poofy' hair singed on one side. But the force of Quinlan's tackle was greater than the bird's talons. And the pair went sprawling onto the ground as the bird flung forward.
Zahi scrambled to get back up, but Quinlan had landed on her legs. So instead she pushed herself into a half-sitting position. Her heart was pounding from the sudden action and her dagger, she realized, had clattered to the other side of the cleansing fire.
Her chest still heaving a little from the rush of adrenaline, her attention snapped to Quinlan. She was tensed, but she wasn't sure for what. Because she wasn't sure now what Quinlan would do. He had saved her from the crow man, but would he save her from the fire? Had he simply wanted to claim whatever power lay behind that fire himself? Would he give up the key to gateway? Did he even know?
For once, Zahi didn't take the initiative in the fight. If it was going to be a fight. This time, she waited for his move.
The crow man roasted on the fire for a few long seconds before the flames beneath went out and all that remained was a charred, smoldering corpse, the last wisps of fire going out. Slowly Quinlan got off Zahi, and he hadn't even the mind to help her to her feet before he stepped closer to the massive bird and stepped up along his back, using it as a bridge. Once on the other side he gestured to her. "Come on! Don't just stand there!"
This time Zahi did stare at Quinlan in disbelief. Once he was off of her, she leapt to her feet. She reached for another blade, but the greater part of her arsenal had been left in the shepherd's hut. So she stood tense for an unarmed fight.
"Are you fucking kidding me?" she spit at him. 'Oh, I didn't know indeed.' Seemed like it didn't really matter if Quinlan discovered her life was the key five minutes ago or a week ago. "Fuck you! I'm not following you so you can slit my throat to open that fucking gateway!"
Something in her expression tightened. This answered her question a few moments ago: Quinlan had snatched her from the bird for his sake, not hers. But like hell was she just going to traipse along with him without a fight.
Quinlan stood there on top of the still smoking bird, blinking at her, noting her stance and eyes secretly undressing her. Sure, now was the time for sex, but her temper was definitely a turn-on, he quickly discovered. "Yes, I'm kidding you," he said blandly, looking at her with a half-lidded gaze.
"I set all this up as one grand comedic trip! Oh look, it's been great! I got some nice commemorative torture scars, I've been beaten up by the very person I've been trying to help. We drank, we fooled around a little, we had a great time. I totally planned getting cut up and beaten. It's been great fun. The only thing left would be to kill the only person who cared enough to finish this with me, poor pathetic little me. Oh woe it is to be Quinlan Duirne."
And he made a dramatic fainting motion, placing the back of his hand and made a dramatic moan. He recovered and gave Zahi the glare of glares. "You think I'd really cut your throat? Now it's my turn to ask if you're joking."
"Then what are you planning to do?" she shot back. "Because a minute ago, you calmly explained to me that only one of us was leaving alive, and that my blood is the key you need. So unless that was a joke, I'd like to know just what your fucking endgame is here."
Fuck this, Zahi should just leave. Take her chances against Sarov; better to maybe be killed by some old man than definitely be killed here. And she didn't believe that Quinlan had any idea what he was doing. That he wasn't doing anything more than putting off the inevitable. And she didn't want to be there when the only option left was offering up the 'lost temple' sacrifice or whatever.
She should leave. She should have left ages ago. But she didn't budge. She just stood there, poised defensively, mismatched eyes smoldering, scowl on her face.
Quinlan looked at the spyglass that somehow ended up in his pocket and he pulled it out, tapping the glass lightly with his finger. "I was just reading what the inscriptions were saying. Zahi, I don't want to kill you. For all we know, we only need a few droplets of blood to open the goddamn thing. But we won't know unless we try. I just want to finish this. Don't you? You want to go back to Ketra, or wherever it is you're from. And I want to get you back there. Safe and alive. And mostly intact."
He gave a snorting laugh and shook his head. Silly Quinlan. Tricks were for children and he was a fool. He was always the fool. He looked at her dagger, the one that had clattered to the other side and casually picked it up. "Let me ask you. Would you kill me if it meant opening that box, getting what's inside and letting you go home? Not as some kind of attempt at guilt. But in terms of the most logical solution to our current quandary. Would you kill me?"
That was not a fair question. Zahi had nothing to gain from opening the box. She could go back to Arca now. As unreal as that felt here, in the middle of the fire mountain, after all the ordeals of getting here, she knew intellectually it was true. Why not? Quinlan was standing on the heaping remains of the crow man. And Sarov was an old man.
But Quinlan.
If the wizard was right, had everything to gain. And even if he was lying, even if Quinlan thought he was lying, if he never retrieved the object Sarov wanted, he’d always wonder.
And the longer Zahi paused, the more consumed the bird came. Soon the fire lap up around it and separate Zahi and Quinlan once more. But still she didn’t move. She believed Quinlan believed what he was saying now. But was it really true? When a few drops of blood didn’t work, would he really just throw up his hands, say, ‘oh well!’ and turn away from here?
Of course he wouldn’t.
Then why was she still here? She was an idiot. And she hated him all the more for it. Cursing herself, she leapt up onto the roasting crow next to Quinlan. The first thing she did was snatch the dagger from him, and she didn’t put it away. But she stepped off the bird, landing on the smooth black stone surrounding the dias.
Quinlan took the hand that held the dagger - which was so rudely snatched from him - and he reopened the scabbing wound across his palm. His hands were already so raw, and already they'd given much simply to unlock the stones. He seethed a little, breathing sharply through his teeth, cupping his hand as the blood pooled there.
He looked at her from the corner of his eyes. "Then let your blood be mine. And mine be yours. Cut your hand," he instructed, pointing to her palm.
[["BUT I DON'T WANT YOUR STINKY CURSED DEMON BLOOD!!!" D:]]
It only vaguely occurred to Zahi that this might, in fact, be a disastrous idea. Wasn't that why they were here? So Quinlan could try to cure his blood? Cursed blood was the last thing she needed. But she was too exhausted to argue now. And, even crazier - and probably stupider - despite all the arguing, she trusted him. She never really would have ended up this far if she hadn't. Though she wasn't yet sure that she should.
Wordlessly, she took the dagger back from him and reopened the cut across her palm. Then she held out her hand, thinking that if this ended up with them being some sort of spooky blood magic married or anything like that, she was going to skin him alive.
"I'm pretty sure only me will remained cursed. All right? Princess Butterfly?" He exchanged glances between her face and her palm and when he saw the blood seeping back up from it, after being caked with dirt and swamp sludge and skin chapped by cold wind and bitten with frost, he swallowed a little.
He slapped his palm down on hers and closed his eyes at the stinging of the wound, blood seeping between their hands and he felt her hand grow a little warmer, though he wasn't sure if it was from the magic or if it was because her blood was just hotter than his was. She always felt like a warm body - as dumb as that sounded.
He pulled his hand away before long and examined his palm, stained with that odd mixture. Quinlan turned then and stepped toward the ark, a gilded box, highly decorated with all sorts of reliefs. There were clear etches, raised the tunnels and corners which were stained from what Quinlan guessed were previous offerings. He flexed his hand a little more, getting more droplets to flow and began to fill the side closest to him, spreading the blood out as it filled the relief upon the lid.
Zahi stayed silent, only catching his gaze when he made the remark about only his blood remaining cursed. She had been wondering. Though she was never quite sure whether or not to trust what Quinlan sounded confident about. It seemed to change so often. Otherwise she only watched their hands. It was a strange sensation, and not one she was sure she liked. But she didn't resist.
When he finished and Quinlan spilled his own blood - was it still his own? - onto the alter, Zahi simply stayed where she was and watched. If he needed more blood, her blood, he'd let her know. But she watched curiously, feeling the tension of everything leading up to this building up inside of her.
His blood spread out along the relief as thoroughly as he could get it, drop by drop, filling in each crevice.. "More," he said and gestured to her. "Spread some out on that corner over there. Just get it into as many grooves as you can."
He continued to squeeze his hand, and what remained of hers, his hand stinging and burning as the blood continued to flow.
Zahi was still feeling woozy from the blood she'd lost at the Great Olm Stone, but she stepped forward to the dias and carefully unwound the bandage on her arm. May as well get it over with. It was easy to open the knick in the crook in her arm again, and once she did, the blood flowed down the underside of her arm onto the groves and engravings of the stone.
As the blood filled the grooves, flowing downward to a central point, it began to glow. Slowly at first, but it gradually grew brighter the more blood spilled on the stone. Zahi could feel herself growing more and more light-headed. And she vaguely wondered if, in this weakened state, it wasn't the perfect time for Quinlan to just run her through then. And while she thought that, the blood on the dias began to glow white hot and a distinct, metalic click could be heard.
To hear the sound of that click made his heart drop into his stomach. This was the moment he and Zahi bled half across Adela for, well mostly him. He held his breath because honestly, anything could be in there. It could be a grand sceptre, or maybe some treasure clearly worth keeping for himself (and giving a cut to Zahi of course).
This was it. The heavy lid came up and was thrown over and when he saw what was inside, his jaw did drop. "What!? Is that a fucking rock?"
He reached inside and pulled out a polished stone cube, and on each side was carved a phrase, and he turned it over in hand. The only way to really read it was with the spyglass, since the inscriptions were in the wishy-wash language nobody could understand. "Cats...meow...at...midnight," he read on one side. "The fuck does that mean!?"
Zahi just stared at Quinlan. The blood was still trickling unattended down her arm. A stone, from her point of view, could be a magical object. What did she know about magical objects? But Quinlan's joke (she was sure it must be) was falling flat for her.
She couldn't believe he was fucking joking.
Once she had enough blood pressure again, she was really going to knock him one.
"Hilarious. I get that you were mad that I asked if you were joking earlier, Quinlan. But you better be fucking joking now."
"Birds have wings. Taking...to the...sky. Fly like birds. In the sky so high," he read another side. "No. I'm not joking," he said, a great deal of irritation in his voice. "See for yourself." Handing the spyglass off to her, and the smooth cube, he moved around her, forgetting about his own hand.
He readjusted the soiled bloody scarf, and used another section of it to knot it around her arm.
