The Night the Fire Fell (aka "I F***** The Mage Out Of Him") (Alkereth & Emery) [M]

[Avelithe]

Alkereth closed his eyes and steepled his fingers together. "I need you," he interrupted calmly, "to promise me... that this will be your last bounty."

That was it, that was the favor. He took the hare without looking at Emery, and poked the stick through it with some difficulty. Luckily, he was able to efficiently begin the roasting process.

"I am saving my energy. This meal will provide us the nutrients we need for the coming trek. And..." He bent his head down, ruminating. "It may be my last. Anyway... the only buttering I want to do is this meat, but I don't think you carry it around, do you?" He sighed, almost dejectedly. He was trying to keep higher spirits, but there was little reason for it, and frankly, he didn't expect Emery to help. "If you want ridiculous, look in the mirror. I've never known a woman to wear breeches like that."

Alkereth quieted as he turned the hare. Emery did a fine job skinning it. After a while, the flesh started to brown. Once he was sure it was done, he let Emery take over. He did not have the tools to butcher the meat, but he assumed that she might.

[Rhindeer]

He what now?

Emery stared at him, not for the first and definitely not the last time, for a moment too thrown off to respond. He wanted her to promise what?

Then he was prattling on about his last meal, and butter, and back to insulting her appearance. Right on schedule. Of course. It was almost like he didn't want to hear the answer, but surely he had to know. He couldn't be that stupid.

"What's wrong with my breeches?" she said, and grimaced when she realized she had taken the bait. Fuck. "They're practical. What else am I going to wear, a gown like some rich maiden?" She brushed some grass off her thighs, unable to help glancing down at them. She didn't see the issue. They were just...breeches. A bit worn from use, dirty from travel, and utilitarian more than stylish, but nothing special.

"Whatever. At least it's just my clothes, I can change those. You look like death. Literally, you're pallid as a corpse—" As if a ginger like her had room to criticize someone's paleness. "—and dressed like three fops smashed together in some gaudy orgy and died. What even is that? The shoulder thing?"

With a roll of her eyes, she took over with the hare, fetching a wooden bowl from her bags to put some of the meat into. She only had a few basics, as she didn't really intend to hunt much, if at all, so that came in handy. She cleaned her hunting knife and then, careful of the heat, she sliced up the hare straight off the spit.

"Anyway, don't be so dramatic. We have some distance to go--regrettably--so you'll eat again."

Once again, she was pointedly talking about anything other than what was important. He wanted a promise--and it was too ridiculous a request to even entertain.

[Avelithe]

Ah, silence. Interesting. Alkereth seemed to have rendered Emery speechless. Perhaps he should have expected that. Objectively, it was a pretty off-the-wall request. But he had his reasons. She did not ask, so he did not tell. So, it was safer to just leave it be... for now.

Alkereth scowled. He didn't want to admit that he was actually feeling a little better; Emery was doing a fine job distracting him from his death sentence.

"At least your image would improve with a gown," he shot back, also falling into a trap he didn't see until it was too late. "When you get your dues at the end of this, that should be your first priority. A complete make-over."

Oh, hell. He fought to keep a straight face. For some reason, her insult almost made him laugh. What was wrong with him?! Perhaps it was giddiness before his doom. That had to be it.

"Have you been waiting all this time to say that?" He shook his head, peering hungrily at the bowl. His stomach made another loud and embarrassing growl.

"My people simply are," he explained, holding his stomach. "And these two are Divine Protectors." He pointed at the two figurines on his shoulder. "Aronael and Akilael. It is believed they will protect the wearer." Literal shoulder angels? Ha, ha. Knee slapping hilarious.

Emery made the promise that they will have a chance for another meal. Alkereth gave a noncommittal nod. "If you say so. You look like you've never missed three square meals and snacks in between." Oh he did not just go there. And why was he staring at her breeches?! Checking for pudge?

"So." He extended a hand, eagerly waiting to receive his bowl. "Do you have a family back home?"

Alkereth went straight from bantering to asking that? Maybe... maybe he was distracting himself, too.

