Far Longer Than Forever [Shizzy]

[Anonymous]

Chaucer was a pleasant person to talk to. He seemed to know so little about Necromancers and Thanatos, it was wonderful to talk to someone who wasn't prejudiced about them. Aisha tried to be as objective as she could, just generally describing the aspects of her people. She didn't really have a judgment about them herself, anyway. She had never fit in, but she had never fit in anywhere else either. Though this was her first time on the mainland.

She hoped Chaucer hadn't noticed how she was momentarily completely tongue-tied when he took off his shirt. It was odd for her, but she wanted him to feel alright around her. Usually she didn't care. But she couldn't help staring for a second or two at the beautiful markings on his skin. They took her breath away. Aisha was used to seeing body art in the Necromancer's country, but that was nothing compared to this. Chaucer would be pure divinity in her world.

She nodded when he stood up and took his bow, following the tattoos as they were bulged by the muscles beneath them. If only I could look like that... she thought dreamily. And then he moved into the shadows. Aisha's mouth fell open as she caught a glimpse of the glow he now radiated, his tattoos like strangely shaped stars in a dark night. Subconsciously, she nodded to herself.

Divinity. No doubt about it.

Catching her breath when Chaucer moved out of sight, Aisha's thoughts returned to the hut and the book that lay waiting on the bed. Putting her tea cup aside, she pounced on the bed, laying on her belly, and opened the heavy book.

Let the journey begin...

[Anonymous]

There had never really been a need or a desire to study indepth the different magical qualities of each people. Some threw fire, some controlled the dead, some could disappear and reappear, for Chaucer he just had to know the basics of magic, and after that...he didn't really need to know much else. Ignorance was sometimes bliss wasn't it?

Chaucer had noticed the unusual amount of staring and silence that Aisha had given him when his shirt came off, but he had decided not to say anything. That would have been rude. She probably just had never seen his tattoo styles before. He'd...encountered some people before that had a lot of tattoos before, but he wasn't sure how rare or common they really were. He never...had the chance to ask them really. At the same time, he probably never wanted to.

At least getting outside was a good way to get away from the slightly awkward staring and silence.

The men were drunken to some degree, and stumbling forward at night. None of them even seemed to really notice the fact that a glowing man was on approach. So he head to get in front of them. It wasn't too far for him to go. "Well lookie here! We got a glowing baldy!" One of the men cried out in surprise as they stopped in their tracks. Each one of them seemed to be either tipsy or rather involved in the drink.

"You must turn back. Fell lay beyond here." Chaucer told the men, explaining to them as he kept an arrow trained on the foremost man of the group. He may not have been the leader but he was closest. "We know that! That'sh where we're going! Lotsa treashure up there! We're gonna be rich!" Another man yelled, the other men cheering. "No, you are not. There are magical users in your company. The moment they cross into Fell, they will become infected and spread a plague unlike any other. They must stay." The men all looked around at each other before laughing. "Sorry glowy! Can't do that, come much too far for that. Nah nah, get out of the way, we're going. Nothing gonna-ARGH!" The man on the far left, the speaker found himself with an arrow in his leg. After his encounter with Aisha...warning shots seemed like a much nicer way of dealing with things.

"You will go now. All of you. If you insist on continuing, I will kill each and every one of you." By his God he wished that they would listen to him. There was no reason to continue on. There was very little treasure left to Fell, and even so, it could be cursed...it was best to just let that place lie.

[Anonymous]

It wasn't long after she'd started reading when certain noises caught Aisha's attention. First she marvelled over how she'd heard them at all, because once she started to read people could talk to her what they wanted to, but replies would be rare. And these sounds were far off, even. She frowned, listening, wondering what she was hearing. It sounded like raised voices, and occasionally there was a dark, stern sounding voice she thought was Chaucer's.

Aisha looked at the beautiful book and the direction in which she heard the voices in turns. Eventually, she sighed. "Alright, let's go check it out..." she mumbled to herself while she tightened the belt with the scimitar around her waist and found her coat.

