OOC: Tags to Anadwen!
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Spring time in the valley meant the trees were flowering and fruits, beginning to grow. All through the air the sweet scents felt consuming as the woman clad in men's clothing and thin, leather armor, made her way through the narrow path of apple trees. There were apple trees as far as the eye could see, and just about all of them were beginning to bear fruit and as the winds rustled through the branches, the petals began to pulls away and fell down towards the ground like snow.
Were she to take the time to admire such aspects of the world, she'd come to realize it was beautiful, but the flower petals and delicious apple smells (whihc were hardly delicious to her, as she was not quite the biggest fan of apples herself), she had more important things to do.
She had sensed the shadow seed somewhere int he valley and knew she was getting closer. The blood in her veins burned, her heart beat, becoming quicker and she skin began to tingle. Yes, a seed was close at hand and she could feel the shadows within grow stronger- even in the daylight.
But was it here? In this maze of trees and apples? It was hard to discern, and her blood-red eyes peered out behind a veil of blonde hair- the only bits of her face revealed behind the mask covering her mouth and the cloak over her head. The dark colored cloak now appeared spotted as it collected petals on her shoulders and throughout the wrinkles, and she paused a moment to brush some off and brush her blonde hair from her eyes.
To anyone else, she might have looked peculiar clothed so secretively-
and to anyone else, she'd appear a man. The identity easily hid away behind bindings and leather, Iyla Krue continued onward through the orchard rounding a bend to find herself confronted with yet more apple trees as she sighed.
This was going to be a very long walk. She wasn't a fan of apples- and she wasn't a fan of Connlaoth.
Crimson light of the sunset glazed the ripe fruit with its shine. The dark shadows hardly moved at all, except for rustling leaves and branches, gently bending under the weight of the apples. Only a couple of tall, dark figures shifted through the orchard.
"Definitely not!" Athran laughed, throwing his arms into the air. The long sleeves of his black robe trembled in the wind and silver rings, visible from beneath the gauntlets, glinted in the sunlight. "I still have some wine with me... Why'd I spend my precious time with those rotten rats?" He shook his head. The clinking of chains on his beautifully crafted circlet, adorned with rubies and a pair of dark wings, filled the air. Ryuch cackled. It wasn't a disappointment at all to find this strange knight... And so many apples.
His long hand reached out to the branches and pulled out a beautiful, ripe fruit. He listened to Athran's laughter while his sharp teeth skewed into the apple and bit a large piece of it off with loud crunching. If his companion only wasn't so drunk... He could feel the smell of wine even from the exquisite jewelry he wore - as if the rubies and silver itself were soaked with the scent. However, Athran was fortunately too drunk to care about being pulled out of a celebration.
The death god grinned at the sight of the elf, and grabbed another apple. They were so juicy... Delicious... Full of life... Their sweet taste was almost hypnotizing. His black eyes stared at the juice, streaming from the fruit in his long fingers, utterly obsessed with it.
"You really love... Those apples, don't you, Ryuchie?" Athran asked, showing him a wide grin. The death god raised a brow in confusion. "What? Oh... The apples... They are... Simply delicious. The ones in the realm of the death gods are withered, and dry like sand. These are as sweet and juicy as this world of yours." he explained him. Athran nodded. "The wine's better, though." His lips, crimson with the red wine, twisted into a smirk. He turned around the trees, dragging the long robe behind himself, and sang one of the quick, lively songs of which he knew a nice few, but only ever got to show his skills off after drinking at least half a bottle. Ryuch watched as he climbed one of the trees and hung himself from its tall branches. The robe was long under his feet, and he was laughing at the sky.
Another apple fell down to Ryuch's feet. "Feast till they're ripe!" the elf laughed, and threw his companion more. Ryuch was starting to really enjoy this... So many apples! Mortals are interesting...
"It's fun for you to give if it's not yours to take, heh heh!" he laughed, and grabbed the apples, chomping once one, then another.
The laughter and voices carried through the tree and made Iyla pause in mid-stride. She gave a curious tilt of her head in it's direction and contemplated moving the other way. However, the shadow seed was somewhere here, and she had to figure out if it might be anywhere near those voices- or if Gods forbid, one of those persons had the seed in their possession. Narrowing her gaze, she stalked forward like a panther, sleek and crouching low to the ground. She remained to the shadows, having them aid in hiding her form, though her glamour would become muddled when the daylight would break through the fluttering leaves as the wind blew.
And as the wind blew her coppery hair away from her face, she rounded another bend and spotted a pair of men on the other side. Keeping back, she crouched even lower and peered through the tree branches. It was best not to let them see her and again, she kept to the shadows to keep her form hidden completely from their view. Though red eyes watched them and from what she could see, the one with pointed ears seemed drunk- well that, or he was crazy. Who would be crazy enough to drink this early in the day? Let alone become drunk? Perhaps he was crazy and drunk- though what threw her off was the presence of the thing next to him, for she had no idea what to make of it. And was it eating apples? It seemed somewhat human, though decidedly not. That made her frown. She hoped it was not some creature of shadow- for if she was near another such beast, it would deter her senses from detecting the shadow seeds and she'd rather not confront such a creature. Most shadow creatures were constantly at war with one another- and she knew of no exceptions.
Deciding it was best to slip away unnoticed, Iyla turned to go but as she did so, her boot sunk into an open looped root. Blinking, she stared down and gave her leg a jerk- but the damn thing was stuck. Swearing beneath her breath, she bent over and began to tug at it, but no matter how much she pulled- the boot remained, locked within the root.
Leaning her back into the tree, she grumbled and swore some more hotly between clenched teeth.
How the heck did she get herself stuck on a tree!?
"Maybe if you'd get off the tree, you'd see something interesting." Ryuch shrugged, throwing yet another apple into his mouth. Athran nodded and attempted to climb the tree down once again and continue walking, but a part of his long robe got stuck between the branches, and pulled him back. The death god only watched as he pulled it forth, until the branch broke, and his companion collapsed from the tree onto the ground with a loud scream. His crow-like laugh echoed through the orchard.
Athran raised himself to his elbows and slowly stood up. He managed to land face-down on the grass, without showing even the smallest bit of elven grace which he usually so proudly presented. He groaned, and dusted the sleeves of his robe off. Ryuch threw an apple at him. "Take this!" he shouted. The elf only shook his head and reached after the wineskin, hanging by his side. "Wine is..."
His hand found nothing except the black belt. The wineskin was... "...gone." The wine was gone! He must have lost it somewhere... The death god smacked his head, cackling. This was the best knight in the mortal world he could have followed.
They begun walking again, Athran still rubbing the dirt off his forearms, and Ryuk chewed his apple with loud rusking. The chains, hanging from the garments of both, clinked in the breeze with every step. It was a soft, gentle sound, only a little louder than the rustling of leaves. All of a sudden, Athran stopped. Ryuch turned to him, raising a brow in a question. "There's something over there..." the elf explained him, and stepped forth towards a shadow amid the trees.
There was a woman... Stuck in a tree. The knight turned his head towards his companion and burst out laughing. Ryuch joined him, and they both stood behind her like a couple of statues, only laughing loudly. Eventually, Athran's laughter passed away, and he bent over to the woman with a wide grin on his face. "Well met! I see you are stuck, aren't you?" he asked. Ryuch behind him chuckled. "You are stating the most obvious thing around..." he muttered, grabbing another apple.
OOC: Just to clarify, Iyla is dressed as a man, her face cloaked- so her gender would seem presumably male ^_^
Also, lol- I kept giggling at Athran- I wonder where his precious wine skin had gone? X3
And lastly, Iyla's boot is stuck int he tree root, so she's not in the tree so much as next to it XD
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The second the strange pair came to inspect her, she gave a growl and another tug at her boot- but the damn thing was still stuck in the three's gnarled root. And here this mis-matched pair was, laughing at her! She felt her blood rising as she let out a growl, gaze narrowing upon them. Though Ryuch was a strange one, it was Athran her gaze was focused upon.
"And I don't think it's any of your concern," she growled, keeping her voice masked in a deeper, harsher tone. "Just continue drinking your wine, fool. If you came over here to help, I do not need it."
(((OOC: Athran is so drunk that he could call her a lady even if she was a 2 meters tall broad-shouldered man)))
Athran laughed again. "What a sharp tongue! Let me pull you out, alright?" He grabbed her waist with his hands, and attempted to tug her out. His heels delved into the soft ground as he pulled, but all he managed to do was trip over something and collapse onto the grass once again.
Ryuch laughed, watching as the circlet sled aside and the chains covered his left eye. The chain with a cross, adorned with rubies, was hanging in an odd angle at his chest, too, making him look like a rather posh scarecrow. The elf growled, glaring at him from beneath the silver and his black hair.
"Don't encourage him to drink more, please. He'd break even an anvil if he got another bottle. He's had one drink too many, anyway." the death god uttered, chomping one of the apples. His remark was met with an offended glance of Athran's bright eyes.
Iyla's face twisted as she examined the peculiar 'friend' of this fallen elf. But she was really cringing at how close Athran had gotten. His breath stunk! And he had touched her. She dusted her waist off after the man had fallen over himself, just incase there was anything but invisible dirt on her leather attire.
"I can get out on my own,"s he growled. "Besides, you're drunk. Go sober up elsewhere. My boot stuck in a tree root is embarrassing enough with you and your giggling companion pestering me."
Though as she turned to observe the apple eating... thing, she felt herself sense something other worldly about him and blinked. There was something darker about him and she had to wonder- he wasn't connected with one of the shadow seeds was he? The seeds she sought were even more difficult to acquire when a damn human (or like wise 'thing' (whatever Ryuch was!)) had taken a hold of it. She'd rather not go through that whole scenario again.
"I do what I chose to do!" Athran replied, slowly standing up and correcting the jewelry on his body to the right angles. This person was definitely not even trying to be nice... But in this state, his sarcastic nature took over, and he decided to tease her instead of leaving. Ryuch watched as he approached Iyla again with a wide grin on his dark lips.
"Besides, your company is so amusing. Come on, and drop more of those jewels, sweetie. Such flattering words and good advice is hard to find these days, you know." he said. Ryuch threw the remaining half of an apple he was currently eating into the back of Athran's head and shook his head. "Leave her alone... She's not too fond of you. You stink of wine, you crazy thing."
"What are you to judge? You smell of death." Athran winged off.
"Naturally."
"You stink like bones."
"I'm a death god, not a drunk elf." Ryuch shrugged.
At what Ryuch proclaimed, she began to wonder if both of these men were drunk. But out of the things she had seen in her life time, meeting a death god would seem to fit right in! She never truly believed in darker beings until that fateful night in the cave...
But the moment her mind went back to that day, she slammed the door on the memories and hardened her gaze.
"Come any closer and I'll kick you between the legs," she warned Athran. "Go back to your wine skin. I'm sure you lost it in that tree you fell from." And she bent back over, and tried to give a few more tugs at her stuck boot. Gods, why wasn't her foot just coming free!? Clearly the Gods just wanted to torture her!
Athran glared at her boot, then proceeded to slowly and gracefully (as gracefully as a drunk elf can) unsheath the Black Sword. His hands, gripping the handles, arose, and he aimed the blade at the root. "Let me cut you out, then."
Ryuch nodded, glancing at the stranger. "He's got quite a good aim, even though he finished about a barrel of wine." he admitted. This woman wasn't anything usual... He couldn't see her lifespan. Above her head, the name Iyla Krue was glinting, but there was no age. His black eyes widened, and he stepped forth towards her, before Athran attempted to cut the root.
"Iyla. You are not a human." he proclaimed plainly.
"Cut the root?" Iyla blanched. Oh HELL no! She wasn't about to let a drunken elf cut her foot off. Just because she was immortal didn't mean she wouldn't lose that foot when she returned back to her mortal form. And recalling how painful it was to return to her mortal body each time, she let out a sudden wail of a cry that came out bloodcurdlingly from deep within her throat before she attempted to slam her fist into Athran's face.
"GET THE HELL AWAY FROM ME!"
And turning sharply at Ryuch's comment, she bared her teeth at him and growled.
"And neither are you!" She said pointedly.
Athran's hand grabbed her fist at an inhuman speed. His face, till now twisted in a provocative grin, became ice-cold and hard. As if the effect of the wine was gone for a moment, he pulled her hand up, and stretching her body like a bowstring, his knee arose to hit her in the stomach.
"Don't you dare try that. Ever again." he growled. Ryuch raised a brow at his quick skills, but then shrugged, realizing that Athran had five centuries of experience, which surely outmatched the few bottles of wine. His hand reached for another fruit.
"Off course I'm not a human." he replied nonchalantly.
The blow to the gut wasn't expected. Had he been a normal, foolish elf,s he might have been more prepared to stop his fist connecting with her stomach. She dropped to one knee as he still held onto her arm. Damn elf had some muscle behind his blow, and she felt herself trembling as the pain ached within her gut.
But as she remained on one knee, her damn boot still stuck in the tree root, the clouds rolled over head, casting them all in soft shadows. And it was only here her lips twitched into a smile, and a moment later- Iyla disappeared.
Athran only stared at what was a human a moment ago in confusion. Where has she gone? Was it another trick of his wine-soaked brain? He didn't think so - even like this, he didn't use to hallucinate. No, this was a different trick.
Ryuch's bony hand pointed at something in the air. His eyes could still see her body there. Nothing can escape the eyes of a death god, no matter whether it was invisible, or not - the name was still visibly there. He chuckled silently, and his laughter eventually grew louder and louder. "I can see you, Iyla Krue. Stop hiding in the shadows!"
She appeared above them, in the trees as she glared down at the creepy, Ryuch thing.
"Apple eater!"s he called out haughtily, throwing her shoulders back and chest out as she kept a firm grip on the branches of the apple tree. "How is it that you know my name?" For clearly she had not given it! She narrowed her eyes at the being suspiciously. Yes, from what she could sense- he did not feel human or really, of anything of this world!
"I am a death god. It's hovering above your head, Iyla Krue. What is, however, more interesting, is that you lack the lifespan that should be underneath it." Ryuch admitted. Athran chuckled. "That's right... He knows everyone's name."
"However, you should be careful. The fact that there are a few numbers missing doesn't mean I can't kill you in one minute." All of a sudden, Ryuch's grin appeared scary. The elf threw his head back in laughter. It was always so exciting to watch Ryuch mess with mortals!
Mess around or not, Iyla was not about to stick around to find out what 'more' a death god could do. She had no idea what to make of the nonsense he was sputtering- but then again, if she were to admit what sort of curse was upon her- who would believe her as well?
Tapping into the shadows again, she disappeared, traveling through them to another path in the orchard. Though she made sure she was far enough away so in hopes the peculiar death god wouldn't follow. Or his drunken elf companion. The first gave her the creeps, the other- she just didn't like.
And with her tail seemingly between her legs, she swiftly moved down the path in hopes to lose the pair. She had a shadow seed to find, after all.
Ryuch's wide wings with ruffled feathers sprang from his back and he arose to the air, pursuing Iyla with Athran behind his heels. His widely grinning head appeared before his face, revealing the sharp teeth, and the juice of an apple he was currently eating flowed down their edges.
"Ah, why all of a sudden such a haste?" he asked. She seemed to want to get away from them... It most likely wasn't going to happen.
Athran, who sobered up at least a little over the chase, however, didn't see her, and crashed right into her, thinking that Ryuch was staring at him, instead of the invisible stranger. A confused grimace appeared on his face. "What's... Is that her?" he asked.
Iyla was taken back by the sudden appearance of the death God. With her hand clutching to her chest, she hadn't the time to evade the drunken elf as he ran clean into her. Smashing off of Ryuch from the force, with an 'ooof!' she dropped to her knees between them and her form reappeared, the shadow powers no longer keeping her hidden from sight.
Athran cursed as she appeared before him. "Do you have to keep running and falling all the time?" he glowered. Ryuch laughed shortly, landing on the ground and crossing his arms on his chest.
"I'm sorry if I surprised you. However, your behavior is quite strange. I'm curious, you know." he said. He tilted his head aside and watched her with his glinting black eyes. Athran groaned. "Well, I'm not sorry!" In his opinion, she got what she deserved for trying to punch him. Most people that tried to do so ended up worse.
"Stalking in an orchard is quite strange, don't you think?" he asked.
Iyla had no idea what to make of the pair, but it seemed her first attempt to be rid of them had been thwarted. Glaring at Ryuch, as he was apparently the one to blame for this, she pushed herself off of the grass.
"Not as strange as two people getting drunk in one,"s he muttered, and worked at dusting herself off while casting a glare Athran's way.
"Only one." Ryuch corrected her. "I can't get drunk. I don't even like the taste of wine... Apples, on the other side..." The pointed tip of his tongue flashed on his lips, and he threw the fruit he was currently eating into the air.
Athran leaned forwards. "It's still weird. I can get drunk wherever I want, but what's your excuse? Huh?" he questioned her with suspicion. The effects of the wine were clearly passing away, and his brain was starting to function normally, making connections between events and circumstances. Ryuch surely noticed it, and both of them pierced Iyla with sharp glances.
Iyla glared at the pair of them as they looked at her that way.
"What are you looking at? I was just passing through,"s he growled, challeningly. "It's not like I wanted to run into a pair of misfits like you."
"It's funny how the main, shorter road leads three miles souther." Athran growled. He had a feeling that she was lying. Ryuch remained silent, but his eyes were glued to her. Off course, it could have been truth - but both of them doubted it, due to different reasons, though. Ryuch never understood humans and didn't completely believe every word they said, and Athran was too paranoid to trust anyone at all.
Iyla was carefully watched by two pairs of glinting eyes, and neither of them moved away.
These two men were giving her the creeps. There was only one solution to this, try walking away again. And after casting both of them a mean glare, she did just that.
"Don't follow me this time,"s he growled. She had a job to do, and she could feel the damn shadow seed close by! Her blood was tingling even more now, and as she picked up the pace, she realized, she must be heading the right way. Hoping the other two would have lost interest in her, Iyla keeps focused on the road ahead until she makes it to the end of the orchard but all she can see before her is an endless expanse of tall grasses.
"Shit."
Was the shadow seed in there? She took a few hesitant steps forward, but the burn inside her body only confirmed it. She had to keep moving this way.
Ryuch glanced at Athran with an untold question in his eyes. The elf nodded - it was an agreement in the decision to follow her. Softly putting their feet onto the ground, they walked after her, watching every her step. She seemed suspicious... Both of them were old enough to pick up an unusual traveler when they saw one.
However, they almost lost her when they found themselves on the edge of a grass field. Ryuch appeared almost sad that there were no more apple trees, but Athran peered into the field, and was able to pick up her track, leading through the tall grass. Gesturing Ryuch to follow, he kept walking, carefully watching his steps not to make a sound.
What was she searching for? She couldn't have appeared in the middle of an orchard without a reason, and then walk to a field like this just like that.
Iyla wasn't born yesterday. She knew the two others followed her. But she had one job to do, and she wasn't about to let them get in her way. So as she walked through the fields, the tall grasses rolled like ocean waves as far as the eye could see. The tips of the grass scratched and tickled at her skin, but she ignored it. And in the air, pollen floated about like balls of furry sunshine, some of it even sticking against her cloak and the pieces of red-blonde hair that fluttered out from beneath it.
Red eyes remained forward, ever focused as one gloved hand came up and moved about unseen, sensing as it swept slowly back and forth- hoping to catch which direction the shadow seed might be. But as she continued to walk, she gave paused and realized, she strong sensation of the shadow seeds power was beginning to dull. blinking, she took a few steps back and felt it grow stronger again.
Peering over her shoulder, her eyes darted around before she herself spun around slowly on her heels and began to back track until the seed's power faded yet again. Frowning, she glanced down at the grasses.
"Damn." The seed had to be underground. ANd of course, she had no items in which to help her dig- and she had no idea how far down the seed might be. She needed to come up with a plan, and when she looked around, she noted the elf and death god following her.
Standing there, she kept her red eyes upon them as a gust of wind swept through the fields and rattled the tall grass. Perhaps....
No...
No, no. She worked alone. She wasn't about to ask those two for help. And strolling back in the direction in which she came, she began to make her way back towards the orchard. She knew there was a city back way. She supposed she could buy a shovel there....
This time, it was not Ryuch, but Athran, that crashed right into her first. He was too busy following her footprints, not even noticing the shadow of hers that appeared nearby, and when he made one more step forth, he walked into her.
Immediately straightening into his full height, he glared at her. Ryuch's crow-like laugh echoed from behind, loud and harsh - the death god was obviously enjoying an awkward moment like this, what was most likely why he didn't even warn him. Athran gave him a short scolding glance, and crossed his arms on his chest, turning his attention back to Iyla.
"Now this is getting suspicious. I know it's none my business, but you don't even appear local." he growled.
Iyla glared back at him.
"I could say the same thing to you. Elves are not common in Connlaoth." Not that it mattered. This one was obviously crazy and she didn't bother to give him the time of day as she stepped around him and continued pushing her wall through the itchy, tall grass. Thankfully she wore body armor that almost completely covered her skin. The only flesh that was visible was on her face, and her red eyes.
Athran grabbed her by her armour as she walked around, and shook his head. "Look, you're obviously doing something unusual in here. Better tell, since I'm also getting a bit tired of following you around, and searching for you. No, I'm definitely not going to let you go." he explained her, sounding almost cynically.
Ryuch's laugh grew louder, and the death god eventually appeared behind him. "You have about as much tact as a log of wood, Athran. But yes, I must admit, I am curious as well. You aren't human. Where should your lifespan appear in my vision is just a blank field... Here Athran is only doing me a service by holding you on one place long enough for me to get answers." he said.
Iyla gave her arm a jerk, but his grip was tight and unyielding, so she couldn't just pull her arm away. She narrowed her gaze at Athran.
"You'll let go of my arm before my fist finds your face," she warned. "I don't have to tell you or your companion anything. Besides, I told you not to follow me. I'm sure you've got better things to do with your time. Like plucking your precious wine skin from that tree over there."
And she pointed towards a branch in one of the apple trees at on the other side of the orchard. The only reason she could even see it from here was because it was in shadows. Too bad there weren't alot of shadows in the field, or else Athran would be sorry. Her little parlor tricks to be able to fade into the shadows and travel in them worked best at night when it was dark, or in places heavily shadowed.
BUt out here in daylight? Not so much. And that irritated her. Besides, why the heck did this elf even care what she did? It was more suspicious HE was following around with a death god, and at the very idea, she glared at Ryuch.
Athran grabbed her wrists with his other arm. "Your fist isn't going to find anything. And my wineskin is long out of my interest. Besides, it may be impolite to grab a lady, but to ignore questions is, too." his voice was calm and cold, and he didn't appear drunk anymore.
While Athran was serious, Ryuch was only showing her a curious grin. He reached out after her, and grabbed her shoulder. There was no heat beneath the clothes - like a death god, she seemed dead on touch, but she was definitely not one... "What are you, Iyla Krue?" he asked. "You feel like a creature from my own realm. A death god."
Iyla's gaze narrowed. For a stick thin elf (for clealry, he was not built like an ox like some Adelan men or Connlaothian men were), he had quite the hard grip on her. And as she tried to pull free, she growled beneath her breath. Her angered breath might have been the only source of heat on her and when he made his little comment about her fist being useless, well- she'd just have to use something else-
and before he'd know what she was doing- she bashed her head into his- hard.
It would probably leave him stunned, as it was making her own eyes see double but she had been prepared for it and used the moment to tear her arms away, but when she turned around to make a get away- she ran smack into Ryuch, who she hadn't even realized was lingering that close by.
She ended up running into him then dropping onto the grasses with a painful curse. Staring up at the creature when he posed his question, her gaze narrowed as she spun away and pushed herself back onto her feet.
"What I am is getting the hell out of here." And she took off running, hoping to get the orchard before they could catch up. If she did that, she could disappear into the shadows and they'd never be able to follow her, because she could shadow hop most of the way to the nearby village.
That was.. if she could make it.
Athran's vision went black for a short moment, feeling as she bashed her head against his. He reached to his mouth, and at his own surprise, he found his crimson blood streaming from his nose. He gave her a confused glance with his bright eyes, and looked at Ryuch.
However, the death god was already far away, pursuing Iyla. His wings made it fast, and he was practically just floating a short distance behind her. The elf sighed and rushed to him, pulling his long robe through the grass. The jewelry, though beautiful on a celebration, was now rather impractical - the chains were just causing noise and getting in his way.
While still running, he took off the necklace, and wrapped it around his hand and wrist. One less thing bumping around and clinking every time he moved, and he already felt a tad lighter. He couldn't match Ryuch in this attire, but he was getting closer. He leaped into the air like a mountain lion.
His body, quickly passing through the air, hit Iyla, and threw them both over. He found himself atop her, and let out a groan when he raised himself to his elbows.
"Uh, hello." he growled.
The impact was painful and Iyla tumbled to the ground, elf on top. It hurt, as her face, arms and legs got scraped, even through her leather armor. And her head was pounding from where it had smashed into the ground- and moments before, had smashed into his head. Groaning, she heard his voice and snarled, spitting out grass and dirt.
"Get off!" she snarled, struggling beneath him as she worked out one leg and attempted to kick him.
Ryuch squatted next to them. "I'm sorry for the inconvenience," he said, grinning, "but I really do want the answers." His hands reached out for Iyla, but Athran, surprisingly, pushed them away.
He didn't appear amused at all. Actually, he looked furious. "Ryuch, I've had enough of this." he snarled, standing up and dusting himself off with one hand, while the other one still held Iyla. "I'm not going to chase this... Him... Her... This thing because it looks like someone from your home! I'm not some street thief. I'm the Black Sword. And this is completely disgraceful. Look, I'm curious, too, but I'm not going to jump into the mud because of it. If you want this, you will have to catch it yourself. You have that pair of wings, so use it, for the sake of the gods! I don't give a damn if you need to be around because of something some death god king said about my afterlife! If you're only going to cause me problems," his hand arose and pointed at the sky, "there's the door back to your realm! And you're very welcome to return!"
Ryuch's eyes seemed even bigger and rounder than before. If his face could show surprise, it was exactly what it was doing right now. He'd never expect Athran to react like that...
Iyla cared very little for what these two were arguing about, but the second the elf stepped off her, she got to her feet and tried to run again, but he still held her arm, growling, she gave a few more tugs before drawing out a dagger and pointing it towards him.
"Let go of my arm or you won't have it anymore,"s he threatened, baring her teeth behind the cloth that hid her mouth. Her gender, still being hidden, might not have mattered now anyway. It seemed both of these men figured out she was female- but she didn't care. She wanted away from these two crazy men, and she could only hope their bickering afforded her some distraction as she went to stomp a foot over top of Athran's.
Athran instinctively moved his foot away, still growling at Ryuch. "I don't care who or what gave you the command to follow me like a shadow! But you're getting me into problems! And you can tell your death god king that Athran Daineth is sending him a very distinct message: that if that command of his will get me to the grave any sooner than I should have died, I'm going to kick that dead ass of his once I get there!" His voice was turning into screaming.
Ryuch didn't say anything. His lips spread into a wide grin, and he stepped down onto the ground. Athran pointed at Iyla. "And if it's her that you're interested in so much, then take her! I don't want to have anything with her!" He pushed her forwards towards the death god, who immediately clenched his long, bony fingers around her shoulders. He turned to Athran, piercing him with an ice-cold glance.
One of his hands arose to Athran's neck, and his fingers grasped the elf's white skin. "If you escaped death once, it doesn't mean you can't escape it again. You are mortal, Athran Daineth. I am not." he whispered. Athran popped his eyes out, staring at him, and his hands forcibly freed himself from Ryuch's grasp.
The death god looked once again down at the girl, now in his own deathly cold grip. His smile was wide, but after the show off they just had, his sharp teeth seemed terrifying and dangerous.
Iyla was anything but happy to be shoved around like this and stuck between someone else's argument. Growing fed up, she pushed herself free of Ryuch's grip and growled in his face, then turned to Athran.
"Keep your childish arguments to yourselves! I want nothing to do with it!" Really..s he had other, more important things to do! And she wasted no time in turning away and trying to storm out of the field, but it seemed the orchard was so far away. Damn this field for being so large!
Though she had barely made it a few strides when suddenly- the ground began to shake. She landed the same moment the ground settled with an 'oof' and she lay there, dizzy from the fall as she clutched onto the side of her head.
"What the-"
She peered over her shoulder- had that creepy death god just did that? But then she sensed something- the shadow seed, it was moving!
Glancing down to the ground, it was then she realized- whatever had the seed, or wherever it was- it was moving, and moving fast- and right beneath their feet!
And just as she began to push herself onto her knees, her eyes went wide as she watched the ground ripple beneath the field grasses as a long, snake like creature was pushing t's way through- though it did not emerge from the dirt, Iyla watched in horror as the snaking form of moving dirt began to head directly towards her at inhumanly fast speed- and it was only out of sheer luck she remembered to throw herself out of the way as the hissing pile of dirt raced past her.
Iyla landed on her ass, her eyes large, her heart nearly beating outside of her chest.
"What the hell was that!?"
But as the mass continued to move away from her- she sensed the shadow seed's power fade. Oh... so she was right.Whatever this creature was... it possessed the shadow seed she needed. Baring her teeth, she pushed herself up off of the ground and kept a hand hoovering over the dagger at her side.
Athran glared at Ryuch from the ground where he dropped, gasping and trying to catch his breath after the death god's brutal grip, but in the moment when the ground shook, their argument stopped. They watched Iyla collapse, and a strange, snake-like thing arose from the ground. It appeared like a shadow, and it quickly made its way towards them...
It was only natural for both of them to quickly get out of the way. It didn't take long to figure out that the creature was carrying something that the girl was after, judging by her expressions, even Ryuch would have known that.
Athran pushed himself to his feet, ripping the cross from the ornate chain, entwined around his hand. His fist clenched around its sharp edges, and tore it from the silver, breaking the soft bonds that held it onto it. Its razor-sharp shape broke the soft leather of his gauntlets, and with his crimson blood on the shining silver, he picked it up above his head and tossed it at the creature.
It hit its target as accurately as ever, and both Athran and Ryuch bolted after what was left of the strange creature. It was twisting on the ground, with smoke rising from his remains, wildly shaking, but Athran simply reached for what appeared like a big dark marble, and kicked the snake-like creature away. Ryuch reached after the stone, but the elf hid it in his hand, and didn't let go.
Now they'll be on different terms...
Iyla hadn't noticed what Ryuch and Athran were up to- for while a peculiar snake like creature appeared before them- the massive ground snake that had been racing past Iyla suddenly turned around- and while the woman's heart was still beating almost clean out of her chest, she watched in horror as the dirt exploded, and a massive worm-monster came roaring out of the earth and placed her in it's huge shadow.
It had a series of two mouths- one primary one that one would have expected to see, but as his inner mouth was exposed and rows of teeth glinted were seen- a second, deeper mouth opened within it's throat to expose even more teeth and an even louder roar- and before Iyla knew what was happening, the massive, toothed worm came barreling her way!
She only had a second to react, and using the shadows, she twisted into them, but was reappearing mere seconds later as her body ended up collided with the long, bumped body of the sandy colored worm creature and it sent her tumbling onto the ground. She would have been crushed had the monster been just a few inches over- and she watched in horror as it continued to slither past her at incredible speeds-
and she didn't even realize it, but the creature was now roaring and heading straight towards Athran! And with it's massive mouths opened, it was evidently ready to gobble the elf whole!
Athran screamed something - most likely a curse, but through the clinking metal and roaring of the worm that couldn't be distinguished - and quickly pulled out the Black Sword, avoiding the huge jaws with a long step aside. Its blade glinted in the stray beams of sun, and flashed as he leaped into the air.
The marble somehow got into Ryuch's hands, and in a matter of a mere second, Athran was up in the air. With two clean, lightning-fast strikes, he cut off the two outer jaws of the worm, making a great turn in the air while avoiding the inner ones, and landed back on his feet. The worm roared, its murky blood dripping off the Black Sword, and its inner jaws, with the rows of sharp teeth, were aimed at Ryuch.
The death god, surprisingly, didn't do anything. He just stood there, staring at something in the distance, clutching the marble in his hands. His head disappeared in the worm's mouth, but when it attempted to bite the death god, its sharp teeth couldn't even pierce his skin. "Mortal creatures have funny ideas about death gods!" he shouted, but from the worm's intestines, it came out only as muffled mumbling. Athran screamed, and skewed the sword deep into the worm.
Ryuch bent his knees even more than before, and slipped from the worm's jaws, shaking the slippery saliva off his hair and face. The worm was shaking, but its body was slowly sinking against the Black Sword's blade, which created a bigger and bigger hole with every inch the worm went down. Eventually, it sled off the weapon, and collapsed onto the ground, dead.
The elf himself wiped the slime from his long hair, slicking it back. The winged circlet was lost somewhere behind, but he didn't seem to have even noticed. Ryuch, holding the black ball against the sun, stared at its shadowy surface. "What is this?" he whispered.
"I'd rather ask what is THIS." Athran replied, poking the corpse with the tip of his boot. "And if there's more... I've a bad feeling it's not done yet."
It wasn't in her character to stare and just gape, but dumbfounded she was- that was all she could do as she watched the elf tear the massive worm to pieces. She wasn't sure what to even make of it, but she was thankful the damn thing was dead!
Rising to her feet, she realized the shadow seed was still present, and that's when she noticed the death god had it and her skin paled. Faster than light, she moved across the field and when she reappeared beside Ryuch, she was practically stumbling over her own two feet.
"Give that to me!" she said, and made a quick grab for it.
Ryuch's hand arose high above her head. Both him and Athran laughed, harshly like ravens on a battlefield, and shook their heads. "Say please." Ryuch asked her.
"Say pretty please." Athran added, crossing his arms on his chest, still holding the Black Sword in his right.
"And answer my questions." The marble in Ryuch's hand flashed between his fingers, when his hand hid it again.
Now they held her in check. None of them was going to give it up any soon. For all the inconveniences, Athran wanted to see her beg on her knees, and Ryuch wanted all his answers. Every single one.
"And if you try to attack us," the Black Sword softly poked her into her chest with the tip of the blade, "this will go deep into you. Very deep." Athran warned her. The death god cackled.
Please? Were these two for real? Maybe she was dreaming- but the way her body was yearning, pulling, begging for her to touch and retrieve the shadow seed-s he knew it was not and she bared his teeth at the pair of them.
"I'm not afraid of either of you. And I'm nto about to become anyone else's slave!" They couldn'tkill er- she was invincible in this form- even if later, when she had to return to her mortal state, she'd regret it. But drawing out a dagger, it appeared as if she was about to take up Athran on his word- to fight his blade with just a puny dagger-
BUt the moment she turned from Ryuch to charge Athran- the entire ground suddenly erupted beneath her-
ANd a second massive worm appeared- and just before their eyes- it gobbled the woman whole before giving a roar and clamping it's mouth shut, and began to plow it's way back into the dirt.
Athran smacked the creature and immediately after threw himself out of the way of the worm, which seemed to aim for him after the flat side of the blade hit it. It mysteriously ignored Ryuch, who jumped up into the air, and was now floating somewhere behind the closest apple tree. The elf growled, quickly standing back up to his feet. It just ate Iyla. Whole. Swallowed her like Maigrod would swallow a steak.
He charged towards the beast, repeatedly stabbing it and slashing its body, while avoiding its biting jaws. Leaping over its tail, which was still half hidden in the ground, his feet touched the ground again, a bit further from the rows of clinking teeth, reaching after him. The worm was roaring, but Athran was faster than it.
At least he thought. When the creature spit out a large portion of saliva, his feet in thin-soled boots slipped on the goo, and he hardly avoided falling onto the ground. The slashing jaws reached after him, and before the Black Sword skewed into them, ripped a large part of his sleeve off, leaving a bite mark on his arm. He groaned, and kicked the worm. His arms straightened, and stabbed the worm right into its open jaws. It emitted an even louder roar, its fangs repeatedly trying to bite Athran's hands off, but it was only twisting in its dying agony.
Its corpse sled of the tip of Athran's sword, now partly covered in his own crimson blood. It smote the worm once again, cutting its head off, and cutting its intestines open. Athran blindly stabbed into the disgusting mass of flesh and organs, trying to reach Iyla.
When the worm was cut open, steam rose from the gooey innards of the beast as it settled into death. Though it was still warm from the aftermath of it's life, the worm was massive so ti would be hard to figure out just where Iyla might have been swallowed, but another slash later opened a large enough gash in its side that the woman slid out, an dher body slipped across the slick grasses- grasses that had turned into a mass of sticky goo and worm insides the moment the elf had cut it open, and she settled into them, her body, still breathing, still moving, but it seemed the woman had become unconscious, and did not move from where she lay.
Her cloak was suctioned to her form, and the hood, having long since been knocked off, revealed her red hair now plastered against her-
the only thing still intact was the clothe worn across her mouth-
though even that was soaked in blood and saliva and intestinal fluids from inside the worm.
And her black leather armor seemed to glisten like silver off the daylight.
Well, it seemed the elf had won for now- but what he won, it was hard to discern- and from his reckless, blind chopping at the worm from his sword, it might have been evident that he might have (or the worms sharp teeth) cut a gash into Iyla's side, and instead of bleeding red blood like any other human, the woman's side was weeping inky, black blood, instead.
Athran poked Iyla with the tip of his boot. "You. Are you still alive?" he groaned, still gasping for hiis breath. Ryuch, who was once again on the ground, nodded instead of her. "She appears to be. I can still see her name - and it's visible as long as she's alive." he explained to his companion.
"Everything except the worms is alive, then." the elf concluded, ripping off a part of his other, undamaged sleeve, to cover the shallow wounds on his arms. It wasn't much of a problem, only a slight inconvenience, and as long as he will get the time to clean the bites soon, a week later, he'll hardly remember them.
However, it appeared worse with the woman, when he stepped to her to find out what being swallowed by a worm has done to her. She seemed entirely covered in sticky fluids from the inside of the worm. He grabbed her by her legs, and pulled her out of the pool of blood and intestines, creating a long stain where he pulled her body.
Ryuch helped him rip another part of his robe with one of the knives he hid underneath, and Athran wiped the worm-fluids off Iyla's face with the dirty scrap of black fabric. There was a strange, inky blood streaming from her side, which none of them understood.
It was unfortunate that none of them was a healer, but Athran at least figured that much that it would help if he'd cut the upper part of her armour off, and cover the wound with something. A thin blade of a knife cut the leather armour off. Athran, unfortunately, appeared completely clueless, as if he had no idea how to continue. Ryuch just shrugged when he gave him that confused glance. "Don't look at me. Death gods don't bleed."