Zahi took the spyglass and the rock from Quinlan, but just frowned at them. She watched out of the corner of her eye as he retied the scarf around her arm to stay her bleeding. She hadn't asked him to do that, and something about it made her feel... weird. Probably all the blood loss.
"I'm happy to hold these for you," she finally said, "but it's all gibberish to me. I'm not a fancy mage like you; the spyglass doesn't change anything for me."
She turned the smooth cube over in her hand and suddenly realized how exhausted she was. She just wanted to get out of there.
"What... do you think it is?" It didn't feel magical. Not that she'd know the difference, really.
He didn't know if being a mage really had anything to do with him being able to read the inscriptions. Or if perhaps Zahi was too stubborn to make an attempt on her own. He'd go with the latter, it seemed the most likely.
"A rock," Quinlan said, repeating what he'd already assessed from earlier. He looked it over in his hands. "We came all this way for what? A fucking rock. A very nice, smooth rock, but a rock never the less. With fucking inspirational sayings! Look, let's get out of here, this place is starting to feel very much like a tomb."
Quinlan gave a sigh, disappointed much more in his himself than anything else. But he considered for a moment if Sarov knew what was in the ark. And the fact the it would probably be a bad idea to tell him the truth "Say...let's just keep this between us, yeah?"
"'A rock?'" Zahi repeated, taking the stone back from Quinlan and holding it in her slashed, muddy, bloody, scabbed palm. "You mean just a rock? You mean just a fucking rock?! After all the creepy cultists, giant fucking salamanders, dark rivers, blood-thirsty stones and crow men... and it's a rock?"
Maybe she was suffering from the blood loss, because at that point, instead of becoming increasingly angry. Zahi laughed. Of course it was a fucking rock. With no power. Of no value. Of no real value anyway. Of course it was.
That made all the fucking sense in the world.
"Oh yeah," she laughed, shaking her head at it. Suddenly she was feeling quite woozy, and looking down, she saw that the scarf around her arm was stained dark red; still bleeding. "I won't tell a soul."
What the fudge nugget? Quinlan stared at Zahi oddly. Clearly she was not of the right mind. Because he was half-expecting to get clobbered right there. It probably would still happen, probably sometime later.
"Zahi, what's the matter? Zahi!" Yes, she was acting too weird. And he pulled the objects they procured from her hands and pulled her away from the ground just moments before impact. "Okay Butterfly. Time to go home. Wherever home is."
And before he'd let her protest - she could always beat him up later - he threw her over his shoulder like a sack of bloody bones and stalked over the crow man's body.
"Hey, you better fucking put me down. I'm the strong one, you're the weak one," she complained, muttering half nonsensically. And though she struggled a bit, it was a poor effort. Because truth be told, Zahi wasn't feel too hot. And even as Quinlan carried her over his shoulder, she was vaguely aware of her vision closing in. She looked down at her arm; the bandage was soaked now and the blood was seeping and flowing down her arm. No, that was stupid, she thought, it was just a little knick. But, of course, a little knick in an artery. It had seemed like a good idea at a time, when she'd just been thinking about how to get enough blood for all these stupid sacrifices. She hadn't, she realized, been thinking that much about getting out of the mountain. Stupid Zahi, she thought drowsily to herself, her vision tunneling again until it went black, and Zahi went limp on Quinlan's shoulder.
Quinlan was just about ready to pass out himself. The path up between the mountains had straddled the line between life and death. He didn't think of what might happen when they crossed the marshland or the frost bite from the butt-shuffles across the ice bridge. He just wanted to see them live, for now anyway. If Sarov really could cure him...then maybe it'd be worth it after all.
There wasn't much else to think on, even to hold onto. Hope wasn't really Quinlan's style. For now however, he still had two working legs, and used a bit of magic to clot the blood that seeped from her arm.
The trudging went on, for they were already tired and bloody, and hungry and cold, and Quinlan had somehow managed to drag them to the beginning of the first stone. There he plopped down, exhausted, somehow still awake. He laid next to the Wolfhead Stone, Zahi strewn across his lap. For a second, he closed his eyes, feeling himself drift off. Out of nowhere there was a sudden tongue on his face.
"DOWN ZAHI!" he howled.
And when he whirled around, thoroughly ready to give her the pounding she so rightly deserved, he blinked. And there was Fluffy sitting before them, wagging his tail and licking Quinlan's face thoroughly. "What!? How!? Down, boy! Sit!" The sheep dog did and around his neck was a small bag of powder.
[Magic transporting faerie dust, or sump'm to that effect!]
The commotion between Quinlan and Fluffy penetrated into the gray semi-consciousness Zahi had been stuck in. She groaned, turning over. And before she'd even opened her eyes, a big, wet, warm dog tongue was planted on her face. Groaning again, she put her hands up to try to push whatever-it-was away, but Fluffy only took it as encouragement.
Finally she opened one eye to peer up at her assaulter, then croaked, "..Fluffy?"
The dog gave a sharp, happy bark, its big fluffy tail wagging wildly. He barked again, as if to say, 'Yes! It's me! I came for you! I'm such a good dog!'
That brought Zahi back to the world. Creakily, she managed to sit up. She wasn't with it enough yet to question just what Fluffy was doing there, but she looked at Quinlan, eyes still half-lidded, and observed, "Red, you look awful."
Quinlan was just happy to see the dog. The one Zahi had so unceremoniously "stoned" into running away. She clearly was in need of a good licking. From the dog. On her face. To teach her a lesson.
He shot Zahi a look. "Thanks, beauty queen." He shot her a grin nevertheless and took the powder from round from dog's neck. Opening up the pouch, he took a pinch of the powder, and Fluffy barked. "What is it?"
The dog barked louder and wagged his tail as Quinlan took a handful of the powder and considered snorting it. Fluffy sneezed forcefully into Quinlan's palm and the powder flew everywhere! It flew into his nostrils anyway. And suddenly the powder whirled around them, forming a cyclone. And it whirled faster and faster until the wind picked up and swept them all away.
Fucking magic.
That's what Zahi thought when the swirling whirling started around them. Of course it was more magic. And she hated it. Though, of course, she shouldn't - and very likely she wouldn't once she realized all the slogging travel it was saving them. But she still didn't like it, and despite herself, she held onto tight to big ol' Fluffy as the cyclone transported them, telling herself that she was just still out of it. She didn't need to hug any big ol' fluffy cuddly dog!
And then the winds died down, landing them gently on the ground, she was surprised to see, outside of the shepherd's hut. The same shepherd's hut! But before Zahi could point it out to Quinlan, the door opened and out stepped a tall, white-bearded man.
"Aha, Quinlan, so you were successful and now I-" but he stopped short, eyes falling on Zahi, who was very much alive and his expression turned cold, stony, and angry. "What is she doing here?"
Quinlan's head spun a little, but at least the landing hadn't been too rough. They'd already been through so much hell as it was. When they arrived at the Shepherd's Hut, he blinked, stunned and had hoped the powder cyclone could've transported them to some posh inn with a nice soft bed, and a cold pitcher of beer at bedside.
Noooo, instead it had to take them to some crusty old man! With a hard-on for ancient stone cubes!
Quinlan glowered at Sarove and stood gripping the spyglass in one hand, the map and stone cube in the other. "She's with me," he said plainly. "We got what you wanted, now give us what you promised, you old meat bag. Oh, and your crow friend is now temple fodder. Smelled like chicken too."
Sarov frowned deeply at the news of the crow man. He knew of his familiar's demise, but did not like this gloating over the matter. But the crows death wasn't what was important now. Deftly, he caught the stone cube. For a moment he just stared at it and Zahi, at least, could not decipher his thoughts as he gazed at the rock. That soon changed and this puzzlement was replaced by clear and great anger.
"What is this?" Sarov asked quietly, voice carefully controlled. "What is this.... trinket you are trying to foist on me, Quinlan?"
Zahi bristled. Answering the old man's questions, she knew, was something Quinlan could do better than get. But she tensed as though ready to strike out at sarov if need be. Not unlike a guard dog waiting for its cue. Not, in fact, unlike how Fluffy looked now.
He gave a nonchalant shrug, and gestured to the stone cube. "That's what was inside the Gateway. It's what you asked for, Sarov." His expression was innocent, clearly exaggerating naivete. He put a hand on Fluffy's furry head and let him, though that did nothing to assuage his alertness.
"I've held up my end of the bargain. Now its your turn." Quinlan took a step closer and Sarov raised his hand up in irritation.
"Stay back. If you think this is some kind of joke, I am not amused! Where is the real treasure?"
"It's right there in your fucking hands! I didn't bleed all over that goddamn temple for fucking nothing. So pay up, you slimy meat bag!"
Sarov's eyes flashed, nostrils flaring. "You'll get nothing! You did nothing!" the old wizard stormed. "You go all that way and - for what?! You didn't perform the ritual to reveal the treasure. You didn't," he pointed angrily at Zahi, wordlessly accusing Quinlan of letting the woman live. "Why didn't you do as the engravings said? You think you could reveal the real treasure, the real power, with just a little blood!?"
Sarov was clutching the stone so hard it seemed like it might crack in his hand.
"You idiot! Now the Gateway will be closed for another century! The only thing you deserve," he spit, wielding his staff, "is death!"
The wizard raised his staff as if to cast a spell, and Zahi nearly sprang at him, but before she could, someone else had snatched the staff from the wizard.
Fluffy!
Growling viciously, the dog grabbed the wooden staff in its teeth, wrestling it away from the wizard and knocking the old man to the ground, face first, in the action.
Quinlan staggered forward, still woozy from the journey. Passing out next to a giant Wolfhead Stone didn't count in his mind as a restful sleep. With the old man in the mud, he fell down with a knee into his back, pinning him and removing any and all coins from his belt. "Old fucker," he gripped, throwing money toward Zahi's feet and finding one more elixir on his person.
"I've been having a really bad day," Quinlan mused, Sarov groaning beneath the younger man's weight and the fact that he had a knee in his spine. "But I'm sure you have as well. I did what you asked, and you're an unsatisfied customer. Wouldn't be the first time." He clicked his tongue against his teeth "Now, we'll not be doing business again."