[Anonymous]

They never did listen of course.

Chaucer fought like he was a ghost...a very focused and merciless ghost that couldn't be stopped. He was determined, their warning had been given, and there was no telling what would happen if they got infected by the curse. These men had to be stopped, and while they were inebriated, he was sure they wouldn't listen when they were sober. One of the men, the mage who was conjuring things went down quickly, an arrow stuck right into his heart.

Some were apparently not as drunk as he thought...and too many of them were trying to get in close to him. He wished he had remembered one of his other weapons. The situation was easy to rectify, as he dropped his bow and simply held two of the arrows in his hand. He wasn't able to deflect attacks, but he didn't need to with his ability to dodge, and thanks to his boots not letting him sink into the heavy snow. A sword cut across his chest, his ability to dodge not quite as fast as he needed them to be. The blood dripped down and the wound itself stung in the cold air but he was ignoring it. Instead, he put one of the arrow in his hands straight through the man's neck, the other going into his side. Then he took the sword from the dead man and continued his attack.

He was relentless now, the sword moved like water creek, flowing endlessly and never stopping for anything. The inebriated man before him didn't stand much of a chance, even in his leather armour, the weapon cutting and slashing at parts of the body that were exposed. They man would fall with various cuts on his hands, wrists, neck and face. They were finally getting organized, three of them decided to attack at one.

This was going to be difficult though...he was going to have to wait for the right moment, his sword hand moving quickly to block and parry attacks that came at him. Right now he almost regretted dropping his bow.

[Anonymous]

Aisha had been watching for a while, hidden by the leaves of low tree branches, wondering what to do. On one side, that could have been her out there fighting against Chaucer. And if not for the fact that she was more interested in books than in going to the dead city itself, it would be her. Then again, she liked Chaucer. He was a good person, he only did what he had been taught to do, what he had been bred to do.

He seemed alright for a while, and Aisha winced audibly when he got slashed across the chest. Immediately she covered her mouth with her hand, cringing, simultaneously hoping his beautiful tattoos wouldn't be damaged too much by this. Then things started getting harder for Chaucer, and Aisha knew she was going to have to make a choice. Run. Fight with Chaucer. Do nothing. Even doing nothing would be a choice. But Aisha had already made hers. Out of her boot she fished a thin, short knife. Holding it by the blade, she aimed for the man in the middle, who was attacking Chaucer most aggressively, and threw. It landed perfectly in his eye. He barely had time to stagger backwards; the blade sunk in his skull all the way up to the handle, and the bleeding in his brain would kill him almost instantly.

Aisha swallowed, never enjoying fighting, and quickly jumped forward to pick up Chaucer's bow and pull an arrow out of a man's side. She had never excelled in marksmanship, but the man that had abandoned Chaucer and was now coming for her was so close that it was almost impossible to miss. She hit his neck, not his chest as she meant to, but it was enough to make the man bleed out in a matter of minutes.

But he never stopped running. Aisha screamed when she found herself without arrows and with an infuriated injured man holding a sword to her throat, ready to put an end to her life any second. The girl stared at the blade, knowing that trying to rot it would take too much time, and on top of that a rusty blade could still kill. Flinching backwards, she came to a stop against the bark of a tree, finding herself trapped. Chaucer was out of sight, the view blocked by the frame of the man that was happy threatening her. He didn't even seem to realise he'd been hit, no doubt charged with adrenalin by now. And alcohol. His breath smelled.

"That was a very wrong move, lass," he hissed, a wicked grin on his face. Aisha heard her heart pound in her ears, too afraid to grab her scimitar. He lifted his sword up high, aiming for her heart, and Aisha closed her eyes. Wrong move indeed.