[Rhindeer]

A make over?! A dress? Her? Emery's lips twitched, caught somewhere between annoyance and amusement at his absurdity—and when she looked at him, she thought she almost saw his own expression crack.

She quickly looked away, smoothing her face. What...what was this? This childish banter? And why was she indulging it? Boredom, perhaps? She was no stranger to trading insults like this, there was a lot of such play amongst her old order. She should shut it down. She should—

His stomach's growl cut off that thought, startling her enough that she couldn't help but snort. She quickly cleared her throat, fighting back a smile.

"Well, your 'protectors' are ugly as sin. Can you even turn your head without smacking your chin? Retire them, it's not like they did you any good," she said, dropping more meat into the bowl.

"And maybe you should snack more," she added, bristling, because he so did not go there! "You're supposed to have a little meat on your bones, you twiggy wraith. Just because I can't cut glass with my hipbones—!" Finished portioning out the meat for him, she huffed and shoved the bowl at him. She gave him more than she gave herself; the dandy needed it more than she did.

Then, cutting through all the humor came a question.

Emery looked at him, one eyebrow raised, and cut a slice of meat off the skewer, using her knife like a spear to hold it.

 "I was on my way to visit them before I found you," she said with a shrug. "I'm adopted. We're not close, we just—"

She paused, expression darkening, and narrowed her eyes at him. "I see what you're doing," she said, and tore a chunk of meat off with her teeth. "Not gonna work."

[Avelithe]

"So you've run out of clever insults about my appearance and turn to the Divine Protectors instead? That is blasphemy; I would ask you not to insult my faith. Let's talk more about me and my... how did you put it? 'Pale as death' appearance, and something about fops." He gave her a smug look. "On the contrary, I believe their protection is invaluable. Do you want to know how I survived the fall? I prayed. And... well... I suppose a shield spell helped, too. My survival has been a miracle... and I've gotten this far."

Emery eventually continued to gobsmack the Harbinger with more insults. It was a good thing he hadn't started eating yet. He was sure he would choke, and there goes Emery's paycheck if he died. He inhaled sharply; she definitely knew how to dig under his skin.

"Hey! I'm stronger than I look! Look at this..." He prompted with a lift of his arms, and proceeded to flex right in front of her! His biceps bulged through the dark leather and flexible armor. "Look at that, ginger. No fat. Pure muscle. Years and years of training! I'll bet your fat bottom wouldn't stand a chance against me in combat." Ohoho, was that a challenge?

His portion had not gone unnoticed. He blinked down at it, and then at her's, and when she wasn't looking, added meat to her bowl so that their's was even. He turned away quickly and started poking meat into his mouth. It was tough and gamey, but he was not one to complain in the midst of survival.

"Adopted?" Oh, no, Emery ceased talking about it! His interest was piqued. He wanted to know more. "Well, then, I am sorry I inconvenienced you with my arrival." Did he smirk? Oh yes, he did. "Maybe there will be time after, yes?" It was sarcasm.

"What?" Genuine confusion. Alkereth put a sliver of meat in his mouth, chewing and giving Emery a curious look. He sighed. "I have only my mother for family, but she is often busy. No one else but her. Perhaps I have grandparents... but I don't know them."

[Rhindeer]

Blah blah blah, faith, blah blah blasphemy. Emery sighed and made a talking motion with her hand as he went off about it, not too keen to hear how magic was involved there—which was, of course, blasphemy to her faith. "Right, right. Sure. Magic and prayers. Mhmm." Of course his survival had been unnatural; she could guess as much. But it was not the work of a god that spared him; it was the work of evil. It was better to die pure than survive through magic with a tainted soul—but she wasn't going to debate him on that. If he was a religious sort, that would be pointless—and his faith would be put to test soon enough, anyway.

...How long would he last?

For a moment, the thought chased away the humor and irritation and she absently poked at the meat in her bowl with her knife. It was a short-lived moment, though, because then he was flexing at her, actually flexing at her, and it startled her so much she laughed. She stiffened, eyes widening, and clapped a hand to her mouth, glad she had already swallowed her bite. Shit, oh God, what the actual hell?! For a moment he reminded her of Aidan, one of her goofy old friends in the order, and she cleared her throat loudly to try to cover the sound of her laugh and regain her composure even as she felt her chest squeeze.