Quinlan pushed himself off Sarov's back and staggered toward Fluffy. "Good boy. You can drop the stick now. Or you can keep the stick. Whatever you want."
"That's mine!" Sarov called out from the mud, beard now browned and his face half sloshed in it. He no longer looked like the regal wizard he presented himself as.
Quinlan remembered the spyglass and threw it at him. The old man caught it deftly and wiped his face from the mud. "You'll die anyway, Quinlan! You have no more of those fancy little potions!"
Quinlan laughed, grinning smugly. "Death'll have to come for me himself, first."
Fluffy, staff still in mouth, growled at Sarov and his threats. And when Sarov tried to snatch it away from him, the dog ran off with it. Stopping periodically to encourage Sarov to run after him. Seething and spitting, that was exactly what Sarov did, cursing Quinlan loudly and rudely the entire time.
Zahi watched as Sarov fumbled and stumbled away from them. Looking more like a pathetic old man than a wizard. Suddenly she found herself patting at pocket inside her jacket and was surprised to feel something. Through the whole affair, one of the darts survived intact. As did the pipe. She paused for a moment, watching the fumbling old man, then moved quickly. She took the dart, loaded the pipe, and sent it whizzing to Sarov.
It hit him noiselessly in the neck. He was able to run for another minute or so, swatting at his neck, before he tripped. And didn't get up.
[[Ugh, super lame post, sorry!]]
Quinlan had no sympathy for the old man. And he wouldn't shed any tears for him. All this running around, all this dog chasing his tail nonsense! He considered he had enough work to last him a few months. And made a decent stash of gold. Was it really worth it? Oh, it didn't matter now of all times? Such thoughts to bother him later when he was hammered out of his mind.
Quinlan looked to Zahi and he gestured to her arm. "You need a bath," he said and grinned at her. That same smug grin, perhaps of foolish suicidal overconfidence. And he stepped closer to her, and poked her arm. "We should uh...find some town or ...something. Gotta patch you up before I ship you off to Arca... Finally got that one right. I remember said Ketra before. Whoops."
Zahi watched the place where Sarov had fallen. She still couldn’t entirely believe that the whole adventure had been for nothing. For nothing! And in the back of her mind, she had to wonder about what the man said. That it hadn’t worked because, well, here was Zahi, alive and… Maybe ‘well’ would be an overstatement. But alive. Of course, as much as she liked seeing a job done right, maybe not that job. She rather liked being alive.
Exhausted and lost in her thoughts, she hadn’t noticed Quinlan move closer to her until he poked her arm. She turned to look at him; he was standing well within her personal space. And it felt… weird. With the imminent threat of death off the table (at least for now), suddenly this felt oddly intimate. There was even a strange feeling in her stomach. Zahi did not like it. And no doubt some of this showed on her face, because it took her a moment or two for her to respond to Quinlan at all. Especially because no small part of her wanted to close the distance between them and kiss him.
That wouldn’t do.
“Great,” she said instead, after a pregnant pause, and clapped him on the upper arm before turning to start the trundle down the hill, “maybe our otter friends will be there.”
When in doubt, always retreat.
He was glad to see she could walk on her own, because frankly he was in no condition to carry her ass. Nor she him. Quinlan wasn't sure how he felt with the task finally done. Sure the pay wasn't as much as he hoped it would be, but that was beside the point. And to think that there was more of a point than making money was preposterous to him. And yet, there it was. Heaven forbid he actually bond with somebody!
But even he couldn't deny that he was concerned about Zahi's well-being. They were both scuffed up, roughed up, and crusted up, and were badly in need of a strong drink. Mostly he than she. She didn't do so well with the hard stuff.
It vaguely occurred to him that the otters might be there, however when they returned to the stream, Quinlan was more than grateful for the quiet. He didn't waste any time peeling off those nasty rags that had become his clothes and he slipped into the water, uncaring it was practically freezing his nuts off.
Pinecones. It turns out Zahi hadn't just been joking. Before submerging herself in the cold water of the stream, Zahi scouted out a pine cone that was still a bit green. Scrubby enough to get at the layers of grime and blood and mud and muck covering her, but not so rough it would take her skin off with the rest. Then she stripped out of her likewise filthy clothing and threw them into a little pool just downstream from the larger pool Quinlan had already dove into. Finally, Zahi got into the water. The wet and cold - which she would normally hate - now just felt clean. And that was exactly what Zahi wanted to feel after their ordeal. And though the water was cold, the air was warm and the rising sun was only getting stronger.
Quinlan might notice, however, that Zahi got into the pool nearly as far away from him as was possible. Zahi might not have even really realized it herself. And she set about scrubbing with a workman's focus. She clenched her jaw as she scrubbed at the mess that was her palm, cleaning out the dried blood and clotted blood and scabs and mud and general grossness back to raw flesh. Zahi was always happiest with a task at hand.
"We should probably stay with Fluffy until tomorrow," she said matter-of-factly, business like. Very business like. All the while focusing on her scrubbing, not bothering to look at Quinlan. Or, perhaps, very deliberately not looking at Quinlan. "Neither of us is in shape to go anywhere now. Tomorrow I guess I'll try to find somewhere to hitch a ride north."
And that would be that. Zahi would go back to Arca. Face whatever shit Carraway would surely throw at her. And Quinlan would go back to Ketra or wherever. It was no business of hers.
Quinlan did notice, and idly watched her while he scrubbed at the muck on his own skin. The pinecone idea was working wonders, though it wasn't very comfortable. But after coming back what they just came back from, it felt like he was scrubbing himself with feathers. He dunked down into the water and pushed his hair back, all the sweat and dirt and mud slipping out from thickened strands that stuck together.
He blinked at her at her mention of hitching a ride. He chuckled, though it was more out of surprise than anything else. "And what you're just gonna leave my ass in the middle of the woods? I don't want to get stuck in the middle of the forest," he said. He waded closer to her. "Look, I really should take a look at your arm again. In hindsight, it may not have been a good idea to spot an artery. I can remove it and seal it properly. Heaven forbid you have a heart attack on the way to Arca."
"What, you need me to escort you everywhere?" Zahi retorted, shooting a quick glance away from her 'work' of scrubbing to look at Quinlan. "You're a grown up. Sort of. You can get Ketra or wherever on your own," she told him, still focused on scrubbing. Then added, a bit aloofly, "What do you want me to do with you?"
She hesitated for a moment when he asked for her arm, but then her own words echoed back in her head. 'You're a grown up.' Yes, she was. She could probably stomach acting like it. So she held out her arm to Quinlan.
"Go ahead. Do your blood magic voodoo."
Very grown up.
Well, that was a bit stand-offish. Quinlan blinked, but he expected something like that. Zahi, bleeding or bruised, was still the same moody Zahi. He could only laugh inwardly, amused. It was probably all that hair, washing it must be a pain. He waded close enough, clearly invading more personal space, and holding her arm out. The wound was purple around the edges and didn't feel right.
"There might just a few sharp pinches. Brace yourself," he muttered as he felt along her elbow and forced the clot out in a needle like sting. Once loosened, the blood drifted out the wound in a steady stream. He cupped a small handful and dribbled it out into the wound, forcing the skin closed, in another sharp pinch.
"You owe me a beer after this," he mused idly, washing the excess blood away.
"Yeah?" Zahi scoffed at that, watching him wash the blood away. Part of her wanted to yank her arm back, wash it herself, but she left it. "I thought I already paid you with half my blood," she muttered. "Anyway, isn't beer a bit too weak for you? I thought you only drank things that could remove paint."
Through all the 'joking,' Zahi was increasingly aware of how long he was in her space and how close they were. What only a few hours ago would have been fine felt very awkward now. Why, she wondered idly, did the threat of dying-at-any-moment make this sort of thing so much easier? Because if it was still going on after, did it mean she actually cared?
Instead of musing on that point, she pulled her arm back from Quinlan with a short, "Thanks." Now comfortably back in her own space, Zahi submerged herself under the water to get her hair soaked. Because Quinlan was right, it did take a lot of effort to clean. And when she reappeared, a little further away, but not as far a she'd been when first entering the pool, she simply set about working her fingers through the damp coils, coaxing the mud and blood and grime out.
It was always best to have a task!
[Poor Zahi and her poofy hair]
Quinlan awkwardly scratched the back of his head. If she was trying to be anymore distant, it was certainly working on her part. He watched her work on her hair, those thick curls were nice to look at. But not so much to run fingers through. But she was up to the task he was sure. So he swam off to the shore and played with some reeds, sitting on some rocks.
"If I'm sharing a drink with you, darling, a beer will do," the laugh that followed was genuine as his hands continued to knot together a reed necklace.
"I don't recall agreeing to share a drink with you, whatever it is," Zahi observed idly while continuing to work through her curls and coils. She looked over at him, her head bent sideways as she worked to clean her hair, and added a dry remark, "Especially now that I know your tactics. 'Fool me once' or something like that."
There was something in her tone, though, that was becoming slightly more genial, slightly less cut-and-dry business. And after a moment, she nodded to the necklace he was making from the reeds, and said with a shadow of a teasing smile, "That'll really suit you, princess. Where'd you learn to do that? I thought Connlaothians were supposed to be all manly and warlike."
At that Quinlan laughed. Whether it was a defensive technique to deflect her biting tone, he couldn't say; but the more she pulled away and tried to be more stoic, it only made him more curious as to why. But he refrained from asking andkept knotting the ends of those reeds together. "My da taught me how to do this. I guess the lesson just stuck."
Quinlan peered at her beneath his brow, grin small, even teasing. He threw the finished reeds over his neck and puffed out his chest. "What is it with you? You don't think I'm manly enough. Don't you see my bulging muscles!?"
At that, Zahi actually gave an upside-down smile as she wrung out her hair after dunking the clean-enough curls into the cold stream water.
"I don't see it. What can I say," she half-laughed, "I guess I'm just a stickler for traditional old-fashioned gender roles."
He laughed all that much harder, even snorting. "Cut the bullshit. No you don't. You're not dainty, nor demure, nor a damsel in distress." He laughed harder, his belly began to hurt. "Gender roles my ass."