[Anonymous]

There was no time to check who or what his guardian angel was, but someone had thrown the knife into someone's head and that was good enough for him. With there only being two people now with weapons, it would be much easier for him to overpower and win the fight. The graceful fight returned, and Chaucer dropped low to bring his sword along the legs of the men, cutting and slicing at their legs. When the men dropped in pain to their knees, only to find that the snow didn't quench the fire in them, Chaucer continued his fluid movements and sliced their necks. Two bodies fell, and the ghostly Chaucer arose.

A scream rang out into the forest, and Chaucer barely had time to turn and see that Aisha was in a little bit of trouble. Alright, maybe more than just a little. He had to move, to get over to the woman in trouble. Like a man possessed, he barely was aware of the two men that was in his way, the drunken way they held their swords were no match for him as he deftly brought death to them.

He was quick now, getting close to the man threatening Aisha. She'd see it before he did, the ghostly light of his tattoos illuminating the man's face. As the man spoke, and raised his weapon up high, Chaucer struck quickly. He ran the man through, his free hand raising up to grab onto the sword in his hands. For emphasis, he twisted the blade in the man's chest, causing him to gurgle and cause blood to stream out the side of his mouth. He gave a laboured cough before sighing and falling down dead to the ground. There were no more left, and Chaucer dropped the stolen blade to inspect Aisha carefully, his hand going out to cup her chin as he carefully looked at her. "Good...you are unhurt. We should only be so lucky that doesn't happen next time." There was no thought for what that might imply. It was just something that you said right?

With that being said, Chaucer leaned down and grabbed the man's body, picking it up and taking it to the other, which he began to collect. Each one would be laid out beside the other, arms folded on the chest, eyes closed, and as peaceful looking as possible. This was part of his ritual, to give peace to the dead he had killed.

[Anonymous]

As the man crashed on the snowy forest floor, Aisha slowly let the air escape her lungs. That was close. It had been a long time since she'd been this vulnerable, and she hadn't even realised it. Before, Phocas was always there with his guards. In the army, she had no need to be on the lookout at all. No man dared touch the Tam-ma-baan's mistress.

She breathed lightly when Chaucer inspected her, unused to physical contact with any man but Phocas. "Thank you for that," Aisha said softly, watching as he placed the bodies adjacent to each other and positioned them as if they'd found a peaceful end.

"Uhm," she continued, gesturing at the odd scene with a frown, "I might be mistaken, but I was under the impression there is no mercy whatsoever for those who try to go to Fell. Besides, they tried very hard to kill you. Why are you doing this?"

[Anonymous]

For Chaucher, the woman wasn't really anything but...well a woman. Necromancer yes, magic user yes, but after that she wasn't really much more. "I was born to protect after all." He told her with a small smile, before he went about collecting the bodies. It wasn't going to take him long to get them all lined up beside each other. He was also gathering swords and placing them in the ground with the hilts facing the sky as markers, allowing him to come back later with the right equipment to bury the men.

"These men are no longer going to Fell. They have died by my hand, and they must go to their heavens. Just because I killed them, doesn't mean that I cannot help them to the next life. It is respect for the souls, for the dead, for the deeds done wrong to them..." Chaucer explained as he ensured each person had their hands clasped over their hearts. Once they were all done, he stood up and closed his eyes, crossing his arms over his heart and bowing to the dead.

"I will come back tomorrow and bury these men. For now I have done what I can..." He winced slightly as he moved his arms, looking down to his chest. Thanks to the glow of his tattoos, he could see the painful slice across his body. "Shall we go back to safety?" He looked up at Aisha, smiling a little, though he was obviously hiding a little hurt and pain, not just physically either.

[Anonymous]

Aisha was quietly impressed. She'd been raised by devoted men and women, taught to follow their example, and yet she had done quite the opposite. Never once had she been reverential toward them, because they never did anything she thought worthy of revering. And here was this simple, lonely man, devoted to a life he had not chosen for himself. It would have appalled her if it had been anyone but Chaucer (or perhaps it was just his religion that made it okay), but for the first time she saw charm and beauty in an existence of devotion and reverence to a higher power.