Careful, now. That was neither here nor there.

"Years of training and you still skipped leg day?" she said as he showed off, though she had to admit his legs were rather decent. She reached out to poke at his bicep, frowning as though appraising it, and shrugged. "It's alright, I suppose. I honestly don't think you'd be much competition, though. I'm so fat I could probably just sit on you and end you, if I wasn't afraid of spearing myself on your ribs."

He spoke of his family, and something in Emery's gut twisted. She didn't want to hear this, this reality that he was someone's child the same as anyone, the same as her. She preferred the part where they were tearing at each other's throats. It didn't matter, anyway. Of course he had a mother—he was human. He was also still a problem.

"Hmm. You take after your mother, I assume?" she said, eying him up and down pointedly. "What with your willowy figure and all?"

She realized she had stopped eating after her first bite. She was still just poking at her food, oblivious even that her portion had grown larger. Her stomach felt hollow, and she was hungry, but...

Fuck.

[Avelithe]

Alkereth watched her reaction. He couldn't help it; he emitted a low chuckle.

"I have no doubt that you gave my legs a thorough look to make a fair assessment about whether I skipped 'leg day'... when you undressed me." Oh, was that a shit-eating grin? "Do not deny it. I walked out of here practically naked."

There will be so many words of repentance when all this was over.

"Ah, ah, you may not touch. But you may look." He smirked, shrugging off his mantle with the loose flowing amice to show off the form-fitting leather. Was he enjoying this? He took great pride in his physical form.

"Or I could just push you with my boot, and you'd end up rolling away. Victory will be mine. I wouldn't even have to lift a finger, if I'm honest."

Calling his figure willowy earned another scowl. Seething, he roughly pulled his mantle back on. "No. I wish I did look more like her, then..." His voice trailed away. "Just... just eat your meal."

He seemed keen to finish every bite, compared to Emery.

[Rhindeer]

Wheeze.

Emery made a mistake by not eating. If she had been eating, she could have blamed the sound she made on choking, and choking on food like an idiot would have been less embarrassing than this. Oh, yes, she had undressed him. Even cut his clothes in some places to make the job easier. There was no denying that she had seen nearly everything. In the moment, it had been purely clinical and detached, and she honestly wasn't all that fussed with nudity—for the most part. Barracks life didn't afford much privacy, and she was far from some blushing virgin.

And yet she blushed, and good GOD she hated blushing because with her complexion, she lit up like a flame. He made it sound like such an accusation!

"There's nothing to deny. I was assessing your injuries," she grit out, and bent her head in the hope that her messy bangs would hide some of her face. "Why are you saying it like that?! I couldn't exactly tend to you with everything in the way. It's not like I was leering! A mage like you? Don't be daft, that's disgusting." She needed to stop. Now. After a certain point, protests sounded like confirmation.

She rubbed a hand over her face, thumb tracing along her scar as he continued to peacock. "Hell's bells, you're insufferable. No, no, keep your clothes on. I don't want to look now—you went and made it weird. You ruined it."

She wasn't even trying to pretend like she was eating, now. Her food lay untouched, her stomach was empty, and she was beginning to feel nauseated from hunger—and something else. Her hands settled onto her knees, the fingers of her right hand tapping restlessly. What...was she doing? Why was she entertaining this nonsense? It was the memory of her friend that rang "danger" like a gong in her head, sobering her, because when had their insults gone from mean to...teasing?

She had taken the fucking bait and been carried farther than she wanted. 

Worse, she didn't really want it to stop. The diversion was...nice.

It shouldn't be nice.

He told her to eat. She pushed her bowl away and rose to her feet. "You eat it," she said, running a hand through her hair. She didn't want to know about his mother, or his life. She didn't want him to be playful at her. She didn't want to see him flexing all silly at her, and she hated that she had actually laughed. There would be no strength competition between them, because he was a mage, she was a Mordecai, and she would be taking him to be destroyed. Slowly, bit by bit, but that was the ultimate result.