When the leather armor was cut open, more than just the wound was exposed. The bindings that kept her gender hidden were revealed, and her body looked almost as if it were wrapped up tightly like a mummy and it's wraps! Though, her gender still did not give the elf any answers to how to treat her wound. And though the woman could not die, she could when she returned to her mortal form if all of her shadow blood was lost in battle. After all, she still had to endure these pains a second time when she'd return to her mortal form, but for now- it seemed the woman would still remain unconscious, her chest rising and following as she gave gentle, slow breaths.
Athran sighed. He'll have to treat her like he'd treat himself - what was quite hard, and possibly painful at first, but efficient for the while that it would take to find a healer. He cut a long, wide piece of fabric from his robe, and tightly bandaged the wound. He was concerned whether it won't obstruct her breathing, but it was more important that she wouldn't bleed out.
Ryuch watched him carefully, as Athran's hands quickly and confidently moved around her waist, covering it with the dark fabric. After a while, he finished, fastened the improvised bandage, and returned her her armour, which has begun to dry under the bright sun. Most of the worm's saliva has evaporated already, and the armour regained its smooth, dim appearance.
The elf sighed. What now? She was obviously unconscious... They should seek a healer. He tried to shake her, just to assure himself, but didn't hope for much.
When he shook her, Iyla merely groaned. But her eyes didn't open and the only reaction after the noise was her face visible flinching, even beneath the cloth that hid her face.
Athran sighed, and picked her up. He didn't bother with being overly gentle or careful - just grabbed her and held her up in his arms. She didn't seem to perceive him... They will have to take her to a healer. The town wasn't too far, but with something like this on his arms...
Ryuch only gave him a sympathetic glance, and floated behind him, while Athran carried Iyla out of the orchards. He managed to snatch some more apples for himself, and as they left, he looked over his shoulder with regret.
The Apple's Orchard!
That was the sign that greeted them that was half fallen off it's hinges in front of the quaint little inn nestled in the center of town. It was located near the city square, beside a fountain, and the room they were offered actually had a decent view- though the man at the front desk was charging them a pretty penny.
BUt he also was skeptical of the lot-t he elf came in (and elves were rare in these parts!) and he was covered in grime and blood- the woman seemed to fare no different, though for all he knew, the elf was carrying another effeminate man.
"Three silvers and not a copper less. Besides, it includes a bath, which you are highly in need of!" the inn keeper said with a sniff. "You stink! And I'd prefer you all clean up before returning to the main floor. I can't have my inn being stunk up by some smelly elves."
He had no idea what to even think of Ryuch, but anything funny coming from these three and he'd alert the town guard!
Athran sighed, and wagged his head at the tavern keep. "Ryuch. Your turn to get us out of this." he said calmly, with a sign of boredom in his melodic voice. The death god grinned and stepped forth, showing the man a wide grin, full of his sharp, pointed teeth.
His hand, still holding an apple, dropped onto the table. "One silver piece for a night's stay. And the best room you have... Otherwise... You know, I haven't killed a human in about three weeks, but I can gladly make an exception and get the room for free." The man's face turned pale with fear. Athran appeared beside Ryuch, and showed his own arrogant grin. "And I also happen to have a sword, if you think here my companion might be lying."
The innkeeper was nervously shaking before those two. They were threatening him with death... Judging by their visages, it could be well possible that they were some kind of killers. He nodded, and when Athran placed a sole silver coin upon the desk, he pointed at the corridor. "Follow it till you can only bare left... Then take the second door before last." he muttered, and quickly got out of their way.
The room was quite big, offering two beds, a wardrobe, and a wooden table with four chairs in a smaller room, leading from the corridor. Flames were kindling in the fireplace, even though it was still only afternoon. Athran dropped Iyla onto one of the beds and himself went to seek the bath the innkeeper spoke off. He was completely certain that he will have to burn this robe once he's out of it...
Only when he left it, he came upon the bitter realization that he has hardly anything to wear. There was only his old shirt and pants left in a (quite) clean state...
With a rather grim expression, he returned to the room and glared at the flames. Where's armour when one needs it? Walking around without a chainmail shirt felt incredibly unnatural - and unsafe...
Ryuch stared at him while he played with the couple of silver rings, his feet in the same pair in dirty boots upon the table. He always wondered how did the elf manage to lean on the chair and balance it on two legs without having his feet on the ground, and even paying attention. It appeared that he hardly even knew of it.
By the time Iyla was taken to the room and placed on the bed, she began to awaken. Her body was still in shock from being devoured by the monster, and her side- throbbing. As she lifted a hand towards her wound, she winced once she touched it before her eyes fluttered open and she got a whiff of the pungent smell that now clung to her body- and sitting up suddenly, she realized she had NO idea where she was.
But the moment she spotted Ryuch and Athran in the room, her eyes narrowed upon them as she tried to stand up from the bed-
unfortunately for her, the wound was to much and she doubled over and clutched at her side. Seems any attempt to sneak out unseen were thwarted. The two would easily hear her grunts of pain and be alerted she was now awake. Though it was a she was bent over in pain that she realized her wound had been tended to, and casting a glare Athran's way- she had to wonder if this was the elf's doing.
Ryuch, sitting on the windowsill, was the first to notice her. He turned to her, slowly biting into one of the last few apples he has brought with himself from the orchard. "I'd keep on the bed, if I were you." he uttered, followed by the loud crunch of his teeth, skewing into the fruit.
The chair thudded on the ground as Athran returned it to its original position, with all four legs on the ground. The rings slipped back onto his fingers, for the first time without the gauntlets that would hide the countless long scars on his pale skin, and he crossed his arms on his chest. Even without the robe and jewels, he had the fair elven grace and beauty, though with a hard, cold tone. He slowly stood up and approached her, assured that she is practically harmless.
"Now you should show a little gratefulness that I cut you out of that worm, treated you, and took you all the way here, and cooperate." he growled. Ryuch behind him just cackled. This should be interesting... Oh, mortals are so amusing...
Iyla's eyes narrowed upon the elf.
"Why should I?" she growled, keeping one hand clutched over her wound.
"I never asked for your help. And I never wanted it." Looking from Athran to Ryuch,s he sensed the shadow seed among them and cursed beneath her breath. "What do you want?" They clearly had some ulterior motive- and she needed that seed- and if she had to, she'd killt hem both, or die trying. She had little choice.
Athran sat down on the edge of the bed. "It's very simple. We give you back this," he pointed at the seed in Ryuch's hand, "if you answer our questions. But if you lie, we kill you." he warned her.
"You're helpless. If you attempt anything, I will cut your head off before you even stand up, or Ryuch will use the powers of a death god. Their effects can't be avoided - remember that." He was perfectly calm and serious, the majestic spirit of a warrior radiating from him. In his confidence, he was the Black Sword with everything that belongs to that.
Iyla narrowed her gaze at him, but it was evident in her expression there was some desperation and surprise intermixed, and her anger, only growing.
"Go ahead and try to cut my head off," she goaded. "If death were so easy for me I wouldn't be here." And it was true, whatever her shadow master did to her made her completely immune to Ryuch's powers- though if her head was lost... she was uncertain what that would mean. She might not die int his form, however... when she'd return to her mortal body, she wondered if she'd truly die.
"Now what do you want? You try my patience,"s he growled, her eyes going back to Ryuch and to the shadow seed he held.
Ryuch approached her. "I will question you, Iyla Krue. Here Athran has nothing to do with it... Not really. But you should thank him for being still here." he said. The crunching of the apple was terrifyingly loud and sounded brutal, like breaking bones...
"What are you? Answer me honestly. Is this your real body? Are you a human, or have you been one? If not, then are you mortal?"
The noises Ryuch's teeth made when eating made her cringe as she took a hesitant step away from the death God. So many questions he asked had her mind whirling. She shook her head.
"If you're a god," she said with a sneer. "Can't you just figure it out?"
Athran's hand with the Black Sword moved closer, followed by the elf's warning look. Ryuch shook his head. "Unfortunately, not. I might once I return to the realm of the gods of death, but that isn't going to be any soon. I'm bound to earth, and I need the answers from your mouth." he explained her.
The knight growled. "Hurry up. I might just as well toss you out of the window." he reminded her.
Iyla's eyes narrowed. If she hadn't liked Athran before, she certainly wasn't liking him now- and his companion, well.. Ryuch was just plain creepy. But her eyes returned to the death god and remained hard.
"Why do you care what I am? What I am is of no consequence to either of you." Though the second she let the words slip from her mouth, she realized- perhaps.. her temporary immortality just might be intriguing to a death god. Eyeing him up, she squared off her shoulders.
"I would think some of your questions are obvious, but yes, I'm human."
And then she paused before adding, "Or at least I was." Though she'd like to presume she still was.
"What you are might be of great importance to me and other death gods. I am here on earth due to a similar issue... A mortal that didn't die, despite his time has passed, but returned from the dead. So if you would be so kind, cooperate, and answer all the questions accurately, you could help both me, and yourself." Ryuch explained her calmly.
He listened to her answer. "You were. You're obviously not anymore... What are you now? You seriously feel like a death god." he kept pressing on her, still watched by Athran.
Iyla looked at Ryuch as if he were crazy.
"Death god? No," she growled. "I'm not anything like you. But if you want a label, you can just simply assume I'm cursed."
Ryuch raised a brow - or would have, if he had any brows. "Cursed? What cursed you? And how did it curse you?" he kept asking.
Athran has lost his patience, and was once again playing with his jewelry like a child, obviously bored. Ryuch's questions didn't interest him a little, and neither did Iyla.
Iyla narrowed her gaze at Ryuch as she snapped, "Well I can tell you it wasn't a death God. Now can I have my rock back, please?" And she tossed a narrowed gaze at Athran. He was sure making a lot of noise with his frilly, over the top jewelry.
Ryuch shook his head. "No. After you answer all the questions, you will get it. You still didn't."
A disappointed sigh came from Athran, who accidentally dropped his ring, and the elf bent to pick it up again.
"Now, where is your mortal body? Is this it?" Ryuch asked.
Iyla was taken back by the question.
"What? Why would I tell you that?" she snapped. "Do you think I'm a fool?"
The death god laughed, and shook his head. "Alright, you are no fool. But I want to know about the curse: who cursed you, and what does the curse do?" he questioned her.
"I had a stroke of bad luck, ran into the creature that cursed me and I'm more or less a.pawn in his game. If I don't do what he bids, then I'll forever remain like this, half trapped in shadows, half not really alive. The item you found can help gain my freedom, so if you'll hand it over... I can be going on my way."
The dark marble appeared above her head, clenched in Athran's hand. It was the elf that spoke up now, and his voice has the same cold, hard tone as before. "I will give it to you, then... Your answers were sufficient. But under one condition." The marble sunk a little lower.
"You will cooperate with us. We will help you, but you will cooperate."
And after that, he dropped it onto her chest.
The moment the black rock was dropped into her hand, she scrambled to catch it. It bounced off her armored chest only once before he hand shot out at lightning speed to catch it. ANd as she held it in her fist, her eyes stared back into Athran's face before she drew back like a cornered animal. Away from him. Away from their help.
Gropingly, she searched for the coolness of the shadows, and once she felt her hands within them- she felt some strength return to her; but not all of it. So when she tried to tap into her powers to make a sudden get away, she released a curse when nothing happened, except the wound on her side began to suddenly leak more inky black blood- and besides that, the only thing Athran and Ryuch would have noticed from Iyla's failed attempts at her magic, was her body's translucity fading in and out like a light- this happening within just a hair of a second before she doubled over, nearly dropping the rock as she clutched onto her side.
"I.. I told you, I don't want your help," she reminded them. A foolish thing to say by someone who was suffering as much as she was in that moment, but she was a stubborn fierce one, and not about to let these fools think they could just step in and try to 'help' her. No, no. She was in this alone. This was her curse, and she didn't even like either of these two apple eating fools. In fact, she dind't even really like apples. Too bad she had little choice in her means to escape!
Athran's glance was suddenly hard and cold. He straightened his back, and standing before her in his full height, majestic and intimidating, he looked down at her.
"If you don't need our help, and don't want it, then..." he pointed at the door, "You should better leave this room. I paid for it, and if you don't want my help, then get lost. I don't want to see your face inside, if that's your opinion. Feel free to leave - or, to be more accurate, feel asked to leave. I don't care whether you will rot in a backstreet, just go away. If you don't want any help, you aren't going to get any."
Ryuch behind him laughed, but it was just as dark as Athran's glinting eyes.
Iyla was breathing heavily, the pain evident but at Athran's word and his glare, she only hardened her own gaze and forced herself to square off her shoulders, to at least put herself on the same level as he. She had once been a noblewoman- but that was in a time long ago. But arrogance was a hard thing to shake.
"Then consider this my goodbye."
Though she knew it was foolish, she couldn't risk letting anyone get close, to let anyone know of her secret. but at least they had given her back her shadow seed. Clutching onto it tightly, she slipped it into a pocket before moving towards the door. Though she hesitated only once, she didn't bother to look back before she disappeared down the hall.
She had to get back to Adela.. back to the cave...
She had to give that shadow seed to her master. She was just another step closer to freedom, but it still all seemed so far away. And it figured, as she was leaving the Inn, the skies over head began to rumble. Peering up at the skies, she tightened her cloak around her.
It was going to rain.
But it was also going to do more than that. A sudden explosion had Iyla hitting the dirt, knees scraping off the cobble stone as she felt the warmth of an explosion wash over her. WHen she looked up, she stared in horror as a nearby building took to flame, and debris was littered everywhere around her. Pushing herself up off the floor, she heard the cry of guards and the sudden clash of metal to metal. Making a face, Iyla looked around, wondering what the hell could of happened then cursing herself inwardly as the town bell was rung.
Shit. She almost forgot this country was at war with itself. She was slowly backing away, inadvertently making progress back towards the Inn she had just abandoned Athran and his strange, death god friend at, but a moment ago. But as she moved towards it, another explosion happened, one that made the very inn those two were staying at going up into flames.
She shielded her face with her arm,a nd soon the streets were billowing wth smoke, and a second alarm bell was rung and men's calls cried out through the thick smoke.
"Attack! Attack! The town is under attack! To arms men, to arms!"
And Iyla could barely make out the rushing forms of the city guards as their racing silouhettes were soon engulfed in the fading smoke. Coughing, she turned back towards the inn- about half of it had been destroyed and she had to wonder- what had become of that irritating elf and apple eating god?
Athran stretched himself through the bed, yawning. The air was still and heavy with an oncoming storm. Ryuch kept eating the last couple of apples he had left, sleazily sitting in the opened window. Athran closed his eyes and fell asleep for a short moment, but was waken up by the sound of Ryuch's heels, thudding on the floor.
He sprang to his feet, watching as the death god sniffed the air. "Did you accidentally set something on fire, Athran?" he asked with suspicion. The elf shook his head, confused at first, but then the smell of sulfur and burning wood reached him, too. "Then it must be the inn..." Ryuch assumed with a shrug.
Athran stared at the window. He would have forgotten that Connlaoth was in war, but the sad truth showed itself once again. They will have to get out quick... He leaped into the air and threw himself right through the opened window, followed by the tall figure of Ryuch, squeezing through. He landed in on the stones of a backstreet, while his companion floated in the air above, and only a short while after, an explosion smote him back to the ground.
Someone ran out of the door of one of the houses, but when the villager saw the figures of Athran and Ryuch in the smoke, he just screamed and turned back. The sound of a bell echoed in the streets of the city, and when Athran and Ryuch stumbled out of the backstreet, to their own surprise, they already found a crowd, filling the streets.
It was apparent that they weren't anything peaceful - Athran's weapons were strapped to his chest, along with a few pieces of armour, the long sheath of the Black Sword by his side, and Ryuch was simply outright scary. Someone in the crowd noticed them, and shouted something...
Athran looked around himself for an escape route, but he already had a few hands, pitchforks and shovels pointing at him. They will have to run like hell...
Iyla must have looked as equally suspicious as some elf and magical floating man, for they were not the only ones who found themselves with pointed weapons directed their way. Two towns guards had found Iyla, and seeing how she had her face masked and she was clothed in dark armor, they presumed the worst about her.
"That man's got a mask!" one shouted.
"He must be with the rebels! After him!"
Iyla didn't have a chance to curse as they suddenly began to make chase, and Iyla found herself practically stumbling into the men wth pitch forks who were about ready to attack her 'friends'. Not about to let these dumb townsfolks get in her way from fleeing the town's guards, she gave a cry and drew out her spear and whacked the legs out beneath the men closet to her before she pushed her way past them.
The group of townsfolk were stunned, and didn't have a chance to respond as Iyla rushed past, though ont he other side of these townsfolk were those they pointed hteir weapons at- Ryuch and Athran and before she could stop herself- she found herself suddenly plowing full force into Athran- and crashed into him- and both landed painfully upon the ground, Iyla now laying and groaning ontop of the poor elf!
Athran hardly realized what happened, but suddenly, he was surrounded by raging villagers, shouting curses and repeating the word 'mage' over and over, and with that woman right atop him. He pushed her away from himself and stood up, holding the back of his head with his hand.
Someone slashed after him with a pitchfork, but with the terrible aim of the villagers, it didn't even get close to him. Athran unsheathed the Black Sword, and cut the spiked part of the tool off. He stomped onto the ground, and the blade in his hands was suddenly blazing with unearthly purple flames.
"The're with the rebels! Get them! Get them!" someone from the guards shouted, and the crowd was suddenly even more enraged than before. The Black Sword was flashing around in circles, shielding Athran, Iyla and Ryuch from the crowd, and a wall of strange flames soon arose around them, pushing the villagers back.
Athran was with the mages... He wasn't really involved, but he hated the anti-magic laws in Connlaoth. He'd gladly present his skill right here, right now, just to show them what they have to fear if their hypocrisy and prejudice makes them rage at a random stranger.
Seeing the sudden surge of magic, Iyla could have punched him!
"What are you doing!?" she hissed, latching onto Athran's arm. "Are you trying to draw the rest of the townsmen our way? You fool. Drop the spell and let's run, before we end up like those buildings!"
Did she need to remind him there were two nearly decimated buildings now burning all around them!? This was chaos! This was suicide!
"Distracting them..." Athran growled. Ryuch, hiding behind him, snickered. One of the guards screamed - and suddenly dropped onto the ground. Another one followed him...
The flames disappeared. The villagers were suddenly confused, screaming in horror, rather than rage. Athran used the moment of surprise to grab both Iyla and Ryuch and run through the crowd as fast as he could.
He hid his sword, and sliding into a backstreet, he pulled out a short knife. Slightly crossing his skin with its blade, he covered his face and hair in blood. "I'll pretend to be dead... You help us pass..." he muttered, ripping his shirt on several places. This has worked out for him before - nobody chases a corpse. "Ryuch... You fly as high above us as you can..."
Iyla only gaped as the crazy elf began to cut at his clothing.
"W-what!?" But pausing a moment, she gave a shake of her head. "The plan is crazy, but it just might work. However, those men still think I'm an enemy." She bit her lip before scowling, and yanked off her cloak's hood, allowing her wild, strawberry blonde hair to fall over her shoulder, the braid hanging just off of it down the front as she huffed and lowered down the clothe that once hid her face.
For someone that was trying to play off as a man, without all of the clothe covering her face, she was actually a rather beautiful woman- though the red color of her eyes jarred that, and she turned those eyes on Athran as she nodded.
"I'll see what I can do. Now play dead." And the idea made her smirk.
Athran gave her a short nod. They now appeared more like a couple of misfortunate warriors that accidentally got into the fight, rather than the victims of the witch hunt.
He hid his pointed ears under his long hair as best he could, and twisted the parts of armour on himself. Then, letting one of his arms hang around Iyla's shoulders, he dropped down and played dead, completely withdrawing any control from his muscles. He wasn't too heavy, and considered Iyla capable of carrying him, therefore he didn't think that would be a problem.
"This should do it." he whispered. Ryuch nodded. "You look pretty dead!" he grinned, and took off only a moment later. The elf opened his eyes to a small gap, and looked up at Iyla. "Can you carry me?"
Iyla watched as Ryuch flew away, amazed to see the man being able to just float around. But then again- she was cursed by a shadow spirit. She supposed it shouldn't be hard to believe in such things! Turning her red eyes to Athran, she frowned.
"As if I have a choice." And she gave him a light smack. "Now stay dead!" she said, and moved to heft the man over her shoulders but... by the Gods, for as lithe as he appeared, he was kind of heavy. Maybe it was all that armor, adn the fact he was about a foot taller than she.
Grunting,s he readjusted his weight and began to make her way down the ally. Hopefully no one would presume they were the 'mages' from earlier and would leave them be. But chaos was everywhere, and the smoke from the burning buildings was shrouding the streets. But Iyla continued to push forward, and if she was having trouble carrying the elf, she did not say. But they rounded a few bends before they heard the familiar clank of steel.
Fighting.
She turned away from the noise and made her way down another alley, but heard the roaring voices of more men- and then, before she had a chance to avoid it- someone blew up the wall beside them- making it quite possibly both she and Athran were dead.
Her ears were ringing when she came to, her body, now crushed beneath the rubble, she groaned and let her eyes flutter open. The side of her head was bleeding, and bleeding the same black blood from earlier. This was dizzying. This was madness. But this was all part of war.
She still could not see, the smoke still thick, but the echoing clashes of battle could still be heard, even from beneath the rubble where she and Athran lay.
Athran remained completely noiseless and still through all the time she carried him, creating an almost perfect impression of a corpse, but the fact that the sounds of battle were drawing closer didn't escape him.
So shortly after, an explosion blew off a large part of the wall beside them, covering the street with crumbling rubble and stones. Something large hit his body, crushing it beneath it, and for a moment, he lost his conscience upon hitting his head on a piece of rock.
What awoke him was pain. Half buried under rubble, it was sharp and seemingly coming from all parts of his body. He could feel blood, streaming from his nose, and flowing down onto his lips, but that was only a minor inconvenience when compared to having half of his body under the stones.
At first, he attempted to pull his right arm out, but the pain that followed almost instantly. One of the bones must have been broken, otherwise it would be far easier to get out. He surpassed the urge to scream, and instead looked around himself, though his vision was blurred with tears and smoke. Where was Iyla?
The silence was deafening, even long after the ringing inside her ears had subsided. The pain, however evident, made her feel numb all over as she tried to use her hands to push herself from the debris. But stones were heavy, and the smoke from the blast and fires that still rage still clung to the air. It made it hard to see. It was hard to breath, so when she took her first gulps of real air, she began to choke on her breath, and try as she might, she was having trouble moving. There were too many heavy bricks and debris that had landed on her, pinning her to the cobble stone walls no matter how hard she tried to free herself.
And blood was everywhere. Some if it had been his- some of it hers, though most of it seemed to hve come from Iyla, for the black, ink like substance had trickled down her facea nd stained it, even had been running from a cut to her lips and chin, and some from her nose. Her hands were also cut up, bruised and black from both that and her unique blood-
and all over she was sooted with the cakeym dust like reside of the fallen wall.
It was when she lifted her head that she noticed someone,.. something not too far off from her. SHe made a face, blinked back tears of pain as she tried to see through the dry smoke and dusty air.
"A...Athran?" It was hard to tell- was he still playing dead, or was he dead for real? She reached out a hand, trembling from pain and shock and touched his- and held a breath, waiting to see if he would move, or respond. And then she saw him move and she gaped.
He looked as if he was just as bad off as she.
Shit. But at least she saw movement. At least she knew he was alive.
Athran groaned, painfully pulling himself from beneath the rubble. He closed his eyes and clenched his teeth, grabbing one of the stones with his left hand, which was only covered in blood, and pushed it away with all the strength he had. Tears flowed down his face like rivers when his effort moved the broken bones into an even more unnatural position, mixing with blood, ash and dust.
The stone rolled away, and he was a little bit closer to freeing himself. He wanted to simply drop down and cry, or completely lose conscience, but that wouldn't help... Once again reaching for the debris, he raised himself up as much as he could, coughing in the smoke that burned him like fire.
It was going far too slowly... Like this, he could die there. And soon.
He looked around himself, searching for Iyla. Somewhere afar was a dark shape, resembling her - and shortly before, a hand touched him. It must have been her... The shape was moving, so she wasn't dead, but how badly did she end was unknown to him.
The pain was getting worse and worse by every passing moment, as more of his blood flowed onto the stones that kept pressing him down and crushing him. He did dig at least a part of himself out, but it was not fast enough.
He gripped a large rock, covering his legs, and pulled it aside. It was moving... If this would move, the rest should not be as terrible... He screamed as it rolled away, pulling him aside, and turned over, face down.
Darkness creeped into his mind, and took his conscience. He dropped onto the ground.
The battle seemed to have ceased while the pair had been knocked out, but the remains of what had happened stained the land. The buildings looked like broken husks, and the streets, as if they were furniture that had not been dusted in years. But this was hardly what was on Iyla's mind as she watched Athran struggle, and then she realized it was very possible in that moment- they both could die.
The smoke offered enough shadows for her to become foolish, and she closed her eyes as he felt the coldness of her powers wash over her-
and then she was gone. A split second later, she had reappeared closer to Athran, this time-s he was free of the rubble, but the second she was- she doubled over and puked out black blood.
Clutching onto the gaping wound on her side, she trembled and remained, clutching onto herself and weak.
No.. there was no way she could get herself out of here, let alone both of them. SHe grit her teeth, nearly finding herself collapsing when she recalled something and her eyes widened as she lifted her head.
The moment she thought of him, she placed two fingers to her lips and tried to whistle, but it came out pathetic and failed. Her lips were too dry, but she had to keep trying. Her black bird could at least get them out of here. So two fingers again,s he pressed them to her lips and licked them, then drew in a breath and blew and blew- finally, the whistle came out- echoing hauntingly through the dust and smoke.
Off in the distance a caw alerted her her call had been heard, but she didn't ceased, she whislted again and again until the shadow of her massive black raven cast over top of them. It landed just at the base of the debris and tucked back it's shimmering black feathered wings before casting it's blood red eyes their way.
"By the Gods..." she was so thankful to see that damned bird she could have kissed it. Using what little strength she had left, she dragged herself, and Athran, onto the bird's back and cried out, "Away from here! To anywhere! Just somewhere safe!"
And the bird obliged and took them to the air and high, high up over the valley it flew, far away from that city and into the deeper, dark woods. Where it landed, she couldn't say, but both she and Athran ended up asleep beside one another with her giant black raven roosting nearby. Ever vigilant. Ever watching.
Athran awoke on the soft brown earth in some forest, half buried in a pile of ferns and old leaves. He was confused and in pain, shivering from cold, blood loss and exhaustion, and had absolutely no idea what happened. He could feel dried blood on his face and body, his right arm and ribs were on fire, and he could hardly move at all.
He rolled over, coughing out his own crimson blood, and sighed. His memories were blurred, but he was sure this was somehow connected... If he could at least make a fire to warm himself up...
A small flame blinked on the dry leaves beside him. It spread and it's heat was searing, providing him with at least some warmth, but he felt sick, and the pain was dimming his mind. He closed his eyes again - he could at least sleep and forget...
It was her black raven that caught sight of his movement at first. Not understanding where the fire had come from, the bird pecked in warning at Athran's hand.
Athran groaned as the bird's beak touched his hand, even the slightest movement causing him pain. The flames were burning out without his mind to support them, and he quickly fell asleep again.
Amid a circle of stone stands a woman, surrounded by broken mirrors. They are covered in runes under the dark clouds, and as she turns to him, she holds a thick, old book... She drops it onto the ground and turns to ash. Lightning crashes in the distance.
He awoke in horror, confused by the strange dream. It was getting late... Someone was bending above him, the same beautiful, but sad woman, clutching a mirror. Her ghostly hand pointed at him, and he saw his reflection, covered in blood and ash.
Turning over on the leaves and ferns, he rolled towards the bird, staring at the strange things his mind put before his eyes. Confused, colourful, colorless, he had no idea what is happening with him, when a familiar silhouette appeared on the edge of the forest.
"Pointy-ears." Ryuch whispered.
Hearing Ryuch's voice, Iyla awoke with a start- making a war cry of a wake up call and grabbing for her spear. She pointed the bladed end towards Ryuch- dirty hair a mess about her face and plastered to her skin. She was breathing heavy, breathing hard, and her nose began to bleed again.
It took her some time to realize Ryuch had rejoined them- she ahd awakened, but had NO idea what had occured.
"A.. apple eater?" she couldn't, for the life of her, remember Ryuch's name!
Ryuch chuckled. "Yes, Shadow-steps." He replied, flashing his dark eyes from her to Athran and back. He lost them in the explosion, but found again as they were rescued by the raven, and followed them into the forest. He was, however, slightly concerned about Athran.
They were both in a bad condition, but he doubted that the elf, shivering on the ground, was even fully conscious. His lips were moving, but he was quiet, staring at an empty space. The death god assumed that he is either talking from his sleep, or hallucinating.
More likely to be the second, though.
Iyla blinked and followed Ryuch's gaze down towards Athran. The elf seemed to be muttering something, but it was evident he was in pain. He looked like shit. She probably faired the same, but the elf seemed to get the brunt of it.
She glanced over only once to her bird before wincing and shifting closer to Athran. She crawled at his side and peered over him, her long braid spilling over her shoulder as she did so.
She saw a gash on his head and moved to peel some hair away from it, trying to get a better look at him and assess his wounds, all the while holding onto her side where her own gash was throbbing.
Athran's eyes turned upside down, revealing the whites, and slowly closed as she touched him, again slipping into dark, strange dreams. He couldn't keep awake.
Ryuch found a place to sit between the branches of a nearby tree, and watched them both. "You mortals are so fragile... It's really a pity... Your boundaries are so narrow." he whispered. "Is death not always behind the corner? You die before I even get to you."
Iyla cut her gaze towards Ryuch.
"We are mortals. Our only certain fate is death."
Though even still... she frowned and glanced back down towards the elf, a hand delicately resting over the air above him. Though she hesitated and touched him not.
"You.." her eyes suddenly shot to his as she got an idea. "You're some sort of a god. Is there nothing you can do to help ease his suffering? His body... his mind.."s he frowned as she studied Athran's face. "He's gone into shock." her frown deepened. "And he's lost a lot of blood."
Ryuch gave her a sad shrug, and shook his head. "The only thing I can bring is death. I cannot help him... I am a death god. We are not like most gods - our power is limited to this," he pointed at his eyes, "this," his finger moved over to the wings, "and this." Finally, he gestured towards his head. "Death is our domain. We die if we try to preserve life..."
He looked down at the elf. "But I understand what you mean. He looks like a corpse... I haven't yet seen him this bad."
Suddenly, Athran opened his eyes, gasping for air. His gaze, blurred and hardly able to focus at anything, recognized the woman above him. "Iyla..." he whispered, and his eyes fluttered and closed again. She was alive... Doing better than him, it appeared.
Iyla stared at Ryuch- seeming angry at him and disbelieving all the same. Though when Athran spoke her name,s he could have jumped clean out of her skin.
"So you're awake?" she said, turning to crouch nearer towards him. "And are you in pain?" Though she supposed that much is evident. "Can you walk?" Cause if not... that opened another can of worms. In any other scenario she could have left him, but not even she was so heartless as that. So she remained close and held her breath, waiting to see what he had to say.
Athran forced himself to open his eyes again. Her blurred figure was above him, that much he could see, but the rest was distorted, his eyes couldn't grasp that much. He breathed in and coughed out blood, flowing down his white skin from the corner of his mouth.
He shook his head weakly. "I... I can hardly... Breathe..." he whispered. Every breath he took was like a hundred knives skewing into his flesh, like burning fire and freezing ice. There was no chance he could even keep sitting, not speaking of walking.
Ryuch slipped from the branch and studied him with his dark eyes. "I don't know much about mortals, but he doesn't appear to be capable of walking..." he muttered.
Iyla cursed.
"And I haven't the strength to carry him. This country.. it's too dangerous." she shook her head and looked back down to Athran. "We'd have to find him a healer, but I do not think such a thing might exist around here."
Shaking her head again, she stared off in thought when her large raven's shifting drew her attention his way.
"Perhaps we could fly. Fly elsewhere, though I do not know where." She frowned and looked down at Athran. "How much does it hurt, elf?" FOr the life of her, she could not remember his name either! The shock had stunted her memory, that much was certain.
How much does it hurt?
If Athran had the strength to do so, he would have winged off. "Too much..." he whispered. "I can't... Can't even think..." He tried to move a little, but the pain that followed sent a shiver down his spine, and he was forced to close his eyes again. Even without moving, the broken bones and cuts in his flesh were painful...
He forced himself to stay awake, although his body was begging for the sweet sleep of oblivion. It was more than his mind could bear without blurring the reality and pushing his perception aside. All he wanted was to sleep... And for a long, long time.
Ryuch squatted beside him. "I may be able to pick him up, if you help me. I can't do much," he shrugged, raising his bony hands and showing them to Iyla, "but I am not helpless. Plus, I can fly." he offered.
Iyla turned to Ryuch and regarded him thoughtfully a moment before turning to Athran.
"No.. we should take him somewhere on the back of my bird," And she gestured towards the large raven nearby that cast a piercing gaze towards the death god. "Though perhaps if we all flew together.. you could scout ahead to see if you could find a healer?"
Ryuch nodded. "I may." The wide wings sprung from his back, and he stood up, though still crooked, and twisted himself to inhuman poses while waiting. His senses were sharper than human, therefore all he was concerned about were the people sighting him.
He bent above Athran. "I pick up his legs, and you grab shoulders?" he asked. Shooting a quick glance at the elf, lingering on the edge of unconsciousness, he pointed at him.
Iyla, ever surprised by the weird apple-eater thing, cringed at such positions his body contorted and had to wonder why the elf kept such company. Though perhaps he had no real choice- such as she. At least his 'cursed' entity was more helpful than her own- though one could beg to say her powers and ability for this temporary shadowed 'shell' were an aid. She'd rather do without. She had no choice.
Nodding to Ryuch,s he took the elf but the shoulders and grunted with effort as the two loaded him onto her bird's back. When the massive raven grew wary, Iyla shot the bird a gaze.
"Aye, calm down. We need you to fly us away from here."A nd the bird only stared at her, but it's gaze bore into Ryuch. It was more than evident the raven did not like the death god.
Once Athran was situated on it's back, she turned from him and glanced at Ryuch who seemed to just hoover there- deranged. She frowned.
"Will you lead us?" she asked, before climbing onto the back of the raven herself. She kept a good hold on Athran, pulling him onto her lap while her other hand took a fistful of feathers.
Athran cringed every time one of them touched or moved him, but remained silent the whole time. His eyes were opening and closing as they handled him, and once held by Iyla on the raven's back, he aimed his gaze at the sky.
Ryuch's ruffled wings were impatiently beating into air while the death god was looking around himself, but at her question, he only gave her a blank stare. "Lead you?"
It took him a while to realize what she meant, and he gave her a faint nod. "Yeah, I think I know the way. To another city, not that one..." He turned around, and taking off, gestured her to follow him. The other city wasn't that far from what he remembered.
Iyla nodded.
"Then lead us onward."
With Iyla's instruction, the massive Raven took flight, high, high up in the air over the valley. She kept her eyes sharp, and her grip to Athran tight. She might regret helping him later... but she was not so heartless to leave him now. Though she feared losing the shadow stone that was already in her grasp, another's life was more important, and death was something she did not like toying with and wishing on others.
Desperation made her angry, though she would see this elf's life through and help him. She kept her eyes peeled for any signal from Ryuch, though it appeared a small city was already peeling into view. It was quaint, with a single mill churning against a wide stream, and just a few sparse houses, one evidently a church and the rest, mostly houses and smaller businesses. Was this were Ryuch wanted them to go?
Ryuch led them over the small town, and through a quite narrow, but short valley further northeast. A bigger, busy city appeared between the hillsides. Smoke was rising from several roofs, and quite a few houses, lining along the main street, were big, with two or three floors. There were many shops and people, walking from one to another in the afternoon rush.
The death god remembered this city - it was the one they spent a few nights in before Athran was invited to the celebration. It was not far from the orchard, and he only then realized that they practically made a big walk around, to return whence they came from.
He begun descending into the middle of a small square, connecting three narrower streets. By what his memory kept, there was a healer in one of the houses... And indeed, as he landed, the sign, hanging by the door, clearly showed that this was the house.
The people, passing by, gave him scared glances and turned away at the sight, but he paid no attention to them. They were only puny mortals to him, ones he could deprive of their lives with a single look. He gestured at Iyla to follow him inside and take Athran.
Just outside the city, she instructed the raven to land. No sense in causing alarm. Once she had safely gotten Athran off the bird's back,s he directed him to fly away- to where? She never knew, but the bird always came when she called.
She struggled, for she was weak and injured herself, but forced herself to push through as she let Ryuch lead them to a house. It was on the bottom level of a three tiered building and hse looked up at the sign.
"I'll be damned. A healer." Glancing over at Ryuch, she nodded in thanks before grunting as she shifted Athran's weight and stepped inside.
The healer was an older woman who, was quite surprised by Athran's state. And after assessing him for a good while, Iyla pressed, "Can you help him?"
And the woman grew solemn and quiet but nodded her head.
"I can see what I can do. I turn away no customers. Here, please him upon the bed." And Iyla obeyed.
The healer looked at both of them, and proceeded to pull a bunch of dried herbs from a cabinet by the wall. She called out something through a doorway, and shortly after, a younger woman appeared, dressed in a white shirt and skirt.
"Give them both this." the old healer instructed the young one, who sat Iyla down on a nearby chair, and fed both her and Athran with the herbs, while the silver-haired woman studied their wounds further. "It'll silence the pain for a few hours, and stop bleeding." the girl explained.
"What have you even been doing?" she asked quietly, cutting Athran's ripped clothes off. Both her and the younger girl started cleaning their wounds. The effect of the herbs was beginning to show quickly, and Athran opened his eyes, blinking in the bright room. He gave the woman, bending above him, a confused glance, and turned his head to Iyla with a question.
"To the south there was a battle that erupted in the town. We... could have become casualties had we not been able to escape."
The old woman took in Iyla's words in silence before she nodded.
"Ah, seems your friend is coming around now. We will let the pair of you rest while we tend to our other patience. Call us if you need anything." And with that, the younger girl and older one departed the room with no further words, but the young girl cast a glance their way just once before closing the door.
Iyla noted Athran's look and said nothing, simply stared at him from where she sat on a chair nearest his bed. After a time,s he turned away and asked, "How are you feeling?"
He probably felt like shit.
Athran closed his eyes for a while, then opened them again. Despite being partly taken care of, he was still in pain, and couldn't even move without feeling the urge to scream.
"My bones are in pieces..." he replied. "And I can... Feel that... Too much." Even though the herbs partly pushed the pain away, and enabled him to think and remain conscious, they couldn't completely get rid of the burning he felt in his whole body.