"You're... you're doing a good thing," she said, watching his movements. With her around these men were not at all in need of burying -- a few minutes under her touch and there'd be nothing left of them -- but Aisha didn't even think about mentioning that. Which was a strange thing in itself, because she always said what she thought. Now, she realised it would probably be the most disrespectful thing she could say.

"Yeah... going back seems like a good idea," she agreed, wrapping her coat tighter around herself when she realised she was seriously cold. Aisha followed Chaucer's gaze towards his chest, and gestured at it. "I could stitch that up for you if you want me to," she offered. "I can't really see how deep it is, but in any case it would prevent easy infection."

[Anonymous]

Chaucer gave a weak smile and a small shrug of his shoulders. "If anyone of these men had taken my life, I would have hoped that at least one of them would have done the same for me." He explained to her. "Unlikely as it may be, I'd hope that someone would eventually stumble upon me and put my soul to rest." He wasn't sure what would happen when he was finally brought down by someone out here, but this was just one of the hopes. He was rather glad that Aisha hadn't decided to use any of her magic to do anything to the men. While he wouldn't harm her for it, it would definitely put a damper on things.

The glowing man looked down to his wound once more before shaking his head. "I have some salves at home that will help me heal and stop infection." He explained to her. right now it was just uncomfortable, stinging a little painfully. It didn't take them long for Chaucer to lead her back, after he retrieved his bow. He didn't take anything from the men though, even despite the fact that they had quite a bit of baggage with them. It would have been tacky, and he had little need for that. Everything he needed, he had right now, he had clothes, he had food, he had simple items...there was nothing that he needed, especially from the corpses of dead men.

Once they were back at his hidden encampment, Chaucer set about fixing himself up. A small earthenware pot held a thick black liquid that smelled sweet. "Could...you help me Aisha? This salve stings a little to apply so...it might be easier if someone else does it." Not to mention, it was a good excuse for a little human contact right? Chaucer took a seat on the bed with the pot and a cloth. "Just...dip the cloth into the liquid and the rub along the wound."

[Anonymous]

Aisha swallowed and shivered. Where was the careless girl she had been for so long? Where was the ease she had lived life with? Sideways, she glanced at Chaucer. He wasn't material, he wasn't self-centered, he wasn't greedy. Maybe she had been fooling herself these past years. She was having it so easy at Phocas's side; he shared everything with her. His luxurious diners, his lush homes, even his divine body. She knew he didn't love her, and neither did she love him, but that hadn't mattered. Was she truly so superficial that she would sleep with someone for wealth and comfort?

Pushing the thoughts away, Aisha followed Chaucer back into his hideout, seeing him in a different light now. Silently she accepted the task he gave her, and dipped the cloth in the oily liquid. Carefully, she went to applying the ointment to the skin just around the gash, wincing occasionally when she felt she was hurting him.

"I'm sorry... I wish it wouldn't hurt," she said quietly, her free hand flat on his chest as if to find support.

[Anonymous]

The woman behind him seemed ultimately pensive, but he didn't dare ask what was on her mind. It was more for the fear of asking would lead to an answer he didn't particularly like. Maybe she would judge him for killing those men so...crassly. He hadn't thought twice, he hadn't hesitated at any point, everything was clean and efficient for the most part. He couldn't blame her for judging him of course. It was always a wonder that a people who would isolate some of their own to kill those that would venture into a lost city didn't have a more understanding religion when it came to death.

Chaucer could never question it though, this was all he really knew in his life...at least Aisha was willing to apply the ointment.

Closing his eyes he waited for the inevitable sting. It still brought to question whether or not she hated him. After all it would hurt him still, and sometimes he felt it hurt a lot more than the original attack. However, once she spoke...and with the honest tone in her voice, that particular fear of her hating him melted away. "It's...okay...it just stings a little bit." He told her earnestly, shrugging his shoulder and then wincing slightly. Okay that hadn't been the best move on his part but...it was alright. "You've got to put some in the wound...it'll help sterilize and mend it better than my natural abilities alone."