She sucked in a breath. "I need to take a piss. Just...stay."

And she didn't wait for his response before she turned and headed off for the creek, not to pee, but to take a seat at the water's edge and pray.

[Avelithe]

Ruin it? But he was actually having fun. If anyone was being a buzzkill, Alkereth thought it was definitely all her! It was her fault he felt gloomy. Her fault he got caught up in this situation. Her fault that he was going to probably die within the next few days—or maybe, that was considered too much of a relief in a place like this, so who was to say torture was not on the top of his itinerary.

When Emery refused to eat, Alkereth made a noise in protest, but she was already up and leaving. After a few minutes, he grit his teeth and threw the rest of his hare into the fire. Emery was not the only one to lose her appetite.

Alkereth watched the meat char in the dying flame. Every instinct told him that now would be the best opportunity to leave. Emery would probably expect it at this point. Maybe this was her way of saying to get out of her hair. He rose up, giving in to the inclination. He was going to do it. Walk away and forget about all of this. He was...

He unfurled his fists, and stood still before his feet could take off.

"I can't," he muttered, running his hands over his face. "All this hard work... I cannot let it go to waste. Perhaps Emery is right... I've gone mad..."

Alkereth emitted a sigh, and felt regret for throwing his food away. He looked at Emery's, but he could not bring himself to eat what did not belong to him. He picked up her bowl, and set it next to the heat to stay warm for when she comes back. Speaking of...

He looked out into the woods, and wondered why the Mordecai was taking ages to get back. It was silly, feeling this weird conundrum bubbling inside of him, but he knew that the right thing to do was to probably check in.

"No... that would be too... well. Who in their right mind checks on someone trying to evacuate their bowels?" For all he knew, the girl was having trouble with indigestion. It was reasonable to say that the hare did not agree with her.

But what if Emery is in trouble? his big dumb brain screamed at him.

"The worst she could do is throw something at me for behaving uncouthly if she is relieving herself," he grunted at himself, grimacing behind his hand. "Either way, I cannot stand around without knowing for sure." Making up his mind, he left their small camp in search of Emery. He did not hear a scream, but from experience, people had ways of capturing or killing without startling them. Was he not living proof of that?

There was hardly any trouble in finding her. Alkereth heard a soft voice. No mistaking it, it was the Mordecai's. His footfalls were soft on the leafy loam as he crept up behind a wide tree, peeking out from behind it. What he saw gave him a shock.

Emery was praying.

He never took her for a religious person. It shocked him so much that he could only linger, transfixed, unable to resist watching this. Somehow, this felt far worse than walking in on her trying to use the bathroom near a babbling creek. He knew that praying was an extremely personal affair. He swallowed, wondering what he should do.

The answer seemed simple. He was a priest, was he not? He stepped out from behind the tree, and walked quietly up to the Mordecai, and knelt down to pray alongside her.

[Rhindeer]

Emery didn't know how much time had passed. A while, probably, and that was fine. The longer she was alone and away from him, the better. She needed to recenter herself, reclaim objectivity, focus on what was important. Something had happened back there, and she needed to ensure it did not happen again.

And so she murmured a prayer to Ansgar, the first Mordecai and her God, and Adhara, the virgin saint who gave her life for her people with unwavering faith and bravery, begging for their guidance, their strength, and their wisdom, because God help her, she needed it. For the first time in years, she needed it. She was trying, she really was. She was trying to do the right thing; she had been loyal all her years. She had even turned her back on her friends, her fellow Mordecai, when they wouldn't do enough.

But she felt...she felt she was being tested here in a way she had never been tested before. It wasn't the first time she had struggled; when she was young and new, it had been hard--even despite knowing the truths she did, personal truths carved into her very skin. But the right thing wasn't always easy.

Sometimes, the right thing was fucking devastating.

She had seen it before in a little girl that burned down her family home and her sleeping parents within. She had survived unscathed. She hadn't meant to do it. But Emery had ferried her to one of the camps to be...to be dealt with.

That had been hard. But it had been just. The right thing wasn't always easy.

Often, it was very lonely, too.