Ryuch stood in the corner, unnoticed by the healers, perched on another chair like a huge bird of prey. "I still wonder that you're alive. You defy nature, Athran..." he muttered with a chuckle, but the elf didn't find it funny at all. "Shut up. Please." he groaned, and clenched his teeth.
"Your friend is right," Iyla chimed in, peering over at apple eater before glancing down at the elf. "You seem to have some sort of luck on your side."
Where as she, herself, had a curse.
"Luck." Athran winged off. "I should be dead. I'd be free of so much pain. I could have been dead. I should have."
He stared into the emptiness, when the young healer returned again, carrying several things to treat them. "I hope you had a bit of rest, but I was asked to take care of you. I'm sorry if it will hurt." she spoke calmly, and put the tray down onto a table nearby.
As she bent above Athran to correct the broken bones in his arm and crushed ribs, he cringed at her touch, but remained silent. She continued talking. "The mages are causing a lot of trouble lately. It's been busy around here... You both seem to have gotten into a fair share of trouble. What happened? Did the mages...?"
Athran shook his head. "A wall. It... Blew up." he growled through his clenched teeth.
The younger girl was taken back by such news, but Iyla remained quiet. Her focus was on him, not her anyway. He needed the help. But after she did what she could do to help the elf, she turned on Iyla.
"And I'm certain you both have suffered greatly. Can I see to your wounds?"
Iyla finally turned to the girl. She had been staring at the wall, lost in her own thoughts when the girl's inquiry drew her back to the present.
"No... I'll be fine for now. The herbs helped."
"But the man just said you both-"
"I SAID I"M FINE!" Iyla snapped, a reaction that caused the girl to immediately pale and turn silent. "I.." the girl said, fumbling with her supplies now as she had no idea how to react.
"But you had come here for help I just thought-"
"You thought wrong! Heal the elf and be off then. Unless you have more to his wounds to tend?"
The girl stared at the other woman awkwardly before blinking.
"I... I guess not. He'll just need rest for now," she said quietly, down casting her gaze beneath Iyla's glare.
Athran, who has come to full conscience while the girl was treating him, just watched as she left. Encouraged by the effect of the herbs, he managed to sit on the edge of the bed, and eventually stand up. With his healthy arm, he ripped off the sling the woman has put the other one to, and gestured Iyla to come closer.
"I don't need any rest... I'm fine now." he groaned. "Why didn't you let her take care of- Ah, it's... It's that, am I right?" he asked, realizing that Iyla was most likely unwilling to let the healer see her black inky blood. "Would you let me?"
He wasn't exactly in the condition to treat her, only able to use his left arm and still a bit dizzy from the herbs, but he wasn't completely useless.
Ryuch chuckled at him, watching as he walked to Iyla, trying so hard to seem to be fine, although it was apparent that he was just pretending, as he was still shaking, and covered in bandages. He made his opinion about him already - this elf was definitely crazy. But it was amusing...
Iyla cast a glare his way.
"What are you going on about?" she snapped, then looked down to some of her dried blood and looked back at him with a glare. "It's none of your business! And why don't you sit down before you fall over? You can barely stand!" She barked.
Athran rolled his eyes over. "I know what I'm doing. Stop whining." He was back to his cynical mood, and gestured her to stand up again. "Be so kind and don't oppose. Like this, you're not going to last a day." Seeing her, he knew very well what he was on about.
He leaned onto one of the cabinets and watched her impatiently. "Move on. I don't have all day..." he growled. Ryuch's laugh echoed in the room.
Iyla narrowed.
"Stop being stubborn and think. You need to rest. That wall could have killed you- and you're sitll not well. Strain yourself too much you'll reopen the wounds that girl had only begun to fix."
Athran shook his head. "Don't worry about me!" he snarled. "I don't need any more rest. Let me take care of you while the effect of the herbs lasts, then I'll lose all concentration." He was aware of the dangers that striving himself too much brought along, but completely ignored those. Important was that right there and right now, he was well enough to treat her.
"Do I have to force you back on the bed, elf? Don't think I don't have it in me to tie you down. Now get away from there and sit back down before something else gets broken!" she snapped, losing her patience with him the more they spoke. Oh, was her blood simmering.
"You'd have to stand up and get hold of me first to do that." Athran growled back. "If you're so afraid that I'd see some parts of you, then you can turn your back to me, but for the love of the gods, just shut up and stop complaining. I want to help you." He was getting fed up with her protests, but unfortunately couldn't just pick her up and treat her. It was really starting to bother him, along with the fact that the herbs were stating to fade and the pain was returning.
Iyla cut him a look. She hadn't considered that. She narrowed her gaze at him before angrily turning away and folding her arms across her chest.
"Very well," she huffed, barely able to spit the words out. Gods, was she REALLY complying to Athran's wishes? She must've hit her head harder than she thought!
Athran's lips twisted into a victorious grin. He knew he'd win...
He begun treating her with the supplies the healer left inside, slowly and not too professionally, as he was still tired and in pain, but he eventually managed to wrap all the larger, deeper wounds. In the meantime, however, the effect of the herbs almost entirely wore off, and when he finished, he was already cringing in pain with every move.
He collapsed onto the chair. "Ryuch... Bring more of those herbs." he instructed the death god, blankly staring into the distance.
Iyla bit into her cheek, ignoring him every moment he was tending to her. She didn't like others helping her. It meant she had to act more human, had to owe them something- reminded her of something she was not. But really- all of this scraping around for freedom- if she were to come out worse than she was going in....
She didn't want to think about it. She had no choice- this was the only way.
Once he was finished, she glared at him.
"Get back onto the bed,"s he barked her order out before rising. "I'll see to getting more herbs." She glanced over at Ryuch before stuffing her arm underneath Athran's and forced him to his feet. "Now come on. We're getting you over there whether you like it or not. I knew you'd exert yourself. A body can not handle that much damage without repercussions!"
Such a reckless fool!
Athran let her take him back, part of him even glad for it. He was tired again, and without anything to silence the perception of the pain, he hardly even stumbled to the bed. "I don't like admitting it... But you're right." he sighed.
"I just want another bunch of that dry crap." he growled. Ryuch sled off the chair, and shook his head. "It's a drug, it won't help you for long." he protested. Athran shot a hard glance in his direction. "I don't care! I want to sleep, and I can't even close my eyes now!" he snarled. The death god stepped back and took his position on the chair again. "If you want to get to the grave soon, you're on the right way." he muttered. "You'll only make my work easier."
Once Athran was in bed, she gave him an admonishing look before turning to Ryuch. His question was interesting and it made her hesitate as she rose from the side of the bed.
"What do you mean, to make your job easier?" she said. "Are you simply following him around waiting for him to die?"
Ryuch gave her a bored shrug. "Practically. I have to watch over him, and stick around until he dies... I can leave at times, but if I wouldn't be with him at his time of death, I would be in big problems."
He sled off the chair, and leaned over the bed a little. "I already though I'd have to go back to the realm of the death gods when that wall fell on you..." he admitted. Athran stared at him in horror. He already knew why was Ryuch following him, but that...
"Lifespans change depending on your actions. Actually, yours only showed a few minutes until you dug yourself out." the death god said silently, receiving a look of true terror from his companion. "I am not allowed to kill you, unlike other mortals. Though, I am also not allowed to kill them to expand your lifespan. You know that already, don't you?"
Athran nodded. Ryuch continued speaking. "I volunteered for this, because you mortals are incredibly amusing. And I go around and save your reckless ass from trouble, because you're my friend. But yes, I am here to wait for your death."
Iyla went silent. SHe was about as shocked as Athran, perhaps not as much so- but the idea he called himself friend and lingered, waiting for death...
"Friends don't wait to watch others die," she growled and pushed away from the bed. "I'm going to get some more herbs." She needed them too- her head was throbbing. Besides, those two might have needed a moment. And with a click, the door closed and for that moment, Iyla was gone.
Athran closed his eyes. He was too tired to think, and this threw him off even more. If he could even breathe or turn around without feeling a wound opening or broken bones shifting through his body, he would have fallen asleep, but there was no other option for him than to wait for Iyla to bring a stack of the herbs and stuff himself with more of them.
Ryuch shrugged sadly. "I'm sorry, but that's my purpose here." he muttered. "Don't be sorry." Athran snarled back. "Just leave me alone. You're not helping."
He turned his head and stared at the door. All he wanted was for everybody and everything to leave him alone and let him sleep.
Iyla was only gone a few minutes before the door creaked open. The young healer followed her and as the girl took a seat near Athran.
"Seems you're doing alright, though you shouldn't be walking around!" the girl scolded, and moved to help clean some of his wounds that had visibly opened before offering him up the herb that would help with the pain. "Now you ought to sleep while the herbs are still fresh in your system."A nd to Iyla she said, "And you see to it that he does. We don't need a death on our hands. The war has already taken a lot." And with that, she left.
Iyla remained standing for a long moment, silent as usual as she kept her arms folded across her chest and simply stared at Athran.
Athran cringed when the girl touched him. He felt almost shameful to be in such a weakened state, and blushed at the thought, but didn't say a word. He took the herbs in silence, and soon felt them silencing the pain and clearing his confused thoughts.
He yawned and closed his eyes. He fell asleep before he realized that he's actually very tired.
Ryuch gave Iyla a long glance before he proceeded to speak. "I now have to leave for a while... A few days. Please, when he wakes up, tell him that I had to return to the realm of the death gods, and should be back in a month at the longest. And don't get killed - neither of you. The fact that I'm a death god doesn't mean that you don't matter one bit to me. You're quite nice."
He turned to Athran, seemingly peacefully sleeping on the pillows, though blood was already soaking into the bandages in which he was wrapped, and left, walking straight through the wall like a shadow.
Iyla made a puzzled expression over either of them being called nice and was more surprised by that than by watching the death god disappear through a wall. But even she had a moment of panic and called after him- sounding like a fool, "W-ait!" But he was already gone.
Staring at the empty wall, she found no words to explain herself, especially when the young girl had returned. When she offered more herb and also tea to Iyla, she flat out refused, even if she wanted both. No, she had to remember in that moment she was still human- and part ofher associated that with pain.
So long after she was left alone with Athran, she began to pace about the room before throwing herself into a chair and turned her gaze upon the sleeping elf. It irritated her to realize...
did Ryuch just abandon his charge and try to make her responsible for Athran? She'd be damned if she'd stikc around long enough witht he elf for Ryuch to return!
But part of her felt bad...
and she wasn't liking this part of her. It was making her feel vulnerable, and needed. After all, for so long...s he had only needed herself-a nd everyone else that had mattered was dead.
Athran barely slept for three full hours before he woke up again. Still in pain, though not as bad as before, he opened his eyes and stared at the ceiling. At first unsure what happened, his memories returned quickly, and his eyes searched for something familiar.
Finally, he found Iyla, sitting nearby. Ryuch wasn't anywhere near, and that puzzled him - where has he gone?
"I-Iyla..." he muttered, turning over on his bed a little.
Iyla nearly jumped at her name being called. She had almost fallen asleep from where she was perched near the door. Part of her had moved there to watch and listen- just in case there would be any more danger...
But being caught almost slipping off to sleep...
She jerked her head his way, then cast her gaze toward the floor.
"Keep sleeping elf, I highly doubt you're all healed from such a brief nap."
Athran shook his head weakly. It was pounding, just as the rest of his body, and it was difficult to try to fall asleep.
"Where's... Ryuch?" he asked silently. It quite threw him off, not being able to see the death god anymore.
He felt at least a little stronger after the rest, and now realized that he's actually quite hungry... And needs water...
Iyla didn't bother to glance at Athran when she spoke, her eyes to the wall.
"He left," she told him simply. "And stated specific instructions for you not to die while he was gone."
Athran nodded.
"I want water." he stated plainly. His mouth was dry - he haven't drank a thing since he left the orchard.
"Do you have any?" he asked her.
Iyla frowned.
"No."
Though she was thirsty as well, and only realized this the moment the elf complained.
"Rest here, I'll see what I can do."
She wasn't used to running errands for anyone, but she used this as an excuse to get away from the elf. She felt too awkward around him. She wasn't his charge, but yet here she was- forced to look after him. Then again, no one was stopping her from leaving...
Moments later, she returned with a pitcher of water and clay mugs for them both. After setting them nearby Athran, she poured him a glass before handing him a cup.
"You don't need help drinking this too, do you?" she said, red eyes meeting to his.
Athran shook his head. He raised himself, supporting his body with his left arm, and grabbed the glass as he could with his right. However, when he attempted to raise it to his lips, it slipped from his fingers, which simply weren't able of holding it, and fell to the floor, shattering into countless shards.
He sighed and bent his head back. "Okay... I do need help with it..." he admitted.
Iyla had been joking at her last comment, but to see him in such a state made her cringe.
Pouring a second glass, though it had been meant for her, she lifted it up to his lips. "Here, drink," she said, a bit roughly. She wasn't tender like most other girls, though perhaps she would have been had her life continued as it had once been. Now... as a slave...
Well, she tried to forget that aspect of her life for a moment before she narrowed her gaze on Athran.
"Come on, and don't choke on it,"she said impatiently, and moved a hand to help brush some of his black hair from his face. Really... this was like having a child, and Iyla- the reluctant mother.
Athran drank from the water, careful not to spill any, or choke on it. He blushed, feeling like a small child in a situation he didn't like one bit. He was too weak, too helpless...
Eventually, he pulled his lips away from the cup, now empty, and dropped back onto the pillows. "Thanks..." he muttered.
"I'm sorry for this... I feel like an idiot..." he confessed, staring at the wall.
Iyla didn't say anything for a while as she turned away from him, pouring more water into the mug then drinking some herself.
"There's no need to apologize when it can not be helped, though I did warn you against leaving the bed. You're too injured." But so was she- but there was a lot of things different with her compared to other mortals. Her blood wasn't like theirs, and she healed a lot quicker, though as she thought back to where her mortal body rested inside that tomb, she frowned.
"You should get some more rest," she told him, before rising off the bed.
"You needed it, too." Athran replied plainly, once again staring at the ceiling. "I'll try to sleep, though I can't guarantee it..." His voice was silent, and his eyelids covered the burning fires in his eyes.
Laying on his back wasn't comfortable for him, but he had currently no other option. Somehow he managed to fall asleep, and slept for much longer than before.
He was right. Iyla needed rest too, but she was pensive and restless but eventually, she had taken a seat at the end of hte bed and fell asleep watching out the window- and the girl and the older healer only peaked in once while they were asleep. They had placed more herbs on the table,but let the pair sleep- Iyla against the wall, while Athran laid on the bed.
It was shortly after dawn when Athran awoke. The room was filled with light, as it was turned east, and he felt much better than the previous day, though most wounds were still hurting.
He raised himself to his left elbow, and looked around himself. Iyla appeared to be peacefully sleeping with her back by the wall. He didn't want to wake her up, but while clumsily trying to stand up, he rolled off the bed and landed on the floor with a thud.
Managing to land on his back, it wasn't as painful as he feared, but he wasn't completely sure how to stand up...
At the noise- Iyla's eyes shot open and she was on her feet in seconds, a knife in her hand. But then spotting the elf on the floor and realizing, through a series of blinks, just where she was, she cursed through a breath and resheathed her blade.
"What the hell are you doing?" she asked, accusingly, though she had a hunch and moved over to his side, getting to one knee and offering a hand. "You could barely hold your own cup earlier- were you honestly trying to walk?"
Athran rolled his eyes over, and eventually nodded, blushing with shame. "Yes. I admit, I was trying to walk."
He stared at her, and eventually took her hand, avoiding her glance. "I felt better already. Thought I'd make it." he groaned, and returned to his bed, holding his head with his healthy hand.
Iyla frowned. He would try that. Stubborn elf.
"Here.." and she moved to guide him back to the bed, once she was certain he was safe enough, she moved away and handed him a palm full of herbs. "The healers brought more of this while we were sleeping. Might as well take some more, should ease some of that pain from the fall."
Athran grabbed the herbs and slowly chewed them. They were disgusting, but it was worth the few hours of rest. "Thanks." he mumbled to Iyla, and raised a brow in an untold question.
When he finally managed to swallow the dry herbs, he got more than a simple 'thanks' out of himself, though not much more. "How are you feeling today? You don't look that bad... I guess I look like a corpse..."
"You do look like a corpse. And you're acting like a child. Mortal bones and bodies are not so easily mended,"s he reminded him, and making the distinctive of mortal considering- his blood was real, where as her own...
She didn't even know. It was more like a phantom.
He rolled his eyes over. "I know, I know. But I can't keep laying on one place!" he snarled, clenching his fist. "Besides, I'm so hungry I'd eat my own boots."
He expected that answer - after all, it was completely reasonable and not surprising at all - but he was tired of this kind of talk. He wanted food, and he wanted to leave.
Iyla got up.
She moved from his side.
She bent over to fetch something from the corner..
THen handed him his boots.
"Here. Then eat these." she said.
OOC: lol hope it's ok I presumed he'd be bootless when he had fallen asleep lol
The idea just made me lol
He growled. "I'm going to need those." He glanced at the boots, completely torn to scraps, and sighed. Alright, maybe he isn't going to need this pair in particular...
He'll have to buy new boots once they're out of here. And new armour. And new... New everything.
He didn't even know where half of his weapons was...
"If you're wondering where the rest of your stuff is, it's in the box over there," Iyla said, jerking a thumb towards the corner. "We couldn't leave you to sleep with that strapped to your body. You'd likely put more holes in yourself while you're sleeping than have it on you when you're too weak to protect yourself anyway."
"I know. Thanks. It does hurt to sleep with the daggers on my back... My chest... My arms... My everything." he groaned, glancing at the box.
"Now could I please get some food? Please." he begged her. His stomach was growling and he would give anything for a good breakfast.
At the idea of seeing this elf beg, and saying please, had Iyla smirking.
"But I just gave you some." And she pointed to his boots.
"That's my boots. I can't eat them for a few reasons... First, I will need them. I can't walk around barefoot. Second, they're dirty. And third, they'd taste disgusting if I could even chew them." he reasoned with her, and grabbed her by the shirt.
"For the love of the gods, can't you even get a piece of bread? I'm dying of hunger!" he moaned. It was obviously exaggerating, but once he couldn't even move from the bed, he could just as well take advantage of it.
It had been sometime since Iyla could afford a laugh,but laugh she did-a nd the sound was different, though beautiful all the same. In fact, by such a sound, it did not seem as if it could come from a woman like her at all! Shaking her head, her eyes shined a moment, almost exposing the duality of glow- for just a second, her eyes flashed green, but just as quickly as it seemed they changed color-t hey were blood red again.
"I don't know," she said, now standing with her hands to her hips. "Maybe they just need some salt?"
Athran scowled. "I'll keep waking up in the middle of night and falling off the bed. All night. Loudly." he kept moaning jokingly. Now he resembled a young child, rather than a five centuries old warrior, and it was strange and amusing at once.
Though, his patience was running out, and he was only getting hungrier!
"Then I'll just let you sleep on the floor," she said, and didn't seem convinced enough to get off of the bed. Maybe she was having just too much fun watching him squirm.
Athran sighed and turned to his side to slide off the bed and somehow get someplace where he'd find food. "I'll get it myself!" he muttered. He managed to put his feet down by the side of the bed, stand up holding onto the bed itself, and clumsily limped to the doorway.
If he wasn't going to be given any food, he'll take it himself, and he was utterly determined to do so.
Iyla didn't think he'd become so foolish again. Growing angry quickly, she grabbed him by the shoulder.
"I was just toying! Now sit down before you hurt yourself!" she scolded. "I'll go get some food."
Iyla ignored the remark and left, and returned with some small bread biscuits in hand and a fresh pitcher of water. Setting the water on the table, she took her time before turning to Athran and suddenly- shoved the large bread biscuit into his mouth.
"There, in case you were going to have trouble with it,"s he said with a grin, eyes dancing with mirth.
Athran popped his eyes out as she suddenly simply stuck a biscuit to his mouth, and pushed her away from himself. He ate what he would have eaten anyway, and scowled at her.
"I can feed myself." he growled, and grabbed the plate to pull it to himself. "I can feed myself and you're not getting a thing."
Iyla arched a brow.
"Big words from someone who can barely walk." SHe smirked and folded her arms across her chest. "And who says I couldn't just procure food for myself?" Really... such a selfish little damaged elf.
Athran rolled his eyes over. "I want to see you getting food for yourself. You'd fall on your face before you'd get to the shop." he snarled, slowly eating another biscuit. Despite being hungry, he still wasn't able to gorge on food like other times.
He stared at the door. He was no longer feeling as bad as before, and being held in the bed wasn't helping him.
"Hand me my sword, please." he muttered, wagging his head at the box with his armour.
Iyla wondered if the elf was venting off steam because of his own inadequacies. Sure seemed like it. But she said nothing, and merely stared at him as if he were crazy at such a request.
"Your sword? Why are you asking for your weapon? I don't you need that to cut and butter your bread."
Athran gave her a cold, hard stare. "Just give it to me." he replied. However stupid it may have seemed, he had to stand up and leave this room, at least for a moment.
After eating a few of the biscuits, and far less than one may have expected, he moved the plate, still half full, away from himself, and kept staring at the box of weapons.
If nobody will hand him the Black Sword, he will have to come and pick it up himself...
Iyla just gave him a lame look but obeyed, walking over to retrieve his weapon before handing it to him.
"You aiming to kill something?"s he asked, cocking her head curiously to one side. "Perhaps those poor healers who have helped you?" And the tone in her voice conveyed the hint of joking as she sat on the bed beside him, resting a curled fist beneath her chin as hse crossed one leg over the other.
"Just don't cut your hand off when you fall over.."
She could only presume he'd still be so weak and then also equally foolish enough to try to walk agian. "You know swords do not make good canes."
Unles he wanted to cut off his foot on accident or something. Now there was an idea... it made her smirk.
Athran shook his head and took the sword to his hands. It was pleasant to have the wonderful weapon near himself again... He softly caressed the blade before gripping his hand around the hilt and slowly moving over to the edge of the bed.
He did exactly what she might have expected him to do - supporting himself with the long blade, he came to the door, and peered out. There were small holes in the wooden floor left after the tip of the sword, what he obviously ignored. It was easier to walk with the sword than grabbing onto whichever piece of furniture was near.
"You can eat the rest. I'm not going to touch it anymore." he said, standing in the doorway. He wasn't really sure whether going further was a good idea, but staying in one room would drive him only more insane than he already was.
Iyla was already helping herself long before he offered it to her. ANd she watched him with idle interest...
then did something that even shocked her-
she threw a biscuit at the back of his head.
OOC: just lol
Athran immediately reached after his head, letting go off the sword, and were he not standing right in the door, he would have fallen straight on his face. Like this, he simply bashed to the frame of the door with his head, while the Black Sword fell onto the ground with a loud thud.
He cursed, holding his head. "Are you completely crazy or what?" he snarled at Iyla. "I swear, if I could pick the blade up, you'd be sorry for being born..."
Iyla simply laughed and kicked back onto the bed, stretching out.
"You have fun trying that. I'm going to nap." ANd nestling in, she smirked as she closed her eyes. "It's good to see you at least kept the bed warm for me."
Athran growled. "Good luck with that..." He bent to pick the sword up again, and walked back to the bed. He simply wanted to annoy her for making fun of him... It could backfire badly, but he really wanted it.
He dropped onto the bed across her, and turned to her with a wide grin. "What, mind my company?" he chuckled.
Iyla tried to ignore him, but after a while she inquired, her back still to him- face to the wall
"I thought you were going somewhere? Or did you finally realize you have a broken.... everything?"
"You're a good pillow." Athran muttered. "I still can't move much... So be so kind and stop moving. I think I have your elbow somewhere in my back."
He stretched himself and moved into a more comfortable position, stealing her blanket, and covering himself with it instead.
"I'll show you an elbow to the back,"s he growled, and promptly jabbed that elbow deep into his back, right in a nice soft spot so as to make sure it would hurt- but not do TOO much damage. Even she knew the annoying elf was injured, after all.
"And I'm not you're damn pillow, so get off before I kick something else."
Athran groaned as her elbow poked him between the ribs, and rolled over to avoid getting another into an even worse spot. He pulled all of the blanket to himself, and moving his right arm as he could, though it was painful, he covered Iyla's mouth with his hand.
"Pillows don't talk."
She could have bit him, or elbowed him again for being a jerk and teasing her- for she very well knew how much in pain he was after all, they had suffered through most of that together, but the second he was laying real close to her, and his hand, moving around her and then touching her and sealing across her lips-
That was the last straw. Her temper got the better of her and blindly she grabbed onto his forearm and in a roar of rage, found strength even beyond her as she yanked Athran clean off of her and threw him onto the ground.
"DON'T TOUCH ME YOU POINTY-EARED CREEP!"
And it was only in that moment, to see him crumpled painfully on the ground did she realize her mistake...
Athran screamed in pain as she threw him off the bed, clenching her hands around his broken arm. He would have sworn she pulled the bones away and moved them across... Even his ribs seemed to be cracked again, sending terrible pain all though his body.
Tears welled out of his eyes, and he had to clench his teeth really hard to stop himself from sobbing. He'd have ripped her head off if he wasn't in such pain... Everything the healers did the day before was completely useless.
"F**k you!" he moaned in tears, and coiled up on the ground. Oh, the pain...
Iyla stood there, completely dumb founded. The poor elf was writhing in pain and she knew how bad off he was (even if he was too stubborn to realize it). She cringed and found herself staring at him before tearing her gaze away shamefully to the floor.
"Shit."
And before he could stop her, she left the room.
It was a while before anyone returned, and he could very well have assumed she abandoned him- but come back she did, but that was not revealed until after the younger healing woman and the elder one (which only then, was revealed to be the young girl's grand mother). But as they finished patching him up, Iyla returned, leaning against the door frame as they were wrapping him up with the final touches of bandages.
The young healing girl had left to attend to another patient on the other side of town, and the older woman was arthritic and having trouble wth the last bits of gauze.
"Here.." Iyla said, stepping into the room. "You've done enough for us already. I'll tend to the rest of his wounds."
Athran groaned upon seeing the girl again. Having all the wounds stitched up again, and bones moved around his body, all just because of her, he wasn't too fond of seeing her - actually, he wasn't fond of it at all.
"Not you. I'll rather do it alone." he snarled. "I don't want to see your shitface again." He turned his face away from her, stubbornly staring at the wall. "Get lost, you cow. You've already caused me enough pain."
He closed his eyes and let out a long sigh. What, for the love of the gods, has he done so bad that he had to be punished like this?
"Just shut up and lift your arms," Iyla commanded. She knew she deserved the soured attitude, but she was going to wrap him up one way or another. But if he kept it up- she might see to it to strap him and tie him to the bed. Or.. mend him up so much he looked like a mummy.
"It even looks like your head wraps are coming lose. Here, just hold still," and she tried to carefully rewrap the stuff around his head, and frowned at the blood. She discarded the wraps and found fresh new ones and carefully began to loop them around his head, though she was wary of his ears- but when she was trying to be cautious of those pointy things, the bandaging came loose and one strand fell over his blue eyes.
Athran held still, not moving at all, but he couldn't stop sighing when she accidentally covered his eyes with the bandages. She wasn't helping at all.
"Thanks a lot. Now I can't see a thing... Not sure if that helped me, or not..." he muttered. Her hands were only scratching him, and he was getting impatient. Moved around so much, he couldn't even fall asleep.
"Could I at least take a nap while you're messing around? Good gods, I wish I had some wine..." Athran continued moaning.
Iyla jerked the bandaging out away from his eyes and simply stared into his blue eyes a moment before glancing away and working at tying the wraps even more tightly around his head- the tightness might have even hurt.
"Just stay still or this will never get done."
"Ow! Not so tightly!" Athran protested, faintly pushing her hands away. "Be careful, or I'll send my foot up your ass when I'll be able to stand!" he growled. She was about as gentle as a bear, and he was obviously not in the best condition for that.
She was as gentle as a bear- and he, angry as one!
"I'd like to see you try." she quipped, and loosened the head bindings before securing a knot.
"There, now your brains won't fall out."
He scowled at her. "Thanks a lot! If you'd use yours, you wouldn't be doing this in the first place, remember? It's your fault." he reminded her, and pulled himself under the blanket.
"Now be so kind and let me sleep. It's after noon and I've had about enough."
Iyla went silent and watched him nestle into the bed. Moments later, she rose and moved over towards the window, and quietly watched the world outside. It seemed as if it was about to rain.
Athran fell asleep on the pillows before he could even say another word. Soon, rain started falling from the sky, and it hit the window with soft thudding.
A few days later, it was still raining in the morning. Athran woke up, blinking at the ceiling and yawning. He felt better than before, confident enough to walk out of the room and get some food himself, though he still wasn't allowed to take the bandages off, and his right arm was outright useless in a sling.
He turned his head aside and looked around. It could have been shortly after sunrise, and the room was quite dark, filled only with the dim light, coming from beyond the clouds. He was hungry, but he wasn't sure whether he wants to leave the warm bed to get himself some food. He could use Iyla for that, though...
"Iyla..." he moaned. "I'm hungry!"
As it was when he first fell asleep, Iyla was leaning against the wall again- looking out the window and listening to the sound of rain. The window was open a crack, just enough to let a cool breeze blow in and very little rain, but the sound was soothing- unlike Athran's croaky voice.
She turned his way.
"You want another biscuit?" she asked flatly, arms folded across her chest from where she leaned.
"No, I want food. Real food. A piece of bread and meat. I've had enough of that dry crap, eating it for four days..." he replied, and sat up on the bed. "I'm hungry and the biscuits are just not enough. I swear if I get one more, I'll choke on it."
He pulled the blanket over his shoulders and looked around himself, with hair like a scruffy black bird's nest, but he didn't appear like a corpse anymore. He yawned and narrowed his eyes. "Or should I go pick it up myself?"
Iyla kept her arms folded.
"Do you remember what happened last time when you tried? Besides, I don't have that sort of money. Biscuits will have to do."
"Yes, I do remember." Athran rolled his eyes over, "I threw up. But if I have to eat one more biscuit by itself, I'll throw up, too, so it makes no difference."
He stood up and slowly walked towards the door, and though it took him a while, he was able to keep on his feet without stumbling or falling. "I'd eat even salad..." he groaned.
Iyla found herself smirking as she watched him walk with less pain this time.
"Looks like you're good enough to walk. You might be well enough to eat then. Come on, there's a tavern on the next street over in town. If you can manage to walk there, perhaps I can spare some coin for meat."
Athran stopped in the doorway. "Walk there? I doubt I could. And even if, I don't know how would I come there in this rain. Half of my armour is in scraps..." he replied, wagging his head towards the box in the corner. All of his clothes were too destroyed to wear again, and would probably fall apart if he tried to put them on.
He shook his head. "Besides, I'm not in the mood to take funny looks from villagers. Enough that they stare through the window..." he added bleakly.
"Looks like you're stuck with me eating biscuits again," and this time she said it with a smirk. "But come on, since you're seemingly better, we could work on fixing what's left of it. I'm sure some of it can be mended."
"And if you cooperate, maybe I'll let you have two biscuits," she added, just to be a tease.
Athran let out a silent groan, sitting down on the table in the other room. He glanced down at his arm, then turned back ti Iyla. "Well, good luck with that. You'll get both my biscuits if you can somehow fix it." He was well aware that in his current state, he was pretty much useless.
"You'll eat it if you know what's good for you," she said, before moving towards the door. "But I'll see what I can do."
She left the elf alone for quite a while before she returned, but didn't bother to say hello when she re-entered. There was a small, make shift stove int he common room that connected to the room they were staying in at the healer's house, and after a moment- Athran would be able to smell the sizzle of butter and the crackling of cooked eggs.
Athran stumbled into the kitchen by the first sign of the smell his keen senses caught. He grinned upon seeing the boiling eggs, and silently walked behind Iyla's back. To his hungry self it appeared unearthly beautiful, to see the bright yellow yolks, surrounded by white, boiling in the pan.
"Don't scramble them... And boil the yolks completely, please..." he reminded her, staring at the eggs, seemingly hypnotized by the sudden appearance of food.
Iyla peered over at his shoulder and smirked.
"You sound like my brother," she said. "Should I flip them or do you like the yolk exposed?"
"Flip them over. I like it pretty boiled." Athran replied, and dropped down onto one of the chairs by the small round table in the middle of the room, impatiently waiting for the eggs.
Iyla glanced over her shoulder. Athran looked about ready to drool all over himself. So she simply jerked her arm, tipped up the pan real quick and the egg took to the air in a flip, then it landed softly into the sizzling butters before she let the egg settle for a little while, the edges of the whites turning a soft, gold brain before she picked up a plate and rested the eggs over his two biscuits.
"There." she said, setting the plate down before him, the eggs glistening and still sizzling, fresh. "Two eggs cooked to perfection- on top of your wonder biscuits."
She smirked. But the biscuits would now be warmed and with the butter from the eggs soaking into them- they'd be moist as well and would melt into his mouth and taste loads better than when they were offered up to him- plain and stale.
Athran stared at the plate in wonder. He was ready to shove the eggs into his mouth whole, weren't they that hot, and immediately grabbed a knife. However, it proved more difficult to cut a couple of eggs, using only his left hand, than it would be to behead an opponent.
He moved them around the plate, making a terrible screeching sound, till he finally managed to stick a piece onto the tip of the knife and stuff it into his mouth. The eggs tasted wonderful and were surely worth the trouble with cutting... Just like heaven after five days of biscuits, biscuits and nothing but biscuits.
Iyla watched the elf melt at the taste of the eggs. It made her smile. It had been ages since she had cooked for anyone- in her former life.. servants had done it- but when she dd it herself, she had always enjoyed it.
"You even eat like my brother." She offered him a clothe napkin. "You have egg yolk and butter all over your face."
Athran groaned and swallowed what he currently had in his mouth. "Show me how you eat with one hand..." he growled, and wiped the food off his mouth. "But I have to admit, it tastes good. Whenever I cook, I burn the meal." he admitted.
Both eggs and biscuits were gone in a matter of few moments, and Athran finally felt less hungry. Eating food after a few days of dry crap, as he called, was more than pleasant. He straightened himself on the chair and turned aside a little, smirking at Iyla. "You cook better than me. And I bet I'm at least twenty times older."
"Possibly, elves are quite old," she replied, somewhat playfully as she eyed him up. "Are you content with that meal or do I have to cook you more?"
And she kept the comment that he cooked like her brother too- it was strange. And remembering her brother made her remember her plight.. and why she never liked lingering near others for too long. She was cursed,a nd that could extend out to anyone she met. And she could not live with herself if she found anyone else she cared for died at her own hands.
"I've had enough, thanks. I'm still not too confident about eating loads of food... Trust me when I tell you that I don't want to throw up." he joked, delving into his long black hair with one hand. Its long, scruffy strands turned around his fingers. Through six days of not seeing a comb, he had just an unkempt black nest on his head, sticking out in all directions and falling into his face.
He narrowed his eyes and looked out of the window. "I wish I could go out. I'm dying of boredom in here..." he admitted sadly.
"Sorry I'm not more of an entertainer,"s he told him, avoiding his gaze as she stared across the room. "But I'm sure you can find yourself some other means of entertainment once you're well. We'll be parting ways then anyway."
"If I will not kick off in the meantime. I'm bored to death." he moaned. "There's no entertainment for me. I can't train. I can't hunt..." He bent his head back and sighed in desperation. "And atop all, I can't even leave the house, or take the bandages off! I don't want to be here!"
Iyla narrowed her eyes at him.
"You know you sound like a child."
"Yeah, I know. Deal with it." Athran replied. "I can't think of anything better... Maybe I'll just go to sleep again..."
And that's when Iyla threw a biscuit at his head.
OOC: Lol short post is short but loooooool
Athran threw a completely cynical, uninterested glance at her. "Amusing?" he raised a brow in sarcasm. "Must be so much fun, throwing food into people."
She took up another biscuit and broke off a small piece and ate it, then broke off a second and tossed it onto his lap.
"Naturally," shes said with a smirk. "At least I'm amused. Besides, you're filthy anyway. What's some crumbs if not to add to your look of distress?" ANd she ate another piece she broke off witha simple smirk.
Athran rolled his eyes over and dusted the crumbs off. "Stop tossing biscuits at me." he growled. "Find a different kind of amusement. You're just wasting food. Did mommy never teach you not to throw good food around?" he scolded her.
"No, but she did tell me throwing food an ill-tempered and damaged elves was acceptable."
She smiled at him and popped another piece of biscuit into her mouth.
He only rolled his eyes over. "What excellent etiquette. I always knew Connlaothians are idiots..." he said bleakly, and shook his head.
"I agree," she said, finishing up her biscuit as she smirked. Did he honestly think she was Connlaothian? Must be her hair..a nd the fact her skin was much paler in this form.
Athran raised a brow. "Wait, you're not Connlaothian?" he asked, showing a fair amount of suspicion in his voice. Now that was unexpected...
"Does it matter?" she inquired as she folded her arms and leaned against the door frame. Really.. she'd rather not admit any more details about herself than she had to with him, or with anyone.
He shrugged. "No. Mortals are idiots, be they Connlaothian, Serenian, Adelan, whatever. Same lack of brains." he winged off. If he came to a conclusion about humans, it was that their wit was highly insufficient...
Iyla only laughed, and laughed and laughed.
"And you have no idea how much like a mortal you are."
Athran shot a sharp, cold glance in her direction. "I'm nothing like the filth that so proudly calls itself humanity." he winged off.
"Vanity so proudly follows men everywhere, and you most certainly are a man. It doesn't matter what the race is, you're all the same."
He shook his head. "It follows women, too. And I can clearly see one it's hanging from right now." he replied. "Idle talk and nothing good from it... I think I'll rather go to sleep."
"Sleep all you want. The more sleep you'll have, the faster you'll heal, and the faster I can leave."
"Gladly. I don't want you to stick around any longer." he groaned, standing up from the table, and returning to his bed. It was only after noon, but he fell asleep, coiled up between the blankets, almost immediately after closing his eyes.
And the raindrops kept hitting the glass.
The rains continued to pummel the window in great, unrelenting sheets. Her red eyes stared out longingly at the world outside- finding herself trapped inside this shell of a life, of this place...
After hearing Athran's breaths turned quieter as he slept, she slipped away, stepping outside and into the streets.
Two steps out, the water pelted her- and four steps out-s he was soaked. She didn't care, seh didn't even bother to pull up the hood of her cloak-
No...