[Anonymous]

Aisha clenched her jaw when she applied the black goo to the open flesh. "I wish I had healing magic instead of death magic," she muttered to herself, imagining to heal Chaucer just with the touch of her hand. A much better alternative then decaying him. When she was certain every inch of the wound and the skin around it was covered with a thin layer of the cream, she leaned her hands on her knees.

"You should probably put a bandage around that," she commented. Aisha helped herselfout of her jacket and removed the belt with the scimitar in the scabbard from her waist. They were a bother right now. She left them on the floor, next to Chaucer's stuff.

"Why -- why would you want to die if you are doing what you believe in?" she asked suddenly.

[Anonymous]

One of Chaucer's eyes closed in a wince as she applied the paste to his wound. "We have...the salve, not to worry..." He wouldn't be particularly comfortable with her using magic on him anyway. He'd rather use the painful stinging salve than allow her to heal him with magic. It was nothing against her of course, but it was just...better to let the natural world heal him instead.

Much more comfortable.

"A good idea..." He had to rummage for the cloth he used, but soon he was wrapping a long white bandage around his chest. While he didn't need to have one, it was better not to argue with her on this point. It was just better to agree and do as he was told.

"Hm? Are you asking me personally or...is this just a general question?" He sat upon a stool as he faced her, an eyebrow raised. "Because I do not wish to die. I just wish that I didn't have to live this life...if it were possible to just remove Fell so that no one has any reason to come here...that no one needs to die from my hand."

[Anonymous]

"What an odd answer," Aisha mused while she sat back and watched the painted man. Such paradoxes in a single man. If this had been her life, she would probably never have let anyone force into living it this way. The way Chaucer had talked about it, it didn't seem like it was very heavy indoctrination he had endured, but it had been rather a conscious process that he accepted for one reason or the other.

"You don't HAVE to live this life," Aisha said with an open expression on her face. "I mean, removing Fell's curse altogether seems unlikely to me, but would there be anything to stop you from living an ordinary life? Or at least a life without the ungrateful job of killing everyone who poses the smallest threat?"

She paused for a moment, for some reason hoping he would see her point. "How old are you anyway?" Aisha asked then with a slight frown. "Don't you think you've sacrificed enough of your life right around now?"

[Anonymous]

"Thank you...I think." Chaucer wasn't really sure what was going on...that question was definitely odd, and it seemed to have helped her to understand...something. He couldn't be sure what it was but...he was sure that it was an interesting one. He didn't mind her asking such philosophical questions...he could match wits, or at least try, though he would admit his spirituality was pretty locked, his theology definitely...kept him in one particular mindset usually.

Her newest argument didn't really do anything to dissuade him. It wasn't....this was his life. This is what he was trained for, raised for, born for! He had to live here to protect the world, and he definitely did not mind it. Well...he sort of did but...he knew how important this was so...it helped him a little bit. He never really thought on this loneliness until this woman came along.

Life had been so much easier before. Now he was questioning himself...no...questioning his life...and that scared him just a little bit to say the least.

"Twenty six but...my people life for a long time so it's alright." Chaucer didn't look at her, he made sure to look downward at the floor, trying to avoiding her gaze. "With all that I have done, all the people whose lives that I took...I must stay here. Penance for the sin of taking lives." If he stayed here all his life...he would eventually make up for all that he had done in his life. "Besides, I have no place to go, I have no knowledge other than what I have been trained to do here. I am sure that I would not survive very long without...this life I have here."

[Anonymous]

Aisha's expression betrayed nothing as Chaucer told her his vision on his own life, but within she was writhing in horror. She couldn't imagine living a life like his except for someone who was completely void of emotion, but Chaucer seemed anything but that.