It was easiest when they were cruel. When their magic died around them and they saw her for what she was, and they attacked first in a panic, it was easy, and she let her anger carry her. When they were creating fake miracles and calling it Ansgar's blessing, it was easy to punish the blasphemy. When someone was clearly diseased with the effects of Fell, it was easy to put them down and not feel too much. It was a mercy at that point. It was the ones who hadn't really done anything that bothered her--but she had also seen what they could do, if they were allowed.

She had seen what this mage could do. What had she said before? What if it had been a village instead?

Eyes clenched shut, hands clasped together, she came to the end of her prayer and looped it, repeating it, breath shuddering. "O Lord and Anointed Saint, I come before You both and ask for Your strength within me..."

She hated this. She fucking hated this part. This was why the people in her group rarely ever worked alone. Not just for the safety of it, but because they could keep each other in check. Whatever they thought, whatever they knew, they were still working with people. With a partner, the job could get done faster and healthy distance could be maintained between them and the target. She had never had to spend so much time long alone with a bounty. She had never talked to one more than was absolutely necessary. Her walls were tall and fortified with ice and hurt and anger and she swore never to lower them.

"...to quell anger and and rest in self-control..."

She thought she could handle this. She thought it would be easy.

"...to turn from power and embrace service..."

She thought--

A soft voice beside her made her breath catch, made her fumble her words, and she froze like a deer.

Slowly, very slowly, she tilted her head just a little and cracked her eyes open just enough so that she could peer at him through her lashes, hoping he wouldn't notice her watching him. Was he...was he seriously...

What...what...?

She squeezed her eyes shut again with a sharp inhalation, swallowed, and continued her prayer where she left off even as mortification began to swell within her chest. She would have rather he caught her doing anything but this--but she had to complete the prayer once it was started. Her voice quieted, as though afraid he would listen to the words, her heart pounding as she sped up the verse. Oh God help her.

"...to push through fear and walk forward in grace..."

Shit. Shit. SHIT.

"...and allow your eternal strength to abidewithinmeamen!" she finished in a breathless rush, before snapping her eyes open and twisting to look at him.

"I told you to stay," she growled.

[Avelithe]

Alkereth murmured "amen" in time with Emery. Perhaps feeling like it might be a little too dangerous to peer at the Mordecai, he kept his eyes lowered with his hands clasped in prayer a little longer, but in silence. When the girl spoke, his eyes flickered open, and he slowly turned to chance a glance upon her.

His expression remained void of any kind of emotion. Emery's was understandably fraught with anger, even though she did a world class job of keeping it together despite herself.

To her, the Harbinger said quietly, "I sincerely hope you're given the strength to do what you want to do."

Leaving Emery with those cryptic words to chew on, Alkereth rose, and strode back to camp. The sun was gaining height at this point. He was sure their time here would very soon come to an end.

Alkereth ruminated as he started to help pack away Emery's possessions, and load them up on her horse. The longer he waited, the faster he was sure to lose his nerve. In the meantime, he thought about how Emery tended to his wounds. He thought about how he essentially spooked her with his favorite party trick of becoming a ghost, as it were. He thought about the moments of fun they had bullying each other, even when it didn't feel like bullying so much as volleying hilarious insults.

He was not sure how he felt about it all. It was a culmination of things that he had little time to pick apart and analyze. Trepidation, gloom, resentment... attachment. Perhaps, even for just a sliver of time... joy.

The bickering, the bantering, the teasing—it was enough. Alkereth got to peer a little over Emery's wall, and it was sufficient to deduce that she was a troubled soul. He climbed that wall with difficulty, damnit. He worked his rear to the grindstone to get the intel he needed, however scant (or confusing) amount of it he collected.

It was not enough to have any clear hope that he somehow changed the tides of his fate. But even still—he was bound to a promise that not even he could escape due to some bizarre morale call. Many would call him an idiot for this (lord knows Emery never skipped a beat to remind him of that) but Alkereth never hindered in his convictions. Not once.

He felt that he did, at least, give Emery something to think about. If there's one thing he was certain of... he knew that Emery's prayer was an act of desperation.

[Rhindeer]

Emery didn't head back to camp right away.

She couldn't.