She embraced the rains and walked, one boot in front of the other , right down the main street of town. Even as lightning tore across the skies and thunder shook the ground- she stared bck at the storms defiantly before pausing just in the middle of town where no shelters from buildings or trees could protect her-
and she just let the elements come pouring down upon her, slicking hair and clothing to her body like a second skin.
And it was here she let herself reflect to a time long ago- to her brother Ryk, and it was here, her tears mixed with rain.
She also contemplated leaving Athran for good.
She had what she needed, he woudl survive- she owed him nothing else.
SO why stay?
Athran didn't sleep long, not even an hour. He awoke alone in the small room, and that confused him. Where was Iyla? Did she leave to buy more food, or...?
He sled off the bed and peered into the other room, but it was empty just as well. Where could she go in such rain? Wherever has she gone, she must be soaked by now...
Only a moment later, he ran out of the door, holding his black cape above his head to shield himself from the rain. He went up the streets, overflowing with water, which was streaming down their sides, instinctively running in the first direction that came to his mind.
There she was, amid the town square. His hand moved a wisp of soaked black hair from his eyes, and he made a few more steps forth towards her, dripping with water that has enveloped him like a garb. It didn't even feel cold...
He walked up to her from behind and silently threw his cape over her shoulders and head. "You shouldn't stand here in the rain..." he reminded her.
By the time Athran had showed up, the tears had all been but washed away and it left her feeling... hollow, and empty. The cloak over her did little to bring her out of her stare as she continued to stare up at the clouds, just as the storm seemed to be passing, but not the rain. It still came down, albeit it lighter now than it had before and she kept staring up at the clouds- ones that swallowed it's own roar of thunder just as lightning flickered over head.
"You know I'm already soaked.." she finally spoke, though it wasn't until several minutes later as she went to pry his cloak from her form. It would hardly do much good for her now.
Athran didn't say a word. It didn't really matter one bit whether it was raining, or not... He let the water flow down his skin, dripping off him almost like a waterfall. He closed his eyes and stepped closer. His arm slowly moved towards her and bent around her waist, entwining around her softly.
He laid his head down at her shoulder. Water flew down his face like tears... Who knows if it was not.
She didn't know why she was thinking of Ryk again- perhaps it was the long, dark hair- or perhaps the attitude, or perhaps she never realized how sentimental eggs could be. But she stiffened when the elf but his arms around her, cringing at first as she blinked into the rain. Her face would be facing away from his as she looked past him, through the sheets of rain, through the wetness as she felt more hot tears bubble to the surface.
What was he doing? What was his purpose?
Or maybe these sort of questions were just as foolish as any other- Perhaps they were just too much alike, finding the other when one was utterly, utterly alone. Funny how she knew not much about this elf, but buried instincts had her moving her arms around him as she hugged back, though the gesture was delicate and light.
"Are you doomed to die, Athran? Is that why that creature follows you around?"
And had some such creature- but unseen, followed her brother before he reckless wandered into that cave alone? She cringed at the thought, and her teeth were kept somewhat bared as she kept her eyes away from him, feeling numb to the gesture, feeling awkward, and out of place.
Athran nodded, clenching his teeth. Tears, flowing from beneath his long lashes, mixed with the rain, and he pressed Iyla to himself a bit tighter, still gently holding her with one arm. She was right, he was doomed to die... He has been doomed to die from the day he was born.
"I was born in the mourning hall... Off course I'm doomed to die..." he whispered. He pressed one side of his face onto hers, warm like the fire that always boiled the blood in his veins, and yet cold. "But I don't want to be alone anymore. I don't want to be in the dark alone."
The mask that covered him for so long, creating an illusion of strength, content and confidence, was breaking. He wasn't able to hold it anymore, and its broken shards were falling and crumbling in the metaphorical void that was underneath. So many years of playing a role that fit him, but was far from reality, created a deep gap between the veil and what it was hiding. It may have been the six days of lingering on one place, it may have been that the incident with the wall broke something more than a few bones in his old, scarred body.
"I know I'm doomed to die, but I don't want to wait for it all alone..."
The words stung her, but not a painful sting- but rather something that shocked her. He was alone? The idea of needing that solitude, and the fear it provided, reached far too close to home for her. Her lips shifted, the frown deepening.
"Athran... I don't think you're going to find what you're looking for in me," she confessed, keeping those red eyes staring off in the distance, far, far away from him. "You know you're doomed to die... but I'm doomed to live."
And she wasn't sure which one was which, and even as she felt uncomfortable in this embrace, numbed by the emotions rather than the storm that rumbled over head, Iyla could not part her arms from him.
"How long do you have to live?" she asked, her voice croaky, but delicate.
He shook his head. "I don't know. It can be hours, and it can be centuries." he replied silently. Ryuch told him that he is going to die, but he doubted that the death god himself knew when that was.
The tears that streamed from his eyes were almost like a fire on his white skin, so much warmer than the cold rain. "I'm sorry for being an idiot." he whispered, his lips twisting into a sad, bitter smile. "And I mean it..."
He twisted his head towards her, and pressed his lips onto the side of her cheek for a short moment.
Iyla wasn't sure how to respond to his words, let alone the kiss to her cheek. It sent a shock way through her, which struck at her emotions, and made them trembling inside, even as she was steeling them, without. Closing her eyes, a few silent tears fell from her cheek.
"We can't all live forever. We can't all be perfect."
Though for all she knew, maybe she could live forever, perfection aside.
But she didn't want it-t this suffering this life. Instincts had her running a hand through his long hair,a nd she laughed just subtly through a breath from her nose when her fingers got caught on some of the knots in his hair.
"You smell, elf. You need a bath." She paused, her lips wavering. "And your hair is over due for a brushing."
Though maybe all their worries would get washed away in that rain.
Athran chuckled lightly through the tears. "I know. Don't remind me... I feel bad enough without it..." he admitted. His hand moved up her back and delved into the long wisps of her golden hair, smoothly sliding down his fingers.
Something in him broke. More tears welled out of his eyes, and as he saw her before him, he couldn't resist any longer. In a split second, he pressed his warm lips onto her, softly kissing her. He didn't want to let go.
Thunder crashed somewhere up north, roaring like a battle-cry. The rain grew stronger.
The rain, and the fact her blood ran cool within her provided his warm lips with only something colder in return. But the softness, the warmth behind it made her outter layer crack.
How long had it been since she let someone- anyone get so close to her? And how was it even fair? In her former life, she would have reveled in more friendships but now...
The curse consumed all aspects of her life, fear driving her to her limits and wearing her thin.
It made her greyed, dull, and ignorant- and that's how she had wanted it to be. You couldn't get hurt or hurt others if you never got close to be apart of their world.
But it seemed one side tracked route with a pointy eared 'creep' helped melt some of it away.
And at the kiss, she was numb and dizzy and no longer thinking but simply reacting as a hand cupped his cheek as she leaned in deeply, her lips warming as they sealed back to his in a rain flavored kiss.
Her response sent a chill down Athran's spine, and he only returned a fiercer, more intense kiss, not eager to either let go, or stop. It sent waves of warmth through his body, softly moving with every breath with the grace of a wild cat.
He used to be alone for so long that he already forgot how wonderful it felt. It brought only more tears to his eyes when he remembered fiercely kissing another like her... He didn't think he was still capable of taking off the mask and getting close to anyone again, but apparently, he was.
The emptiness and void has deprived him of all emotions, all hopes, all compassion, love and empathy.
It was almost painful to feel again, but he'd gladly take ten times more. He suddenly missed the years he wasted with a barren wasteland inside his mind and heart.
The dim warmth of her body, her soft lips, her rain-drenched hair, that was all he wanted to feel.
As much as she'd love it to last forever, or even to fall into... whatever this was, she knew better, and reality was as cold as the rain that doused them. So it was only after a few shared kisses found her lips pulling away as she cringed and dropped her gaze to the ground, not able to let her eyes meet to his.
"Athran.."
But her words paused in her throat, and were she to continue, she might have choked on her own breath. And her heart ached, Gods did it ache, as it remained clenching inside her, painful and tight. He was tapping somewhere deeper, and she wasn't sure if she was ready for that escape.
And after a moment of hesitation, her lips twitched into a subtle, forced smile as she kept her eyes on the ground, though they were hidden behind her thick, wet bangs.
"You would try to kiss me now- being all smelly... in the rain."
When she had even contemplated leaving this place forever. Connlaoath be damned, but the elf's presence kept her glued into place.
It suddenly felt so cold when she pulled herself away from him, and he glanced at her with his sad blue eyes, slowly letting his hand slide down her back again. For a moment, she made him forget... And now the memories, and the pain came back.
His throat grew tight with the tears, and he only sadly reached after her, like if she was only an illusion of a dream he has lost a long time ago. Once you taste what you've lost you'll keep missing it forever...
He didn't want to be alone again. He knew it's going to hurt to part.
"Please, don't leave me alone." he whispered. He didn't want to return to the dark again.
Iyla's lips twitched, faltering in her forced smile, though as she opened her lips to speak, no words came out.
A crack of lightning and it's thunder shook the ground while the winds picked up. Her eyes lifted to his, and he'd see he wasn't the only one crying.
Athran raised his hand to stroke her cheek, but it was shaking, and he couldn't keep it steady. His eyes were full of tears, rolling down his white skin together with the drops of rain.
"I don't want to leave." he pleaded her. "I can't go back to the dark again."
How ironic were those words he spoke, especially to a creature such as herself.
"But how do you know it's not the darkness in which you are falling?" she asked, her eye lids hanging low, soft blonde lashes keep those red eyes framed as she blinked back a few tears, and used a thumb to wipe away some of his as she cupped his cheek.
"Athran, you have no idea what I am."
Or what I can become.
"I don't want to continue forth alone. I know the darkness. I don't want to return to it alone..." he shook his head, and closed his eyes in a desperate attempt to stop the tears. "I don't want to die again. It hurts to see everything around me fade, and knowing that I can't avoid the same fate. I know that one day I'll be lost forever, but I don't want to be alone."
The words streamed from his lips like a river, and he continued speaking, still keeping his eyes closed. "I can't bear the thought that I've wasted so many years. I was alone for so long that I can't contemplate how empty it left me inside, and it hurts to see that there is something else to life than blood and violence, because I know that I can't get it. But please... Grant me at least that short while of sweet blindness when I won't remember it! I know that it will hurt the more the more of it I feel, but it doesn't matter. I will take that pain for the moment of oblivion."
The words hit too close to home- and she could feel all his emotions in his words. Her eyes, unable to leave his face, bore hot tears that did not fall.
Thank the Gods for the Rain. The cooling presence to keep her skin from the heat that was rising and threatening to rot her brain.
What words he spoke, of lost and gain and wanting- and she knew far too well of it- except she knew it was not fair to lead him on...
"Athran, I do not think you understand. For I know far too well the words you speak, and because of it, you must realize, I'm too cursed for us, for anything, to ever be."
Or it was at least what she thought to believe.
"This isn't my real body, my real life.."
Though for all she knew, this state of her existence was permanent.
"And it would be too dangerous for me to let you in,"s he told him, and this time, her voice, once strong and steadfast, began to waver and break, as tears began to stream down her face and blurred him from her sight.
But she knew that loneliness, knew that regret, but she was a novice to anything like love- and anytime she even considered opening up, she blocked it away, or fate found ways to ruin it.
"I don't even think I can remember how to feel..." she admitted, knowing full well most of her emotions had been packed away. "If we keep this up, we'll both only end up hurt."
And she hesitated, releasing a quivering breath.
"Why do you think I want to leave?"
And even now, more so than ever.
"No matter what I do, Athran. I will only hurt you."
But why could she not leave? It would be so much easier to just walk away, to leave this memory to fade along with the pouring rain.
He finally opened his eyes. "You can't hurt me more than I've already been hurt, Iyla. That's not possible." he muttered, shaking his head.
For all that he has gone through, he didn't believe there could be more pain, he didn't believe that there was a deeper bottom to which he could sink. It didn't seem possible.
His whole body was shaking, and he suddenly felt himself collapsing onto the ground. It was nothing, he hardly felt anything except falling onto the cold stones and water, and he lay in it completely still, without moving a finger. The water, the raindrops, which enveloped him like a garb, was flowing down the sides of his body.
For a long, cold moment- Iyla stared out into the empty rain. Where the elf had once been, and did not drop her gaze to the ground. But closing her eyes, she found herself getting to her knees as she sat beside him.
"So is this what is to become of us? Two heaps, useless in the rain?" she tried to smile for him as she reached a hand forward.
"I think you've grown on me elf, or plagued me,- like some strange disease. Perhaps I'll let you stick around." And if he were to look up, he'd note she was actually smiling.
"I was a fool... What did I even think? It would have to be a miracle for something to change..." His lips twisted into something that bore a distant similarity to a smile, but it was a bitter, sad grimace. He took her hand, but couldn't find the strength to stand up...
"Why did I even think something like that... Off course it's only an illusion. I'm already going mad from solitude, am I not?" he whispered.
He had no idea how much those words hurt her, and her smile instantly dropped as she grew quiet.
Yes... perhaps they were both being foolish. Her eyes hurt too much for more tears.
"Let's get you back inside the healer's house, elf,"s he said, rising to her feet. "The rain could kill you. Unless you forgot about your injuries already." ANd she moved to help him to his feet, offering her shoulder for him to lean on.
It could kill him... He'd welcome that. "I'd let it. I don't care. It makes no difference to me, whether I am dead or alive." he replied, but let her pull him up nonetheless.
The hard truth of the cruel reality has drained every spark of energy from him. He wouldn't protest even if she took him to death... He wouldn't say a word. "I don't want to let go, but I know there isn't any other choice for me. I'd drag you down with me..." he whispered. "And I don't want you to suffer like I do."
It was only at his words that she found herself smiling against as she began to guide the elf back towards the healer's house.
"Have you been listening to us? We both seem to sound the same- though I'm uncertain how you could harm me any more than this." And she looked at him most seriously.
"It's been too long... since I even considered any one a friend," she admitted. "Let alone, anything more."
A friend. A funny thought... His lips twisted to a weak grin by her words. "A friend... Yes, I don't have many of those, either. They're all dead." he replied in a dark attempt to joke, and closed his eyes again.
"It's cold." he muttered. "Good gods, how cold it is."
At his words, he had no idea how close to home he hit. She too- lost many that were close to her- her entire family.. Her mom, brother, Ryk...
She felt a tear slip away, and before she knew what she was doing, she stole a kiss to the side of Athran's lips.
"It is cold, this whole world is,"s he told him, keeping close as she rested her face against his. "But I'll help you."
Gods she knew not how, but part of her wanted to at least try. They were too much alike- and it seemed they had so much to gain.
His smile grew a little stronger. "Now it's warmer." he whispered into her ear, and tried to help her carry him by supporting himself. He wasn't heavy, after all those days he was hardly more than skin and bones, but he was still concerned about her.
Losing something that now seemed like a precious treasure was the worst of nightmares...
No, he definitely didn't want to lose her.
It was strange how all of this could have happened, but there she was, leading the injured and proud elf back to his bed. Once she felt he was safely there, she moved away from him to close the open window. They didn't need any more rain- clearly they had enough.
But she paused there, staring out at the rainy world they had come from before turning back to him.
"You should get some rest."
But they also should look for dryer clothes.
"I'll ask the old lady here if they have some towels, or spare clothes. We could catch our death as soaked as we are."
It didn't help much to be put on the bed, as the water was dripping from every part of him, but in the end, it was the only way, and therefore, Athran didn't protest. He thanked her, pulling his knees up to his chest to warm himself up a little, and watched her move around the room.
"I think I'll even need new bandages. They're as cold as ice from the rain..." he reminded her. It sent a chill down his spine and he cringed every time he moved in the wet fabrics. "A towel and a dry shirt might be enough for now, though." He didn't want to ask too much.
Iyla frowned. He was a soaking mess.
She shook her head.
"You were crazy to go out in that rain. I'll see if the old lady isn't around to accommodate us. But maybe you should get a hot bath. That's the last thing i need on my conscience is an elf dying on me because he decided to chase me out in the rain."
She paused to observe him a moment.
"Did you really think I was going to leave?"
Though the thought had truly crossed her mind- more than once.
Athran gave her a faint shrug with one shoulder. "I don't know what I was thinking. I couldn't find you, so I searched for you..." he muttered. "But don't worry about me. I can't die of this." His voice wasn't as convincing as he wished for it to be, although he knew that simply getting soaked couldn't cause him too much trouble.
"Besides, I think you're trying to make me take a bath for a different reason." he growled, remembering her words. He wasn't too eager to do so - he was well aware of how uncomfortable it would be to get water into the wounds.
"It's not my fault you smell," she told him and turned away so he wouldn't see her smirk.
"I'll go fetch the old lady..." And she left Athran alone by himself for a while to just think about... um... well, she just left him alone.
It wasn't too long before Iyla was hauling in some water, and while she went to heat it up, the old woman came in with fresh bandages in tow, and some soup and an apple, which she set on a nearby table.
"She told me you were craving something that wasnt a biscuit," the old woman chuckled as she gave Athran a wink. "Now once you get all cleaned, I'd recommend rebandaging yourself then. The bath will do well to wash out and keep your wounds clear of infection. And here are some towels and an old pair of clothes you can wear while you're things dry up. I brought your wife some too-"
And it was here Iyla dropped the fire poker she was using to stoke the fire.
"Er- were not married," Iyla corrected.
The old woman only smiled.
"Well your sister then."
And that made Iyla frown even more- They didn't even LOOK related! Athran was an elf!
Even despite disliking the entire idea of taking a bath now, he had to bite into his cheek to refrain himself from laughing. They definitely didn't look like either of that... He raised himself to his elbows, and chuckled at Iyla. "Thank you for that. I'm afraid the clothes may be a tad short, though..."
In the meantime, he started taking off the soaked shirt while Iyla heated the water. It was in scraps, and needed serious repairs, but he didn't want to throw it away - yet. He sat up as he pulled it over his head, and immediately covered his chest with his left arm, hiding behind the shirt.
"Please, don't look at me. I look like a corpse..." he muttered, staring at the floor. A few wisps of his hair sled into his face and hid his eyes, looking down at his white skin in embarrassment. The real reason why he was hiding wasn't his skinny figure, or wounds under the white gauze. What was under the shirt wasn't anything he'd want to show to someone... His chest and arms appeared like a map, crossed by dozens of thin white scars, tracing across his body. People always asked questions when they saw them...
"I'd also appreciate if you'd all leave while I take a bath, alright?" he reminded them, looking up a little.
Iyla had her nose in the fire, blowing on it to get it started, but it seemed the fire was stubborn.
"What? ANd leave you to get your back where you can't reach? I've bathed men before," she rolled her eyes. It was true, her brother, she had helpedbathe before.. though they were much younger.
"Besides, you're injured." Once she got the fire going, she peered over at him to where he was hiding. He looked... really bizarre hunched over like that.
"Are you afraid I'll hurt you? I can be careful over the wounds. Besides, you need ointment reapplied to your wounds anyway. And it doens't matter if you look like skin and bones- you've gone through a lot, I'd be surprised if he hadn't lost an ounce of fat on your body."
Athran shook his head. "No. I don't want anyone to see me." he muttered, turning his head away. "There are things that aren't worth seeing... But if you have to..." He shrugged. She was right - he couldn't reach to many more places, not only his back - which actually wasn't that difficult to reach.
"But you'll have to be careful, and promise me not to stare." he added, and sled off the bed, still keeping the shirt in front of himself. He was so unused to letting someone else see him that he was almost panicking by the very thought.
Iyla looked at him funny.
"So you want me to wash you with my eyes closed?"
Athran shook his head. "No, just don't stare." he replied plainly, and dipped his fingers into the water. It appeared warm enough for him to get in...
Within a matter of a few moments, he ripped off the bandages and got in as quickly as he could, hiding from all the eyes that could watch him. The warm water was burning him where his wounds weren't healed yet, and he pulled his ears back as it sent a chill down his spine. Pulling his knees to his chest and bending his arm around them, he shyly shrunk to a small bundle. His hair was so long that it covered his shoulders and his knees, up by his neck, but none of the women could see that, as he turned his back to them.
It was uncomfortable, knowing how incredibly revealed he was.
Iyla gave him space, and obliged his wishes. She assumed he had good reason, and getting a glimpse of those scars, she knew why. After she realized, she was in fact, staring, she dropped her gaze to her hand and began to remove her leather gauntlets, and once those were removed, she removed the layer of wraps beneath.
She said nothing,a nd began to work up a lather with the soap and available wash clothe before she moved to suds up his back- though as her hands moved towards his shoulders, he might have caught a glimpse of her own skin- for her fingers were not the same color as her skin tone, but a dark, burned black color that seemed to consume only a few of her fingers and the color was crawling up towards the knuckles.
"Hold your breath, I need to wet your hair."
Picking up a pitcher, she doused it over his head and once it was suitably wet, she began to massage her fingers into his scalp and worked up a series of foam all throughout his black hair.
"You've got longer hair than some women," she commented idly, the waters becoming clouded with bubbles quickly, and the dirt from his skin. "But you have nice hair."
Better than hers, anyway, but she rarely took care of it. It's one reason she just kept it back in a braid- and she was too proud to simply cut it.
Athran let her wash him without protesting, surprisingly finding her hands, moving though his hair, quite pleasant. "Thanks." he muttered, glancing over his shoulder at her. Once the old healer, who has left in the meantime, was gone, he was at least a bit less shy.
His hand moved towards the edge of the bathtub, and his fingers gripped it so hard that his knuckles turned white. "I don't like other people seeing me without armour." he admitted. "Nobody has done so for years."
He would hardly let anyone even get a glimpse at his body, but in the end, this was for his own good. That didn't mean he was fond of it, though.
"Why? Do you hate your body so much?" She inquired, though could she blame him?S he herself was similar, after all-s he did try to hide her true sex. But then again, no one bothered a man alone on the road as much as they would a woman.
"It's not nice what I hide underneath. I don't hate it, but you might be afraid." he whispered, hiding his face behind the dark veil of his hair. "I don't want to scare people away more than without that. It shows too much about me."
That was the truth of which he was afraid - though having a pretty face at the first sight, he was scarred, and not only on his skin.
Iyla frowned, and this time, took in the details of his body, using the soapy clothe to wash delicately over the wounds of his back.
"I see nothing shameful in it." Though he looked quite bony, she knew it was probably something he could not help. "And why would I be afraid?"
"I'm glad you are not. Many are. And they ask questions..." he replied quietly. His eyes closed, and his hand moved up to his neck, running down the countless lines on his chest and shoulders. His fingers could easily find those deep gaps that appeared like cracks in his white skin, only even lighter.
"Yes..." she stated, frowning as she considered others she had ran into. She often times found when others realized she was female- they asked the same.
Seeing as he was thoroughly washed on this side, she handed him the soapy clothe and soap bar before picking up a pitcher and used it to begin rinsing out his hair.
She kept quiet- kept her own thoughts to herself, even if they were many.
His fingers grabbed the clothe and he cleaned his chest and neck with it, as thoroughly as he could without pressing onto the cracked ribs too hard. The water flowed down his shoulders, and it was pleasantly warm, drenching his hair and washing the dirt off it.
He remained silent through the whole time. There wasn't really anything to say, and he was still blushing awkwardly.
Once she finished rinsing him, Iyla rose from the ground and retrieved a few towels nearby for him.
"Here- you can get dry. I'll see about warming up that soup." It had grown cold since the old woman had brought it in- and she figured Athran would want as much space as he could get. And she understood that completely.
Athran replied with a faint nod. "I'd appreciate that."
As soon as she was gone, he got out of the tub, though spilling a fair amount of water on the ground, and immediately covered himself with the towels. He hissed a little as he pressed one onto his right forearm too hard, accidentally touching the broken part, but refrained himself from being any louder.
Clumsily hanging one towel over his wet hair, while another hung from his hips and shoulders, he peered out of the door. "Is it ready yet? I'm hungry!" he cried out.
Iyla supposed she shouldn't be so surprised the elf returned to his normal, grouchy self. She rolled her eyes and returned to the room, carrying the soup, not carrying her mis-colored fingers were exposed as she set the soup down o the table- though he probably wouldn't think much of her black fingers, considering it could just be a lot of dirt.
Turning away from him, she found a place to sit on her own, and worked at massaging a crick in her neck wth a furrowed brow. Man, her entire body ached. She needed a good rest after all of this was said and through, and she cracked her neck to loosen it before peering over his way.
"Finish that soup and I'll help you with the ointment and rewrapping your wounds."
Athran smiled weakly at her as she gave him the bowl of soup. "Thank you. You didn't have to." he replied, turning towards the food, and making circles in the soup by spinning the spoon inside it. It was quite cold with the oncoming evening, and he instinctively pulled the towel closed onto his shoulders before he begun eating.
He noticed the strange color of her fingers, but didn't mention it, knowing that it might be something she would rather keep secret, just as he didn't like exposing his scars. Before he finished, he offered what was left off the soup to her. "Do you... Do you want any?" he asked, tilting his head aside. The towel sled off his hair and fell onto the floor.
"No, I can get something to eat later," she said, frowning and staring away. She had her arms folded over her chest,a nd grew quiet and contemplative.
He replied with a shrug, and finished his soup, though spilling some of it onto the table. The towel, which almost sled off him, was pulled back as he realized how cold it was.
With a few steps, he moved back to the bed, to cover himself with the blanket.
"You should get some rest. You're still not fully healed. In fact, I was surprised you even had enough strength to leave this room," she said, casting a gaze his way. "Resting is about all you can do."
"I know. I'm tired..." he admitted, dropping back onto his bed. He pressed his right arm onto his chest, and bent his head back, eventually glancing at the bandages nearby. "Would... Would you help me?" he asked quietly.
Iyla's lips tugged into a subtle smirk.
"If you're not too tired... though maybe you don't recall me offering to help you with these bandages earlier. Here, sit up," she said, and moved over to his bed side. She began preparing the ointment and wraps before turning to him. "Alright, let's see to these wounds before they get infected." And once he allowed her access, she began to inspect each wound before delicately applying the ointment.
At first touch, it would feel cold, and then burn slightly before it would eventually numb the pain, which was an added bonus since the old woman had added extra herbs into this batch she had made.
"You really did get banged up from that explosion," she said, eyes roaming over his wounds as her fingers ghosted over top of one large one on his shoulder. "I bet these all hurt like hell." They were sitll pretty fresh, after all, though at least, from the looks of it, they appeared to be healing up nicely.
Athran shook his head. "It's not as bad as you might think... Flesh wounds can be deep, but they can be sewn up." he replied, and his left hand sled onto his ribs and right forearm. "This is worse. Bones hurt more."
"My perception of pain is shifted deep into not giving a damn." he chuckled roughly. "Once upon a time, I was dead for three days. What followed when I, by some miracle, woke up again, was agony. Plain agony." His fingers instinctively rubbed the scars, left on his arms after thick, hard chains.
"I can deal with this, at least I don't have to crawl anywhere." he admitted, and yawned, tilting his head aside to peer into Iyla's eyes.
"Three days sounds like a long time to be dead," she said with a smirk, and part of her had to wonder- this body she was in- how much of it was real and alive. It certainly felt real enough- but when she had to return to her mortal body....
Well, she didn't want to think about that right now.
"It must've been quiet painful,"s he commented, avoiding his gaze and keeping focused on tending to his wounds. "To have been so close to death and experience it..."
A memory flashed into her mind- the wicked, hissing laugh of her master and she dropped the bowl of ointment in the moment.
"Err.. my hands must still be slick from the rain,"s he lied, and picked up the bowl that held the ointment before returning her full focus back to his wounds. "It seems this healing ointment is helping. Your wounds are healing up well."
He nodded. "It was a long time, though it certainly didn't feel like that. You don't feel it when you're dead." His lips twisted to a smirk, but he cringed when he remembered waking up, chained on a mountainside, and his blood starting to flow through his veins after it has been stale for so long.
"It was nothing like simply getting crushed or cut. It was intestines beginning to work again. Blood rushing when it's been lifeless for a long time. It wasn't like dying in reverse... It was worse. Far worse." he explained her silently. "At that time, I wasn't grateful for being alive."
His head immediately twisted at the sound of the falling bowl, noticing the movement with the corner of his eye, and he raised a brow, but then turned back to the window when she picked it up. "Yes, I guess so." he muttered.
She would have commented, but what could she say? It sounded awful,a nd she wondered if the pain compared to what she had to relive each time she returned to her mortal shell. She found herself feeling numbed by all of these thoughts,a nd heavy with exhaustion. But she finished up tending to the last few exposed wounds before delicately, she wrapped them up and secured them around his body.
"There, you ought to be able to sleep much better now. Unless you want me to see if I can get you some more of that herb." And it was then her eyes lifted to meet his.
Athran looked up at her, and his cold blue eyes met her crimson. He shook his head. "I don't need it anymore. I told you that I don't feel much pain anymore." he replied, and reached after the shirt the old woman has left there.
He managed to somehow pull it over his head, though it wasn't fitting too well, and roll the sleeves up to stop them from getting into his way. It had a washed black color, and hung from him like if he was a scarecrow, but it at least hid the poor state he was in.
Iyla nodded and stood.
"Well, then I suppose the only thing left for you to do, elf, is to get some sleep. It'll do you a world of good after all we've been through."
Athran produced a grin and laid down onto the bed. "Good night, then. I'd say - have nice dreams, but hey, that's not gonna happen with us, right?" he joked, pulling the blanket over himself, and closing his eyes. "I won't be up till sunrise, I guarantee that. Good night."
He rolled over, and fell asleep in a matter of a few moments.
Rose light of the rising sun illuminated the room, and it was sunrise, when he awoke again. To his own surprise, he found out that he's feeling quite well, or at least better than the days before - by far. Even the dreams of the night were pleasant, though confused and strange.
He rolled over on the bed, reaching into the crow's nest of a hair he had on his head, and yawned, blinking in the sunlight.
When Athran fell asleep, only then did she remove her own clothing and bathed as well,a nd slipped into a shabby woolen dress the old lady had to offer when she was finished getting clean. She looked a bit out of place in it, but she didn't care much as she sat upon a wooden chair near the window, and while keepng her head leaned against the wall, she fell asleep.
Unlike Athran, she had let her hair loose from her braid and took the time to brush it out, so it laid in long, strawberry blonde pieces about her shoulders. And since she stayed up into the late hours of the night, she was still asleep when he woke up.
It was a pleasant surprise to see Iyla asleep. She appeared peaceful, like a rose, resting on the chair by the window, and Athran smiled at the sight. He didn't want to wake her up once she fell asleep...
He slowly stood up and crept into the kitchen, searching for any food he could find. Oh, if there only was a nice piece of roasted meat... Even those dreadful dry biscuits would do! But there was nothing, and all he made was noise.
The noise was enough to rouse her, and her red eyes lingered towards the kitchen. Rising from her chair, she stretched out her limbs and moved to lean against the door frame as she yawned.
"You're not going to try to make eggs, are you?"
To think- 'the prince of elves' was in a kitchen- he must've been starving or partially delirious to not have tried to wake her to go fetch it for him.
She folded her arms over her chest.
"What are you doing?"
Athran let out a long sigh and his hand sled off the shelves. "I'm hungry..." he moaned. "But there isn't anything!" Iyla surprised him, and it was not too pleasant to get growled at again.
He let to of the shelves and sat down onto the counter, staring away from Iyla to escape more complaints.
Iyla cocked a brow at the cranky elf.
"And I suppose you want more biscuits and eggs?"
He gave her something between a shrug and a nod. "Off course. I'd eat a whole cow... Well, maybe not whole, but a large part of it for sure." he joked, and tilted his head aside, staring at Iyla with a question in his eyes.
"Do we have any eggs left?"
"I could get more, though you should probably keep yourself seated before you do any damage to the kitchen." And at such a word, she left, giving him just enough glimpse of her smirk before she did so, but she paused one moment at the door, her back to him to add, "And don't think about tagging along. I don't need to see you chastising me for stealing eggs." ANd with that comment, she left.
Chastising her? Athran laughed, now alone in the kitchen, and shook his head. He couldn't care less whether they were stolen, or not... As long as they tasted good, he didn't care where they came from.
He sled off the counter and prepared a plate for his breakfast, but after a while of thinking, he put another next to it... In the end, Iyla had to eat something just as well!
When she returned, she went about making the eggs again- the whole place beginning to smell of cooked eggs as they sizzled and popped in the pan. As it was the last time, she cooked them in butter,a nd used the remaining biscuits as a base where she placed two eggs, cooked to his liking, over top of a plate of biscuits before handing the plate over to him.
"Here you go, my prince," she said with playful sarcasm, and stuffed the plate in his hand before turning away and breaking two more eggs into the pan to start cooking some for herself. As her own eggs were cooking, she stifled a yawn. The woman appeared quite tired, despite having slept- but then agian, she had been caring for the injured Athran for a good while now-
and she hadn't even expected to stay this long.
She still wondered if she could,a nd as she watched her eggs cook away in the pan- she thought back to the kiss nad...
HIssing, she threw her burned eggs onto her plate. She hadn't been paying attention and she frowned at the mess she made. Oh well, burned eggs was better than no eggs. She took her food and sat in her chair by the window and ate in silence.
Athran watched her cook with interest, even though he had very little idea about what is she doing, content with the sheer smell of boiling eggs and flames, kindling beneath the pan. He smirked at her remark, and already poked the eggs when they were just sliding from the pan. The yolks were like gold, set amid a ring of white, and he didn't hesitate before eating them.
He wanted to notice her about burning her eggs, seeing how she somehow forgot about the pan, but while he was wondering whether it is a good idea or not, she noticed it herself. They were burned, and he scowled at her plate as he looked it over.
Without saying a word, he reached after her plate, and replaced one of the burned eggs with the remaining well-cooked one from his breakfast, which he didn't bite into yet. "I won't let you eat burnt eggs!" he joked, and poked into the slightly singed yolk with the tip of his knife.
Iyla was lost in her own thoughts when the slap of an egg on her plate drew her attention, and she peered down at the unburnt egg before peering over at Athran. She smirked and peered down at her foot, some hair falling over her eyes to mask her expression.
"You didn't have to do that, but thank you. It was my own fault. I wasn't paying attention."
Athran returned her smile. "That's fine. I've been chasing you around because of my food long enough to share..." he chuckled, stuffing his mouth with the egg. It didn't matter much that it was burned, it tasted well anyway.
"I'm used to burnt food. I always burn it when I try to cook..." he muttered. He was the worst cook one could find, always forgetting to pay attention to his food, or not cooking it enough, and therefore often ended up eating rock-hard, or raw things.
"Then I guess it's lucky you found someone that can cook-" and she paused in mid-bite to toss a skeptical look his way. "But don't get any ideas."
And while she ate her food, she began to think more about her companion, whom she still did not know much about.
"If you don't mind me asking," she said, after a time- and well long after she had finished her own food, "Why do you travel alone?"
Athran gave her a distressed look, and eventually shrugged. "Who the hell would travel with me?" he winged off. "I don't need company... A lot of the things I do require me alone. Don't think of me as of a peaceful existence, Iyla." he warned her.
"I don't know if you even want to know about those... Things."
"I hate to sound presumptuous, but I bet you're as curious about me as I am about you. Perhaps that's the only reason I'm sticking around," she said, before glancing around out the window, resting a contemplative first beneath her chin. And as she tilted her head to study the streets against the morning sky, her hair draped over her face just enough to mask her smile.
"That, or maybe you're just good at kissing in the rain."
Athran chuckled at her remark, provocatively tilting his head aside. "Every kiss requires two to be good..." he replied, but his face soon grew bleak and gloomy again.
"If you are that curious... Simply put, they pay me, I kill. Mercenary." he explained her, keeping the much darker business, including assassinations, and his knighthood, to himself. "Along with many other things, off course."
Iyla studied him a moment. So he was a paid killer? She supposed it made sense- he was quite good with a sword. She turned away, looking back out the window again in silence.
"It sounds like a lot of other things." But she didn't press the inquiry as she kept her eyes averted of his. "Where will you be going now? Once you're all healed."
"I was on my way to Reajh. Hell, with this war, they pay you a lifetime's wealth for one dead-" He pressed his hand on his mouth after realizing he's letting out too much information. He couldn't talk about this!
His white hand sled off his face. "...one dead man." he finished his sentence, awkwardly staring into the ground. He shouldn't have said that...
"One dead man?" She lifted a single brow to him. "Are you trying to kill off the Grand Duke?"
After all, who else would be so important in such a petty war?
He shook his head. "Off course not. I mean... No, not him. Other... Nobles and so. Whoever pays the most..." he muttered, nervously toying with the wisps of his hair. "It's not only being hired to fight, it's also about being hired to kill. Assassinations." His voice was only a little louder than a whisper.
"If you tell anyone, I swear I'll slit your throat. Please, keep it to yourself, because I don't want to kill you." he begged her.
"Why would I care to stop you? Affairs of Connlaoth have no hold over me," she told him, her voice as quiet and hushed as his. "Besides, you couldn't kill me with a knife to the throat,"s he reminded.
After a long quiet moment, she informed him, "But it does seem our paths might part soon. I have no reason to go into Reajh- and if I remain here too long I'll-" but she stopped herself before she gave anything away and shifted uncomfortably where she sat.
"Let's just say, I'll have to travel south soon."
She would have to heal- and the longer she lingered...
she'd hate to think how painful it would be when returning back to her mortal form. It always hurt- to relive all of the pain inflicted on her immortal, shadow form- and she'd hate to test her limits of immortality, in case those wounds translated into something fatal when she would become a mortal woman again.
He shook his head. "I'm not going to Reajh. I won't be in the condition to perform the stunts I need to do to fulfill my job. I'll have to come south, back to Adela." he said silently. "Not that I'd be too glad about it..."
He delved into his hair with his hand and flipped a few wisps over into his face. "I hate going home..." he admitted. "But I have no choice."
He didn't want to return to Adela, but after all, he couldn't run on rooftops and escape from guards in a state that poor. He didn't want to risk being caught, or killed.
"You're from Adela?" She perked up at that. Strange- they were both from the same lands, but she said nothing and turned her gaze away again, growing silent and contemplative as usual.
He gave her a nod. "I could just tell you very simply that you may have even heard of me before. I'm a dragon-rider... And a knight. Beside doing that dirty business out of duty, I am in Adelan army." he admitted. "I'm the Black Sword."
He looked down. Now he has admitted all...
"And you? I believe I have shared enough information. Where are you even from?" he asked her.
She cringed, realizing, in fact, she had heard of him. Who hadn't? But he? Well, he might have heard of her former life- though if he had, wouldn't Ryuch had given that away?
Lady Iyla Krue.. Though she supposed a woman would be of no significance to him- she was from a lower house of nobles, nothing grand nothing significant- but if he HAD known about the Krue's- he would have known that everyone presumed they were all dead.