"So you would do penance for the sin of murdering people by murdering more people?" she stated harshly. "Seems a bit of a contradiction if you ask me. And you wouldn't be the first person who goes somewhere they've never been before. And you wouldn't have to be alone, I could help you in the beginning."

Aisha couldn't really explain herself. She didn't usually care what others did or didn't do with their lives, but she just couldn't get herself to NOT care. And she was rather offensive, too. That only happened when someone attacked her physically, never in words. She said things the way she found them, yes, but she always spoke from her own perception, not to intentionally hurt others with her words.

She swallowed and stood up, moving back to the bed to take the book in her lap once more. "I think I'll read my bribe now," she muttered while flipping the cover.

[Anonymous]

"It...is a very circular logic I will agree." You never kill until you come to watch the forest near Fell, then when you're here, you end up killing people, and that locks you into it. Chaucer knew it was harsh, but they couldn't just have their guardians and protectors leaving could they? They had to find a way to get people to stay, and guilt was a powerful motivator, one of the greater ones too. So was the fear of karmic and divine retribution, inescapable torture in a pit of hell. So...to stay and guard Fell was the perfect way to cleanse one of those sins.

The tattoos also helped a little bit.

Chaucer tried to ignore the last bit of what she had said. The idea of her being with him so much was...worrying as well. He had to admit, she was nice and friendly, and wasn't like most people who came to Fell but...he still wasn't sure if this was right, or if he should listen to talk of leaving. This was his life, and while the idea of going out into the world with an exotic woman like Aisha was very tempting...he just didn't know if he could.

"That is...probably a good idea." Chaucer moved about awkwardly to the other side of the bed, taking his stool with him and cleaning up the salve and bandages. He didn't understand why she wanted to get so involved...to him it made little sense. This wasn't her life, she wasn't affected by it...was she? After much silence, Chaucer looked up from the fire toward her. "Why do you care about what I do?" He asked her in a gentle and honestly inquisitive tone. It wasn't scathing or hurtful, it wasn't meant to be mocking, he genuinely wanted to know.

[Anonymous]

Aisha had just decided to mind her own business and was quietly picking up reading where she left off, when that question came. She had asked herself about it multiple times now, the lack of an answer puzzling her more and more each time. It took a moment before she sighed and looked up from the brownish pages.

"I... have no idea," she admitted, fearlessly looking in Chaucer's eyes. "I don't usually care about what other people do or don't do, as long as they don't get in my way. I don't even bother trying to find out what Phocas does when I'm--"

Aisha stopped in the middle of her sentence, concluding Phocas might not be the best subject to bring up. "What I'm trying to say, is that you're one of a kind, and something inside me wants to treat you that way. Or... something like that. I just don't know."

A light blush covered her cheeks, and quickly she turned back to the book. Books were safe. Books didn't laugh when you said stupid things. Books didn't see you flush. Aisha sighed. Maybe she should never have come here.

[Anonymous]

It was definitely something that she didn't want to answer, but really he had to know. What made her want to...try and 'save' him. He was already saved technically...well, not fully saved...but when he died he would at least go to his creator. That wasn't a terrible thing really, he was at least secure in the knowledge he'd go to his maker and be at peace when he died.

He raised a slim eyebrow at her as she spoke of how he was...that she thought something made her want to treat him that way. It was a pretty strange thing to say the least, but...it made him blush ever so slightly as well. He wouldn't lie, that sounded sort of...flattering. He didn't have too much of an ego really, he was confident in his skills, confident in his abilities, but it wasn't because he had a large head.

"Who was...Phocas? Who was he to you too?" He sounded like he might have been important after all, but at the same time...if he really was, wouldn't he be here? It didn't make too much sense but...he might as well ask.

"If you don't want to talk of him, then...don't but...I would like to hear more about you." After all, she knew so much of him, but he had very little idea as to what her life was like. He knew about the church but...he didn't really know who this...Phocas was. It sounded personal and he knew it might be a touchy subject from the way she skirted around his name.