Without really thinking about whether or not she was slipping back into her earlier 'comfort' wit him, Zahi gave Quinlan a wide-eyed look of innocence.
"Who me? 'Demure' is my middle name. Right after 'Damsel.' Zahi Demure Damsel Akello. Wait, that's not the right order," she frowned. But then gave an airy shrug. "Ask any of the boys back in Arca. They'll tell you. All I do is swan around, needing to be saved."
She stopped to shake out her hair - not entirely unlike Fluffy might - resulting in a damp mess of curls half covering her odd eyes and frowned at him, eyes narrowed. "Hey, who says I'm not dainty, though?"
"I'm sure they'll tell me how you pile-drived them into the ground after they tried to ask you for a drink. But then again, they don't have my natural charm and devilish good looks," he said and took the reed necklace from around his neck and threw it across to her. It floated along in the water.
He stood up and walked along the shore, scraping water off of him, just thankful to be clean at last. "Look, one beer. One last beer, and we wave off and go back to our lives the way they were before, yeah? How could it hurt?" He gave a nonchalant, playful shrug, throwing his clothes back on.
At that accusation, Zahi had a distinct 'guilty as charged' look. Because if Quinlan asked any of the men in the Wolve's Den about her - excepting, of course, the 'fucking Yoreqi, who'd have some stories of his own - that's exactly what he'd hear. More or less.
"It'd be our first beer," she corrected him. "And just where to you want to get this beer, anyway? You're forgetting we're in the middle of nowhere."
She picked up Quinlan's necklace when it drifted over to her and ran her thumb over the knotting, but she certainly didn't put it on. Looking down at the necklace made her also see herself and how covered in goose bumps she was. In fact, she was freezing. But she felt less exposed in the water. Or was it less vulnerable? And unlike Quinlan, who was putting back on his dry but filthy clothes, hers were soaking in the stream. So she swam over to them and started to wring them out, then hang them up on a branch over the stream.
They'd take ages to dry like that. She glanced over her shoulder back at Quinlan, as if trying to decide something. Oh, fuck it. He'd already seen her do it once. So after air-drying her hands, she focused her energy - not easy exhausted and freezing - rubbing her hands together until a small flame appeared in her palms. It grew there, a nice noiseless little fire rapidly drying the dripping clothing.
They were not clothes he intended to keep, and the first chance he got, he would find someone with decent taste and go about about the task of peeling them out of their garments, and taking them for himself. It wasn't that hard, and he'd done it a hundred times before. For the moment, however, he was content to sit in his ragtag attire and watch Zahi dry hers.
It wasn't often he was going to get to see her naked, of that he was certain. "Our first beer, our last beer, who's counting?" he asked, watching her idly, in particular the way the fire in her hands made interesting shadows along her breasts. And he just quietly stared.
Zahi felt Quinlan's eyes on her, but did her best to pretend she didn't. She wasn't entirely certain herself why she was acting so coy with him now, if that was the right word. She had some hunches, but was trying to ignore them. It just wasn't a position she found herself in too often. She couldn't chalk anything up to 'morale-boosting' anymore. The mission, as it was, was over.
"You still haven't answered the 'where' question," she reminded him as she finished.
Once her clothing was dry, or dry enough, she shook her hands out, and the flames disappeared. Then she tossed them on shore and followed behind, dressing herself once she was dry enough. Then she flopped down on the bank next to Quinlan. "Well? Unless you think Fluffy moonlights as a brewer."
Wait, had she implicitly agreed, somewhere in that last statement?
"Well, we are in the middle of nowhere, as you pointed out. And me, not really an expert on Adelan geography, will simply state that we find a road, follow it. And when we hit a town of some sort, we'll get that beer. I say we go that way. We have Fluffy here to tell us if we're going the right way or not," he said and stood up, wiping off the dirt from his pants.
He whistled sharply and the dog came running, tail wagging furiously at being acknowledged and dropped Sarov's magical staff that it somehow still had. Quinlan picked up the staff, at first considering to give it to Zahi, but decided against it. Magic didn't seem to do anything more than give her the willies, he figured. And he started to march.
Fluffy went on ahead, sniffing the ground thoughtfully, but staying within sight. It was clear that the dog was just happy not to be alone anymore. Wasn't anyone? At least for the time being. Even Quinlan didn't know if he wanted to keep the dog.
"Have you ever had a pet?" Quinlan found himself asking aloud.
Zahi was exhausted and, truth be told, all she really wanted to do was go back to the shepherd's hut and sleep for the entire day. She'd even let him be the big spoon. But since she couldn't say that (it'd be a terrible thing to admit she was too tired if Quinlan were willing to walk! much less the bit about spooning), she pulled on her boots and followed him.
"Sure," she said, not particularly enthusiastically, "let's see where Fluffy here leads us."
She followed along in silence, not thinking of anything in particular when Quinlan suddenly asked his question. And it nearly stopped Zahi in her tracks. It seemed as though he'd struck and unexpected emotional chord. Zahi felt her stomach muscles tighten, as she suppressed her body involuntarily gagging. She glanced over at him, looking surprisingly serious.
After what felt like a long moment, she looked away. Back at the road. "Sort of. Once."
[lool. I forgot about them being beaten to hell and needing some downtime. Of course, Quinlan wants to keep going. Beer is a decent goal for him.]
"Sort of. Once." He repeated those words, letting them simmer on his tongue and he turned to look at her, noting her drooping gaze. He'd never really had a pet. He'd always wanted a dog though... Or maybe a cat, maybe anything to occupy his mind. Maybe something that would've soothed his oh-so savage little heart.
He glanced at her and smiled, or a half-crooked one at any rate. "We don't have to make small talk, if you don't want to. I know you like it when I shut up." He gave a soft laugh, but his eyes remained on her. Because she was just being...weird. Even weirder than Zahi-weird.
"What?" she snapped back at him. "You asked a question. I answered. Sorry if it wasn't fucking verbose enough for you."
She folded her arms over her chest, staring determinedly at the road. It was probably because she was exhausted, worn through, didn't have her defenses up properly, she told herself. What a stupid way to respond to such an off-hand question. But she couldn't help it. It pulled her jarringly back to being a sick, starving, and lonely little girl. About her 'pet' she never talked about. Rarely thought about.
What a stupid question. 'Did you ever have a pet.' Who asked that in the first place? So she just stomped on in silence, mad at Quinlan, and for some reason, mad at herself.
"No it wasn't verbose enough. You need to add more depth to your answers. It's all about communicating clearly and getting your message across. You must understand that without direct communication, the whole world would fall apart. I mean sure it's falling apart anyway, but in the meantime people gotta know what you mean, you know what I mean?
"Take for instance having a pet. Sort of? I mean, the pet wasn't yours? Or were you temporary companions? Did you take it from the city? What kind was it? What did you name it?"
He was kidding of course with all of his intense questioning, and noted the look on her face.
"Fuck you, Quinlan."
Even that didn't have the acid or angry bite it normally would. She just sounded tired, and maybe even vulnerable. Or worse, hurt.
Instead of really lashing out at him, though, she just took a few large strides, enough to put her in front of him and keep going. This wasn't, it seemed, something she wanted to be hassled about.
"Yes, ma'am," was all he said in return and followed behind her.
True, the trip to the main road was a long one, but at long last they were out of the trees. Fluffy's nose led them true.
But the weather wouldn't remain nice forever, and soon it began to rain. Great, just great.
Zahi trod on through the rain without comment. So much for drying her clothes. But she wasn't thinking too much about that. She was thinking about Quinlan's question, and why it riled her so much, and why he riled her so much. And how many things she never told anyone. Until finally, unprompted, she broke the silence.
"I was really young, when my mother died," she started abruptly, a bit mumbly, still just looking down at the road, anywhere but at Quinlan. "And before that I'd always been around people. I mean, a brothel, you know. So when she died and I fled into the wild, and I was alone all the time, it was terrible. But the temple, like any old building, was full of rats. At first I was afraid of them, but there was no one else. I started coaxing one to trust me, feeding it, whatever. I was just happy to have something to share food with, you know? Finally it stayed with me most of the time. Even slept with me, curled up in my hair," Quinlan'd like that bit. "I was half-feral by the time I was back in Zantaric anyway, but I think I'd have gone mad without that rat."
Zahi halted there for a moment, still walking, still staring at the road. Her body language a mix of embarrassed and pre-emptively defensive and awkward.
"Anyway, it was fine during the summer and autumn. I had just enough food scavenging temple offerings and foraging. But that winter was awful. No one came to the temple. I didn't know how to store food or find food. I mean, fuck, I was seven or eight or something. What did I know? So I was starving, but I could tell the rat was still eating, and it made me so angry with him. It. Then finally," her throat caught, suppressing another gag. There was a reason she never told anyone this, and she was watching the stones in the road more determinedly now than ever. "Finally, I mean, I was really starving. But I was too afraid to go back to Zantaric. And the rat was the only thing I could catch, and," she looked fiercely away, into the forest. Furious with the fact that she could feel, of all things, unshed tears in her eyes. Fuck. Fucking Quinlan and his stupid fucking questions.
[OF COURSE MY TINY POST WAS REWARDED WITH A GIANT ONE! >:U]
Ah. And there it was.
Despite being doused with rain and soaked to the bone now, Quinlan focused more on her voice, just watching her profile than anything else. When she paused, he looked forward and kept on the road, following along as Fluffy meandered from side to side, just sniffing aimlessly and sometimes running up ahead a few yards, then waiting for them upon approach.
He just smiled at the dog.
"Good thing we're heading into town. Can't have you eating Fluffy now. He's a lot more fun to hug than a rat," he quipped with a smirk, looking at Zahi from the corner of eye.
"That's not funny," she lashed out fiercely at him. She turned to face him, her eyes shining with the unshed tears, but also blazing with anger. What had she fucking expected? She was furious with him, but more so with herself for opening up to him. She'd never told anyone that story.
"I'm going back to the hut," she said abruptly, "good luck finding a town. Have a beer on me."
She didn't wait for a response, just started back the way they came. Why drag it out anyway. Fucking gnat.