Except for her- and even she wasn't sure how much she could be counted as 'alive'. The only time it was confirmed was when she could feel herself bck in her normal, mortal body- and her time as a shadowed figure lurking over her like a bad dream.
"I'm from Adela too,"s he commented dryly. "And I can't say your reputation does you any justice. I wouldn't have figured a woman could make The Black Sword kiss, or cry."
And then she paused to add, "Or was someone that was a fan of eggs."
After all, it seemed he did worship such cooking!
Athran raised a brow. She did seem somewhat familiar to him, though not too much... Maybe a minor noble? He couldn't recall her name, or anything, except for a dim memory of a similar face.
Only her words have finally pulled him from his thoughts. For a moment, he shot a confused glance in her direction, then shook the hair out of his face. "I'm not a god, Iyla. I can't say 'I'm only human', because I'm not human, after all, but I'm not different in things like that. Yes, I can cry, and I can kiss. And I do like eggs..."
He gave her a faint shrug, staring down at the edge of the table as if it was incredibly interesting. "People always think that just because of being a warrior I'm an emotionless war machine. Unfortunately, it isn't true. I feel just like anyone else."
His gaze slowly shifted from the table to Iyla's face. "You seem a bit familiar to me, but I can't recall anything about you..." he muttered.
"I probably have just a familiar face," she said, hoping he'd leave it at that. Though it was strange- as a knight.. why would he be in Reajh of all places? Would his honor not be that to the King of Adela? Or whatever patron lord he was to serve...
He shook his head again. "I don't know. I can't remember anything but the face, as I said. But hey, I've met a lot of people over five centuries and a half." He dismissed the idea as a fantasy, and kept staring down.
"I've met too many people to remember them all."
Iyla thought more into it-a nd recalled a distant memory- she was young then, and she recalled him more of a shadowed figure announced at a ball. BUt that was in a life so long ago...
When Ryk and her parents were still alive.
After a moment of silence, she found herself itching to make sure the shadow seed was still safe, and she produced it from her pocket and peered down at it in silence.
She was still wearing a plain, make shift dress the old lady offered her- her clothing still drying elsewhere, but seeing the seed made her feel better before she closed a fist around it and closed her eyes.
"Yes, I doubt we would have met."
And for now, she'd leave it at that.
Athran scratched his head, and hastily stood up from the table. "I... I'm just going to... Take a nap, I guess." he muttered, and pointed at the bed. He was so tired in the past days...
He dropped onto the bed and pulled the blanket over himself. "I'm drained. I don't have one bit of strength in myself..." he moaned, and gave her one last glance before falling asleep again.
Gods, how tired he was.
When Athran would awaken again, he'd find himself alone, but the young hearler girl had entered into the room to see how he was fairing.
Iyla- if he'd inquire, had gone to town about an hour ago and hadn't returned. But the girl thought not much of it as she tidied up the room and set a fresh pitcher of water nearby for Athran.
She took a moment, while he was sleeping, to study his face- and ears. She had never seen an elf before. He was.. unusual at best- but handsome none the less- and she wondered why he had such ridiculous ears. They must be hard to clean.
After over an hour of strange dreams, of which he remembered naught when he awoke, Athran finally opened his eyes. What was his surprise when he saw the girl staring at his face!
He immediately backed up, quickly raising himself to his elbow, and stared back in confusion. The poor girl almost fell over at such unexpected movement, holding her mouth and gasping. He scowled at her. "What are you staring at?"
"N-Nothing, sir! I just brought water..." she gestured at the jug on the table nearby. He yawned, and dropped back to his bed. "Please, tell Iyla - my companion - that I may be sleeping till tomorrow's morning. And that I'll be leaving soon." he ordered her, and fell asleep again.
The young girl nodded and left- but many hours passed and Iyla had not returned. It was evening, the sun already beginning to set as the sky turned violet with the first sparkling dusts of stars. There was the smell of strew wafting up through the floor boards from where the old lady was cooking down below. Ironic how she and her grand daughter had been tending to the two of them yet neither asked their names.
Nothing out of the ordinary had happened, except a letter for Athran had arrived and the old woman kept it in her pocket. She assumed not much of it, as the deliverer hardly seems suspicious, but when Athran had not awoke for hours- she figured it was best to go check on him.
The stairs creaked beneath her weight as she came up the steps and pushed the door open and set a fresh, piping hot bowl of soup beside the elf.
"Young man, if you are up for it, I brought some pork stew," she told him, wiping her hands off on her apron as she inspected him from where she stood.
"How are you feeling, deary?"
Athran was already awake when the woman came to him, bringing him the soup. He welcomed it gladly, after such a long sleep hungrier than ever. "Thanks for the soup... I feel it's better than before." he mumbled while eating, hardly even noticing the letter.
When the bowl was empty, the woman finally handed him the letter. "This arrived, and I was told to give it to you." she said, smiling warmly without any hint of suspicion. Athran raised a brow, then scowled at the piece of paper. Who would send him letters at this time? And other than that, where was Iyla?
He ripped the envelope to pieces, but as he begun reading the parchment inside, his face grew paler and paler. Oh good gods, no. Not now...
He shook his head, staring at the thin, curved handwriting in disbelief. "Is something wrong?" the woman asked, noticing his expression. He answered only with an empty stare. He was in deep shit. Really deep.
Springing from the bed with unexpected speed, he quickly put on all the remains of his armour that were still wearable. It were mostly just scraps, but it was better than nothing. Even his rugged cape was good enough. "I'm in trouble and I have to leave! I kindly thank you for all the care, but I have no time to waste, and I also have no money!" he explained hastily, stuffing the letter underneath his shirt, and fastening the belt with the sheath of the Black Sword.
Without further explanations, he stormed out of the house, racing through the town like a thunderbolt.
The letter had come at a most inopportune time, and neither Athran- or even Iyla, could have expected some petty Adelan nobleman would have contacted his cousin in Connlaoth in hopes to enact revenge upon him. Athran, or as most Adelans knew him to be- The Black Sword; was the sort of famous that brought about friends- though more cumbersome, enemies.
It was perhaps a petty reason Athran was despised, but noblemans hated for much less; and his cousin was more than happy to oblige- after all, Lord Cedric Rohrnwalter was a man who prided himself in his ego, and once upon a time- The Black Sword had deflated not only his, but his Adela cousin's as well. ANd he was not a man to sit back idly and let this lone swordsman off the hook.
It was, however, most convenient that Athran had been spotted in Connlaoth- but the peculiar death god following him around earlier made those spying on him hold back. But with Ryuch's sudden disappearance and the sudden appearance of this new man- (who, they later realized, was a woman, and his woman, as soon was confirmed by their little kiss in the rain not but a day or so ago....)
And this, they realized, was something that left the other wise invulnerable Black Sword have a weakness. ANd it seemed it was far too easy to catch Iyla Krue off guard. She had been stealing eggs again, and the local guards were tipped off that someone had been doing it- so when she went there again to gather eggs, her hands had been full with them when they had taken her- and the only thing left was a pile of smashed eggs on the cobblestone, and a faint shred of Iyla's cloak's fabric hanging on loosely to the chicken coop as it fluttered into the winds like a flag...
It was there, fluttering in the wind, when Athran found it. A small part of her cloak, pinned on the roof of the chicken coop. His fingers softly clenched around it and he studied the fabric with care, eventually assuming that it indeed was her... He was fortunate that it was so rainy in the past days, and the ground was moist and muddy, every foot leaving a deep hole of a footprint in it.
There indeed was a lot of crude, large footprints on the ground, along with some smaller, more delicate ones, which he presumed were Iyla's. A couple of egg shells were scrambled around, too, stomped into the ground. It was far too easy to read by someone who knew tracks as well as himself...
They traced to the northeast, and he followed, restlessly chasing after them. The long sleep has given him enough strength to run continuously for many miles, though his body was still not fully healed. He ignored all except for the trail before himself, determined not to stop until it will be necessary. He didn't even have supplies, and yet he ran.
It was hard to tell how far ahead Rohrnwalter's men were from their pursuer, but one thing was for certain- this woman, this Iyla Krue (whose name they, unfortunately, could not coax out of her); was becoming quite a menace, even as she was bound heavily in ropes. She had nearly escaped three times, which slowed down their get away immensely. Thankfully, the dogs they had sniffed her out and chewed up her leg something fierce-
and her face, now with a welt across it, was a reminder that she was their prisoner, and if she were to try it again; she might not be so lucky as to receive just a smack for her insolence.
Though what were they to do with such a woman? It was evident the Black Sword chose his woman carefully, for she seemed about as violent as he-a nd just as mean. Yet, another thing puzzled them more than the man- but it was his woman. How was it that- being so heavily bound to her ropes, she was able to escape?
And it was only then one man saw it, and the alarms were raised among the men-
"She had disappeared! Right in front of us!" one man said.
"It's the truth, I saw it too!" another man chimed in.
"It was like she just melted, right intot he shadows."
Their leader, Arwick Lyte, smashed a fist into the next man who tried to talk.
"Well don't just stand there men, go after her! Release the hounds and hunt her down!" And the howls of the dogs were heard ewell into the night- and might have even been heard echoign as far a mile away....
But even as Iyla ran, she was injured, and the more she tried to shift into the shadows, the more it hurt her. Blood was oozing down her nose and she found herself eventually cornered as s he was treed by the dogs.
The men knew they had her now, though they were forced to climb up and get her, and after yanking her down from the tree with a bit of a fight, they were quick to knock her unconscious-
They realized only now, peering down at her strewn form,- since her blood was black, that hse could disappear- and some peculiar black rock was on her person... (not to mention, as they undressed her one night- her skin was mismatched in it's coloring..)
they realized she had to ether be a mage..
Or a witch.
And it was only then did someone report to Arwick that they were being followed.
"So the Black Sword comes," he growled.
"Ready yourselves men. We're going to burn this witch as a message to him. Let him be warned."
ANd they scooped up Iyla's form and dragged her back to camp, where she was tied to a poll and the men began to build a stack full of wood around her.
Most of the men simply wante dot chop off her head, but Arwick, as superstitious as he was, wanted to ensure the woman was dead.
"A witch can not come back if she's burned..."
And just as they finished building the pile of wood around her, he commanded his men to set it on fire-
And as the fire began to spread and the heat and flames lapped at her body, Iyla began to awaken. The smoke was suffocating her as she coughed, but as the fires began to reach her legs, she jerked within the confines of the ropes that bound her- arms behind her, legs crossed, body pressed tight to the post of wood.
And the pain was intense as it began to scorch her and as the men continued to feed the fire,t he flames reached higher and higher until they seemed to all but consumed her- and it was only then the shadow woman began to scream.
Day and night, Athran followed the band that captured Iyla in his restless rage, hardly stopping once. He didn't sleep, he hardly ate, and he only took a short break to rob the first person he met off his bread, cape, and a bottle of water. He knew he was getting nearer, and it was only natural, as he ran despite his very bones screaming in protests.
The footprints were fresher every time he checked for them, and a few times, he even found remains of their camps. He recognized Iyla's black blood on the trunks of a few trees, and every time it only drew him into a greater anger. He has grown close to her, and even if not, he wouldn't allow someone to kidnap her and ruthlessly drag her through the country just because of some fool's spite and rage.
If they wanted the Black Sword, they were in for an unpleasant surprise - his anger only fed him and his determination gave him strength. He was fully focused on chasing them, he just wanted to get them. And quickly.
He grew pale with the nights he has spent without a rest, and his cheeks seemed to sink under the dark rings under his eyes, but he felt strong, taking energy from the rage that drew him forth, step by step through villages and forests. Villagers and travelers saw only a flash of his figure, occasionally a punch flying at their head when he needed new supplies.
It was early morning when he found out that the footprints before him were hardly an hour old. Someone has come through only a while ago... He was close, and that filled him with new strength. What, however, made him hesitate, was the sight of smoke, rising above the treetops. It was bigger than from a campfire, and appearing at an odd hour. Something was happening there, and he didn't like it - none of the things it could have been was nice.
He was shocked when he appeared on the edge of their encampment, wrapped in the remains of his old cape, clutching the hilt of the Black Sword. Iyla was tied to a post and burned like a witch...
...His heart grew tight with horror, and the sound of screeching metal told of his coming. The men hardly had any time to react at his coming, as he ran straight to Iyla, through the fire, to cut her off. He couldn't listen to the screams, and his blood was boiling with rage.
The fire didn't cause him pain, he hardly felt it, but the men were too afraid to come to him as he stood amid it, desperately pulling the ropes that tied Iyla to it. The flames backed away from her at his command, but created a wall around them, protecting them from their pursuers.
Athran clenched his fingers around the first rope he saw, gripping it and tearing its strings apart in a blind rage that gave him strength greater than that of a wild beast.
It was like a dream, all some terrible dream. Her howls of pain had run her throat ragged, and the smoke, all but consuming her as the fire lapped and claimed her body. It charred her flesh, turning pieces of it black where it might not once had been so, and she could no longer feel her legs,a nd the screams- long faded as she had all but passed out from the pain.
But her eyes were still fluttering, ad as the pain lifted, leaving only the burns to remain, severly imprinted into her flesh, she had barely caught sight of her rescuer- and at the recognition of Athran, she had to wonder as she asked, through parched, soot stained lips,
"Is this a dream?" For they were both consumed in fire and she could feel no more, even the throbbing burns became a dull echo as her mind threatened to pull her into darkness.
But there they somehow were, she in his arms and flames dancing around them- consuming the pair of them in the night.
"Unfortunately, it's not a dream." Athran growled. He picked her body up - all of a sudden, she seemed so easy... He pressed her onto his chest and steadily held her there with one arm, while the other one clutched around the hilt of the Black Sword. "Hold onto me, Iyla... We'll make our escape." he whispered into her ear.
The fire opened before him as he walked off the pile of singed wood, but it preceded his steps, suddenly turning into an unnatural black, only its tips blazing with a deep purple. The men didn't attack, struck speechless by horror, and the fire chased them, reaching after their bodies. It was hot, incredibly hot, and whatever it touched was immediately eaten away by its hungry flames. It charred the earth, burning deep into the moist ground, and Athran was grateful for that, as he was still unsure of his ability to wield a sword with his broken arm.
Screams of horror quickly turned into screams of pain, as the thugs were unable to escape the fast flames. Some of them were daring enough to try and cross them, or throw things at Athran and Iyla, but those immediately paid for their foolishness by being burned to ash.
Only a small part of them managed to escape, led by the leader, and those weren't meaning to return for him without gathering a greater force, running somewhere west, probably straight towards Reajh.
The adrenaline was quickly leaving Athran's veins, and the flames faded, leaving only his pale, thin figure in the darkness of the oncoming dawn. He softly laid Iyla down onto the ground, now burned and almost rock-hard, heavily breathing. The Black Sword disappeared in the sheath by his side, and he checked for her pulse and breathing.
The terrors continued to echo all around her- appearing so far away, yet it happened but mere feet from where they stood. There were fires and scream and the air rang with fear and smelled of smoke and death. The ashes of the men's body settled into the dirt, while a few others remained face first int he ground, still simmering and their remains- on fire.
But she could see nothing, her vision becoming clouded and unfocused as she stared out into the world as if it were some indistinguishable void. But then she felt him pull her close and held onto her, and she, held onto him before she was laid down int he dirt. Her hair spilled around her, the edges fringed in black and her clothing almost all but burned off. Her skin, was tender and raw to the touch, and she even find herself unable to breath at times, as her chest rose and fell sporadically whenever her lungs allowed for her to gasp for breath.
But she was alive-
Only the Gods knew how the woman was somehow still alive.
Athran did the first thing that came to his mind. He pulled out the bottle of stale water that hung by his side, and opened it to pour a little onto Iyla's lips.
However, his shaking hands only spilled a fair bit of it onto her face. He almost panicked, hardly managing to close it again, and put his new cape, which was somewhat less dirty and destroyed than the old one, which he used to tie around himself and pin most of his hair up with, over her, wrapping her in it as tightly and softly at once as he could.
He held her head up, but she was obviously unconscious, and so he pulled her closer to himself, onto his knees, and pressed her to his chest.
Iyla was barely able to take the water in, and was almost drowning in it before she was able to swallow any down. And it was the water that kept her awake for just a bit longer, to take in his smells as he drew her close.
"Athran..." she found herself murmuring, before finally she wilted into him, her body fully succumbing to the unconscious.
"It will be fine... They're gone now... It's only me here." he assured, caressing her in his arms. He decided to take a look at her burns, but his mind was dizzy and clouded just as well. All he managed was to get rid of the burned clothes that might infect them, and clean them, wrapping her in his cape again.
After that, he fell asleep himself, laying on the ground beside her. His own wounds were aching and he was more than tired from the chase...
She woke up in his arms, but felt too sore to move as fresh tears sparkled across her eyes. Lifting her gaze, she noted Athran's body and looked up into his face and whispered hoarsely, "Athran?"
He didn't sleep too hard, and awoke even at his whisper. His eyes opened to a tight gap, finding her face and meeting her gaze. "Mmm?" he groaned. His body was stiff and aching, and he was cold from laying on the ground all night.
He raised himself to his elbows and softly caressed her cheek. "Don't move, you got burned badly yesterday..." he whispered. "Do you... Do you want water?" He offered her the flask of water, opening it in the meantime. It went slowly, as his fingers were numb and almost without sense, but eventually he managed it, and held the bottle opened by her lips.
She couldn't comprehend in the moment what exactly had happened, but thirstily accepted the water in great gulps. It stung on the way down and choked her at first, but it was a blessing -a nd so she drank all that he offered before she collapsed against him, breathing softly as she closed her eyes.
It was here she began to recall the horrors of the night before, and without opening her eyes, she asked, "So it was you who rescued me?" And she opened her eyes then and asked another question, "And you who walked through the flames?"
Athran nodded softly, taking a drink from what was left in the bottle just as well. "Yes, it was me. I'm a fire mage, remember? Like in the very first village. Flames can't hurt me unless I let them." he explained her calmly, softly pressing her onto himself to warm her up. The morning was cold, dew was pearling around them.
"They're gone now." he muttered. A wisp of his hair that wasn't tied up sled into his face in the breeze.
Iyla felt silent at his words and peered back into his blue eyes.
"They were after you."
"I know..." Athran whispered. He shook his head, looking away. A tear rolled down his face... He knew this may come, and even if it would hurt him, he should have let her go.
"I knew you'd get hurt with me. I should have never allowed you to stay... I'm sorry, Iyla. I'm sorry."
Iyla peered at the elf curiously. She could see the heart break there, how this tore at him, but still- she managed to rest a burned hand on his shoulder as she sought his eyes.
"It was my choice, Athran. You can't be angry at yourself for something I chose to do. I could have left at any time."
He shook his head, slowly putting one of his own hard hands onto hers and stroking it as softly as he could. His skin was cold, almost as cold as her, and he still didn't have the guts to look her in the face.
"I should have known it, and I should have taken better care. It always follows... I was alone for such a long time that I almost forgot that whoever will dare share my path, will be consumed by the darkness. And I regret getting you into this... I should have warned you. It's my mistake. And so I have to bear the consequences... If it was only about me, I wouldn't care one bit. But it kills anyone I become close with... And I don't want that to happen." he said sadly.
"Well, if it makes you feel any better,"s he said, trying to force a smile his way. "Their original plan wasn't to kill me." She gave a cough, and coughed a few times as she felt her dry throat irritate her. She winced at the pain. "But somehow- they thought, since my blood is black and I could escape through shadows- I was some sort of a witch." She coughed again through a smile before moving a hand to brush some of Athran's hair from his face.
"Damn Connlaothians."
And then more affectionately, she added, while cupping his cheek, "Damn elves."
Athran winged off. "Connlaothians are idiots. We're lucky to be from Adela." he whispered, and softly bent over her to blow a quick kiss on her cheek. "But it still burned you quite badly." he frowned. "I should look for some herbs around here... I'm not a healer, but I learned the hard way. I'll only be gone for a few minutes, and I'll leave you my cape. If something... If something, call me. Just shout, or whatever, I'll hear you."
He softly laid her down and disappeared between the trunks of trees, searching for anything that might help her. It didn't take too long, and he returned with a bunch of crudely cut leaves in his hand, and a hunting knife in the other. Both of those were put down, and he disappeared once again to collect some wood for a small fire.
Shortly after, the pile was burning with bright white flames and searing with heat. Athran managed to mash the leaves and mix them with the remains of the water, though he was yet unsure what else could he do - he didn't even have the bag he usually carried on his travels, and that meant virtually nothing except for his clothes and weapons.
He reached out for Iyla. "I'll do what I can to help, but I'm completely without gear. I can't do much." he apologized, and unraveled the cape that covered her. He picked up the herbs, which he mashed on the wide blade of his hunting knife, and begun treating the burns on her skin with the substance. "It'll feel cold, but that should be gone soon." he assured her.
Iyla did not argue nor protest when he wished to help, but remained, shivering in pain as he went off to gather herbs. And when he returned and applied the home made ointment to her skin, she cringed at the stinging sensation of having her tender flesh touched, but said nothing, nor did she scream in pain. There wasn't much she could do anything, she was too weak to assist and just about any movement she made, hurt.
Athran used all the herbs, of which he collected a nice lot, to treat her, and after wrapping her up in the black cape again, he stood up and left her alone for a short while again.
When he returned, he brought back the bottle of water filled to the brim, and his hands and ends of his hair were wet. He sat down besides Iyla again, letting her put her head on his crossed legs, and supporting her while he offered her the water again.
"I don't have much food, but if you're hungry, I can go without. Just some dry bread, rations, a piece of meat..." he said quietly, pulling a pack of provisions out and carefully unwrapping it. "I would go to the closest village and steal some more, but I'm afraid to leave you alone. And I can't hunt."
Iyla drank what she could- and though it burned, it felt good o her parched throat. After drinking over half the bottle, she exhaustedly laid her head back down onto his leg and sighed.
"No... I don't think I could eat," she murmured. "And I feel too exhausted to want to do much else than rest."
"Then I'll watch over you and rest, too. I haven't slept since I've heard that they took you, and it's already beginning to take its toll... Wake me up if you needed something." Athran muttered, coiling up on the ground beside her. "You can use me as a pillow, if you want, just don't lay down on my ribs or right arm."
He softly put his arm around her, and closed his eyes to rest without having to let go off her. He fell asleep rather soon.
Iyla fell in and out of consciousness for a good many hours, but she'd wake from time to time shivering in pain. Though she kept near to Athran, to keep herself warm, she was wary of her wounds and any minor touch sent a shock wave through her.
Though she slept more than she had wanted to- she needed it, and though she would heal faster than a normal human, it would still take sometime for her body to properly heal- though when she woke up,s he noticed her body felt numb- and she, in less pain, though when she went to examine her arm, her expression fell as she realized- inky black skin color now replaced where the burn wounds had once been- and she stared at it- the one solemn reminder that she had a timed limit on her fervent search for those shadow seeds.
When Athran woke up, he felt maybe even worse than before. His arm was numb from sleeping on his shoulder for a few hours, and he was completely stiff. He groaned silently before rolling over and raising himself to his elbows.
He reached to the pack of food and pulled one of the rations out. It tasted like wet parchment, without any flavor, and brick-hard, but to his roaring stomach it was still better than nothing. He yawned as he dusted the breadcrumbs off his lap, and rubbed his eyes, still holding a small part of the ration in one hand.
When he finished his rather humble and unsatisfying meal, he looked over at Iyla. It appeared that she was healing fast, and he was glad about that. He moved the dry meat and two remaining rations to her, ready to be eaten when she wakes up, and added the bottle of water to her side.
Iyla was exhausted, and though she had awoken again, she did not stir; at least not until he placed something by her side and slowly, her red eyes opened to peer at the food. She still wasn't hungry, and stared at them in listless silence.
Athran noticed her waking up, and moved closer to her, shooting a short glance at the food. "Are you hungry? Do you need help with the food? I'll help you, if you need it." he offered, taking one of the rations into his hands and breaking it in half.
"It tastes like shit. Honestly. It's damp and hard. But it's better than nothing..." he shrugged.
Iyla shook her head.
"No.. I don't think I could eat." And she painfully turned away from in as she bristled at the pain. By the Gods did it ever hurt to move- but she supposed she should be thankful she was still alive.
Turning over so she was laying on her back, she raking a hand through her hair and peered up at the sky.
"How long have we been out here?"
"About a day." Athran groaned, turning away. He didn't want her to see him like this, pale and tired, as it would be apparent that he has also suffered, and he didn't want her to worry. He brushed his hair into his face, and picked up the broken ration. "I'll eat this, then..."
"Are you feeling at least a little better?" he questioned her while eating, attempting to somehow get rid of the awkward silence.
Iyla cringed.
"I suppose so.I feel less like hell." Though she looked like hell still, she afforded him a small grin.
"I bet you're missing your eggs right about now."
"And a lot of other things." he said bleakly, rubbing his eyes and cheekbones. "Like a bed, clean clothes, sleep, or the option of taking the scraps of armour off."
He turned around, already finished eating, and softly stroke her cheek. "But at least you are feeling better." he whispered. He bent over her, carefully studying her face, and a few wisps of his black hair which weren't tied sled down, hiding his deathly pale skin and the dark rings under his eyes.
She smiled tiredly up into his face.
"We should get out of here- find a town nearby before those men decide they want to come back."
"You're probably right..." Athran nodded. "Can you walk, or do you need to be carried? You're light, so it shouldn't be too bad if you do..."
He softly sled his hands underneath her body and picked her up, pressing her to his chest. "I think I'll carry you anyway, just to make sure..." he muttered as he begun walking in the direction of the closest village. "If you need food or water, tell me."
Before Iyla could protest, she was lifted up into his arms. She cringed lightly, but it didn't hide the blush on her cheeks.
"You know... I think I'm on to your real motives, Athran," Iyla said as he peered up to him, giving him a smirk. "You just want to carry me. The famous Black Sword has to carry his rescued damsel." She rolled her eyes, though it was playful. And she didn't mind. Everything hurt like hell, and besides, it felt nice in his arms.
"Just returning a favor." Athran replied with a smirk. "You had to carry me for longer... And no, despite your assumptions, I'm not enjoying it. I'm afraid that my arm might break again under your weight, and it hurts." The grin on his lips disappeared, and he frowned at something in the distance.
In the end, he was forced to lay her down in the middle of the way to the village to take a rest. He was aware that it was still unsafe to take this much physical effort, but didn't complain. She needed it more than himself.
"You would call it something less romantic," Iyla told him with a smirk, but when they took the time to rest, she remained close to him and quiet.
"I should be able to try to walk the rest of the way," she told him quietly as she rested a hand overtop of his. "How are you holding up anyway? You can't be well after hunting those men down like dogs when you yourself weren't even fully healed."
Athran's shoulders arose and dropped again in a shrug. "I don't even know. I was driven by such a rage... I was afraid something would happen to you, and I was angry at them. I ran till I saw you. I didn't even sleep, and I hardly ate, because I didn't feel any need to do so... I didn't feel anything but that rage and fear." he explained her silently.
His hand turned over, and embraced hers.
Iyla stared down at where their hands were now entwined, then lifted her gaze to his face.
"Well, you look like shit- but after all you've been through.. " and here she rose her other hand to gently brush some of his dark hair from his face. "I'm not surprised."
She gave him a reassuring smile and squeeze to his hand before leaning forward and surprising even herself as she kissed him softly on the cheek.
"I don't think I ever had a hero before. Knights, sure, but not a true hero."
Athran, surprised by the sudden kiss, blushed a little, and with her words his cheeks became even more rosy - something not observed often. He glanced down at her and smiled gently, stroking her cheek with one hand.
"I'm not a hero, but I can be a knight." he whispered, and leaned in to return the kiss, ever so fleetly touching her skin and pulling his lips away in a matter of a single moment.
"I'll stick with a hero," she said, flicking some of black hair aside that had fallen from his face. "And where do you think you're going? You call that a kiss?" And she grabbed onto his arm suddenly, a hand moving behind his shoulders as she pulled him down closer to her and forced a fierce kiss upon his lips. When she pulled away, she seemed to be sneering at him, but it was a playful sort of sneer as her eyes glowed playfully.
"Besides, I never really wanted a knight."
Though technically, it looked like she had one.
The kiss struck him speechless, and he stared at her as she kissed him, but it appeared that his body acted without his mind, and he returned the kiss with the same power and wildness, even though her fingers were clenched around him a tad too hard.
He chuckled when she pulled herself away again. "I guess it's not much of a choice, I've been one for five centuries... But I'll be a hero for you, if you want." he winked at her, but the moment of joking didn't last long. "Though, please, be so kind and the next time grab my other arm, could you?"
Iyla gave him a lopsided smile, which turned sheepish the moment he mentioned his arm.
"Sorry," she told him in a softer voice. "Though I don't know if I'll be needing a knight and hero anymore.. I'd like to think all of my rescuing has been done and over."
Though even she had a feeling fate was not so kind.
"I can guarantee you that you will, once you got stuck with me, even if only for a short while." Athran grinned, rubbing his arm. "I can guarantee it. I'm bad luck in its purest form..." He shook his head, and his glance sled at her once again. "Though I might be needing one, too."
Iyla smirked.
"It seems we're both a magnet for trouble, but if walls keep crumbling down around you - you might be looking for a new girl," she joked, then seeing him rub at his arm, her expression grew more serious.
"How are your wounds holding up?"
"I can manage. It still hurts at times, but not too badly... I would be already good if not for the running." he replied quietly. He already missed most of the wraps, which he saw as unnecessary and getting in his way.
"Don't worry about me. We should get going, though... Should I carry you again?" he asked, slowly standing up and offering her a hand.
She peered up at the offered hand.
"I... I could try to walk," she said, resting her hand into his as she pulled herself to her feet, but she must've risen too fast because she grew light headed and stumbled into Athran's arms.
"Er.. sorry," she said, brushing some hair from her face. "Guess I'm not used to walking after being carried around by an elf so damn much," she joked, but peered down at his injured arm, wondering if she hurt it again. "But I think I should be able to do at least some of the walking."
If his arm was so sore, he shouldn't be carrying her anyway.
Athran laughed at her joke, holding her up to stop her from falling onto him again. "I'll help you." he said softly, and put his other arm under his shoulders. "Hold onto me, and if it's too bad, I'll pick you up again, is that fine?"
He smiled softly, tilting his head aside. The strands of his hair sled aside again, revealing his pale skin. "I told you not to worry about me... You don't need to stress yourself with overly concerning about someone like me. If you do need to be carried, even for a while, it won't hurt me."
"I'll keep that in mind," she muttered as she leaned into him, and once she found her footing again, she was walking again and in a few more steps, she almost seemed right as rain.
"I don't think I've ever felt more helpless in all of my life- though I suppose I shouldn't complain and should be glad I'm alive."
"You definitely should. Burning alive isn't a nice death. Actually, no death is nice..." he said bleakly, and shook his head. "But don't think about that. Not now. There will be time to discuss death if you wish, but not now. The main concern is to get to the town."
He sighed. However often he faced things such as death, a part of him was still not comfortable talking about them.
The forest was almost at its end, and from behind fields and hills, orchards and trees, they could see a small village - just a few houses and a church, bathed in the golden sunlight of the late afternoon. "We're almost there. I didn't even realise how nice the weather was today." he spoke idly.
Iyla laughed at his comment.
"Why, did you want to go for a stroll?" she joked, but then peered up at the sky- the sun, as yellow as gold, and the forests around them smelling fresh and green.
Athran shook his head with a chuckle. "Do I look like a great lover of strolls? Definitely not!" he smirked, and led her further towards the village.
"I hope we'll find a room to rent easily, even though I have no money... If not, we'll have to sleep under the trees." he admitted while they walked through the fields of ripening grain. It was warm and the stalks were bending under the heavy grains, softly rustling in the breeze, glinting golden under the rays id the sun.
She gave a shrug as she hobbled along side him.
"It doesn't matter to me. So long as we can get something to eat, I'm starving. Think all of that walking woke up my appetite."
"I'll steal something for you." Athran shrugged. "I don't have a single coin... Or my bow. Oh gods, how I wish I had a nice piece of meat." He turned his eyes at the sky with a theatrically desperate expression, and let out a long sigh. The village was drawing closer, and as they reached the dusty road, people started passing them.
An occasional farmer or villager gave the rugged two a funny look, but Athran's scowl made them brisk up and mind their own business again, and it didn't take long till they found themselves among the houses.
"So here we are, in the town,- whatever town this is" she said, giving Athran a smirk and once over. "I do recall a certain pointy eared creep promising me some food. Shall I just wait in the town square, or find us an Inn so that you can spoil me with your finds? I think I'd rather like to be waited on hand and foot- it's been a while and these injuries, I'm sure you'd understand why I'd want to be treated like a lady..." And her red eyes flashed playfully, her expression giving away her tease.
"Oh, certainly not an inn. I wouldn't want anyone to smash your pretty head with a jug and beat out what's left there!" he teased her, passing through a small crowd in front of one of the houses. For a short moment, he turned around and hid his hands behind his back, brisking up a little.
When they left the crowd behind and found themselves in an empty alleyway, he showed her what he was covering - a rugged pouch. It seemed quite heavy as it hung from his thin fingers, and he showed her a wide grin. "I hope that whatever is inside will suffice for a room, eh?" His melodic voice arose in a short laugh, and he handed the pouch to Iyla.
Accepting the pouch, Iyla had a hard time hiding her grin.
"Did you steal all of this for me?"S he moved her wrist to test the weight of the pouch. "What if it's full of rocks? Sure feels like it."
Athran shook his head. "I know how coins sound. And these definitely are coins! I snatched it from someone in the crowd." he shrugged. With a soft pull, he opened the pouch, and pulled out a coin. "I told you, money. Maybe we could even buy food for that!"
Iyla was well aware it was coin, but it was adorable to see how defensive he got over his steal. So she was smiling when she with drew a coin herself and said, "I don't know... could be a fake coin..."
Athran narrowed his eyes. "Now you're teasing me. Coins glint like coins and feel like coins. Enough of them has gone through my hands for me to know, trust me at that." he replied proudly, slipping the coin back.
"And we should, instead of discussing the contents of the pouch, find somewhere to sleep..." he added eventually with a shrug. "Just an idea. You can sleep in the woods if you want, you know."
Iyla smirked.
"I'm not sleeping int he woods if you're offering a bed. Come on, let's check this city out. I'm exhausted and hungry- and you'd have no idea how bad my skin feels."
Thank God she could heal quick. Being burned near alive really hurt!
"I have a very good idea, my dear. I burned myself a lot of times before I learned how to control the fire." Athran replied darkly, hiding the pouch in the scraps of his armour, and softly putting one arm around Iyla's shoulders.
As they approached a small inn from afar, an idea flashed through Athran's mind, and he frowned a little. "What will we say if they ask us why we travel together? We're obviously in a terrible state, and an elf and a woman is surely not a common couple. How will we explain that?" he wondered.
Iyla smirked wickedly when she got an idea.
"I've got an idea- just follow my lead," she told him, placing a finger beneath his chin as she stepped into the inn. "Just act like my slave."
Athran frowned, and grabbed her by the shirt, pulling her back. "No. I refuse. Anything, I'd rather cut myself up like a corpse rather than that!" he snarled, frowning at her.
Iyla stumbled to a halt beside him, still grinning.
"What? You'd prefer I be the slave?" She tilted her head to one side. "Connlaoth is not a fan.." she reminded, and didn't even say what of- but simply let her fingers stroke against the length of his left ear.
He frowned. "No. I got a better idea... We're cousins, I'm taking you south, and we got attacked by bandits in the forests. It sounds lame and stupid, but believable..." he growled, and gave her a faint shrug.
"Believable?" Iyla laughed and gave a pull to his ear. "I.. think not." Though shifting her weight, she frowned. "Maybe we should reconsider?" But the idea of food and bed was just too great- but she could ot think of a good idea to save her life.
Athran showed her a wide grin. "Then not cousins... Spouses. If you didn't smell that much, I'd give you a kiss in front of the tavern keep for an extra believable effect." he winked, and stroke her cheek with a teasing smirk.
"It wouldn't have to be that believable," she told him, shying away as her cheeks blushed. "Besides, if you tried, I might have to hurt you." Though her threat was playful as best. "Shall we go in, my love?"
"Off course, darling." Athran replied, and led her into the tavern. It was quite dark inside, but empty, only a few men sitting around the small bar room. The tavern keep was lazily cleaning jugs, standing behind the counter, and hardly flicked a brow at their entrance.
Athran stepped closer, his hand sliding to the pouch by his side. "Good afternoon..." he greeted him, quite coldly. The man picked up his gaze from the jugs, and stared at them with a gradually deepening frown on his face. "Good afternoon. What would you want?" he asked, showing a hint of suspicion in his deep voice.
Iyla stepped forward just to let the man know he wasn't just dealing wtih a scruffy elf- but his equally scruffy wife.
"My husband and I would like a room, some drinks and a meal."
And she didn't hesitate to use the gold piece she had swiped from Athran from earlier. In fact, she ignored Athran all together as the man looked them over but pocketed the coin and slipped them a key across the desk.
"One room- and the beers are ordered over there," he said and gestured to the bar. "You can order food there as muhc as you like- just no trouble." And at that comment, the inn keep cast a sneer Athran's way.
Athran grabbed the key and quickly slipped it into his pocket. "Don't worry about trouble." he assured him with an ice-cold voice, and the gaze of his bright blue eyes pierced the man like steel. He flinched, backing away from the elf, and turned his back to them. The jugs made a silent squeaking sound as he quickly wiped them with a rag.
Athran took Iyla's hand and led her to one of the few rooms that there were, smirking. "Drinks. How convenient." he muttered.
Iyla gave shrug as she followed the elf to a seat.
"I haven't had a drink in ages. I think I deserve it." She told him and sat down. "Maybe just a drink or two- not sure if I'd trust myself around you, drunk, Elf."
He laughed shortly, tilting his head aside. "What you really need is a bath, my lady." he reminded her. "It is something we both lack, and rather largely, if you ask me."
He started removing the improvised armour off his body, and simply carelessly threw it on the floor. It was already dirty enough to be straight burned.
Iyla ordered two drinks by the time her cheeks were well red, her body warmed and at ease, and her tone, much more jovial and light hearted than it had ever been.
"Even the soup here tastes like heaven," she swooned, enjoying the last bite she had ordered before leaning back with a sigh in her chair and stretching. "And now that I'm well fed and a bit tipsy, I feel as if I could just pass out!"
In this chair or on the stone streets, she honestly didn't care!