She could only watch his back as he retreated, his words echoing in her head.

The strength to do what she wanted to do, he said.

Not the strength to do what she needed to do.

Emery stared into the water, looking but not really seeing, and with a huff of frustration splashed cold water on her face as though that would help with the sudden, crushing fatigue that filled her. What an idiot. What a stupid, stupid fool. Wanting and needing in this case were the exact same thing.

...Weren't they?

When she finally came back to camp, she found it was packed away and Hilda was loaded up and ready to go. All that really remained was the dying fire and her dish beside it. Emery cast a look at the fire, then raised her eyes blearily to the mage who was (she assumed) wrapping up the last few odds and ends. Once again, he hadn't run. Once again, he had completely stumped her with his choices. Would he sharpen the ax that would be used on his own neck, too?

Emery sighed, a hand pressed to her temple as she watched for a moment.

"Well, aren't you useful," she said, but her words lacked bite. They lacked much of anything at all. She trudged over to Hilda and stroked the mare's velvety nose, pressing her forehead briefly against it.

God, she was exhausted.

"It's a day's ride to the next town," she mumbled, straightening up finally and nudging gently at Hilda's nose when the mare snuffled into her hair. "Small backwater place. Nothing much there. But we can probably get a room and a meal, provided you don't draw attention." She pushed away from Hilda to fetch her bowl from beside the fire, the meat still warm. "Waste not," she said, thrusting the bowl into the mage's chest, before continuing.

"After that, I'd say we have...one, two days maybe? Before we reach Ashamar. That's where we'll part."

She looked at him to gauge his reaction, but focused more on his nose than his eyes. Distance, keep distance.

[Avelithe]

It was only fair to give the Mordecai all the time she needed. The fact that she decided to linger behind was... interesting. Alkereth waited patiently, sitting on a boulder near Hilda.

When Emery traipsed back, Alkereth snapped his eyes up. When she spoke, he noted that her tone was off. She looked... listless. There was none of that ginger sass, only a little more languid than he was used to.

Interesting. Was she going for the aloof approach?

He continued to stare owlishly, taking the bowl shoved onto him. He didn't eat it. He was too distracted.

"Do you have the means to pay for a room and food?" Admittedly, he had several questions, but he was not sure the girl pinching the bridge of her nose and nursing another headache was not interested in playing Fifty Questions.

But this one question felt safe. He had to be sure. It would also answer a very important question: how much coin did she generally keep at a time? Yes—Alkereth was deeply eager to know about her work, and how often she got paid. He... had his reasons, but he did not expect to figure it out.

"I suppose we will find out. How do people there feel about a man with white hair and red eyes?" It was almost playful. Almost. If he didn't have so much to worry about, his tone would absolutely take on a light tone.

"Magicless albino is a persona I've taken before. Ready when you are... Emery."

Staring at her and her horse surged jealousy he had not expected. Oh, how he missed his horse.

He ate the contents of the bowl. If anything, to keep things between them agreeable.

[Rhindeer]

She was definitely ready.

The biggest (yet unavoidable) mistake she had made during this whole affair was spending too much time with the mage, and it didn't look like that was going to be changing. There wouldn't be much opportunity to get physically far from him, so she would just have to stay emotionally distant. If she had been smart, she would have kept the manacles on him and stuffed a gag in his mouth for good measure, but so far, for reasons beyond her, he was coming along without a fight.

...That was also a problem.

His passivity, his utter submission while walking into death was fucking...just...the worst part of this all. It was so completely aggravating—but she tamped down against the emotion.

"If I didn't have the means, I wouldn't have raised it as an option," Emery said as she went around Hilda to mount her, swinging up into the saddle and shifting her weight. She was so not ready for the trip, between the lack of eating and lack of sleeping, but she would deal. "The money was supposed to go to my parents, but I'll just have to cut into it a bit. As for you..."

She swept a look over him. "You could easily pass for a faerie—ah, Serenian. You've got the look. They've all got weird eyes and hair, most of them witches. Not really liked too much in these parts, obviously. Apart from the giant-ass crater, it would have been the first thing that raised my suspicions, if your accent wasn't so wrong...so my good friend the albino it is, I suppose."