"Zahi, please. I know you're a survivor and a wild woman. And you could eat me for breakfast, but please, don't be silly." Quinlan immediately turned back for her. He moved into her path. "Please. I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I mean it. I wasn't trying to ridicule you. I don't have any feelings apparently because my dad never let me have a pet. But I do mean it. You'll freeze to death, before anything else."
He looked at her imploringly, in his gnat-like little way and would not budge from her path. "I'll buy you a hot meal too. You could use it. As could I."
[[I swear this was already part of Zahi's back story in my head. I didn't just make it up to create more conflict! D: ]]
This was why she didn't share things. It sounded stupid when you said it out loud. It didn't sound half as important as it was. How could you communicate the enormity of such an action to a child, to have to kill the only thing you had to love? It had all been for nothing, too. Her body, unused to meat at that point, had rejected it and she spent the entire night sick and heaving. Of course Quinlan would throw it back in her face. What had she expected.
She was unmoved by his 'apologies,' which she wasn't sure she bought, and just pushed bast Quinlan. Sure, she was tired and worn out, but so was he. All she said, her tone a mix of warning and weary, "Go away, Quinlan. Go find your beer."
It wouldn't be a fun slog back to the hut, that was true. But she knew how far it was, and when she was there it'd be warm and dry. She wasn't afraid of freezing to death. And Zahi was ready to be alone.
Quinlan sighed and he once again moved in front of her. "Zahi please! C'mon, I'll make it up to you," he said, but if there was one thing that was easily learned about Zahi Akello it was the fact that her head was harder than an oak tree trunk.
"I mean it. It was nice to...uh...learn that about you... I didn't mean to bring up such a painful memory. I'm not so good with this ...emotional stuff, but I mean it. I mean meaning that I would like your company for one last beverage together."
He didn't get in her way this time.
Zahi only spared one glance at him. Really, it was more of a glare except that it was underscored by a hurt look. But that was overscored by anger. After all, nothing made Zahi angrier than having to actually admit to anything as human as being hurt. And however genuine he might have been, his words fell flat. Zahi still wasn't sure that he wasn't just continuing to tease her. 'It was nice to, uh, learn that about you.' She had half a mind to hit him.
But she didn't. "Good bye, Quinlan," she said firmly, with a sense of finality. And she side-stepped Quinlan, heading back to the hut. Feeling, she hated to admit, miserable. But not entirely sure why.
From below Quinlan came a soft whine and a cold, wet nose pushed into his hand. At least Fluffy hadn't left him.
"All alone in the fucking rain. What a cliché," he said with a half-muttered 'tch' at the end of it. He still pet Fluffy, pushing the big dog's head against his leg and watching her disappear around the bend in the road. "C'mon fluffy. We still gotta get a bowl of chowder for you."
He continued to walk along with the sheep dog in tow. And the road turned a bend and revealed a small town not far from that bend. Quinlan was relieved, at last a settlement. His feet were tired and blistered and hands were scabbed and would scar and his stomach rumbled with a hunger he hadn't realized was so intense.
He ate vigorously, outside with the dog, since he wasn't allowed inside, and fed the pup scraps, along with that bowl of promised chowder. The rain poured out from the side of the roof he was under, and collecting it in one of the bowls gave them fresh water to drink. Conversation was rather one-sided, as Fluffy was content to respond to his questions with pants and cheek licks. He was happy, it seemed, to just not be alone.
"Y'know, I think we still owe Butterfly that beer. And something to eat, if she hasn't already found another rat," he said idly to the dog. Fluffy whimpered and laid his head on Quinlan's lap. "Let's go." Fluffy clearly was reluctant, but a few motions, and he got to his paws and shook off some water before getting ready to take in some more.
The road back somehow felt longer than coming to the town. Perhaps it was because he'd eaten a bit, and took a few sips of that beer. He had two bottles of a brew, homemade right in that tavern, and tucked them into a jacket he slipped off a chair, and had taken a spare bottle with some hot chowder and a wax wrapped package of cooked rabbit he'd paid extra for. He'd keep the bowl. There was at least room for that. He was in desperate need of a smoke. And tobacco wasn't cheap in that town!
Goodness, you'd think he was asking for someone to pull a rabbit out of their behind. But a procurement of a bag of tobacco and roll slips was more than a few gold coins.
With Fluffy to lead the way, the shepherd's hut wasn't difficult to find. And he didn't bother knocking on the door. He opened it, peeking inside. He didn't ask any questions, just welcomed himself in, and set the food and bottles down on the table.
Quinlan would enter the hut to find it empty. Though a fire was crackling in the fireplace and the air was cozy and warm, there was no sign of Zahi. Fluffy whined, pacing around the hut with his nose to the ground. Then paced over to the door and stuck his head out. But there was nothing out there except the lashing rain, that was getting heavier all the time. So he returned to Quinlan, tail and ears down.
Probably another ten, maybe twenty minutes passed with just Quinlan and Fluffy alone in the hut, when the door pushed open. And there was Zahi, drenched by the rain, with a crossbow (which they'd left behind on their previous visit) slung over her shoulder and a dead rabbit in the other hand. She froze in the doorway, looking darkly at Quinlan. She did not look happy to be surprised by him. Though, she also didn't look half as angry as she had before. In the end, it was Fluffy she addressed.
"What'd you drag him back for?"
At that Fluffy gave a happy bark, wagging his tail as he turned back to Zahi and did spins at her arrival. Another whine later and he quickly jumped up and snatched the dead rabbit from her hand, quickly taking it to the fire as his own. Clearly chowder wasn't enough.
"Rooms were all full up," Quinlan answered instead. "But the food is decent. You can still have some rabbit." He gestured to the wax packaged wrapping. "Still good, water rolled right off."
He licked the roll of tobacco he'd been fixing himself and lit it beside the fireplace. "Finally," he said, taking a long drag on it.
Zahi made to snatch the rabbit back from the dog, but it was too late. She glared at him for a moment, then turned to Quinlan and frowned.
She didn't even look at the food he'd put on the table. "What are you doing here, Quinlan?" And it was clear she didn't mean anything about whether or not the 'rooms were full.'
Quinlan puffed on that smoke and uncorked his beer. "I owed you that beer. Or you owed me the beer. I forget. But, there, look, see, beer. And food, somewhat warm, but food." He gestured to the things on the table.
"I know you can hunt, but this is already cooked. And it smells really good. There's chowder too. Not sure if you want any of that."
In response to his comment about how he wasn't sure if she wanted the chowder, Zahi frowned and answered coldly, "What I want is to be alone."
She glanced at the food, though, feeling her stomach rumble. Especially now that Fluffy was eating her rabbit. Stupid dog. But Zahi still felt too proud to accept it, even as she knew that was a stupid reaction, which just made her dig her heels in more.
As if to show she wasn't perturbed by Quinlan's appearance, as though she didn't care - neither of which, of course, was true - she set about business as if he weren't there. Taking off her soaking boots and stripping off her soaked outer layers (though she kept her tunic very much on) and hung them up by the fire.
"I thought by now you'd be halfway through a bottle of brandy and shacked up with some sub-par Adelan prostitute," she remarked idly. Then corrected herself, "Well, actually I thought you'd be lost in the woods or still trudging down that road. But clearly I was wrong on that mark."
"Thank Ansgar's Beard for Fluffy," he commented idly. Sure she wanted to be alone, just as he wanted to be a performing acrobat when he was younger. Or at least that's what he said to women he wanted to wow with all the rolls and tumbles he could do, which almost always led to questions about how well he could roll his hips and if that meant he was any good at... Well, Quinlan always better at showing instead of telling.
He didn't speak anything further to Zahi and enjoyed his cigarette slowly and thoughtfully and ate a bit more. The food was laid out for her, as was the bowl and she was more than welcome to sit should base instinct somehow penetrate the thickness of her skull.
Zahi could only busy herself for so long, and finally she gave a grumpy sigh of resignation and took the bowl from the table. But she dragged the chair to the opposite end of the table from Quinlan and sat perched there. She glared at the food, but she ate it. Grudgingly.
What she really wanted was to get out of what was left of her soaking wet clothes. But at least this end of the table was closer to the fire, where Fluffy was making a mess of the rabbit she'd killed.
"It was stupid to come all the way back here if you found a town," she commented matter-of-factly. "Especially in this weather. Plus you could have found some kind of transport from a town. To wherever you're going."
Quinlan chewed on a bone from a rabbit leg and then stuck it into a pile. The rabbit was really hers after all. He took a swig of beer and made a loud obnoxious sound of refreshment.
"Because I thought you might be hungry," he said plainly. "But you should know by now I'm clearly an idiot. Why take the easiest clearly logical, cheaper route. When I can come back and offer you that beer I promised you."
His grin flickered on his face before he pushed her bottle a little closer to her side of the table. "Just in case you're thirsty."
Zahi just gave him a look. She was not amused by his grin or his glib attitude. She was still hurt, and annoyed that he'd come back. Maybe it was stupid, to react so strongly. But keeping it bottled up for so long, keeping it secret and so close to her chest, had given it an almost symbolic importance. It had come to epitomize the whole horrible affair for her. It's worst moment. And what did he do? But make a crude joke about it. Well, that would teach Zahi about opening up to people. Trusting people with your life, that was easy. She did that every day. Trusting someone with your life story was a different matter all together.
And suddenly she was thinking of Bujari. She'd never told him about the rat. And now she wondered why not. And reminded herself, again, that she wouldn't be able to go back to him.
She finished eating and pushed the bowl away. She didn't even look at the beer. Wordlessly she rummaged through the hut until she found an old shepherd's robe. Old and oversized, but clean and dry. So without looking at Quinlan she took off her wet clothes and changed into it. Then she flopped down on the bed, laying on get stomach with her arms folded under her, and watched the fire. If she couldn't get rid him, she could at least ignore him.
Quinlan didn't oppose her actions and watched her move grumpily toward the bed, wearing that godawful robe. He took another long drag on his smoke, expelling it thoughtfully. Putting his feet up on the table, he turned his eyes to the fire. "When my mother was murdered," he spoke gently, dashing the ashes in Zahi's empty bowl, "I thought my father was going to break. And I think somewhere inside he did. He was always so goddamned stoic. So quiet...it was hard to know what he was thinking."