Unlike on other occasions, Athran restrained himself from drinking more than one goblet of red wine. He lay stretched across the bed, watching Iyla and playing with the long wisps of his hair, covering the pillow underneath like a shadow veil. Then and now, he bit into the bones that remained from his dinner, a crispy, well-baked piece of chicken, seasoned with a fair load of spice.
"You wouldn't believe me if I told you I'd actually welcome a bath. And I'm really sorry for reminding you once again, but it would be beneficial for you, too - for all we have been through, my dear Iyla, you stink. Honestly." he smirked, throwing a bone of his dinner at her. It landed in one of the few unfinished drinks, and Athran's melodic laughter echoed through the room as the chicken bone sunk into the ale.
Iyla flinched at the chicken bone attack but smirked none the less, even as it landed with a plop in an unfinished drink. She wiped what splashed onto her face as her grin widened.
"Maybe I'll just let you suffer with my stench," she threatened.
With a very wide and very provocative smirk, Athran sled off the bed and stepped to Iyla. "Maybe I'll just pick you up and make you take a bath! What about that?" he teased her, but his threats weren't a joke - he slipped his arms under Iyla, and picking her up like a bride, even with the drink, he kicked the door out and carried her out of the room. "I'm not sharing a room with a stinky lady!"
Iyla gasped and struggled in his arms.
"What- where do you think you're taking me? ATHRAN!!!!" She continued to struggle as she flailed her limbs wildly about before huffily (but also playfully) retorting, "Then why don't you get your own room you equally stinky elf!"
"Because money!" Athran grinned with a shrug. As he took her down the corridor, he bent his head above her and playfully kissed her - or bit, depending on what you consider a kiss and a bite.
The tavern keep glared at them when they appeared before the counter, but his cold glance met only Athran's wide smirk. "Where's there somewhere to take a bath?" he asked.
"That room." The man wagged his head at the closest room in the corridor.
And without even thanking him, the elf turned at his heel, and walked into the room that was told to contain things that would wash the stench off Iyla - and himself.
Iyla only halted in her struggles when they approached the inn keeper- but once Athran rushed off with her in tow towards the bath, she gasped and began her struggles again.
"A-Athran!" Had he gone crazy!?
"Yes, Iyla?" Athran laughed, and softly dropped her into the bathtub, full of almost cold water - with clothes and the goblet, just as she was. "Ah, water's not gonna hurt you..." He playfully tilted his head aside, and kicking his boots off, sat down into the tub right beside her, still fully dressed.
He has actually drank more than he probably realized... But once drunk, he didn't care. "The water's nice, isn't it?"
Iyla gasped. She was soaking wet, most of her drink had probably spilled, and she was now squashed into a small tub with a bony Athran. All she could do was blink a few minutes before shaking her head and pouring the rest of her wine over his head.
"Yes, and so is the wine!"
Athran's jaw dropped when she poured the wine over himself. "Iyla! Now my hair will smell like wine... Forever!" he sobbed. After a moment of hesitation, he licked some of the wine, flowing down his cheeks, and grinned. "I never knew I tasted this good..." he purred.
He grabbed a wisp of his hair, soaked in wine, and squeezed the red out of it - just to gently pull his hand all over Iyla's face and smudge the wine around it. "Here you go. Iyla the Wine Lady!" he cackled.
"Wine lady?" Iyla blinked and shook her head. "You're just drunk. Look at you- in a bath with clothes on."
"You have them on, too!" Athran replied. "And you have wine on your face!" He pushed Iyla aside a little, and twisting into an almost inhuman position, he dove his head into the water, coloring it red with the wine in his hair.
When he quickly pulled it back up, he gasped for breath, and shook the water off his head, wiping it out of his eyes. "And I don't!"
"Ugh, stop shaking water on me like a dog!" she shouted, but it was hard for her to keep a straight face when yelling at him. It was too amusing. They were both soggy nad wet inside a shared tub in their clothes. How much stranger could the pair be?
Athran stroke her cheek with his cold fingers, and pressed a wet, wine-soaked kiss onto her lips. It was surprising that he didn't miss her face, considering that he kept his eyes closed, but the kiss was long and fierce, with a little of his slightly sharp teeth, and much, much warmer than the water they sat in.
Iyla smiled through the kiss and pressed into it- but at the taste, he'd feel her lips tickling his as she laughed.
"Your lips taste like wine, elf."
Athran softly bit her lip, before pulling himself away and sinking deeper into the tub. "And yours taste like it, too, now." he joked, leaning onto the edge of the wooden bathtub.
"So we're to bathe in wine and water?" She gave him a crooked smile. "Somehow that seems fitting. Considering how I first met you..." He was pretty drunk in an apple orchard.
"Off course we are..." Athran chuckled softly. He entwined his arms around her, softly pulling her closer, and pressing her onto his chest. Slowly drawing closer, he pressed his lips onto hers again, in an even longer, more passionate kiss. This one wasn't playful - it was slow and soft, gentle, fully expressing the pleasure he took in it.
His hands slipped up into her hair, delving into its long wisps. He didn't even think about letting go... Not any soon.
"How come I get this feeling you planned this whole thing just so you could use it as an excuse to get close to me?" Iyla said, smirking but leaning into him all the same. She supposed she ought not to complain, but it was too fun to tease her elf.
Letting go off her only for a short moment, Athran kissed her cheek, and his lips moved towards her ear. "Maybe I did, and maybe I didn't. You'll never find that out." he whispered, and in a surprisingly fast motion kissed her on the lips again. Feeling her body in his hands, her lips on his, he was content, and he didn't really feel any need to think about something else.
"And in the end, it doesn't matter. Nothing matters." His hands slipped to a chain which he wore around his neck, and passing the thin thread of dark iron over their heads, he passed it to her, letting it hang on her own neck.
Iyla smirked. It was rather nice to find herself with someone like this, but even in this joyous moment,s he could not help but wonder how long it would last.
"Athran.." she began to say, but then smiled and shook her head. "Never mind."A nd she closed her eyes and rested comfortably against him, but after a long moment she finally spoke again.
"Not to mock your plan at getting bathed, but I don't think we're doing this whole bathing this right." And that part was whispered in a childish manner. But she didn't care. When else might they be able to steal a moment like this?
He nodded with a smile, and nonchalantly took his shirt off, kicking his boots out of the bathtub. Either because he was under the influence of wine, or because he didn't mind Iyla seeing him as he was anymore, he wasn't hiding the scars on his skin any longer. She'd see them sooner or later anyway...
He leaned in and stroke her cheek. "I suppose it would come more comfortable to you to do something similar." he suggested.
Iyla obliged, but when it seemed as if Athran and Iyla weren't ever going to leave the bathing room- the inn keeper more or less helped boot them out. Returning to their room, Iyla was all smiles as she worked a brush into her wet hair whiels he sat on the edge of the bed.
"You know, I think I still smell like wine. But at least I'm all clean. Well... mostly." And as she finsihed brushing her long hair, she sat up and purposely tossed her hair over her shoulder so that it'd hit Athran in the face.
Athran dropped his soaked shirt somewhere in the corner of the room, and laid down onto the bed, not paying too much attention to the fact that he was dripping with water. He lifted himself up to his elbows, and ducked as she tossed her hair at him, reaching after it and catching it between his fingers in mid-air. He let it slip down, and fall back onto her back.
"Wine smells nice... Definitely better than ashes, to be honest. But I'll be tempted to bite you all night, since it smells so nice." he smirked.
Iyla smirked.
"You know I'm not some roast of pig you can simply devour, Athran."
But she wouldn't lie. She did enjoy the attentions.
Athran sat up, putting one arm around her shoulders, and his head appeared right beside her face. "Who said so?" he grinned, and as he snapped his fingers in front of her, a small auburn flame sprang from their tips.
"I bet you taste delicious!"
"What's with the fire?" she smirked, eyeing the flame then the elf. "Didn't think your friends burned me enough to your liking?"
"Ah..." The flame disappeared, and Athran looked down in abashment. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean it like that, off course." he muttered.
Iyla knew he hadn't meant that and moved a hand to gently trace a few fingers across his cheek.
"I know. Perhaps it was too soon to joke," she said, forcing a smile. Though her body was still in pain from what happened, she found ignoring it, or joking over it, helped her forget- well, forget that she'd hav to relive this pain again. She was not looking forward to becoming mortal again. Hopefully she would find all the shadow seeds soon, but she had a feeling her journey had just begun.
But she never thought being with Athran would be this way- and she just wanted to pretend the curse upon her wasn't real.
Athran let out a long sigh in the silence, reaching after her hand and softly taking her into his as it sled down his cheek. His own arms entwined around her chest and pulled her closer to himself in a hug.
Just for the feeling of being close to someone, just for the presence of another person. To feel her next to himself, even without the warmth they both seemed to lack now... "Don't take what I say too seriously. I'm just a fool with a sword, in the end." he whispered into her ear.
"Am I hearing this correctly?" she asked with a smirk. "The Black Sword humbling his title and reputation?"
He shook his head. "Titles and reputation are naught but empty words." he replied. His arms held her firmly, but gently, pressing her to his chest, while his head rested on her shoulder.
"You know titles don't matter. Only empty-headed fools chase them like the wind..."
Iyla peered up at him curiously.
"Is that why you are no longer in Adela? Did you abandon your station as a knight?"
It was curious to think- such a famous Adelan Knight and Dragon rider was here of all places. She wouldn't be here if it were not for the shadow stones.
"That is... Something different. No, my reason to be here is different. Nobody knows me here... I can do what I wish without the pressure. Being a knight has a lot of responsibility... And I am no longer a dragon-rider." he whispered back.
He closed his eyes. A hot tear sled down his white skin, onto Iyla's shoulder.
She frowned when she felt the tear and looked down at him. What was she to say to that? The man was obviously on the run from something- but from his responsibilities? Perhaps there was more to it than that.
"I'm sorry if I've upset you," she said, awkwardly shifting from where she sat while a hand idly brushed through his hair. "I'm not sure how much help I can be for you, but if you ever want to talk about it..."
It was obvious her ear would be lent.
"It's an old matter. No, don't worry. It only brings back more memories than I would be fond of." Athran shook his head, closing his eyes to push the tears back.
"Do you remember how I spoke to you about my death, and when I came back afterwards? I haven't told you the whole truth, that is." he admitted.
Iyla gave a tilt to her head.
"I don't think either of us have been completely open with where we've come from," she murmured, peering at him.
"I guess we both have reasons serious enough not to do so, am I not right?" he asked silently. One of his hands arose to softly brush a strand of her hair out of her face.
Iyla's eyes warmed at the gesture.
"I suppose you're right," and she shifted awkwardly beside him. She didn't know what to say to him. There was too much to tell. So she simply remained silent.
That was- until a familiar pull tickled her senses and her red eyes tore away from his as she glanced towards the window.
Another shadow seed was near.
At the unexpected movement, Athran looked over his shoulder where she was staring, and raised a brow in confusion. There wasn't anything out there...
"Iyla, is something wrong?" he asked her with concern, shifting closer to the window, still searching for a sign of anything unusual.
Iyla pressed her lips together and tried to swallow back the crazed desire she always got when the shadow seeds presence became known. Licking her dry lips, she responded, "No... I just, thought I saw something. Must've just been a shadow."
It didn't sound too convincing, and Athran frowned a little at her words. "Are you sure it was just a shadow? If you saw something, and it wasn't... So you think the men that captured you are following us, that they found us again?"
He narrowed his eyes. "Some of them may have escaped the fire..."
Iyla's frown deepened. She shook her head.
"No," she replied in a coarse whisper. "Nothing like that."
And still, she hesitated over the truth. Old habits were hard to kill.
Athran shook his head. "No. I refuse to believe they'd give up so easily. If someone took the care to capture you, he surely wouldn't just let it all go. I got a note... Which is soaked and can be hardly read any longer, but I got a note, and I know that someone wants my head."
He clenched his fists, and all of a sudden, turned towards Iyla. "I'm not letting this go. I don't know who it was, but I am not letting this just pass by. That man is dead."
Iyla had almost not heard him over the ringing inside her ears, or the hum inside her body that tickled and prickled at her flesh. The seeds always made her feel hungered and restless and her fingers itched at her sides.
"Then are you proposing to hunt the man down?" she made a face. "That would be suicide..."
And then after a moment, she finally realized, as she patted herself down.
"The shadow seed..." Her eyes went wide. No wonder she was sensing one so close...
The men that tried to kill her had stolen it- and now they were drawing near.
Her skin paled and her eyes wavered. It seemed they'd have to confront these men sooner rather than later.
"Was it... The stone that I found back in the orchard?" Athran raised a brow, ignoring her previous comment. "We... We have to get away from here. What do you know about the man, Iyla? I'll hunt him down, I promise I will, I will tear his beating heart out of his chest if I'll have to..." He barred his teeth as he spoke, clenching his fists until his knuckles have gone white, and he slowly sled off the bed and stood up.
Iyla didn't hear him. Her mind was too focused on the seed and how it pulled at her senses, drowning at all reasons and desires for anything else.
"The seed.."s he repeated, standing up, eyes going to the window.
She had to get it. She had to get it back. And her hands reached out to open the window.
"Iyla, are you even listening?" Athran shouted out, pulling her away from the window. "What are you doing? Are you crazy? Do you want someone to see us?"
He firmly held her back from the window, throwing himself in front of it, and blocking the view. "You can't just... What if they're out there? What do you want to do? I need to know who that man is, and I'll get him, but we can't just run off into the blue!"
Iyla growled at him as he grabbed her and pulled her away.
"Out of my way, Athran!"
ANd at his questions, she seemed to ignore them as she shook her head.
"I have to see.." It wasdriving her crazy, so much that she felt her hands begin to shake as she tried to push her way through him to get to the window.
Athran's hands clenched around hers and threw her onto the bed, careful to push her onto the cushions to avoid her hurting herself. "Stop it! You're not going anywhere, it's not safe!" he shouted at her, holding her down and away from the window.
Iyla growled at him.
"Athran!? What are you doing? You know I need those shadow seeds."
"We'll get it, but I can't let you run after it right here, right now! That's just stupid! I promise you we'll get it, Iyla, but if you just run out there, they'll catch you, and this time, they'll kill you, or take your head off! And I don't want that to happen!" he warned her.
It was only at the mention of her death did she halt fighting against him as she grit her teeth, her eyes wavering at the memory of what those men had done to her. Sinking away from him, she shamefully lowered her gaze.
"I know... you just.. don't understand. The drive to find the seeds... it drives me mad. Against all reason, all logic, all desires. It's... hard to see past it." Even now, it was evident in her confession how difficult it was for her to even say that- she was, after all, speaking through her teeth.
Athran laid down beside her, still holding her down on the bed. "Look, I'll help you get it, but don't be mad at me when I stop you from doing stupid things like this... I can imagine how difficult it must be, and I offer you my help, but you just can't do this. You'd only get caught... I want no harm, I'm just trying to protect you from what you'd cause yourself like that." he explained her, far calmer than before.
Iyla bared her teeth at him before turning away. She couldn't fight him like this. Nor should she, but she found it hard for her to calm herself. Closing her eyes, she swallowed the knot in her throat.
"I... I just need a minute," she confessed, fingers gripping into the pillow. "To collect myself."
His grip turned into an embrace, and pulled Iyla closer, no longer clenching his hands around her. "That's fine, I know what you mean." he assured her, and smiled softly. She didn't have to worry...
"I get something similar with orcs. It's just an uncontrollable need to go savage and slaughter." he admitted shortly after.
"Orcs?" She didn't get the comparison, at least not fully, it still made her smile, but it was a bit forced. She felt too anxious to enjoy a moment like this as she sighed against him and grew quiet- all the while the desire to chase after the seed pulled her gaze towards the window again.
"Yeah, orcs. I hate them beyond comprehension." Athran growled. He laid silent for a while, caressing Iyla in his embrace, but upon noticing how she turned to the window again, he clenched his arms around her a little stronger. "Ssh. Look away..." he whispered.
"We'll get out of here tomorrow... But I'll need whatever you know about the men that caught you, otherwise we won't get anywhere. Although I may know about the direction they were going in..."
Iyla sat up suddenly.
"Tomorrow!?" The idea appalled her as she suddenly got to her feet. "You expect me to wait an entire day to get that seed?" She shook her head and began to move for the door. "The scent might be lost- I might never get a lead on it again. I can't lose this sensation. I must find the seed! I must find that shadow rock!"
"We can't go yet!" Athran shouted back, grabbing her by the shoulder. "We both need to rest and a lot of other things. Even if it was just a few hours, it's impossible for us to go this soon! Iyla, think! Do you really think you'd get far like this?"
He pulled her away from the door. "Besides, how can we even do something without knowing what are we chasing? I've asked you a hundred times and still got no answer. Iyla, I'm not allowing any of us to leave before we get a few hours of sleep and something that at least resembles a plan."
Iyla grit her teeth and fought within his hold.
"And I've told you the plan!" she snapped. "I must get that seed!"
"That's not a plan, that's just stupidity!" Athran growled. "You have obviously no idea about what's happening! Those guys won't let you just take the seed like that, the first moment they see you, they kill you! I don't think you'd like to see your head off your neck, Iyla..." His hand clenched stronger around her shoulder. Despite all the events of the past days that made him look bony and thin, his grip was still like iron, and his eyes were glinting with deadly fire.
"You aren't going anywhere..." he said silently, but his voice was so cold and hard it would send haunting chills down one's spine.
Iyla continued to bare her teeth at him.
"I'm well enough to walk, I'm well enough to get back my seed!" she bit back, and tried to pull her shoulder's away from his grasp.
Athran's patience has ran out. He pushed her towards the bed without flicking a brow, and with the other hand took off the second one of the twin chains he wore, while the other one was still on Iyla's neck.
"I'm not going to repeat it any more than two times, Iyla. We are not leaving till midnight." he spoke with the same scary tone, and ripping a few long strings off the blanket, he tied the chain to her wrist. Most surprisingly, he did the same to himself - and the chain kept them only a few feet apart from each other.
"It's only for your own safety." he assured her, using the chain he previously gave to her to tie her other hand to the bed. "If you try to take it off while I'll be asleep, I'll notice. If you move, I'll notice. Whatever you do, I'll know it."
He sat down onto the bed, and showed her the most innocent smile imaginable.
If Iyla was upset before, now she was down right mad.
"WHAT ARE YOU DOING!?" she roared and bucked beneath him, trying to fight against his hold, but as it were- the man was stronger than she; and with her powers having been drained and focused on her bodily healing (not to mention there weren't really any shadows for her to connect to...) she found herself completely at his mercy as the elf tied her down-
and once she realized he was binding himself to her, shock was displayed clearly across her face as she looked over at him. She gave a few more angered pulls at her bound wrist before glowering at him and his innocent smile. And before he could stop her, she smashed her forehead angrily into his in an enraged head butt.
"Athran, unchain me NOW." ANd her words roared like a command.
Before, Athran was lingering on the thin line between amusement and anger, but the headbutt threw him well over into the zone when he flew into a rage. Nobody lays a hand on him, be it a man, woman, or beast, without suffering the consequences...
His heavy, hard fist was sent flying right into the side of her face, faster than she could dodge it. He scowled at her with an ice-cold glance, and shifted himself away on the bed, crossing his legs underneath his body.
"I said, we're not going anywhere till at least midnight. Go to sleep." he repeated calmly, masking his anger with a cold, emotionless face, and glanced down at her from behind his dark hair that covered his face like a curtain.
Iyla didn't take the punch too well and went into a frenzy. ANd even though her powers were weak, and the connections to shadows barely there, she didn't care.
She tried her powers anyway.
And it worked.
One moment she was on the bed with a throbbing jaw, the next, she was on the floor, barely twelve feet away and howling in pain. She should have seen it coming, she should have known better than to try- for her very skin turned raw again when it had begun healing as she let out a sharp cry of pain and curled in on herself and began to shake.
The pain was so intense, the desire, for that moment, to try to go after the seed had faded as blood began to trickle down her nose.
"For the love of the gods! Iyla!" Athran growled, sliding off the bed to Iyla. She was bleeding again... Most likely overuse of magic, which drained too much strength out of her body, and made her wounds open again.
He softly covered her with the blanket, and picked her up, back onto the bed. He frowned at her as he wiped the blood from her face, and moved her across to a more comfortable position. "I was only doing it for your safety. This was a stupid idea." he scolded her.
Iyla was trembling in pain, tears wetting her eyes as she murmured, "I... but I must get.. get the seed,"s he whispered weakly.
"You don't have to break your neck for them! I promise you I'll do my best to help you get them, but if you'll be like this, it won't be any good." he explained her, still slightly frowning.
Upon seeing how she cried, he wiped the tears that have rolled down her face with the side of his hand, and his expression turned from angry to concerned. "I can get you some wine if it would help." he offered silently.
Iyla just lay there silently as more hot tears bubbled in her eyes and soon she was trembling as she began to sob.
It hurt, everything hurt, and her mind was a dizzy mess blinded by pain and desire- but for one thing- Those cursed shadow seeds.
She turned away from him, burying her face into the bedding.
"No.. just let me rest,"s he whispered.
He shrugged. "Then sleep. It will do you good, and I'll do the same." he muttered, laying down beside her, and taking the other blanket. Just like he was, in the rugged pair of pants, and hardly anything otherwise.
Soon, he was peacefully sleeping, like a porcelain doll in the pillows.
It took some time for Iyla to sleep. Her body was shivering and tender from her attempt to escape; and for a while, she lay there, mind reeling over the events of the past few days- and her desire for the shadow seeds. But eventually that all faded away and she found peace only when she slept, and she slept for a good long while before her red eyes opened again when daylight filtered into the room.
She felt tired and her entire body ached and her head felt heavy. With a groan she sat up, hair a mess about her face as she peered around the room.
"Athran?"
As it was usual for him, Athran slept just like a brick, without moving, making a sound, or having any knowledge of the world, but Iyla's voice broke this peaceful state of mind.
He rolled over, opening his eyes to a very, very tight gap, which was shielded by his long lashes, anyway, so he hardly saw anything, and turned his head aside a little. "Mmm... Huh?" he moaned, closing and opening his eyes in the light that appeared way too bright for his sleepy mind.
"Ugh, I feel like I just slept through my own death," She said, sitting up and raking a hand through her hair. Peering over at Athran, she smirked a little. "Seems you faired the same."
"I need another eight hours of sleep. Do you realize how little I have slept when I was chasing you?" he complained, pulling the blanket over to his head, till only his nose and eyes peered out.
"My head hurts. Let me sleep." he growled, and turned around to hide himself from the sunlight, which was shining straight into his eyes. Not something he's appreciate.
Iyla studied Athran for a bit before a grin tugged crookedly across her lips. She shook her head and turned away from him, brushing her unruly hair from her face as she moved to stand. It was then she realized the sensation of the shadow seed and paused- but for now, it was a numbed sensation as she peered over towards the window.
FInding the strength to ignore it for now, she moved to sit in a vacant chair in the room and took a brush to her hair, grunting as she found the knots.
Unfortunately for him, Athran found out that he most likely won't fall asleep again, and therefore sled off the bed instead, yawning, groaning, and stretching himself. It was quite cold in the early morning, especially without a shirt, and he quickly pulled the blanket off the bed and hung it over his shoulders to warm himself up.
He tilted his head aside. A few strings of his hair fell over to the other side, though it changed nothing on the crow's nest of a hair he had on his head, and he yawned again, without even bothering to cover his mouth.
"Guess the wine wasn't as good an idea as I though... Well... Is there any water nearby?" he asked, shrugging.
Iyla continued to work the brush through her hair.
"We could see if there's a well in town- or if they have some in reserve downstairs," she told him with a shrug, and made another grunt as her brush found another large knot. Her hair needed cut badly. Some ends were singed while the rest...s he wasn't sure if she could get the knots out with a brush alone as she sighed but continued to diligently work at it.
With a short nod, Athran dropped the blanket and passed through the room, stumbling out of the doorway and into the corridor. It wasn't as bad as many times before, after all, it was just a few goblets that they have drank yesterday, but still enough to make him dizzy.
The innkeeper gasped and popped his eyes out when Athran appeared in front of the counter - towering above him, with all the long scars crossing his chest like the traces of ink on a map, and muscled quite impressively for someone so thin. The man backed up, watching him with suspicion and fear.
"Don't run like if I was here to skin you alive. I just want a jug of water." he growled at the tavern keep, who bent under the counter for a jug right after he finished speaking.
A few moments later, Athran was in the doorway of their own room again, leaning onto the frame of the door, and every now and then taking a drink from the big jug. "They had some..." he announced, stating the obvious.
Iyla gave a smirk his way when he entered. She had just finished brushing her hair and set the comb aside.
"Well don't just stand there. Aren't you going to share?"
Athran narrowed his eyes. "I don't usually share... But if you brush my hair like you did with yours, I'll give you half of what's left in there." he offered, nonchalantly sitting down onto the edge of the bed.
"I think one of the chains is stuck in my hair."
Iyla quirked a brow at Athran.
"You want me to brush your hair?" What did she look like, his maid? She was not amused.
He shrugged. "I can't reach to the back. I'll bring breakfast instead."
Smirking at her expression, he handed her the jug. "Or you want to be hungry?"
"Breakfast? I thought you couldn't cook?" she said, and moved to sit on the bed and gestured for him to sit before her while she had the brush now in hand.
"I never said I can't get us food that's already cooked." Athran replied with an innocent smile, moving where she asked him to be, while his eyes searched for his shirt...
It appeared that he's lost it, as it wasn't anywhere nearby.
Iyla took the brush to his hair, frowning as she found more of those irritating knots. But she was surprisingly delicate, if not even efficient in the way she worked the brush into his hair. His hair was pretty nice, despite it seeming like a crow's nest right now, and she smiled a little thinking about all they had been through so far- all the while the faint call of the stone hummed inside her ear.
"Iyla, have you seen my shirt? I can't see it anywhere around and I don't have any other..." Athran moaned after a while. It was pleasing how softly she brushed the long wisps of his raven-black hair, and he enjoyed it, but that missing shirt was really worrying him.
Iyla smirked.
"Why are you so worried about such a thing? Besides.." And here, she leaned forward to kiss his bare shoulder as she wrapped her arms around him, pressing her body against his back.
"I think you look rather nice without it. Though, we just might need to plump you up a bit with more stew in eggs,"s he teased.
Stroking her cheek with a chuckle, Athran turned his head back a little. "Off course. Five centuries of training do give you a nice figure." he winked at her, but soon after, his face became more serious.
"I might attract too much attention without it. Iyla, for the sake of the gods, my chest looks like a map, people would be staring at me all along the way." His glance slipped down again, starting at his arms, crossed by a greater number of long, thin white lines, pulled across his pale skin like silken threads. His fingers ran up the marks that resembled irons of a great chain, pushed into the skin of his right forearm, when he spoke again. "It's dangerous enough that I'm an elf in Connlaoth. You at least look human. Do you think nobody would recognize me? Iyla, they took you because they want me dead."
Iyla kept her arms around him, eyes studying the scars across his form. She silently digested what he said, before finger tips lightly brushed over a few scars on his body before she found a few ones on his shoulder that she kissed.
"I bet you have many stories, Athran," she murmured, kissing at his shoulder again. "I mean, you are five centuries old." She jested, her lips tugging into a leftward grin.
Athran bent his head back, and supporting himself with his arms he bent into a position stretched enough to kiss Iyla's forehead with his own head upside down.
"I sure do... Dozens upon dozens of stories." he softly whispered into her ear, narrowing his eyes to a tight gap between the long, thick eyelashes that framed the azure orbs with a solid black similar to his hair.
Iyla smirked, his breath tickling her ear and sending a thrill through her skin.
"Then why don't you share some with me?" she whispered back, a hand gently cupping his cheek again. "After all.." And now, her tone changed to something more playful as she gave his black hair a pull. "I still have to finish taming these unruly locks. It would help pass the time."
He bent back into a more natural position, smiling - rather smugly at that. "Which one would you want to hear? You know, there's so many of them..."
Reaching forth as he stretched his arms, his joints cracking a little, he counted them. "Once when I was young, I got lost in the forest and got almost eaten by a wyvern. Other time, I was chasing a particular man all the way north to the tundra. And I'm not kidding, but once I even accompanied the king on the battlefield. Though it was the previous king, not this one."
Iyla smiled and returned her attentions to his hair, though her eyes strayed to the scars on his shoulder. A finger lightly traced over them.
"What about this one?" She asked.
He chuckled lightly when her fingers touched a particular place on his shoulder. "You'll laugh. I got pushed out of a tower."
"You know, I'm a mercenary and assassin just as much as a knight. And it sometimes happens that two men are set to kill one target... When they meet, it can be unfortunate. Me and the other one were dancing around the corpse like a couple of herons, till I stabbed him and he kicked me out of the window. I fell onto my shoulder, the pauldron cut into it."
"Why am I not surprised?" she smirked as her eyes traced over his new wounds. "And these- " Her eyes sparkled as her hands ghosted over them. "You can tell everyone it was when a wall fell on you."
Athran flinched a little when her hand touched the freshly healed wounds, still somewhat red with the flesh underneath. "Yes. Nobody would believe me, but I know it's true..."
Iyla smirked and snorted softly at the idea before going back to tending to his hair.
"How did you manage to go so long without caring for this? Some of these knots might need to be cut out.."
"I don't have the time... I'm a busy person!" Athran moaned, instinctively raking through his hair with his hand. "It grew quite a lot since I cut it the last time, I... Well, I just forgot." he added, sheepishly staring down. His hair has reached almost to the half of his back - far longer than when he last cropped it down to his shoulders.
Iyla shook her head and continued to fuss at his hair until she found one stubborn knot that she glared at.
"Got a knife on you? I think this lock of hair is doomed. Pretty sure this knot won't come out peacefully."
"I have my sword." Athran shrugged. "I don't know if you could cut it with that, though... Maybe..."
He reached into his boot, and his white hand reappeared with a short knife in a black sheath, long, curved blade and hilt, strapped with leather. "Would this do? I've cut my hair with a scimitar before, but that was me."
Iyla quirked a brow.
"Is that the shortest knife you have? I'm cutting out a knotting of hair, not a man's wrist."
He rolled his eyes over. "I'm a warrior, not a tailor. You can use the Black Sword if you think that will make it easier."
She chuckled and unsheathed the blade.
"No, no, this one will do." But it was amusing to use such a blade on something so minor, but either way, she hefted up the unruly portion of hair and cut into it flawlessly, and tossed the ratty knot of black hair to the floor.
"There, now to finish brushing the rest of this mess!" she siad with a laugh and resheathed the blade and handed it back to him.
He grabbed the blade almost immediately after, quickly returning it to its place on the outer side of his calf, where it was hidden by his boot. A good idea to always have more than one weapon ready...
"Thanks for it. I really don't have the time to take care of things like hair! And I promise that I'll get you a good breakfast in return." he winked playfully, glancing over his shoulder at Iyla.
"Oh? Does that mean you won't bring me back some dirt to pan fry?" she asked in jest. "But I do think you owe me a couple of eggs."
"I'll try to get something better. I'll get meat." he grinned in return, making a grand gesture with his arms, then pulling them back to his chest in closed fists. "Meat! When have we last even eaten that?"
"Meat?" Iyla wasn't going to be impressed until she saw it. "I'll have to see it to believe it."
"Then I'm going to do my best to make your eyes pop out and make you stare!" Athran laughed. "I'll bring you the best piece of meat I'll find!"
Iyla smirked and planted a hand to her hip.
"You aiming to steal off a butcher?" Now that took guts, but she could see him foolishly yanking a piece of bloodied meat from the chopping block.
"That's exactly what I'm going to do." Athran replied with utter, unfeigned confidence, and a wide smirk. "I'm a master at walking unseen and unheard. If I could get into the chambers of nobles, and leave nothing but a corpse and bloodstains behind, without any trace of myself, why do you think I couldn't nick a scrap of meat?"
Iyla's lips curled into a wider smile.
"Like I said,"s he told him playfully. "When I see it, I'll believe it."
Athran sprung up from the bed. "Then watch. It should only take me a few minutes... And believe me when I say that I'll bring you a beautiful piece of meat." he assured her, walking towards the window.
"Beautiful?" She grinned and lounged back on their bed. "Is the meat going to come back to me in a dress?"
"You'll see." he winked at her, and threw the window open, just to jump out the moment after.
It didn't take him long to return, coming back through the window with a somewhat stained scrap of cloth, covering something that was apparently dripping with a red liquid, in one hand, while the other one was clenched around the neck of a large pheasant, already devoid of its feathers.
"And guess what? I got you the best steaks I found!" he grinned, outstretching his arms to hand her his peculiar catch.
Iyla was indeed impressed, and applauded his efforts with a coy grin.
"Yes, but the real feat is who is going to cook that for you?" ANd her eyes danced, for she already knew what he had in mind. But playing coy with him was a lot more fun than just giving him the answers. After all, being playful wasn't something she had the luxury of doing in all of her years of searching for the shadow seeds-
and she found she hungered for that, and even more.
He gave her a slow, slightly desperate shrug. "I'm not a cook... But I will."
Putting the pheasant down, he grabbed and unwrapped the steaks, three in the small bundle. One of them was in his hand a moment later, while the other two ended up atop the pheasant. And all of a sudden, his other hand lit with fire, bright white flames, grilling the piece of meat. His grin widened.
"Don't you have some salt, my dear? It's gonna be bland like this."
Iyla raised a brow at him.
"I was almost burned to death and they stole my equipment.. does it look like I have salt on me?" she said, half in jest as she shook her head.
"I'm sure it'll taste fine. I'm so hungry, it won't even matter."
Though she could remember back to the days of roasted duck and quail, creme brulee and imported tea.
Athran gave her a shrug, and kept roasting the meat. "Then it will be unsalted."
The steak grilled into a beautiful, tasty shade of brown in a short time, although the lower edge was somewhat burned from the flames. He handed it to Iyla, and took another piece of meat to his hands, to prepare that one, too.
"You can start eating, if you want."
Iyla had been salivating over the smells. The meat smelled wonderful, and taking it into her hands, she wasted no time in biting into it with a moan. The juices filled her mouth and the flavor was intense. It didn't need any seasoning as far as she was concerned. Just biting into it was like eating a piece of heaven.
"First I have to chase you like a hound, and then I have to roast meat. Oh, all the dark gods. How deep have I fallen." Athran turned his eyes up, and handed her another piece of meat.
"Eat as much as you want, I'll have the pheasant." he assured her as he picked up the last steak, and set it on fire. "I prefer it to steaks, anyway."
"I don't care what I eat," she murmured, moaning and stuffing more meat into her mouth. "I'm so famished I could eat the cow that made these, alive!"
When all three steaks were roasted, Athran moved on to skin the pheasant. He carefully removed the skin, gutted it, and divided the meat into a few parts. However, instead of putting the bones and other leftovers away, he wrapped them all in the skin and threw them straight out of the window, setting the cleaned meat on fire.
"This is mine... And this," he took one of her steaks, and exchanged it for the pheasant thighs, scarfing his own meal in the matter of a few moments.
Once she had her fill, Iyla threw herself onto the bed and lay there. With a meal in her belly and the shadow seed far enough away, the madness for it was all but erased. Though as she lay there, she peered up at the ceiling and closed her eyes.
"We still have the matter of the shadow seed to attend to today," she said quietly, wondering if he'd actually make good on his promise to help her. It was still... strange for her to accept any sort of help. Considering once she acquired them- she'd have to leave him to return them to her master.
Eating the last bits of pheasant meat off the bones, he nodded. "Do you know anything about the people that kidnapped you? Or the man that ordered them to?" he asked while he wiped the remains of his meal off the corners off his mouth.
The rest of the bones was sent flying out of the window, too, and he stretched himself across the bed beside her. "We shouldn't waste time... But it's so comfortable. I'd sure go with a morning of wasting time."
His head turned towards her. "For the start, tell me all you know about the people that captured you. They were going somewhere towards Reajh."
Iyla blinked and looked over at Athran, and frowned as she thought over what the men had said.
"I know his name was Lord Cedric Rohrnwalter. It was no secret why he came. He knew you as the Black Sword, and it was stated numerous times of his anger towards the embarrassment you placed upon him and his cousin in Adela."
She tilted her head curiously to one side as she studied him.
"Does the name ring a bell?"
Athran narrowed his eyes. "Yes, it does. I was given a task to kill someone of that name before, though it was not a Cedric... I don't remember how he was called. But I know where his estate is."
A dark grin appeared on his lips. "I guess it's time we go to Reajh..."
Iyla's face twisted in questioning.
"You've got a plan..." she said hesitantly, trying not to smile. "What is it? Is it something crazy, because I just might be up for it- granted, you get me that shadow seed you promised." She smirked more at that statement, red eyes dancing.
"Off course I have a plan." Athran replied, sliding off the bed, as he started to pack up what little belongings they had in the room. "Get armour. Somehow. Travel to Reajh and infiltrate the estate, dressed up as a noble. Secretly kill Rohrnwalter, and disappear!"
His grin widened. "You wouldn't mind pretending to be a noble, would you?"
Iyla's eyes widened in disbelief at such a plan, though the idea to pretend to be nobility elicited a half cocked smilethat itched across her lips.
"I think I could manage." She tucked back her smile some, but it could not be hidden away, but she played it off more coolly as she rose to her feet and approached Athran.
"Though what about you, Black Sword? Think you can manage to wear some fancy pants and not feel stifled over a properly tied cravat?"
He scoffed at her remark. "I'm from a noble family. I had to endure it for a few years in my youth... And besides, you have seen me in a robe already! Though, I wonder, will you not mind a skirt?" he raised a brow, putting one hand on her waist and spinning her around. "Will it not get into your way?"
His hand grabbed hers, and his smile disappeared, vanishing into a half-smirk. "It might be difficult to take the first few miles in rags like beggars, but when we find a bigger town... I think I know exactly what to do."
Iyla replied to his smirk with one of her own.
"Don't you worry about me. I know a thing or two about skirts," she said, keeping her chin up high as her eyes danced playfully. "BUt you say you have a plan?" Her grin broadened. "Enlighten me, because I'm not much a fan of surprises."
"It's simple. You'll pretend I paid you -" he gave her a meaningful look, "and we'll rent a bath in an inn. You'll take my clothes, and I'll run enraged to the closest tailor to sew me new ones, pretending to be an important noble." He winked at her. "It will work. I'm sure it will."
Iyla smirked.
"You pretending to be a nobleman?" She shook her head. "This I got to see."
"I am from an old and noble family. My father was the commander if the army, and I myself have the second highest position among knights. Do you consider me uncivilised?" Athran winged off, raising his head and glancing over his chin and straight nose at Iyla. "I am definitely not, just to inform you."
Iyla smirked.