Tapping her lips in thought, she frowned. "Where is that from, anyway? Your accent? I've never heard it. Anyway, get up here."

[Avelithe]

"I see. You must make enough to live comfortably." It was not a question, but an innocent observation. "My whole existence is just one giant inconvenience in your life; I understand." The words were laced with sarcasm.

"My people are a small, humble village from the far north. You would not have heard of them." It was a line Alkereth practiced for many long years. Saying it often enough sounded believable.

"If we were lucky in any other life, perhaps." He could not say this without feeling heavy of heart.  "But I suppose it would not hurt to pretend to be your friend."

Alkereth packed away the bowl, and looked up sharply at Emery. What was he expecting? To walk, maybe, but horses had fast-paced strides, and while his long legs overtook most people in a walk, he could not hope to keep up with the beast. It looked as if his brain had shut down for a brief moment as he attempted to comprehend what was just said to him.

"Right. Fine. Okay," he eventually said.

He clasped his hand on Emery's leg on accident, too distracted as he attempted to find his way up. "Ah—sorry, sorry..." He managed to boost himself up and over the horse's rear, sitting up behind Emery. He kept his eyes firmly ahead with his jaw locked together. His expression looked comically contorted as if he saw something his priestly little heart wasn't supposed to. He firmly folded his arms and leaned back to avoid touching Emery, clearly uncomfortable.

[Rhindeer]

The answer about the village satisfied Emery well enough. The North was large and vast and there were many settlements up there even beyond Hyoite, or so she'd heard. 

His comment about them being friends in another life, on the other hand? That was far less...satisfactory. Once again, she felt that uncomfortable squeeze in her chest, the one she had prayed so hard to purge, but she steeled her spine because that didn't matter here and now. Maybe in the next life things would be different. Maybe. But right now, she only had this one.

Just a couple more days of this shit...

It was the mage's waffling that dragged her away from those unpleasant thoughts. She watched him, one eyebrow raised, as he seemed to be having some sort of inner crisis. Were those latent self-preservation instincts finally kicking in? She tensed a little, preparing herself in case he bolted—but as she should have expected by now, that didn't seem in his nature.

He climbed up, grabbing her leg in the process. Emery rolled her eyes at his clumsiness, at his sudden awkwardness, and was far less bothered about the whole thing than he seemed to be. Riding double meant getting a bit physical, after all.

And yet he seemed to be trying not to touch her at all.

Oh, for fuck's sake.

"What are you doing? You're going to fall," Emery said, tossing a look over her shoulder at him. He was sitting as far back from her as was physically possible, looking quite frankly constipated—don't tell her he was one of those types. The type that was terrified of touching a woman as though that was enough to proclaim them married.

With a long-suffering sigh and a spike of irritation (despite her best attempts to remain unfeeling), she reached behind her to pull at his arms. "Grab on, princess. Don't be shy. Your chastity is safe with me."

[Avelithe]

"I had enough falling, thank you," Alkereth snapped, misliking the circumstances very much and showing every visible sign of reluctance to so much as touch her even a little bit.

"What are you doing? Stop it. No, I don't want to." He argued and fussed, but eventually, he relented with an exasperated sigh. He stiffly held on to her shoulders like a small boy might as though Emery was deeply contagious with cooties, but thought better of it and moved his hands down to her waist. That was even worse. His normally cool body ran hot.

"What is this nonsense? Like I have any interest in bedding you. Be silent, woman. What are you waiting for? Let's get a move on." Was he going to be a backseat rider? You better damn well believe it.

Alkereth grumbled, glowered, and glared at the back of her stupid red hair for as long as it pleased him. Suddenly, he let out an explosive fart. If he was hot before, now he is boiling. His complexion beat the odds and seemed to have achieved a nice rosy blush in a matter of seconds.

"That was the horse," he mumbled, wishing the horse would kick him in the head and kill him now.

[Rhindeer]

He was a literal child!