Another drag.
"I thought he didn't give a shit. I wondered why he was never angry. My mother was fucking killed and he still acted as if it didn't matter! How could he just move on like that? He did it for me he said. He still had us to consider... What use would there be in retaliation? He just...kept going, in his quiet way. But I couldn't do that... Maybe he was right. It's always clear in hindsight."
He grew quiet and the only sound that filled the room were the cracklings of the fire.
"Finally he did break, and I ran off through those trees. Those endless trees... I never thought I'd make it out alive. Heh...well, I sure showed him." The bite of sarcasm was clearly empty, and his expression somber.
Zahi didn't turn to look at him as Quinlan spoke. Her eyes stayed on the fire. But she listened. Even as he spoke, she knew why he was sharing this now. His reconciliation. But she tried not to think about that. She just listened. And finally when he was done, she sat up on the bed, pulling get knees up against her chest, and looked at him.
"Is that when you left Connlaoth?" she asked plainly, anger gone from her tone for the moment.
Quinlan sniffed and watched the smoke smolder along the paper and with another dash of the ashes, He took another puff on it. "Um, no actually. That was just before I got this snazzy new gift," he said lifting his hand, revealin the scars along his palm, all X'd across it. "I, uh, found my retaliation, when they thought her death was long forgotten."
A drink followed another drag. "I can't go back. My father made that pretty clear before he turned me away. I knew what he meant...and he couldn't hide the pain in his eyes. But he was right about that. I can't go back."
Zahi watched him for a long moment, listening and considering. A long moment of silence followed. Then she shifted how she was sitting so there was a space next to her that she was facing. She simply patted it, saying, "Bring the beer over. And give me a drag of that cigarette."
Quinlan quirked a brow, finally looking at her as he held his smoke in one hand, already it was dwindled a great deal. He made no reply and stood to give her the beer, which wasn't really as cold as it should be. He took the chair beside her instead, letting her have her space regardless."Don't set the sheets on fire please." And handed the smoke over.
Zahi took the remains of the cigarette from him and watched as he pulled over a chair. Well, she probably deserved that. But it threw a wrench in her plan to avoid having to say she was sorry. Or anything else. Of course she hadn't really thought of it as her plan. Maybe more of a habit.
She blew the smoke out of her nose, then handed the butt of the cigarette back to Quinlan. There was at least one drag left on it. Zahi scooted back a little so she could lean against the wall and let out a long exhale. She was looking at the door, maybe, or the rain visible through the little window, or really just anywhere that wasn't directly at Quinlan.
"Look, I'm sorry about earlier," she said in earnest, though it was clear she didn't want to be saying it. "It's just, that stuff, I don't really talk about it."
Quinlan gave a shrug, quite nonchalant. And took another long drag from what was left of the smoke. It was nice, though he didn't care to share his tobacco. It was nice to share a smoke among company, and when the smoke was too small, he threw it into the fireplace and rubbed his hands together.
"It's okay. No apology necessary. I don't like to talk about that kind of stuff either, but I guess that's how it goes." He gave a gentle laugh and shook his head. "I guess I deflect with sarcasm what other
s would find painful. You get really mad and find reasons to walk away. We both have ways to cope."
"'I find reasons to walk away...'" Zahi repeated and gave a little huff. "Yeah, I guess that just about sums me up."
She probably wouldn't have put it that way, but... Well, it was true. It was how she'd left Zantaric, though she was inclined to give herself a break there. She'd just been a kid. It was what she did regularly to the fucking Yoreqi. And, she supposed, what she was doing with Quinlan. Anyone who got too close.
"Well," she said, "we're going our separate ways. I guess I didn't see any reason to prolong it."
From the fireplace, Fluffy looked back at the pair and whined. This was not the happy reunion the dog had been hoping for!
"And we are, we are," Quinlan said somberly, voice soft. He looked at the fire and he just gave a gentle grin. "I know you're not good at this mushy stuff and you don't like being all sentimental. I can understand that. I don't have any hurt feelings, just for your information."
He then gestured to the beer. "Taste good? Nice filling to it, I like it. I might come back here every so often to have a brew of that. I forgot what they called it."
Zahi scoffed a little at that. "'Hurt feelings?' What should you have 'hurt feelings' about?"
She leaned forward, giving him a quizzical look. She still hadn't touched her beer. It all seemed too sombre for beer.
"Unless you mean physical hurt feelings, in which case I think you're a liar," she said pointedly, in a somewhat lame attempt to lighten the mood a little.
He raised his brows. "Why? Because I'm a skinny little gnat that can't take a punch?" he asked, grinning widely. "I'll have you know, this isn't the first time I've been beaten severely. But I get by all right. My gifts have their uses, when it matters. In this instance, however, I have no reason to lie. You ought to know that. Knight's honor."
"No, because I'm certainly still a bit sore, and I'm definitely tougher than you," she answered flatly. But she looked at him with a vague, amused smile and said, "But I definitely believe you've been beaten up before. With that mouth of yours, I imagine it's your most frequent type of physical contact."
"Only when one is sore over losing a card game, or a barmaid they've been trying to get a handful of tits all night," he said. He laughed a little. "I guess...maybe you're tougher in spirit. But, maybe I just don't think of pain in the same way you do. Pain doesn't always hurt. Sometimes it's just a reminder that you're still alive."
Zahi rolled her eyes at that. How typically Quinlan.
"I can think of nicer ways to 'remember that I'm alive,'" she said. Finally she opened the beer and took a swig.
"I don't know about that. Hard to believe that about you. What nice things do you do? You never really did tell me what you did in your spare time," he noted, tilting his head with the angle of the swig.
"Swatting little gnats, for one," she said offhandedly, taking another sip of the beer and giving him a look from over the bottle.
"Swatting gnats seems to be a problem for you, butterfly. You seem to get a lot of them. I take it you're the one swatting the gnats back home? That, I can believe." He laughed a little and was almost sad he'd finished his own beer a while ago. "Swatting any backsides lately?"
"What is that supposed to be, flirting?" she asked him with raised eyebrows and a thoroughly skeptical look. Then, seeing him glancing at her beer and seeing that his own was empty, she gave an exaggerated sigh and held the bottle out to him. "Here, I'll share."
Immediately he shook his head, and waved a hand off the bottle. "No that's yours. I brought it a long eay just for you. I'm trying to get you drunk. How else am I going to encourage you to make bad decisions?" He smiled gently at her. "At the very least that beer will let you get some sleep. Which you sorely need because frankly, Buttefly, you like crap."
"You're not looking so hot yourself, you know that?" she countered, but Zahi wasn't offended, and even had a bit of an amused smile.
She gave a shrug and took the beer back, having another swig. Then commented off-handedly, "I don't know how you expect me to make any bad decisions if you stay on that chair all night, though."
"What is that supposed to mean? Are you insinuating that I'm a bad decision? So you can get your grubby little paws on me?" He stuck his tongue out at her and took out the bag of tobacco and rolling another smoke.
"I guess I might be," she answered with a small, wry smile. Zahi watched Quinlan for a moment. Now it was her turn to wonder just why he was being so distant. But she wasn't going to force the issue.
"Well, suit yourself, then," she said after a moment. Instead, since Quinlan seemed firmly planted where he was, Zahi turned to Fluffy, who was licking the bare bones of the rabbit Zahi'd killed. She gave a little whistle and patted the space on the bed next to her. Fluffy's ears immediately perked up. The dog leapt up onto the bed and flopped down, half laying in Zahi's lap, tail thumping loudly against the bed.
Ruffling the dog's ears while Fluffy pressed his nose into Zahi's face, she said to the dog, "At least someone wants my 'grubby little paws' on them."
[Haha. My dog does that all the time when I get home from work. She just thumps away and does these weird sniffing things.]
Quinlan snorted out a laugh at the dog's antics and took a long drag from his smoke. "He's excited. Can you blame him? You're actually petting him and scratching his belly. Good dog, give her lots of kisses. Just slobber all over her."
Zahi just pet the dog, fussing his ears with one hand and scratching his belly with the other. She'd never really been a dog person - or much of an anything person - but Fluffy was beginning to wheedle his way into her affections. Not that she'd admit it.
She looked up at Quinlan, and decided he wasn't so different from the dog. Not that she'd admit it.
"You're being very distant for someone claiming he wants to get me drunk and make bad decisions," she observed. But she frowned a small frown at him. "What gives? I mean, I stormed off, I know, but everyone here knows I'm a temperamental misery. What's with you?"
Quinlan blinked at her. "Oh, I hadn't realized," he replies, taking another draw on the cigarette. He forced the smoke out of his nostrils, musing quietly for a moment, only looking at Zahi from the corner of his eye. He got up from the chair and sat on the edge of the bed. "Is this a little better?" he asked, a small teasing smile playing on his lips.
"I mean in terms of distance."
Something about the mood was off. For a moment, Zahi went back to wishing Quinlan hadn't returned. Then she could just have eaten her rabbit and gone to sleep without all of this awkwardness. Even Quinlan's teasing little smile felt somehow forced, and she supposed it was. Maybe everything really was different with the threat of death by any number of giant newts was behind them. Or maybe it was just because they were both exhausted.
Of course, it could be both. Zahi figured it probably was.
Deciding that the beer wasn't worth this awkward and somewhat tense repartee, she reached over Fluffy to set the beer down on the floor. Then she slipped her lap out from under the dog so she could instead lay down next to the big, fluffy sheepdog. Who was just fine with that.
"Suit yourself," she yawned at Quinlan, "I've got a little spoon, anyway." Even though she closed her eyes, Zahi could tell she wasn't about to fall asleep too soon. The awkwardness in the air still had her unsettled.
[Quinlan's all "what the frick are you talking about?"]
He continued his smoke for a while before throwing the remnants into the fireplace, and soon he got up and stirred the flames, adding more kindling in before taking Zahi's discarded beer and taking a long swig of it. He didn't feel the need to say anything and simply crawled over Zahi, so that he was a spoon slightly bigger than her and curled up beside her.