"Being a knight, I wouldn't dream of it, but your reputation hardly fits you into the description of a civilized man," she informed him both thoughtfully and playfully. "The Black Sword is not to be trifled with. But.." she continued on, eyes flicking over his form. "That is not to say you couldn't hold your own on the dance floor or in fancy men's houses. I just never personally saw you do either, so who am I to judge?"
And her grin was positively smug as she leered him playfully.
But even during all of this play, the echoing call of the shadow stone was ever present- and fading, and part of her feared it completely going away.
He gave her a shrug, returning a comparably wide, provocative grin, and moved a stray wisp of hair out of his face. "Yeah, I'm better at dancing with blades than ladies. But back in my time, before I looked like this," he peered down at his revealed chest, "I used to be fancy."
His gaze lifted up again. "There were times when I used to smile because I was happy, and I was on top of the world. I was young, talented, rich - I had future... Those were the times that I visited banquets just as often as battlefields. It was long before you were born, you couldn't remember it. It was long before the fathers of your fathers were born." He shook his head, indicating that not even her ancestors could possibly have a memory of a past so distant.
"And then all crumbled. With a reputation and appearance like this, going on a ball would be more than outrageous. And so I became the solitary shadow..."
Iyla took in his words, digesting them as she thought over carefully on what to say.
"It must be difficult... to live for so long. I bet you see many generations falls."
"It is. Though, I would say the same about mortals. You have so little time to accomplish your goals... And aging looks painful." he admitted.
Iyla afforded him a small smile.
"I'm sure it is, but pain is pain."
And it was evident that even Athran suffered the woes of the other mortal races, even if aging did not mar his skin.
"I think I know about it... Kind of more than others, wouldn't you say?" he joked, and opened the door. "I think it's time to go. We should move fast... So nobody notices. Safety is safety."
He stepped out of the tavern room, giving Iyla an impatient glance, almost entirely covered in the dark cape. "Are you coming?"
Iyla followed him out with a roll of her eyes.
"You know.. if we're going to a tailor's... never mind," she said, picking lightly at her charred clothing. "I doubt anyone can fix these clothes. I'll just have to get some new ones." And she gestured forward. "Lead on."
"You'll get some... New ones I guess. At least you don't have to walk around half-naked." Athran mused on the way out of the tavern. Nobody was inside - it appeared that in the morning, everyone was busy with his own matters.
When they left the inn, a somewhat cloudy and somewhat bright forenoon welcomed them. He pulled his cape further over his shoulders, to conceal the pale skin it was hiding, and with long steps, he led them towards Reajh. The road was narrow, crooking between fields and small forests, rolling hills and small rivers...
A beautiful day for wasting time, but they had matters to do. And those wouldn't wait.
As they walked along, Iyla couldn't help but feel herself being pulled in another direction. She peered towards where the winds were blowing and tried to steel herself- to keep faith in Athran, but her desire for the seed was growing.
"How far do we have to walk?" she said, shivering against the westward winds.
He gave a quick glance to the horizon. "A few dozens of miles to Reajh. They're taking the long route, I think, to avoid being seen, so we'll be there before... And we can catch them with the stone. To the closest city, I don't know."
Iyla frowned at such an idea and grew tired of the notion of such lengthy travel.
"That seems like an impressive distance to cross and quickly," she murmured. "Perhaps we ought to consider stealing some horses."
Though she herself could cheat in her travel through shadows, she knew it wasn't wise to call on that power now- nor wise to call on her large raven. All of them were connected to her, and her body was still aching and throbbing and raw with pain. But at least she could ignore it from now, even as she itched at her arm and winced at the sensitive-ness of her flesh.
"No, we're better off cutting off sleep. I can do perfectly well not sleeping for weeks!" he assured her, laughing shortly. It wouldn't be the first time he would have done that, too.
The country by their sides was passing by quickly, and he walked forth without a word for a long, long while. Only then he spoke up, "How close do you think is the next bigger town?"
Iyla frowned at his remark.
"I would be okay with out sleep either, but I think you're forgetting I'm still injured," she reminded him sharply. And she shook her head at the last question.
"I don't know. I'm not from around here. We'll just have to walk and see."
He shot a sharp glance at her. "I ran for you for several days without any rest in a worse state. I'm sure you could take it." he growled.
Iyla's frown deepened. She could not believe he'd use her own rescue against her. She would surely never have thought to use the fact it was his fault to begin with- as the men were after him, but to say such a thing made her narrow her gaze at him as she turned from him and simply walked in silence. She would not dignify that with a response.
As they walked, a silhouette of a town begun appearing behind the rolling hills. It appeared to be a bigger one, too...
"You know what to do when we come into the town, right? It looks like a big one... Hold onto me. You can even pretend to kiss me when we enter an inn. I'll seem very affectionate, maybe even provocative towards you, but don't worry - it's not for real. Then, when we order a bath, I'll wash myself and burn the clothes. You slip out in the meantime, and I run out just in a towel, searching for you. Then... I'll go to the closest tailor, and ask him to sew me clothes, pretending to be a noble. Could you use your skills to blend into shadows in the meantime, or are you too tired for that?" he inquired.
It had to work out... It could be busted so easily, and yet, if it would work, it would be the perfect way to come across new gear.
"You can steal something in the meantime, while the tailor would be too busy with me. I'll make sure to get all the attention." he added after a moment of thinking.
Iyla smirked at such a plan.
"Seems you've got everything figured out,"s he said. "Well, almost everything." And her fingers tip toed up his chest before she paused to stare back into his eyes. "Such as, how much would be pretend?"
He gave her a mischievous grin. "As much as you want," he replied, and his hand sled to her waist, pulling her closer to let him press his lips onto her cheek.
"Personally, I don't mind... Almost anything."
"Good.." she said, and stole a kiss from his lips. "Because almost anything is about to happen."
And before he could protest, she suddenly shoved him through a nearby Inn's doors. While he had been distracted with giving away his extravagant plan, Iyla had been formulating a plan of her own, and as Athran would be shoved through and nearly falling off of his feet, Iyla was now throwing herself after him so the pair of them would actually fall, head over heels for one another (though unfortunately for Athran- he was the one breaking said fall). And with Iyla now on top of him, her lips crashed into his to snuff out any complaints or cries of alarm he might have as she moaned. And she was making quite the spectacle of them before she pulled her lips away from the mercenary and turned her red gaze towards the Inn Keep.
"The pair of us desire a room and a key to the bathing house. Unless you don't mind us carrying on on your tavern floor..." Iyla siad, trying to sound as sultry as possible-a nd the Inn Keeper gaped. Stumbling to get his keys, he fished out the one to the bath house and tossed it their way.
"The.. the bath house is out back. Towels int he front. Just be sure to deposit your things there." But then he paused, realizing he was so flustered her forgot to ask for payment..
"And the cost is-" But before he could get two breaths out, Iyla had caught the key and was dragging Athran towards the more private location, lips meeting to his again.
And as they kissed and walked, she spoke through a growl.
"Okay.. let's get this plan moving."
Athran quickly understood her plan, and cooperated, grabbing onto her and kissing her as fiercely as fire licks dry wood. He let her drag him to the bath, and started taking off his clothes.
"I'll have to wash myself, at least a little, to make it look more believable. I'll burn my old clothes, and then you can disappear... Alright?"
As he spoke, he threw everything off himself, and shoved himself into the bathtub, quickly diving in, and washing himself. His long hair stuck to his face, and the dust of the road disappeared in the water. When his head finally appeared above the edge of the tub, he waved his hand towards the bundle of rags on the floor. It burst with bright white flames, and everything except for his pouch turned to ash rather quickly.
"Hand me a towel, could you?" he asked her.
Iyla, who had all but disappeared into the shadows, seemed to have her hand appear from no where as she tossed one at his head.
"Very well then,"s he said through a smirk as she watched him. "Am I to go now so we can get this plan moving along?"
"Yeah," he mumbled, shaking the water off his hair into the towel, which he then quickly wrapped around his hips as he climbed out of the bathtub.
"You can follow and steal something for yourself while I entertain the tailor." With a chuckle, he bent down for his pouch. When it was in his hand, he tilted his head aside, staring at where he thought Iyla should be. "Ready?"
For a moment, Iyla said nothing before replying with a, "I'm as ready as I'll ever be. Let's go."
Athran looked out of the back door for a moment, and upon making sure there was no one out there, he gave a nod to Iyla. "Let's get out of here..." he muttered.
And he stepped out with the best infuriated face he could make. He took the role of an angry young noble naturally, and crossed the streets with long steps, looking as angry as possible. Furious aristocracy was like a natural disaster - you better get out of the way when one's around. And out of the way people got! By the time he got to the door of the tailor, he left a bunch of scared and confused strangers behind.
He threw the door open, and pierced the old man inside with a look that would kill if looks could do that. "Move your ass and give me new clothes!" he yelled at him, stepping right into the middle of the room.
Iyla watched in amusement, not only because Athran was giving a show of words, but well- he was naked. She knew how he felt, and the fact all reserved feelings were cast aside for this show, well, her smirk grew wider and she kept silent, waiting for the perfect moment to reveal herself. And though she wasn't using her magics, she might as well have. Her body was still aching from when those men attempted to burn her- but for now, all pain was lost to amusement as she watched and waited, trying not to laugh.
The tailor, shaking like a tree in a thunderstorm, hurried to the back of the shop to bring some clothes that would fit his incredibly enraged customer. He returned with a pair of trousers and a crimson shirt, but in the moment he drew them near to Athran, he exploded in rage.
"You call that clothes? You must have a good pair of balls to come to my face with something like that! I wouldn't wipe my horse's ass with these rags! Bring me something worth touching my self, or get out of my face! And if you won't stop mocking me this way, I'll have father bring me your head on a silver platter!" he burst out. Even considering he only had a towel around his hips, he was intimidating. He dissed a few more shirts the tailor showed him, till he sent him to bring the best he has (in black, off course).
The tailor disappeared again, and brought him a very well-crafted black garb, the softest leather one could imagine. "Your highness, my finest clothes... Hopefully that will suffice." he bowed deeply, and helped Athran put on the shirt and pants.
To say the least, he looked majestic, all in black as usually. He came over the clothes, fitting tightly on his tall figure, with his hands, and a critical glance. "If this is the best you have... I will take it." he scoffed. Actually, he was very pleased with the quality of the clothes. They allowed him free movement, fit him perfectly, and even their look was pleasing. A long black coat fell down to his knees - which would billow nicely in the wind, he was assured - while the rest was tight. It was also strong enough to protect him against a weaker blow of a sword.
He tossed the tailor a few coins while he was adjusting the clothes. "You wouldn't believe me how I got into this..." he growled. If he tortured the poor old man like this for a whole of two hours, he should at least give him a good story.
"I do admit I wondered, but I found it impolite to ask." he replied shyly.
"A woman. When I got out of the bath, she stole my clothes and wanted my pouch for it, otherwise I'd have to walk around naked. Playing with my honor..." he scoffed. "But a man's honor isn't in his clothes, but in his pouch. So I let her go."
He saw that the tailor was having a hard time suppressing his laughter, but didn't react. The clothes were finally done...
"That is indeed an... Unusual tale." the tailor admitted. "Besides, the clothes fit you perfectly, sir."
Athran looked into the mirror on the wall, but didn't let him know that he agreed. They were really good, he had to admit.
It was about this time Iyla revealed herself, though partially. She had been watching from the shadows, a perch she was used to- but she wasn't hiding all too well, and if it weren't for the layers of clothe all around her, she would have been easily detected by Athran already, or by the tailor. But as it turned out,t he tailor was too busy appeasing 'this lord' to even notice her figure stalking about like a dark panther. And crossing one leg over the other, she simply remained where she was, a grin glittering in her eyes.
Athran, admiring himself in the mirror, gave the figure in the corner a wink. It was apparent Iyla was enjoying it... Well, let her take some clothes. He'd busy the tailor for a few moments longer.
"I need a cape." he exclaimed sharply. "Black. And long. Bring me the best one you have."
The man hurried to the back, and left him there alone, searching for an appropriate piece of clothing.
While the tailor rushed off to the back of the shop, Iyla stepped out from where she had been hiding, giving Athran a knowing grin.
"Black, huh? You really do enjoy the color of mourning," she mused, and began to look over the men's clothing. After all, she wasn't about to keep parading around as a woman if she didn't have to. Life was a lot easier for her when she posed as a man.
"I'm in mourning for my mother, wife, dragon, hopes, dreams, and happiness." Athran replied bleakly, staring at his figure in the mirror. His gaze grew dark, and suddenly he appeared tired, and somehow far older than his body and face would say.
However, it changed back to normal after he turned to her. "Looking at men's garbs? Do you want to pretend to be my brother?" he cackled.
Iyla understood completely what he meant. She had lost everything as well, and though she hadn't realized, she too- preferred to dress in dark colors like the shadows that tormented her. At his later comment, however, she rose her red eye's to his briefly before jutting an elbow into his gut lightly.
"I doubt anyone would believe someone as good looking as I could be your brother," she quipped. "But it'll be much easier to travel if they don't know my gender." Those men, after all, knew she was a woman. "And much safer, besides." People tended to leave men alone, but when a woman was traveling- somehow, the air always shifted to something... different. And most of the time, it was hardly a good sort of different.
"I know what you mean..." he muttered. However, before he could state something else, he heard the sound of the tailor's footsteps. He quickly pushed her into one of the stands and threw a garb over her.
Fortunately. The old, withered man appeared in the door, carrying a delicate black fabric in his hands, just a moment later.
"The best cape I have, sir. It will withstand weather and hide the shape of its wearer in the dark. I do not have a better one than this." he spoke up, handing the cloak to his customer. Athran came over it with his eyes, and nodded. "It will do." he growled, throwing it over his shoulders, and pinning the silver chain that held it together. He reached to his pouch, and removed a few golden coins, handing it to the tailor.
The cape fell around his figure gracefully, garbing him in shadows. Even though he was the kind of person that would look amazing even in scraps, in these exquisite black clothes, he was majestic.
Iyla let out an 'ooof' as she was pushed aside, and would have shot back some sort of retort were the pair of them not trying to be stealthy. Taking up whatever clothing she could, she snuck behind one of the changing screens and fit into the simple cotton pants and wool shirt. Ugh, wool, so itchy, but she supposed she should just be happy both pieces of clothing fit, even as she itched from where she remained perched behind the screen. She simply waited there, over hearing Athran's conversation to see when the right time would be to sneak off- but spotting an open window int he back, she realized she wouldn't need to follow Athran's lead as she moved, quiet as a cat, and slipped out the open window and into the street. Peering over at the tailors, she leaned against a nearby building and waited for Athran to emerge.
The cape was the last thing he needed. Without even telling the tailor goodbye - or any other sort of greeting other than a slight wave of his hand - he walked out with long steps.
And who stepped out of the door was someone else than the figure, garbed only in a towel, that walked in. He was more akin to his true self, although a bit of his majesty was still lost without his armour.
He fastened his belt, checking the weapons he had placed on it before, and searched for Iyla.
There she was... He nonchalantly walked up to her, and a smug smile appeared on his lips. "That was the best piece of acting I've done in the last year..." he mused silently.
"Well, I can certainly attest to that. For it was quite amusing to watch," she admitted, smirking as she crossed her arms across her chest. "You did play the role of a brat rather nicely." And her eyes sparkled at her jest. Though she knew at times before, he was not playing at such a role, and had to admire how far the pair had come from when they had met back at that orchard.
"It wasn't difficult. I was raised as one." he scoffed, the same sparkle mirroring in his own eyes, bluer than the sky.
He glanced up. "Now we're ready to go... I hope you can ride, because I'm so not going to walk." he growled, and stepped out of the shadow of the roof, studying his surroundings.
"So are you proposing we steal a horse?" she asked, following quietly behind him.
"Horses. Unless you want to sit behind me, think in plural." he grinned back, slipping through backstreets to pass by unnoticed, till they came to a stable. Normally, he wouldn't go as low as to stealing, but he was in need of his money and a horse, too, what didn't give him much of a choice.
Iyla gave a brief snort.
"Stealing two horses is more of a challenge, but it would be wise for us to each have our own." She paused a moment to study the section of the city they were in before looking back over her shoulder. "I'm wondering if the stables are that way. To the North. There are hills there. It would make sense to keep the horses there, near the fields.'
"I suppose so..." he muttered, deep in his thoughts, and led them back to the north. The streets were narrow and shady, without much light, or passersby around... A perfect way to get through unnoticed.
Iyla adored the shadows, now that she was more or less one of them, and felt more at ease within them. So as they walked along, it might have seemed strange, but she was appearing to be smiling, and the smile seeming to grow little by little as they neared the stables- that of whihc was evident by the heavy smell of manure as they rounded one westward bend and began to make their way along another narrow street.
A stable-hand seemed to pass around the corner for a moment, when Athran dragged them both into the shadows, just to see the man walk into a different street. After all, it wasn't usual for someone, appearing like a noble, to be in a dark backstreet.
Then, he pulled Iyla back out, and quickly ran over to the stables. There was no one... Perfect.
He gave her a wink, and quickly looked over all the horses inside. Only a few were tall enough for him, and from those, he quickly picked a strong-looking black stallion. His hands lowered to the reins to untie them almost immediately.
It wasn't the first time he'd steal a horse. What luck animals never seemed to hate him.
What luck- until Iyla came in and found her own horse. One a dark blood color and was locate din the stahl next to his stallion's. But when she brought out this mare, the horse took one look at Athran and tried to bite him!
The horse would have gotten a bite of his hood, if he wouldn't turn around as quickly as a lightning, and softly smack it with the underside of his wrist onto its nose. "Don't even think about that." he growled coldly, and led his own horse out. In the quick moment, he was completely different, and it wasn't an act.
He changed to a different person. A cold, merciless warrior with a heart of stone, and the speed of a lightning.
And as he walked away with all of his strut and pride, Iyla followed suit- only to have the mare biting at Athran's ass this time. With a gasp, she reigned the horse back with a chastising shake of her finger.
"NO!" And the horse made a noise of protest a the woman sighed.
"Looks like my horse doesn't like you." And ironically, this made her grin.
"I'll show it how a knight kicks if it doesn't make up its mind." he replied plainly, leaping up onto his own stallion's back, without saddle and in a sole quick move. Unless on a dragon's back, he never needed a saddle.
The horse was perfectly obedient at his hands, apparently sensing the power of its wielder. He softly jabbed it with his heels and spurred it on.
Ilya's horse seemed unimpressed, so was Iyla, but the moment amused her none the less as she took a hold of the reins after getting herself better situated on the saddle and with a 'ya!' her horse swiftly followed after his.
He had to hold his strong stallion from bursting into a gallop right away, but in the moment they got out of the town, he let it run wild and free as fast as it just wanted. He could feel the horse enjoyed the speed, just as the light weight of the rider without a saddle.
The wind picked up waves upon waves of black - the horse's mane and tail, Athran's own hair, and his cape and coat, which all billowed behind him.
They should be in Reajh in a few days' time.
Thankfully travel was easy for them. Despite the anxiousness of the entire country, the only problems they had were at the gates of Reajh, and even that wasn't too troublesome. They were looked over, deemed 'safe' and allowed to pass into the capital. But with an over whelming number of mordecai, adhara and other anti-magic talsiman strewn about the city, Iyla, who's body was composed of other worldly powers, was beginning to feel the effects. And to think she had just been feeling much better after her would be burning. Holding a hand to her temple, she groaned.
"Athran... I think we need to stop somewhere to rest. This entire city is giving me a head ache."
He sighed. Reajh wasn't his favorite, either... It was a stinky town. Stinky from all the mordecai and adharas that were walking around like hounds. He felt unsafe, with a dozen eyes at his back.
"I agree... I'm hungry, and this town is about as safe as a rat trap..." he muttered. It was too crowded. Even his horse was shaking its head and nervously stepping from one leg to the other in the crowd, unable to move forth fast enough. And these were still just the outskirts!
He got off his mount, and led it into a backstreet, where a caravan appeared to be left. "What about we check into this and look if we can sleep there?" he offered. It was, off course, just a joke...
"Here's as good as anywhere," Iyla commented, dismounting her own horse as she moved to follow behind him, not realizing the joke as she continued to rub at her temple.
He scoffed a little behind her back, but quickly put his hand over his mouth to silence himself, and peeked through the window. It was full of clothes... Well, better than nothing for sure!
"How do we get into this? Do I break in?" he groaned, pointing at the window. It was more than likely that it was locked... "I can smash the door..."
"Smash the door and alert the guard?" Iyla gave a tilt of her head before shaking it. Though as she stepped through the shadows and felt... something restrict her, she frowned and drew her hand back from the door. "My magics... something is binding them." She heard a few nearby guards marching past and snorted. "I forget this land is full of anti-magics. No wonder my head hurts so." She gave a bitter frown. She was not fond of Connlaoth.
"That means we won't be too able to break into the manor, either. I don't think our dear acquaintance would accept someone like us..." he growled, and frowned at the caravan. "I can smash the lock in a way which won't damage the door, but still. The manor still concerns me."
How could they get in a place like that? It was something else than getting clothes in a half-legal way... It was a crime. And after that, he was planning to kill a man.
They needed something better than such an act.
"I'd suggest sneaking in through a window. Maybe at night? That way our cover can be concealed and we'll be less noticeable." And maybe her powers might start working again, or at least part of the way. "Either way, maybe we should look for a place to get something to eat or drink. My head is pounding. It feels as if I have a bloody hang over."
He sighed. "I feel drained from this ride. I agree... We steal it, or we buy it for money?" he asked, giving her a glance over her shoulder as he begun walking away from the caravan. "And we should ask about that... Guy in the meantime. Tell we're guests..." He shrugged.
"You're dressed too fancy to steal. STick around here. I can scout around and meet you back in this alley within the hour. And don't fall asleep," And here she smirked and punched him playfully on the shoulder. "Someone has to watch the horses." And that's when her own horse looked up, peering at both of them skeptically.
He sighed, but it was followed by a grin. "Can't promise you anything." he poked her back, and sat down by the caravan, crossing his legs, and studying the place around.
"And bring me some wine, could you?" he called out after her a moment later.
When she returned, about an hour later, she poked Anthran with a bottle of wine before dropping it into his hands.
"There, some Allarrian wine. The men were saying how it's flavor was superb." She gave him a crooked smirk and fluff to her hair, before leaning against the side of the building and keeping close so their words exchanged could only be heard by the pair of them.
"While I was out, I... heard men speaking," she began, eyes never leaving his. "Lord Cedric Rohrnwalter.... he's in the city, that much is certain, and it turns out this evening two women will be coming from the South. The rumor is it's for him to choose one of the pair for an engagement. It mght be our way in to see him."
Athran took a drink from the wine while they spoke, and nodded a few times. It sounded like a good opportunity to get into the manor... "You mean we steal clothes and pretend to be those?" he asked, with a bit of doubt in his voice, as if he wasn't willing to completely believe such a crazy idea.
"I'm skinny enough to pretend being a girl, but do we really...?"
Iyla's smirk turned wicked.
"I never said anything about you in skirts." Though as she said it, she eyed him up before looking into his pretty blue eyes. "Though you would make a pretty elven girl. I did hear one of them was Serenian, and part elf. You could be perfect for the part." And it took every ounce of her being not to laugh, but the laughter was still there, silently sparkling in her eyes.
"Hey! What are you staring at? I know I'm handsome, but I'm not going to play a girl!" he burst out, crossing his arms on his chest and sulking like an angry kid.
"Why not? I'm sure we could find a pretty dress in your size.. " Though as she sighed him up, she sighed. "Or...perhaps not." She folded her arms across her chest. "You are rather tall..."
"I slept a lot when I was a kid." he shrugged. "Shouldn't you rather find something for yourself first?" His voice became biting then, but he kept the same stance.
"I'd have to find something for the both of us," she reminded, the same playfulness in her voice as she strolled away, and began searching around for parts of the caravan that might house the clothing. It was odd for it to be left here abandonned, but as she moved forward, she gasped and pulled back. There they were- the single guard watching the thing...
And they hadn't even a clue Athran and herself were so close! Cursing under her breath, she contemplated a course of action, then saw the guard was position near to a window. So inside the caravan she went, and moved as quietly as she could, gaining just a little help from the shadows to mask her noises as she went-
and then just as the guard went about to pick at his nose, Iyla's hands came out the window as she smashed his head, and the body crumpled unconsciously tot he ground.
Proud of her little deed, she returned to the caravan and paused to realize- she was inside the ladies carriage full of dresses.
"Athran!" she called out, laughing. "I think I found what we're looking for!"
"Good gods protect me." Athran groaned, standing back up, and walking around the caravan to look inside. "I better get drunk before it..." A sigh escaped him, and while he opened the bottle again, he found himself before the door of the caravan.
"Did you find anything black? I refuse to wear other garbs."
At those words, she tossed a pink dress suddenly at his head.
"It's the tallest one I could find. It's either pink, or a dreadful yellow." Though as she held up the second dress, she made a face at the way the yellow looked against her, but it was evident even this second dress was more suitable for Iyla than for him.
"I'm not wearing pink! No! Never! Even if I'll have to cut a flank of my muscles off and dye it with my own blood! I'm not wearing pink!" Athran exploded angrily, barring his teeth in the loud protests. "Take that piece of pink crap away, I wouldn't dress my wife's rotten corpse in that!"
Iyla gave a curious tilt of her head.
"Then I suppose I'm going in alone," she said simply and she moved away into the back of the caravan, fussing over the yellow dress she found and remeasuring against herself before beginning to undress.
"I'll find something better..." he grumbled, and stood up to enter the caravan himself, before noticing Iyla half-undressed inside it. "Hey. I'd advise you to throw something over yourself, cause I'm coming inside." he warned her, and without waiting for a reply, stepped in and started searching for something suitable for himself.
Iyla would have rolled her eyes, but it wasn't worth the effort. And she was not modest by any means (at least not since her 'death') so when Athran stepped back where she was, her pants fell down and she was now wearing nothing but the wraps that bound her. It fitted her like some awkward, short skirted dress, though she exposed herself very briefly, so that any of her skin that had turned black that was normally hidden away, would only briefly be seen. And then into the yellow dress she stepped and began to slip it up, up and over her thighs.
All Athran managed to dig out was, unfortunately, one black skirt of his size. There was no top to it - and so, he eventually HAD to put on the pink dress.
Making a grimace more horrible than the Reaper himself, he took off his garb and everything except for his pants. Then, he forcibly tore off a large part of the pink dress, and put on the rest, replacing the skirt with the black one he found. It was horribly uncomfortable, and he couldn't move in the tightly laced corset. What was worse, he was sure it looked terrible on him... It was too wide at the chest, and too narrow at the sleeves!
It was only fortunate that he put his black cloak back on. "I don't look like a girl even if I have this on." he growled, looking down at himself. And in his mind, he swore to himself to never dress in drag again.
Iyla folded her arms across her chest.
"That black skirt does not match."
"Do I look like I care?" he hissed, vigorously raking through his hair in an attempt to pull its long strings into a more acceptable - and more feminine - appearance. "It doesn't match at all, it's not just the skirt. I absolutely hate this and I'd slaughter half of Connlaoth with all its mordecai, adharas, and stinky dukes just not to have to wear it! I'd burn this accursed village to the ground if I could!" he raged.
Iyla continued to stare at him and kept her voice even.
"You can't just go in looking like that, or even speaking like that. And do you know how to walk like a woman? And I mean a noble woman, not some common whore you might find on the streets," she asked him, narrowing her gaze.
"No, because I'm not a woman, if you haven't already noticed." he growled, dropping onto the floor, and stubbornly crossing his arms on his chest. "What am I supposed to do, then? You can see pretty clearly I'm not a girl. Hell, how am I supposed to know anything about girls?"
Iyla rolled her eyes.
"Then pretend you're a mute. Now come on. We have to find something to stuff your corset with. Can't have you flat chested if you're pretending to be a woman of your height and girth." ANd she moved along, digging through the boxes of supplies.
Athran sighed deeply, and untied the corset a little. It was exactly what he'd call the pinnacle of 'uncomfortable' crossed with 'awkward'. "Go on, but be quick... For gods' sakes..." he mumbled, and unpinned his cape to let her correct his clothes.
Considering how broad chested Athran was, and to pull off him having womanly assets, Iyla presented him with a pair of water skins she found in a leather sack sitting off to one side.
"These still have some water in them. They can work for dual purposes. You can stuff them in your shirt and pretend to be a woman, and... well, if you get thirsty..." And she took a swig from one and licked at the water on her lips. "Quench your thirst."
Athran blushed crimson by the very moment she started speaking. "Don't you have something that doesn't make... Strange sounds when I move?" he inquired, uncomfortably twitching as he took the water skins into his hand. "Take the ripped skirt and stuff it with that, but I'm most definitely not wearing that."
He ran his hands down the sides of his chest to his waist, trying to move the dress into a more comfortable position. Quite frankly, he didn't look that manly - not with long hair and his skinny, almost androgynous figure, which was just taller than a woman's. Yes, he did have some muscles, but for a man, he was still thin, and what he thought of himself in those clothes wasn't completely correct. After all, he'd make for a pretty believable girl, if he just wasn't so flat-chested.
Iyla smirked and held up the pink skirt.
"Alright," she said, and moved to rip it clean it half before him before balling up the fabric in her hand. "Stuff these into your front and make them, you know.. more ... breast like."
OOC: lol so many awkwards XD
Athran took the pieces of ripped skirt into his hands, and slowly put him into the corset, trying to avoid her gaze as much as possible. This was horror, pure horror and nothing but horror, and that was all that crossed his mind as he forced the fabric into a shape that indistinctly resembled how a woman's chest should look.
Finally, it took some shape, and he tied the corset back, fastening it to the point where it made his waist look a little unnaturally thin. He buttoned up the dress and stood up, dusting the skirt off. "How do I look?" he asked silently.
Iyla stared at his chest, scrutinizing it before suddenly snorting. She had tried to stifle her laughter off and suddenly cupped a hand over her lips, and forced herself to wear her normal, stoic masked expression.
But even as she said the words evenly, it was event she was making a jab.
"Like a lady."
"Good gods. Someone save me before I suffocate in this..." Athran sighed, grabbing the laces of the corset, and swooned theatrically, dropping onto a pile of other dresses.
"How do you girls wear this?" he asked, raising a brow in confusion as he raised himself to his elbows. "I can't move, I can't breathe... Armour is heavy, but this is a cage!" He attempted to tug the dress, but without any results. It was still just as stiff.
"We wear it to impress you," the woman went on, a little seductively as she walked towards him, a swagger in her step. She leaned over the pile of dresses and crawled clean over his lap, not pinning him down, but it seemed her shadows did as her red-blonde hair hung about her face.
"It's what men want in a ladies fashion.."s he reminded him, a hand gently stroking the air, using the back of her fingers, mere inches from his cheek. "So.. in a sense, you only have your own sex to blame," she told him with a smirk. "Besides, it's not my fault you're handsome enough to pull this off." And at that, her smirk tugged more broadly, drawing more leftward across her face.
"Blame my pretty face and handsome body that I'm disguising myself as a girl? Oh dear." Athran uttered, using a jokingly high voice, and waved his hand at his face. "Now stop climbing me and bring me some fan, I need air."
It would be just another theatrical performance, like the one mere days ago when he had to run into a tailor's shop just in a towel. He could do this...
With a soft push, he made his way out of the pile, and took a space before the window to style his hair in a way that would look like a lady's hairstyle, not just a back-length black curtain.
Iyla smirked and watched Athran fuss over his hair. Stepping up behind him, she asked, "Need some help? I've had my hand in styling women's hair before." And she demonstrated on her own hair, gathering it up into her fingers and holding it about her head. "Men here in Connlaoth like their women's hair... up."
"Then do it for me." Athran shrugged, letting go off the wisps of his hair to let Iyla handle them. "Don't pull my ears when you do it, and don't make me look like an idiot, though..." he reminded her as he turned away from the window.
At the first comment, Iyla rolled her eyes. At the latter, she commented simply, "Says the man with fake breasts in his shirt."
And with a small smile, she lifted up a brush and went about attempting to tame his black hair.
"Says the woman that came up with the idea of stuffing my corset." he quipped back sharply, crossing his arms on his chest. As he looked down on his hands, he thought that it would be a good idea to find a pair of gloves... He didn't have the soft hands of a lady, even though his face was flawless, and in a corset and with a girl's hairstyle, he looked pretty believably.
Iyla smirked. But her fun was not yet over as she finished styling his hair and the moved over towards a box of jewelry.
"Here, take a seat," she said, patting a stool before a vanity. "Time to do your makeup and make you glitter with jewels."
"I'll allow you to play with me like with a doll for a day, then." Athran sighed, dropping onto the stool, and taking a pose that somewhat resembled a porcelain doll. "But no more."
With that, he simply closed his eyes, and let her do whatever she wants.
With what supplies she had, she painted his eyes in dark grey shadows and painted his already dark lashes to make them appear plumper and fuller. Then to his cheeks she lightly powdered them over with rouge, and took a pink stick of lip stick matching to his dress and painted it over.
Once the make up was complete, she found a matching pair of earrings and necklace in dark jewels- and knew the pretty pink set she found Athran might kill her for. So she went about clasping the earrings to his ears (thankfully they were not the earrings for the pierced sort) and then moved behind him to clasp the layered, jeweled necklace into place.
"There." She said, smirking into the mirror. "You look.. beautiful."
And sadly.. he really did!
Athran opened his eyes and looked at himself into the mirror. For a moment, he thought that he was looking at his sister, but then his brain put two and two together. He let out a sigh, and grabbed a fan, laying nearby. As he opened it, he bent his head back in an overly theatrical 'I'm so beautiful' pose, and waved it by his chin.
"Stunning." he mumbled. Nobody would even guess he was not a girl... Well, if not for his height. But considering his face, which remained youthful even after centuries, Iyla did a perfect job. The corset would take care of the rest.
He packed his black clothes into a tight bundle, leaving just the cape and belt with his sword away, and then - possibly to Iyla's surprise - lifted his skirt to put the belt and the Black Sword underneath it. As he dropped it again, it wasn't even that apparent that he hid a weapon there.
"You might want to be careful when flashing about your skirts. It's most unbecoming of a lady," she quipped.
"Am I supposed to fight with a fan?" he hissed back. After all, he wasn't a lady, so why should he worry? If he needed the sword later, he could just tear the skirt and get to it through a hole in the fabric.
"Also, I suppose we should go." he reminded her then, pinning the cloak at his throat.
Iyla cleared her throat.
"I think you're forgetting something." And she looked herself over. "I need to finish getting ready. So just keep your skirts on and sword in it's sheath and just wait for me here." And she looked as if she were about to kiss him on the cheek,b ut smirked instead and moved away, taking a seat upon the vanity and going through the sleeve of jewels. Yes.. she needed something for yellow.
Ugh. If he hated pink, she despised yellow.
"Do you need someone to make your hair, my dear?" Athran offered her, fluttering his lashes and walking up to her with his hands on his waist. "You look spectacular in that dandelion... Thing." A smug smirk appeared on his lips as he bent over, putting his elbows onto the vanity table and supporting his chin with his entwined fingers.
"And you look lovely in candy pink," she said.and shoved him lightly away. "Back away, Athran, you're blocking the light."
Athran scoffed, and stood back up, walking around in boredom, and also to get used to breathing and moving in a dress. It wasn't as easy as it seemed. His guts were being squished by that thing, and his sword, lousily secured to that single belt, kept hitting him into the leg. Maybe it wasn't such a good idea after all...
Iyla secured a set of fancy jewels to her ears and neck and paused a moment to observe herself. It had been ages since she ever dressed like this. And for a Good long while, she studied herself in silence. It was like looking at the old self, from her other life. From her REAL life that had been taken away from her. Perhaps if things had.not changed so... She wouldnt have cared to be wearing yellow. She would have been happy tp wear any dress at all.
The impatience was taking over Athran's bored self as he marched around the small premise he was in. From time to time, he glanced over at Iyla, and kept stomping the ground in a completely not lady-like manner.
"What were those two we are supposed to impersonate, even?" he asked eventually in a possibly futile attempt to find out more about his 'role'.
Iyla had just finished preparing herself when he posed the question. Fishing up the invitation she had found, she read it over silently.
"Looks like we're Glenda and Elisabeth Bates." Iyla raised her eyes to him. "I call Elisabeth. Looks like you're my sister Glenda." And she rose from the vanity stool and red the rest of it. "The time on here says we're to meet with him this evening... Looks like our man will be getting his little visit a little earlier."
Besides, they had to arrive before the real Bates sister did. That would be a mess to explain if that were to happen!
"Come on. The faster we get this done and over with, the faster you can get out of that dress, Glenda."
Glenda. Seriously? That was... Simply unfair! Why did he have to come out with the worse deal every time?
He let out a long sigh and kicked the door open. "Then move out. I don't want to spend a lot of time in this." he growled, quickly jumping out, and dusting the skirt off. A black skirt and pink corset was still better than everything pink, after all!
"Okay, Glenda," Iyla quipped as she followed after him outside. Once on the streets, she kept her eyes peeled for a sign.
"It says on this invitation he's staying at the Bartley Manor on Cider Wrist Road." She frowned and looked around. "I have no idea where that is."
"Neither do I." Athran muttered, struggling to walk in that horrible dress. "Ask someone, Elisabeth?" he replied with narrowed eyes, smirking a little.
"Shouldn't the older sister do the questioning?" Iyla replied back, her smirk as equally playful as her tone. But at the sound of an approaching carriage, Iyla drew back within an alley way and gestured for Athran to remain silent. The clop, clop, clopping of the horse's hooves eventually passed by, and as it did, Iyla caught sight of the man as her breath caught in her throat. It wasn't until after they passed by entirely did she scowl.
"That was him. Cedric Rohrnwalter," she growled. "Come on. Let's keep to the shadows and follow him, see where he goes." It seemed like they wouldn't need directions after all.
Athran nodded, following the trace of the carriage, partly hiding in the shadows. This was easier than it seemed. It actually made him happy that it wasn't difficult - the sooner he'd have it off his neck, the sooner he could return back to Adela instead of this anti-magic, stuck-up kingdom of assholes, as he called it in his mind.
As they walked, he couldn't help but think about how to get rid of the man. Eventually, he poked Iyla a little. "How are you planning to... Get rid of him?" he asked, silently enough for no one but her to hear.
Iyla grew unusually quiet. The familiar tingling sensation returned, the shadow seed... It was near, and in that moment she hadn't heard a word he said.
"Iyla!" he hissed at her sharply, catching up and poking her into the shoulder with his elbow. "Are you even listening to me?"
Iyla turned to glare back at him with a hiss.
"What?!"
"We have to kill the man somehow, but secretly." he replied silently. "I can't just swing the sword at him. And with these mordecai around I can't even use magic. What do you want to do?"