"If you don't want to fall again, then you'll hold on," Emery shot back with the barely-there patience of a sleep-deprived mother dealing with a fussy toddler. Eventually, though, he held onto her shoulders—which was an improvement, but it was also going to get annoying fast. It made her feel like he was trying to steer with her, or strangle her, or give her a massage, and she was about to snap at him that he'd better be thinking of the latter if he was to keep them there because she wasn't too fond of hands that close to her neck.

God's balls, he had every reason to hate her, but he didn't have to act like she was plagued. It was a relief when he put his arms around her waist like a normal person, though, and she let a breath out through her nose and tried to recenter herself.

This was going to be...challenging.

"I've no interest in bedding you, either. You wouldn't know what to do with a woman if she came with instructions. Now please, for the love of God, shut up for five minutes."

They were going somewhere now, at least. She got Hilda going at a steady trot, but knew she would not be able to maintain the pace the whole way. With the extra weight on her back, she would need to rest her, but for now they could cover a bit of ground—

He did not shut up.

The sound that came out of him was so unexpected, so off the cuff, and so very much unlike the oh so prim image she had of the mage that for a moment she thought it might be Hilda—until he outed himself.

And Emery died.

Right there, she died.

Maybe it was the sleep deprivation. Maybe it was because she had grown up amongst a bunch of boys and men and had never outgrown that stupid sense of humor. Either way, it hit just right, and she curled forward, shaking with the sheer effort it took to stay silent.

And failing. Hard.

Her stomach hurt, tears burned at the corners of her eyes, and she laughed until she was sore. It was quiet, breathy laughter, because goddammit she was trying! And then, when her shoulders stopped spasming and she felt she could speak again, her voice carried back to him—quiet, but loud enough for him to catch.

"Weak." He couldn't see her, but she was grinning, reaching up quickly to wipe at her eyes. "Seven out of ten. I've done better."

[Avelithe]

"Excuse me?" Alkereth scoffed. "How would you know that? If I ever had the opportunity—which I refuse by choice, by the way—I'll wager that I'd make an excellent lover."

Was he being serious? A man of a god he may be, but when it came to certain shortcomings (like his blatant virginity), he took it personally!

"Don't tell me to be quiet, YOU be quiet. Why are you laughing?" Alkereth groaned out loud, knowing very well why Emery was wheezing like a dying hyena. "I could have crashed literally anywhere else in the world... but no, no... had to be here..."

Alkereth's expression looked a little pained as he took one hand off the Mordecai's waist to pat his gurgling stomach. "Now you're rating flatulence? How uncouth. You are terrible." He paused, rubbing his tummy. "Something in that hare, I suppose..."

If Emery thought that was the last time she'd hear (or smell) anything, she was wrong. Her riding companion continued to break wind for a while until he declared urgently, "I really need to go!" Without waiting for a reply, he slid off Hilda and started hopping bow-leggedly into the nearest and thickest bush.

"D-don't come 'round here, it's... it's really... well, just don't. It's so embarrassing. AAAAHHHHhhhhhhh..."

Sounds like he just relieved himself. Eww.

[Rhindeer]

...Guess it was a good thing she hadn't eaten, after all.

Because the mage was having one hell of a time, and so was she by extension, considering she had to smell it.

"Good God, man, okay, that one was more of a nine," Emery said, just to mortify the shit out of him. Maybe literally. She tucked her face against her arm with a grimace, trying to protect her nose. "You need to change your britches? That one sounded kind of juicy—"

Aaaaand there he went!

He practically flew off of Hilda, warning her not to follow as though she had any desire to be involved in that. Bringing her horse to a stop, Emery deflated forward against Hilda's neck, pressing her face into her mane because she couldn't. She just couldn't. Of course this would be her luck, and she'd told him to eat her share, too! She was practically complicit in the poisoning, and she kind of needed him not to die. Feeling a little giddy from exhaustion and the sheer, compounded absurdity of her life right now, she was once again taken by a fit of helpless laughter that was not at all helped by the memory of his hobble of shame nor the unholy sounds currently coming from that bush.

This was so. Goddamn. Stupid.

"Why me?" she mused out loud between gasps of breath. "I knew it. I just knew it. God take the reins, I am being tested. Are you still alive over there? Holy shit."