Well, that was a nice gesture, but...
Without opening her eyes, Zahi said matter-of-factly, if sleepily, over her shoulder, "Your clothes are still damp from the rain."
Quinlan rolled his eyes beneath his lids. Just when he was going to sleep. He grumbled something inaudible and made an over exaggerated sigh as he sat up and pulled off the shirt from his torso, thowing it onto the floor. There.
Zahi made a small snort at Quinlan's exaggerated show of taking off his shirt. But it was much nicer now to have his warmth against her instead of the damp cloth. And once he'd settled back down, Zahi fell asleep much sooner, and deeper, than she'd expected.
It had probably been mid-afternoon when Quinlan had returned from the tavern. When Zahi woke, it was completely dark and the sound of rain lashing against the hut continued. There was a cramp in her leg from the way she'd been sleeping, but there wasn't much opportunity to get up just then. Zahi was completely squashed between Fluffy and Quinlan. Still, she had to admit, that leg cramp aside, there was something nice about it.
That was, until Fluffy woke up and started kissing her face. Zahi quietly grumbled for the dog to stop and pushed it out of bed. Once up, Fluffy ran to the front door and gave a sharp 'let me out!' bark. So much for staying quiet and letting Quinlan sleep. And, she realized, so much for making a silent and unseen exit. She got up and let Fluffy out, then glanced back at Quinlan to decide if he'd woken or not.
[D< NO POOPS ON THE CARPET!]
Fluffy had scratched at the bottom corner of the door until Zahi finally opened it. He whined and soon zoomed out the door like a loosed arrow. Quinlan blinked, jumping a little at the sudden sound, he lifted his head tiredly to look up at Zahi.
"Oh, good morning. Or evening," he said, smiling a little before laying his head back down.
"Middle of the night, I think," Zahi answered, looking back at the barely awake Quinlan. She stoked the fire, adding a bit more wood to it, then plopped down on the bed next to Quinlan.
"Hey," she said, poking him in the ribs, "don't you owe me half of whatever you took off the old man? Or did I forfeit that when I turned around on the road back there?"
Quinlan turned to lay on his belly and his eyes wiggled around to check where he'd placed the coins. He spotted them on his discarded belt that was slung by his jacket. "Over there on my belt. Halfs yours. Well, minus expenses for beer and food from my share."
He observed the rain still pounding on the roof of the shepherd's hut. "You'd think the world was trying to drown us or something." He forced a snort and glanced at Zahi. "You gonna go in the rain?"
Zahi stretched out next to him, regarding him for a moment.
"No," she answered, leaning forward and briefly kissing him, "I'll at least stay until it's dry. How about you, Red?"
"Nah. If I leave in the rain, I'd be so cliche. Don't you think?" he snorted a laugh and leaned forward to kiss her, lingering a little longer than she had.
"I don't know," she said matter-of-factly, "I don't really worry about that sort of thing."
She paused for a moment, thinking that of course, she would leave in the rain if the opportunity had arisen. But it hadn't, so instead she gave Quinlan a slightly teasing smile and said, "But I would have thought it was a cliche that fit your whole 'tortured, cursed, damn-it-all-to-hell suicidal blood mage' bit pretty well."
"See that word 'suicidal' it strikes me as odd. I don't think I'm suicidal. I think I do all I can to live life to the fullest. Wouldn't you agree? I mean, maybe I don't always think the consequences through, but not everyone can. I think 'reckless' would be a better time. Not to mention it sounds hotter. Makes me sound like the hell-crazed wanderer that I am."
And with that he gave another smug grin and leaned in for another kiss, deepening it and smelling the skin along her cheek. All those days of wandering had left his face scratchy with stubble and it dug now into her skin.
Zahi gave a little snort of laughter at that. She looked thoroughly unconvinced. "Sounds like we need to add 'delusional' to the list."
But when he kissed her, she returned the kiss in full, not bothered at the moment by the sandpaper scratchiness of it. She realized somewhere in the back of her head that, though all the awkward walking on eggshells of the day before, this was what she had wanted. She brought a hand up to the nape of his neck, lacing her fingers into his hair and pulling him closer against her.
When she broke away, she gave him a faux-conciliatory look and said, "But for the record, I think you're also reckless. I'm not sure about 'hell-crazed.' Makes you sound a little too manly."
"I can accept delusional in place of hell-crazed," he said with a nod. "Can't risk being too manly. Some people look at how manly you are and want to see if your manliness is more manlier than them and then they want to start a fight, and it all just spirals out of control. Add some decent drinks - or bad drinks for that matter - and then it gets even uglier. I'm sure you can use your imagination."
He laughed breathily before going back in, brushing lips against hers, parting them gently to deepen the kiss, coaxing his tongue into her mouth until he could taste her bed breath. It wasn't pleasant, but they'd both been drinking and had a smoke, and were in desperate need of relaxation. His arms slipped around her, just enough to hold her tightly to him.
[[Oh, Lion, I love the element of realism you bring to your posts. XD P.S. Quinlan smoke more, HIS BREATH IS TOTALLY WORSE.]]
"Actually," Zahi said between his kisses, "I actually can't imagine anyone seeing you as 'too manly.'" She parted her lips to kiss him deeper, fingertips pressing lightly into the base of his scalp. Her other hand ran down his side.
"Just too much of a stretch," she breathed, pulling away for a moment and grinning a little. "Now that mouth of yours. That I believe gets you in trouble."
[Zahi can tough it out. XD]
"Good," he laughed a little, dragging lips down her jaw. "All the better to lead you further into my trap. I do this to all my victims so I turn you into another jacket." He snorted out a laugh and kissed at the base of her throat. At the comment about his mouth, he sniffed.
"Oh yeah? I don't hear any complaints when my mouth is doing this, huh?" Quinlan didn't snicker this time, when a straythand pushed down the cloth of that old shepherd's robe she wore by her shoulder and kissed down along her chest. He took her breast between his lips, sucking gently, then harder on the tip of it.
Zahi rolled her head back as he kissed down her throat. She was too worn out and worn through to try to outdo his advances; for now, at least, she set aside her competitive side. She could feel her skin tingle under his lips as they dragged down her throat and chest and her breath caught in a sharp intake of air as his mouth found her breast.
"You know me," she breathed, lacing her fingers into his hair, "whatever shuts you up. Is fine by me."
That, indeed, shut him up and he took his time exploring her body, lapping at her breast forcefully and letting his free hand slide down her side, parting the robe open and letting his nails dig into skin, just enough to feel biting points and he pushed the robe off along her hips. Those hard edges, nothing soft about her, he had to pull away from her breast long enough to breath.
Quinlan didn't waste any further time on breathing, going back in for more. With the cloth parted from her thigh, he slipped his hand down along her hip, fingetips, brushing the hair between her legs, exploring further into heat of her sex.
Zahi's hands worked downward from his scalp and neck to smooth over Quinlan's back and gripping the star-strewn skin of his shoulders. Her fingers dug hard enough into his skin to leave small bruises, encouraging the intensity of his motions.
A low, half audible moan escaped Zahi as his hands wandered between her legs and her hips arched up towards his touch, her own wet heat eager to be explored.
Quinlan breathed hotly against her skin, feeling her fingertips encouraging him on. Skin to fingertips, he found the wet folds of her sex, brushing along them. But he was more interested in the small knob of her clit, pressing fingertips against it in small circles. He rolled over them, letting his body rest up hers, fingers soon slipping within her, explorir what points made her hitch more than others.
He still had his own trousers on, no longer damp from the rain, but now thoroughly uncomfortable to wear.
Selfishly, admittedly, Zahi wasn't too concerned about Quinlan's trousers at that point. Those could be dealt with later. Her breath hitched as fingers played over her clit, tension building and releasing her in sex and she let out a long, low exhale when those fingers found their way inside of her. She was, normally, a slightly more attentive lover. But in this moment, for once, she was happy to let Quinlan do the lion's share of the work. She could always make it up to him later. So instead of worrying about his trousers and how comfortable they were or weren't, her hands that were digging into his skin pushed downward on his shoulders, encouraging him to set that troublesome mouth of his to more a rewarding (for her, anyway) task.
He could take the hint she was most thoroughly giving him and he just used her pushing to drag his lips down her belly, dragging teeth along the way until he was beside her lower belly. He paused to look up at her a brief moment, and soon slipped his shoulders underneath her thighs, removing hands from her sex, and replacing them with his lips. He wasted no time lapping at her clit, tasting her in methodical motions.
Zahi's hips rose up to meet him and she moaned unreservedly at the feel of his tongue working against her sex. She reached over her head, holding onto the wooden post of the bed with one hand, while the other clutched onto Quinlan's hair at the back of his head as she moved her hips in small motions to meet his own.
If she was going to end this adventure empty-handed, after all the blood and toil, drag herself back to Arca with nothing to show for it... Well, she may as well enjoy herself.
"You don't," she panted, biting her lip, "have to only use your mouth. Princess."
Quinlan actually laughed against her sex, at the tips she was keen on giving him. "Yes, ma'am," he chuckled, relaxing against her.
Her hair pulling only encouraged him. He slowed his tongue a little, balancing himself on one arm and freeing a hand to slip into those moist folds. There was little to no resistance, and he slipped in two fingers, teasing at first but reservinglittle for long and slipping in a third, pushing his hand in until his palm was halfway within.
And focused his tongue on her clit.
If anything she was full of lovely ideas.
Zahi's grip on Quinlan's hair, and on the bedpost, tightened and she let out a gasp as his hand slipped into her, stretching her sex. But discomfort soon gave way to pleasure and she panted hard as his tongue and hand worked on her. At least, she thought vaguely, he was finally able to listen. Her hips stayed arched, moving with his motions as small beads of sweat formed on her forehand. The simultaneous action of his tongue on her clit and his hand moving inside of her melted away any of the lingering pain and exhaustion from their earlier ordeal. Finally the tension in her sex began to mount and she clutched tightly onto his hair as she came, her sex clenching and spasming around his hand.
After her body rolled through the climax, she pulled Quinlan up - still by the hair - and kissed him fiercely. As she kissed him, she forced him to roll over onto his back. "I guess I can't have all the fun," she jokingly grumbled, still panting hard, when she broke the kiss.