"We stick to the plan," she hissed back beneath her breath. "We're in dresses for a reason. Let's see where he goes and wait for him to get settled inside before introducing ourselves. It would be a shame if he didn't get a chance to see you in all of your lovely glory. Isn't that right, Glenda?"
"I mean after that." he responded. "Even if we do follow him in, it will get some attention if we just suddenly break his neck or what."
Iyla sighed. He was right, and she paused a moment to keep herself back. Perhaps they shouldn't be so hasty, but she desperately wanted that shadow seed- Revenge was one thing, one thing she could even do without....
But the shadow seeds drove her to the brink of insanity, and as she slowed down in her walking, she completely stopped, keeping herself against the shadows of a building as she tried to calm herself down. It would do them both no good if she lost her head now.
"If we had some kind of poison..." Athran speculated, speaking only somewhat louder than a whisper. "If. I doubt we do. I suppose a well-aimed stab will have to do." Taking even a short knife to the neck could be fatal, and even a thin needle into the heart could kill a man over a few minutes.
"Do you have a thin knife?" he asked her then, narrowing his eyes in his thoughts. Except for being a knight, he was, after all, also an assassin. However, he lost all of his weapons before, and now had nothing except for his sword left to carry that plan out...
Iyla frowned.
"I don't exactly have poison on my person." But then considering his second choice, she lifted up a hand to her hair, and delicately lifted out a hair pin.
"One of these could do easily. Not only is it metal, but it's long and has a thin, sharp end. It could be perfect."
Athran's eyes glimmered at the sight. It was perfect! "Wonderful." he whispered, grabbing it, and putting it into his own hair. "I know exactly what to do with this!" The excitement in his voice was really easy to feel, even though he was whispering.
"Now, let us go." he added, straightening his back to walk as much like as a lady as possible. "We can't let the real sisters get there first."
Iyla frowned.
"You seem awfully excited about this killing.." she went on, following swiftly after him. "And I think that hair pin looked better on me."
"Stop making that gloomy face at me. Killing is my job. It gets too much adrenaline into my blood to try out a new way." he shrugged. He had a particular love for weapons, and every new way of fighting excited him - even if it was with a hairpin. Besides, he felt his personal pride highly insulted by that man.
"It may have looked better on you, but I know what I want to do with it." he added then, giving her a mischievous half-smirk.
Iyla rolled her eyes and continued to stealthily follow after their mark. And she waited with Athran for as long as it was acceptable before gesturing to him, "After you. Might as well let my 'older sister' ring the door, first."
"I knock, you talk. I don't sound like a woman." Athran muttered towards her through his clenched teeth. He brought his fist up to the door, and knocked thrice, to step away immediately after and stand beside Iyla.
The door creaked a moment later, and a servant appeared there.
It would naturally not be Lord Cedric Rohrnwalter that would open the door, but his servant. And when he opened it, Iyla forced her mind back to when she was part of the Adelan nobility, reminding herself of propriety, and soon, a pretty, polish smile graced her lips.
"We are here at the request of Lord Rohrnwalter," she said, producing the invitation to the doorman as she continued to grin. Her speech was impeccable, as was her stance, as she lightly fanned her face and waited for the doorman to finish reading the invitation paper.
"Miss Glenda and Elisabeth Bates?" he repeated the names, and looking at the pair of them with mild scrutiny.
"Yes, I am Lady Elisabeth, and this is my sister, Glenda." And she batted her eye lashes prettily at the man before asking, "Please let your charge know we are here, and do apologize on our behalf for being so early. But we could not help ourselves. Such an invitation is most flattering."
THe doorman still peered at the two ladies a moment before gesturing for them to both step inside.
"Do come in, my ladies. You can wait in the drawing room while I go inform my master you have arrived."
Pulling the most charming smile he could just make, Athran followed Iyla - who followed the servant - inside. He didn't attempt to speak, since it would make it very clear that he was no lady, and instead just fluttered his long lashes and bowed his head to the servant.
He managed not to trip over anything in his heels, or reveal the sword under his skirt, what could be deemed a success, till he finally got into the room they were told to be in, and left waiting.
His 'charming' smile became mysterious as he pulled the hairpin out, and hid it in his sleeve.
As the woman were lead into the drawing room, the servant instructed them,
"Wait here, my ladies." And with a stiff bow, he moved to exit. "I'll go get his lordship."
The second the man was gone, Iyla wasted no time observing the room. She could sense the shadow seed was close- perhaps too close, and the hunger was not easy to tame. It lead her to a book shelf, which she began to seemingly savagely look through as the pair of ladies waited for their host.
She'd be damned if a shadow seed was so close and she let it get away again.T his time, she promised herself, it would be hers.
Athran's patience was, drop by drop, dissipating. He was aimlessly pacing around the room, picking up one thing after the other, waiting for the man to finally come for him to stab him through the neck. Only then did he remember Iyla's stone...
And a plan started to unfold in his head. The pretty blue eyes hid a mind strangely twisted by years of work as a killer... He knew what to do.
It was no good thing. But there was something he wanted, and he wouldn't stop at anything.
When Lord Cedric Rohrnwalter entered the room, he was taken back by the gawky, tall, black haired female presented before him, but then his eyes soon found 'Elisabeth' and his eyes immediately came to life. Such beauty and strength in such a stance like he had never seen-
He could have drooled and immediately moved across the room and greeted her, taking her by the hand and kissing the top of it lightly.
"A pleasure to meet you...?" and he lifted his head for her to respond.
'Elisabeth' simply stared down at him with a cool, apathetic gaze.
"Elisabeth," she said. "Lady Elisabeth Bates."
Lord Rohrnwalter's eyes sparkled again, his cheeks flushing for but a moment as she confirmed it.
"A lovely name," he told her, taking her in. Then taking a step back, he peered over at her sister. "And this..."
"Is Glenda," she interjected, stepping in to stand now beside her 'sister' and squeezing 'her' arm, reminding Athran, silently, that the deed had to be held off- they had to wait, be patient, because there were still too many witnesses...
after all, the servant was still waiting beside the door.
With a small nod, Athran pulled off a sweet, courteous, but incredibly fake smile, and bowed to the 'lord'. All that was behind that display was the desire to see the man dead. "It's a pleasure to meet you." he muttered in an unnaturally high voice, trying to sound, look and behave as much like a woman as he could.
He'd be patient for now.
"Could we take a walk around the gardens? It's wonderful outside." he offered, slowly flicking a strand of hair over his shoulder, still speaking in that quiet falsetto, which was surprisingly close to a woman's voice. There... No one would ever find the man among the bushes, right?
Iyla could not believe he spoke! He was going to give them away! But it seemed Cedric barely gave sister Glenda any attention at all and kept a leer hungrily upon her. She tried not to cringe and batted her pretty eyes at him.
"Yes, outside would be lovely. We could use the fresh air after our travel."
And that's when Lord Cedric took Iyla by the hand, kissing it delicately before offering her his arm.
"Very well. I am not a man to deny the requests of a woman." And off they went, into the gardens, Iyla stealing but one glance to Athran as they walked.
Following with the best efforts not to trip over in the high heels, Athran carried himself behind the 'happy couple'. He was completely determined not to speak anymore, but the preceding case was a necessity, an event of dire need that was required to happen for his plan to work, and he possessed no telepathic abilities to consult that with Iyla first.
The late afternoon was truly wonderful. The golden shine of the sun was softly descending onto the leaves of the plants around, giving the roses, blooming by their sides, a crown of sunlight to every single flower. In this golden light, the metal of the hairpin glinted, exposed enough to meet Iyla's eyes, but at the same time hidden enough to keep it from that of Lord Cedric Rohrnwalter. It was a question.
Can I?
Iyla's glare sharpened. It evidently meant No, or at least a not yet. Athran seemed to be quite impatient on the matter, but she wasn't about to kill the man and be chased off before she knew where the black seed was. It would be hers- and then Athran could kill the lord as he pleased.
Off course, the seed. How could he be so forgetful?
Athran's glare softened a little - although it remained fixed to the lord's noble throat - and he pretended to be admiring the gardens. In truth, he was thinking of ways to make him speak.
Then, it hit him.
Lady Glenda Bates stepped towards one of the flowers to wonder at its beauty.
The high heel twisted in the lush green grass.
She fell down, stretching herself across the grass, and a sigh escaped her.
In the meantime, Athran pretended to walk forwards to a flower.
He, too, pretended that his ankle twisted on the moist green and betrayed his (seemingly) subtle constitution.
And he pretended to collapse and release a theatrical sigh, while the needle, hidden in his sleeve, slipped out just enough to stab unnoticed.
That would surely attract the lord's attention and get him close enough.
Lord Cedric Rohrnwalter did take notice, as he gasped and whirled around to rush towards her.
"Are you alright, my dear?"
But then suddenly Iyla stepped in between them, almost shoving Cedric away.
"Oh, dear sister, let me help you!" 'Elisabeth' said almost through her teeth. And as she bent down to offer her arm to Athran,s he wore the same warning glare from earlier as she whispered, "The seed. It was here, but I can sense it moving away. We have to figure out where it's gone to, first." And her hand tightened almost painfully over Athran's before she helped her poor clumsy 'sister' to her feet.
"Bleeding men spill their secrets faster," Athran whispered, using Iyla's hand to pull himself up once more, and dust the black skirt, so unfittingly matched to a pink corset, off. He was upset, more than upset, since nothing was going the way he wanted for it to go. Her stone was disappearing, and he couldn't find a way to kill the man discreetly.
Before Iyla would get a chance to walk away back to the lord, he stopped her, gripping her elbow, and pulled back softly, but firmly.
"We have to lure him somewhere away. Then he'll talk without calling anyone." he whispered into her ear, bending down a little and sliding a strand of hair out of her face.
Iyla gave a sigh, though she tried to keep it discrete.
"I'll handle that. Lord Cedric seems... interested in me. And most men only want one thing."
Frowning softly, Athran nodded. He has, with the time and events that have passed, become a bit... Possessive of Iyla regarding those areas. The thought of another man's hands on her body repulsed him. But for the sake of a greater good...
"I'll be just that much gladder to kill him, then." he muttered, almost inaudibly.
For the time, he'd hold back, trying to raise as little attention and look the most like a woman as possible, while Iyla would get the information out of him... And then it would be his turn.
OOC: Sorry this took so long to reply to- ontop of being so busy, I was trying to think of the perfect reply for this scenario ~
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Using any art of seductive always left a bad taste in her mouth. She felt so plastic, so fake for doing it- but the desire to have that stone lead her into madness, and she cared no longer for her pride.
Somehow, during the course of their flirting, they ended up by the window, and it was here she noticed, just off in the distance, a carriage pulling away.
"Oh? Had you a visitor, Lord Rohrnwalter?"
"Please.." he pressed, getting close and taking her hand while kissing the top of it. "Do, at my insistence, call me Cedric. You are, after all, here to discuss the possibilities of a marriage and... I must admit, I am quite taken by you, my lady. And I dare say the past hour has been.. more than grand." And his eyes lingered over her form, knowing full well he'd enjoy marrying her at least for that body.
"So let's not worry about the outside world for now..." he went on, pulling the curtains shut. "Let's talk about us. How soon can I get you to marry me?"
If being seductive made Iyla feel bad... Drinking secretly in the safety of the library certainly didn't leave Athran feeling bad, to say the truth. In fact, he was quite enjoying it.
That was, as long as no one saw him - after all, he was still playing the part of a noble lady, stuffed into that hellish skin-tight cage (for calling it a corset would be an insult to his personal pride). If someone would see him, they'd see what looked like an attractive, though a tad too tall elven girl sitting on the windowsill in a very unladylike manner.
'Glenda' was feeling tired of this masquerade and sore from walking in those awful clothes. Keeping the whole thing up properly took a considerable effort, and his sword kept hitting him into the thigh. With a sigh, he took another large drink from the goblet that a servant had refilled for the fifth time already, and glared out the window.
He spent an hour sitting here, staring out that window, and glaring at every peasant and lord that went by through the street.
Iyla was taking her time, yes... While he was spending the spoils from the cellars of Lord Rohrnwalter. A smirk flashed through his lips at the thought, and he licked his lips with the tip of the tongue.
They were red from wine.
Hurry up, Iyla, he thought, I'm not going to stay sober and up and ready for an eternity if you leave me waiting and bored like this.
It seemed as if Iyla was, in fact, taking her sweet old time- but Athran would probably find himself smiling (or at least relieved) when the blood curling scream of Lord Rohrnwalter could be heard coming from across the manor.
It seemed Iyla took matters into her own hand, as she stood over the now bleeding man as he clutched a hand over the warm blood bubbling out from his throat.
"You and your men are fools," she seethed, keeping her dagger pointed at him- the blood still fresh and shiny on it's length. "You will die a fool, tortured first, for deceiving me. NOW GIVE ME THE TRUTH!" she bellowed, voice echoing across the air. "The black stone- WHERE IS IT! WHERE IS IT GOING! Or I'll rammed this blade down your throat!"
The shrill screech made Athran very near drop his glass of wine, would he not treasure the wine as much as he really did. He recognized the voice of Lord Rohrnwalter, he'd recognize it anytime, and with eyes widening from sheer excitement and curiosity, he finished the goblet in a single swig, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand and springing up from the cushioned seat. The cup clinked on the floor as he tossed it down.
In the doorway, it was the confused - and slightly scared - butler that he met. "W-w-wh-where might you be coming, my lady?" he questioned him in a shaky voice. Athran returned to him a grin of nightmares, pulling his skirts up.
"The pits of hell an' back, old man. Get out of my way!" he cackled, aiming a high kick at the butler. Strong enough to push him into the solid wooden door, and knock him unconscious, but not strong enough to kill him. He wasn't all that found of killing house staff was he not forced to it...
Bolting forth with all the speed that he found in himself, he dashed through the corridor, and up the stairway, and further, further, though the skirts in his corset were brushing against his chest uncomfortably, and his once beautiful hairstyle was becoming closer to a nest of a crow. Even though bound in those complicated clothes, he was fast, faster than most of his human counterparts, and his keen sense of hearing led him straight towards the bedroom.
But its doors were locked.
He couldn't simply carve a hole to get through, that much he knew. That would mean the servants would hear.
Pounding his fist onto the wooden surface of the door, he dropped the skirts back down. "Let me in! It's me!" he shouted from the other side.
And hoped that Iyla wouldn't be an idiot and would let him enter!
The Lord was shaking so bad, he had wet his pants. He didn't know who the man's voice was on the other side, but as he clutched at his bleeding throat he tried to call out to him.
"H-help! The woman is m-mad! She's trying to-"
But Lord Rohrnwalter was silenced as Iyla back handed him to the floor.
"Shut up you pig!" she snapped, and glared over at the door. She stormed over to it, unlocking it and throwing it open.
"We're too late. The stone is gone, and staying here means we're wasting our time."
The door swung open to reveal Lady Glenda Bates - or rather, what was left of her, with that half-undone hair and skirts that have been stuffed the corset protruding from it grotesquely. Athran's eyes were opened wide to inhuman standards as he stepped in, kicking off the high-heeled shoes in the door. "Late?" he gasped.
A shadow of certain darkness flashed over his fair face, and his rose-gloved hand wiped the lipstick and blush from his face. A mad grin took over.
"Hand him over, woman." he muttered, lips almost quivering as he tore the skirt off, revealing the Black Sword, bound to his leg. "I'll get it out of him if he knows it." A mad sheen in the eyes, he walked over to the bed, relishing in the sight of fear that was laid out before him.
He had been a lot of things in his past. He was a knight and a lorling, he was a noble son and a noble husband, he was a savior and hero. But he was also a criminal, a madman, a menace, a shadow in the night, a murderer and an assassin. And the later notes were more often what he had become in his past years. His soul was black, no longer pure and innocent.
Grabbing the lord by the back of the neck, he picked him up, pressing him against the wall, though he sneered at the stench of his wet breeches.
"Speak, pig, and I might preserve your tongue and let you make a decent corpse! Or answer to the blade!"
With a shrill metallic screech, the sword was unsheathed, and pressed under the lord's chin. The Black Sword was as cold as ice, just a hair from slicing the lord's head off. "Where did the stone go?" Athran growled, breathing into his face a strong stench of wine.
The Lord would have pissed his pants again had he not already done so, and he was shaking something fierce when the other 'lady' charged him and placed a blade at his throat. Seeing how he wasn't talking, Iyla's expression grew dark.
"Just cut him. I want to watch him bleed. We can torture his other men for information."
"Just cut him?" Athran's voice was visibly down with disappointment. "Ah. Very well then." he shrugged. "At least let me kill him like a man, then." he quipped, tearing the bottom of the skirt off, and revealing the black trousers beneath. "Just to let you lordling know, I'm not lady Glenda Bates, or whoever you invited in a wish that you could screw them. I'm the Black Sword that you wanted to capture. And I outsmarted you."
He gave him the self-same provocative grin.
And pushed the sword down, deep into the man's throat, across his spine, pushing the blade down with his fingers on the other side.
The head tumbled off the man's shoulders with a spray of blood, coloring Athran's pale skin crimson. He winced as he noticed it mixing with his own blood on his fingers, which seemingly pushed onto the blade too hard; but he did not make much ado off it, simply tearing off a shred from the bedclothes and wrapping it around his hand.
The Black Sword sled back into the sheath, but not before being wiped against the bed first. Athran ripped the rest of the skirt off, too, forcing the tight, blood-stained corset off, and shaking his head to undo the hairstyle completely. It was getting in his way. All this hair was getting in his way.
"Iyla." All of a sudden, his voice was cold, without emotion.
"Raid his closet for something we can both wear. I'll take whatever jewels he has near that can't be pinned on him. We need to get out of here without being tracked, and if we look like nobles, we'll get better service and treatment."
He walked over, around the bed, to find a piece of unstained bedclothes, and use it to wipe all the blood that had remained on his pale skin after the lord's beheading. Another, better shaped piece, he wrapped around his fingers, and closed his fist to stop the blood from escaping his hand.
Iyla wasted no time in raiding the man's closet, seeming to only get some small satisfaction after the man's head was cut off. Either way, she had only one thing she desired in that moment, and after rifling through some clothes,s he threw a pair of men's trousers onto the bed.
"Here, I'm sure black is to your liking," she said plainly, then went and tossed a matching shirt beside it before finding something similar for herself. She didn't want them to know she was a woman, after all, and was quickly working at binding her chest back down to hide her breasts- her dress, being discarded haphazardly int he corner after she nearly tore herself out of it.
"Yes, black's the best choice." Athran laughed shortly, discarding all the women's accessories and dress, and swiftly pulling the pair of black trousers and white shirt on. It would look lordly enough on him, if a little bit wide and a little bit short. He took no time and no hesitation to dive into the closet himself, and find a matching doublet and coat to it, too.
It gave him the visage of a lord, and he indeed took a while to admire himself in the mirror. The high collar, the embroidered jacket, lose sleeves coming into tight cuffs with silver buttons at his wrists, a leather cord lacing it above a black silken scarf around his throat... Out of somewhere he even dug out a short cape, which he tied on, letting it fall over his right arm. The only part of his original attire that remained was the belt, holding his sword.
The only ungainly part about him remained his tangled and overgrown hair. He hoped it would not come to that, but he did indeed have to take his sword out once more, and chop his hair into an elegant, though somewhat rushed chin-length cut, straight and even, if somewhat sloping in longer at the front. The long strands of black hair were dropped onto the ground, and he dusted the shoulders of his doublet off, flashing a charming grin into the mirror. Perfect. He was nothing short of a lord!
He dove for the chest with jewelry after that, searching for it with such dedication that he very well almost turned the room upside-down. Finally, he found it, tossing the gold and silver among the mess. There were chains and there were rings, and many pendants, brooches, anything you'd expect a rich lord to have... Glimmering like heavens in the light...
Anything unspicious would be taken, and the rest would be left there. Finally, he put a thin silver chain around his neck, and with a hand on the hilt of his sword, which hung by his side, the leather sheath somewhat shabby in comparison to the silks and satin of his outfit, he turned to Iyla.
"So? Like this? Would I do well as a noble lord?" he asked her, a provocatively chirpy voice, accentuated by a flutter of his eyelashes, just to drive her mad.
In the end she ended up going with something that was a dark, greyish purple color- and though her suit was no where near as elegant as Athran's- she somewhat had a feeling if she tried to out do him, he might be a bit miffed. And he was helping her out, after all. The least she could do was remain amicable and only partially within his favor.
He also did 'save' her life, more or less. But she dreaded reliving the pain when she had to return to her cave after she got the stone. There-s he'd have to relive the pain as a mortal and hopefully, not die as a consequence. But she had a feeling her little 'master' would hardly allow for that- a threat as it were.
Propping up a boot on the side of the bed she went about lacing up some thigh high, black, oil slicked boots. It was only then did she notice the black hair falling to the ground. Here she paused to look up at Athran and that look he was giving her. Having seen her fill of dashing lords, she simply rolled her eyes and turned her back to him as she went about buttoning up her sleeve cuffs.
"I don't know. I kind of liked you in that dress better.." she went on simply, before working at pulling her own hair out of it's ornate updo and trying to tuck it into some what of a masculine bun upon her head. But when she paused to look at herself in the mirror, the make up she wore screamed she was still a woman- bust or no hidden bust.
She frowned and grabbed a nearby clothe, practically ripping the casing from the pillow and then using that- she began to wipe off the make up from her face.
No appreciation... No praise... Not even a word of complimentary comment at his dashing new outfit? And he even cut his hair for it! How was this just fair? It wasn't fair! He went all this distance, he did so much for her, and she couldn't even-
With a deep sigh, he turned away from the jewels, returning to the closet once more - to retrieve a pair of high rider's boots, even with small leather straps and iron buckles to hook them onto his belt and stop them from falling off. A lord's appearance, and he had a lord's demeanor as well... If he wouldn't be putting on an expression of disappointment and was on the border at pouting at her.
Out of the hat shelf, he took a black three-cornered hat, decorated with a pair of white feathers, and put it on, both to hide the pointed tips of his ears, and to further enhance the visage of a lord. Like this, with his heels clicking against the ground, he crept up to Iyla from the back, and without any warning wrapped his arms around her.
"C'mon," he moaned silently into her ear, "appreciate my efforts a little bit, mmkay? I tried so hard to look good for you. I hoped you'd at least tell me 'that jacket looks good' or 'nice chain', you know? I mean, I did kill that annoying man, after all. And took his jewels. Cheer up for me, could you?" his tone changed into a whisper, and he leaned in, to have his head at the same level as hers, and like that, he turned her to the mirror.
"I'm going to help you get that shadow seed, you know. One more sword is always good. Besides, I know Connlaoth better... Than your ordinary traveler. I want just one thing."
He gave her a grin as charming as he could just muster, his cropped hair brushing against her shoulder.
Whatever Athran was going on about, Iyla was ignorant of it. But as he drew near, she bristled. She was still not exactly used to affections, let alone his affections, despite the kisses they had shared. But she was in no mood, and unfortunately, it was beyond her control, and as she looked at the pair in the mirror, there was a tired, desperation in her eyes as she looked at the pair of them.
"I don't have a choice," she told him, coldly. "The seed... that stone... it has to be mine."
"It will." he purred back, his smile suddenly becoming wicked instead of charming. He'd get her that cursed seed. He'd get her a thousand of them, and he wouldn't even care; this was the best he'd been in ages, and the worst at the same time, but it was a very easing break from the burdening routine.
He still wanted that one, single thing, though.
"I want to hear the Black Sword sing, and I want to see flames lick the corpses of these bastards. I'll get you a thousand of those things, and that's all I ask, and for you to be there. Nothing more."
His hand brushed against her cheek briefly, the silken scarf his fingers were wrapped in only ever so softly stroking it, before he drew away once more, tilting the hat into his face as he slinked off her, standing in front of the mirror. He leaned in, to have his head in the same height as hers, and with one hand still at the tip of the hat, he gave her a wink so mischievous it was dangerous.
"On the road, you're my little brother, okay? Or would you prefer to be my butler?" he whispered, his face mere inches from hers.
Iyla peered back at Athran. He really was crazy, and before he knew it, she was kicking his shins.
"I'm not being your servant," she growled. "Or your younger brother... how do you know I'm not older than you?" she said in a jabbing voice, evidently not in the mood to be as playful as him. Then again, it was rare when she was- and Athran was one of the few people that had ever seen her in a not to soured or angered state.
But now she was down right agitated, and she wanted nothing more than the stone.
THough the idea of a thousand of them made a greedy hunger inside her grow- as well as one of lust. But she pushed those heated thoughts aside and moved away from the mirror, looking at the hats to see if she couldn't find one for herself. But it seemed Athran had collected the more exquisite items, and she inwardly cursed him for that.
Though she supposed she should not care who was the fanciest of the pair of them-
but part o fher just hated the idea of being any kind of servant- pretend or other wise.
The kick at his shins was unexpected, and it hit pretty hard, too. His eyes widened, and he bent over, pressing both of his hands onto his shins. "B*tch. What... Was that for, even?" he uttered through his grit teeth, giving her a look of confusion, and partly, pain.
With a sigh, he straightened his back, still feeling a pang of pain where she kicked him, and crossed his arms on his chest, gazing into the distance in contempt. Fine, if she didn't want him to get that close, fine, he'd keep away, fine, but she didn't have to kick him because of that...
He didn't quite realize how annoying he could be.
"We can say we're acquaintances. I'm from the south, and travel frequently. It'll explain why I don't look exactly like the other Connlaothians. And you... well..."S he eyed him over. "I guess you could pass. But those ears..." She noticed they were tucked away, and said nothing further on the matter.
"I can't cut them off... That's what I have the hat for." he shrugged, swiping the cape, worn over his shoulder, aside. But his keen ears caught the sound of skittering behind the door; something brushing against the wood.
Someone listening behind the door.
"Give me a moment." he growled, freeing the sword in its sheath, hanging by his side, and with long steps got over to the door. The key in the door turned, slowly, and he let it open to a tight gap.
The gasp of someone from the other side was more than audible. He released a deep sigh, and his hand reached through the gap. A sound almost like the yowl of a cat could he heard as he dragged a young serving girl in, throwing her amid the blood and bedclothes, scattered around, and promptly locked the door behind them.
"You were listening behind the door." It was a plain statement, no doubts to be heard in Athran's voice.
"No, M'lord, I wasn't, I swear... I wasn't... I'd never..." she clasped her hands together, her watery eyes begging him for mercy - mercy that the tall lord in black had none of.
"You were. Don't lie, or I'll cut your tongue out." he growled. She froze, giving desperate glances to their surroundings, and quivering like a hare before a fox. She caught sight of Iyla, but thinking her simply for another man, she averted her eyes moments after.
Athran didn't have the patience to wait. Unsheathing his sword briskly, he pointed its tip at the girl's head, straight between her eyes. "A black stone. About an inch long. Where is it?" he asked her in an icy tone, but for a reply, he got nothing but quivers. She shook, tearing up, and broke down straight before him. "I... M'lord... I don't... I don't know... I never saw no stone... Please, m'lord, please, don't..."
Don't do what? Don't cut your tongue out? I won't. he thought as a frown set on his brow, and for a moment, he brought the sword back.
"May the gods forgive me." a somber whisper left his lips.
And the black blade lashed back, piercing her skull through, and pinning her to the bed. A horrid display of violence, added to the severed head and blood-covered body of the lord, laying beside the bed.
"We can't afford any witnesses, and she didn't know anything useful." he proclaimed coldly, drawing the sword from the dead girl's head, and wiping it against the bed. "To think that I used to be a knight. My accursed father must be writhing in his grave, together with all the worms that ate the flesh off his bones." A sigh forced its way through his grit teeth, and he sheathed the blade, casting a quick glance down, but finding no blood, soiling his clothes.
"We can't leave anyone in this manor alive. Where next, then?" he questioned Iyla.
Iyla couldn't believe what she witnessed, but she made no attempts to stop him. Though her heart had hardened over the years, she still had a hard time swallowing down the death of innocents.
Hearing his suggestion for more blood, Iyla simply frowned.
"We either burn the place down or run." And she stood there, hands balled into fists as she internally struggled over theidea.
Could she do this? Could she commit herself.to this much murder? But the craving for the stone was strong, and so she moved over towards a lamp lighting the room and held it against a curtain.
"I'll make the place burn. You insure no survivors get out."
"Don't you think it should be the other way around?" he jested bleakly, but there was no humor in the following chuckle, or in the way his lips curled upwards. "We burn it, we take anything of any price that doesn't looks suspicious, we question servants, then we burn them, too. I might be able to use magic... Weakly, but I might be. I'll give you a hand with the fire." he wiped his own hands into his thighs absently, the cut at the left one still stinging. It would be better if he wore gloves... It felt so odd not to wear any.
Straightening his back, he swiftly tightened the piece of fabric that had soaked up blood in the meantime, and for a brief moment went to pillage through the closet once more to pull out a pair of black moleskin gloves, which he promptly pulled over his hands, though he grimaced as he threw the bloody cloth away and pushed his cut hand into the glove.
"I've got the jewels. That'll pay for some food. Burn everything, it's been a long time since I had myself a big enough fire. The last one was my own keep that I gave to the flames." his voice was dark as he spoke, and in his eyes wasn't a shred of kindness.
Slaying men in their beds, killing serving wenches, and burning houses. Truly, what had he become?
Iyla shot him a look.
"I can handle fire. I don't like it, nor this predicament."
But she had little choice, and though it grieved her, she movedto exit the room, setting fire to whatever she could.
It didn't take long before the frantic screams roused most of the manor home. Iyla had only gotten to the end of the staircase before she shot Athran a look.
"Silence them! Cut out their tongues if you must, but don't allow any to escape!"
Fire. Everything was burning. No fire could burn him, no, never, but fire drove his mind into an odd state. It wasn't that far from the ordinary, and yet...
Athran's eyes had a wild sheen to them as the bright blue reflected the licking tongues of fire, a dagger in hand. He had taken it from the lord's chest; it was a good blade, though too ornate for his liking. He gave Iyla a short nod, and with a swirl of the short cloak, he disappeared, running after the sounds.
Blood, blood on hands. He had to slay some of the servants, take of their heads, some he stabbed through, some he only knocked out. He had no time. They screamed, and he had to make them quiet... Even if that meant getting blood on his hands.
Hell, he'd had more blood on those hands before. To think about it was a waste of time. He did his job. This was what needed to be done. A few more dead cooks, guards, and serving girls wouldn't make any difference to a soul already black.
Some of them screamed for one last time as the sword swung down at their heads. Some of them begged. Some of them tried to escape the fire. He looked them all in the eye. And then, they died by those black-gloved hands of his. By the dark metal of the sword. The fire couldn't harm him, the fire could never do him harm, he was born with fire in his blood... Fire... Fire was his... Bride...
Searching for Iyla in the burning house, he finally leaped out of one of the windows, wreathed in quickly dying fire about his head. His clothes were slightly dirty from all the ash, but in all that blackness, it would be hard to notice, and he landed gracefully on his feet in the garden, his eyes darting in every direction in an attempt to find her. He wouldn't dare call out her name, but...
A flash of movement in the distance was all it took. He burst forth, and ran till he got to her. He did not need to proclaim that the deed was done; the look on his face would be enough for that. It was stone-cold.
Once they were well on their way, the burning manor was all but a spec on the horizon. Though Athran seemed to have enjoyed himself, she felt about as cold as river water, and as numb as ice. And she was silent for the longest of times. Her mind was reflecting over all that occurred, struggling with the very real idea of their sins...
But lace that with her blind desires for the stone- and she was a mish mash of mixed emotions. But she never once left the trail. Her shackles were well sealed to it, and no matter how her legs ached, she pressed onward.
The stone..
The stone would be hers.
Already was it growing dark, and they haven't stopped going further by then. Having left Reajh without too many issues - except for getting some odd sideways glances - the road led them north, up and far north till they were in fields and forests again.
To be frank, he was tired of walking. He had walked many miles in his life, though he had gone over more on the winged, serpent body of a dragon, or carried by an unsaddled horse. That was what they needed, a gods-be-damned horse. He had wished one would fall from the sky and land before them all day, since the demolition of the manor, but so far, his prayers haven't been answered.
Iyla apparently knew where she was going, but he didn't. His first thoughts went towards some of the northern duchies - he couldn't remember how those were named for the love of his life - or the mountains themselves. Perhaps the stone was going even further north, towards the tundra? Those were cold and hostile places.
"Y'know," he spoke up, after long hours of silence, stretching his arms above his head, "I don't need to eat all day, but I'm getting hungry, and we're in a sore need of a horse if we want to go far fast." Letting the words ring in the evening air, he thought for a while, clasping his hands behind his back then. "I say that in the closest town, we buy a horse and some food, but we can go on during the night as well. I'm not too fond of the idea of an inn, to be honest."
OOC: Sorry this reply took so long! I've been busy doing some home remodeling!
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When the silence was broken, Iyla lifted her gaze to Athran. A place to stay.... food and a horse. Were she still human, those were clearly needs she'd wanted, but as she contemplated on it, she looked towards the sky.
"I can get us quicker means to travel.. but in these lands, it would not be welcome." Dragons were one thing, but large birds were even rarer, and with Connlaoth in chaos, who knew what the people would think. But stopping to rest... she cringed inwardly at the idea but nodded. She could feel herself getting tired, but her brain was wide awake- wired to only desire and want one thing that she could feel was growing further away. The men must be on horse back...
So perhaps gaining one would not be a bad idea.
"Yes.. let's see what can be one about getting a horse," she said after a time, her eyes seeking towards the woods and sky, to see if there was any signs of a nearby town or camp.
"We can go along the track of murderers and thieves again and steal one off someone. Or frighten them enough to give us one..." he suggested, shrugging slightly. In all honesty, he was tired. "Or we can use some of that damned gold that we took and just buy one like the good honest people that we aren't." The thought made him chuckle.
"If you're asking me, I don't care, my morals are rotting somewhere among the rats for a nice few centuries already, it's your choice." He took off his hat, scratching his head, and sighing. "I'd fancy some wine, too, but I guess that's a bad idea if we want to travel. Good gods, days like this I really miss being a dragon-rider." For a moment, his voice became sad, but then, all the melancholy disappeared, and he put a hand on Iyla's shoulder gently for an instant. "We're going to get that thing, don't think we're not. Even if they're taking it to the cold north."
At his touch, Iyla bristled. Though it was not because of the touch, but the very thought of the stone getting further and further away. She grit her teeth, but then considered the sun.
"At night fall... in the seclusion of darkness, so long as the clouds let us, we could fly some of the way.. maybe even gain on those who have stolen my stone," and her voice nearly shook as she spoke the last few words through her teeth. But then she paused a moment, stopping herself to refind herself, if even for a second as she drew in a deep breath and exhaled.
"Wine does sound good.." she then added, rubbing at her temple as if her head was aching. But in truth, she felt it was her nerves that ached, and itched and begged to move faster, onwards towards the dissipating sensation that drew out her wild need- the stone.
Nodding, he considered the idea. It wasn't a bad one; if they flew far from any settlements, there was nothing to lose. If anything, they'd be considered a cloud or such. "That's not a bad idea. I can navigate us, I know Connlaoth fine. It's a damnable country, but not a poor one, so I got to know it." Clicking his fingers, he watched a small flame burst just above the leather gloves, dancing fleetly, to then fade, and reappear in a different color moments later.
"What would I give to have some... But a drunk navigator is a useless one, so I'll have to pass, even if we get some." he admitted sadly, looking up at the darkening skies. "It'll be dark soon, though." Those keen blue eyes gazed into the distance, narrowing like those of a cat, and they slipped downwards, towards the horizon, just to open up wide.
His lips curled upwards to a slight grin. "I think I see a town." There were distant silhouettes of it, somewhere far away, and he could have sworn he saw a blinking light among them, too.
Cocking his head to the side, he looked down at her. "It's no more than a hour of walking, I'd say. We'll get there before it gets too dark, or at least we should... Or do you want to be carried?"
Iyla cut him a look. That look alone told him her answer, that of course she didn't need to be carried. He should know better. She was not some useless waif. But at the sight of a town, her anxiety lessened some, but it still ate away at her, itching at the corners of her mind.
"Let's just get to the town. My head is pounding and as much as I hate to admit it, I need rest."
She was, despite her curse, still human, after all.
"Yes. And I'm hungry." he added, as if just by the way, eyes locked onto the distant silhouettes of the town. He didn't like this sort of long, tense travels, yet, he would not let that surface in his expression. He wouldn't let that make him seem weak.
He made a promise, didn't he?
Promises were to be fulfilled.
Promises were to be fulfilled, not ripped thread cut short before weaving around their destination, they were supposed to be tied when they come to an end. He left too many cut threads in his wake, like a scarecrow that weaved his way through...
He shook himself out of his thought, only then realizing how close they were. Gently like the fleeting touch of the wind, he took her hand into his, very near the town gates anymore. There was a guard on duty there, but not as if that was troubling to him.
Putting a fake smile that looked convincing enough to fool a stranger onto his lips, he approached him, raising a hand to the rim of his hat, by instinct stepping before Iyla. He could give her as much, to make sure that all the social interaction would be taken care of, at least that much.
"Good evening." he greeted him, his hand coming to rest on the pouch on his belt.
"'Evening. What business do you have here this late?" the guard looked the tall elf over with a cautious eye, not knowing that he isn't talking to an ordinary, if extraordinarily tall lord.
"We're just a couple of travelers that overestimated their road. Looking for an inn." Why should he lie?
"Hmpfh. Come through, then." Propping up his halberd, the guard moved aside, letting them enter. Athran did not hesitate to take that opportunity.
Iyla just remained cool, casual, and nodded in kind when they were allowed to past. Acting as if they weren't any trouble lent to the illusion that perhaps they weren't. Thankfully it was night, and she could feel her body regenerating. Sleep would aid this, so she would not waste another minute on doing much else. So when she saw the sign for the 'Pink Sheep Inn'-; she didn't even give a rat's ass if the name was too frilly for even her liking. And there was a warmth coming from a glow from the windows, and a pleasant chime as the pair stepped in through the door.
An old lady, fat, but with a pleasant face, greeted the pair of them with a smile.
"Hello there travelers, what can I do for yee this night?"
"We'd like a room, please. We've traveled too far to care what kind of room. Just something clean with enough room for two."
"Aye," the woman said, giving them both a nod. "We got more than a few spare rooms." She moved to the keyboard and lifted one off before turning around to hand it over. "Payment isn't due until morning, we only take ten pence now. The whole price is thirty copper."
And Iyla could only think about how cheap that was, but didn't argue, and turned to Athran.
Men paid for things, after all. They were in Connlaoth.