Then she threw a leg over Quinlan so she was straddling his stomach with her back facing him. She'd already slipped entirely out of the shepherd's robes. And finally, her hands slipped down to relieve the tension in his trousers. But she worked painfully slowly undoing the garment and releasing his swollen member, lightly running her hands along it.
A lone breath was all he managed before Zahi trapped and stole it with that heated kiss. Quinlan hadn't been kissed like that in a long time. Their other kisses had been fierce, sure, but that was a fire to that that made Quinlan's blood run painfully hot. His groin already ached with anticipation, but that kiss made him want it more.
Now they weren't on the cusp of surviving - with morality taking going down in the dumps. Was it just a prolonged goodbye?
Quinlan blinked up at Zahi's back, letting his nails run down her spine as she took her sweet time about undressing him. Gods, did she really have to tease!? His teeth dug into his lower lip, nearly drawing blood there and lifting his hips to let her slide them off him easier. The moistness of her sex still coated his belly. He sucked in a deep breath at the feel of her hands.
Gods, just get on it already!
Yes, of course she had to tease. Zahi shot Quinlan a wolfish smirk over her shoulder, perfectly aware of what she was doing and what it was doing to Quinlan. She took a moment longer to just slowly stroke him before finally lowering her mouth to his sex. Supporting herself with one hand, the other gripped the base of his penis firmly while her lips grazed the head. Finally, she took his head into her mouth, sucking lightly at first, then harder before taking the length of him into her mouth and working in slow, intense motions.
Just when he thought she was just going to keep him squirming there forever, he turned his head back against he bed, gasping for breath. It came out slowly though his heart was pounding something fierce. All ready his head felt heavy and empty from the lack of oxygen and it took him a while to catch his breath.
His hips undulated against her mouth, encouraging her to take him as deep as she could, and to use her teeth if she so desired. He wasn't complaining. In fact, already his soft moans at times got caught in his throat. Perhaps she had her turn, however, he wasn't in any way opposed to letting her have seconds.
His hands gripped her hips, coaxing her hips up from where she sat on his belly and drew her back up so that her sex hovered over his face once more, and he lifted his head and tasted her once again, moaning against those folds he was just starting to get to know.
Zahi didn't need much coaxing, and she let out a muffled moan from around his cock when she felt him tasting her sex. The pressure from her lips and tongue increased, and she let her top teeth gently graze one side of his shaft while working hard with her tongue on the other side. Her free hand drifted downward, hooking under his leg so she could cup his balls, squeezing and massaging them lightly. Her speed began to slowly increase as she bobbed her head up and down to take in as much of him as she could, even as she felt his head prodding against her soft palette.
Her own back arched into Quinlan's touch. Zahi was perfectly happy to let him keep working as her stifled moans sent vibrations around his sex.
Quinlan could feel those body shudders come more quickly, and in with increasing intensity. When she cupped his balls, he moaned loudly against her sex, hands gripping her thighs tightly. He was free to explore as he pleased. Her moisture allowed easier access though there wasn't much resistance all things considered.
His body shuddered again and he had to pull away to gasp, and he heaved his hips upward against her lips, closing his eyes tightly as he was just about to burst. He couldn't hold back his moans anymore. "Gods, don't stop. Please, "he panted, nails tearing into the skin of her legs.
And stop she did not. The feeling of his nails in her thighs just pressed her on and her pace quickened, lips and tongue working hard on his member. Her intensity only increased, urging Quinlan to the edge.
There was no more holding back and with intensity did he tremble and feel himself burst suddenly. Every beat of his heart reverberated in his ears, making him feel deaf momentarily. He panted hard, air already making his throat raw and leaned his head back against the bed.
He stared lazily up at her sex and reached a finger up to trace along the outside of it. The feel of heat alone was enough to get his blood boiling again. And soon his body was more than ready for another round. This time Quinlan kept her back to his front and pushed her body along his until her sex was to his.
His member swelled at the feel of entry but he remained without. Hands gripped her hips and he slowly worked his hips against hers, cock rubbing at her clit and sex in undulated motions.
Zahi swallowed hard as Quinlan came, letting her mouth linger over him for a moment after he was finished. She let out a slow exhale as his finger traced along her sex and when she saw his member swell again, she rubbed her hand encouragingly around it. That was, until Quinlan encouraged her body to shift.
She moved down the bed until she felt him against her, letting out another long, slow exhale, chest heaving. Now it was her turn to feel teased as he ran his member along her sex without entering. Zahi's body ached for him to enter her and she tried to angle her hips to take him inside of her.
And he nearly slipped within those confines, as he worked his hips slowly. Every motion drew him closer, and he was determined to keep his cock running along her a sex instead. He wanted to feel her tremble, just enough to know that even Zahi had her vulnerabilities. Those hard angles, coupled with a hard-edged personality. But she was not immune to what sensations their actions elicited.
And neither was he. He gasped and moaned softly, his hands digging into hips, moving in rhythm as he slipped alongside her slickness. It was getting impossible to stay outside. He rolled his hips hard against hers, and turning an angle and closed his eyes. He felt something envelope his tip and opened his eyes to find after all efforts, he'd slipped inside her regardless.
Zahi might not be invulnerable, but she was competitive, even (or perhaps especially) in the heat of moments like this. And she did not beg. But Quinlan had, by her standards, seen enough of her vulnerabilities already. His actions were driving her into a maddening, torturous frustration. She was on the verge of cursing him when finally she felt... victory.
Pushing her hips backward, Zahi took the length of him inside of her, letting out a low moan as she did. Reaching forward to hold onto the wooden posts at the foot of the bed, she rocked her hips against him, pushing him deeper inside. If he dared pull out now, she'd probably have to murder him.
He didn't care if she'd murder him, he was dying anyway, so whoopdedamndoo. He gripped her hips as he slipped further into her, moaning softly beneath her. He met her hips in each motion, but something felt off. Like she was trying desperately to keep him inside her.
"Slow down," he panted, pulling himself up into a seated position. He still kept his hands on her hips, trying to set that steady rhythm between them.
For once, Zahi listened. She slowed her pace until it matched Quinlan's. At least temporarily, she ceded control to Quinlan, letting his hands guide the movement of her hips. But the slow pace was driving her nearly as mad as his teasing had done.
Quinlan didn't remain slow for long, meeting her hips with increasing need, but every motion was more powerful than the previous had been and he panted hard against her back, nails digging into supple skin. He bit into her shoulder, only vaguely muffling his cries, and soon relented to her will, letting her do as she pleased.
Zahi mirrored his movements and intensity, panting hard and moaning as he thrust into her. But when she felt him cede to her, she just panted back at him, "Just fuck me harder." And she shifted her weight to let him do just that.
"Well, goddamn," he griped and pushed her forward toward the posts a little more, to give him better range of motion to plough into her. Quinlan continued to roll his hips along hers, using his hands to push her forward a little and then pull her back into his hips, slamming into her. He moved his hips in alternating circular angles, before pushing and pulling her back onto him once again.
Zahi moaned unreservedly as he slammed into her. And though she let him control the situation, she rolled her hips into his powerful thrusts so that she took him in to the hilt and she could feel his balls slapping against her. And with each thrust, her need grew, and she found herself panting "harder" to him.
With every motion, Quinlan took his hands and continued to push her away and pull her back onto his cock, slamming her hard with every roll of his hips. He left nothing in reserve, turning his hips up, using the motion of the bed to give him extra momentum. Her need matched his, sweat beading into his eyes, and drenching his entire body. But somehow, it didn't feel like enough.
He paused but a moment to readjust his legs so that he was kneeling behind her, allowing him to better roll his hips along hers. He shuddered again, thrusting with heavy grunts and all the powerful strokes he could muster, burying his cock to the brim.
Zahi's hips bucked forcefully into his when he shifted his position to thrust harder into her. She gasped and moaned with the increasing force of his thrusts. It was as if the force of their coupling now could somehow make up for the pointlessness of the events that led them to this point. Zahi couldn't keep track of how long the powerful, urgent, physical went on. His sex drove into hers over and over, the length of it ramming into her with each movement, driving her over the edge and she came hard, her entire body shuddering as her sex clenched and spasmed around his thrusts.
When at last his body couldn't contain himself any longer, Quinlan gripped her hips with a desperate possession, honing that last burst for as long as he could, panting so hard, his throat was ripped raw. It hurt even to breath. All that was pent up had been released and he soon collapsed onto the bed, just trying to catch his breath.
He didn't know if he could manage any words if he thought of any, and he just turned his head to look at Zahi, letting the silence linger.
Zahi stayed where she was for a long moment, holding onto the bed post and catching her breath with large heaves of her chest. When she finally turned to Quinlan, she did nothing to break the silence. She only shifted over to kiss him; it wasn't without force, but it had a softer tone to it, and lingered longer. There was something else to it; a sense of finality.
When she broke away, she held her head an inch away from Quinlan's for a moment, odd eyes gazing wordlessly down at him. Then she lowered herself next to him and half on top of him, her head in the crook of his shoulder and an arm over his pounding chest. Exhausted in an entirely new way, she listened for a moment to the sound of his rapidly beating heart, then simply closed her eyes.
The rain did stop a few hours after, lest the world be flooded. When Zahi would awaken, she would be alone in that hut and the fire would be smoldering coals in the fireplace. Her clothes would be laid out neatly over the bed posts and a fresh rabbit was waiting on the table.
Zahi could tell Quinlan was gone before she fully awoke. When she opened her eyes, she confirmed it. "Fuck you, Quinlan," she grumbled as she sat up in the bed, "I wanted to be the one to sneak away."
She looked around. The bastard had even taken Fluffy. Well, what would she have done with the dog, anyway. Alone now, as she'd said she wanted to be, she got dressed, scoffing a little at the neatly laid out clothes. Then she took the rabbit that was laid out - noting that he had, at least, left what might have been half the gold from Sarov on the table - took it outside, and set about cleaning it. She'd cook the meat so it'd keep for the journey, then start off north.
Back to Arca, and whatever hell waited for her there.