By the Skin of Our Teeth

[skyler manfield]

Impressed by his ability to endure the inferno that she was certain his wrists had become thanks to the vodka’s cleansing power, Skyler thankfully was able to finish with a bit more speed than she’d anticipated, neatly tying off the last bandage and clicking the manacle into place to hide the whiteness of the linen. She only hoped the guards would not notice the smell of lavender, aloe, and willow bark.

For a moment she considered his solution for her sleeping place - she would certainly need it soon. Her eyes burned with the need for sleep and the smoke from the guttering torch on the wall outside the cell. The guards would be changing shifts again soon and she had to be hidden before they did whether sleeping or awake. Pondering his idea, she looked around the cell as if searching for another option. The cold stone walls continued to a colder stone floor, which was undoubtedly covered in blood, vomit, urine, feces, and who knew what else - not that one could see exactly what rot might cover the surface in the flickering torchlight.

Finally, the assassin answered with a decisive nod, her grey eyes finally resting on Cael’s battered face, meeting icy blue eyes with a grim smile. She was here to save him, but if she was to do so, he’d have to protect her for a few days here and there. It was irony, and it was all too familiar.

“I’d be most obliged to sleep under your watchful eye,� she said by way of thanks, “And as far as the smell, I think I’ll live. I did grow up in a brothel after all, and then in the Underground of Radasanth. And I’ve been here before too. So long as I can sleep safely, I’m not one to complain.�

She considered his face, reading his expression - the way Hawk had taught her during her years of training under his tutelage. Each minute movement of the face, each tic of the jaw or blink or glance was a revelation into someone’s thoughts, almost as good as reading them directly. Skyler was nowhere near as good as her mentor was, but good enough to see something akin to discomfort on Cael’s face. Her eyebrows drew together as she tried to discern just what could be going on behind those blue eyes, but she just wasn’t sure why he seemed almost… embarrassed? Whatever it was, she was sure over the next few days she would have the chance to see it again, and figured by the time they left, she’d know just what every expression meant. For tonight she’d blame her inability to read him on fatigue and darkness.

“The shift will change again soon,� she warned him softly, “We should probably start arranging ourselves now if we don’t want them to see me. Besides, I’m pure tuckered out and could sure use a good rest. Don’t think I’d even notice your smell at the moment I’m so tired.�

Quickly she packed all her things back into her bag, before gracefully moving behind him, and pulling her body along the backside of the cot against the wall. As she lay down on her side, she grabbed the blanket and pulled it over herself carefully, tucking the bag behind her knees closest to the wall. With an expectant smile, she propped her head in her hand, elbow braced against the cot.

“C’mon then, I can hear them moving around out in the stairwell, and I’d rather not try to get us both out of here looking like you,� she winked, trying to make sure he knew she was joking with him, “You don’t have to sleep, I just need you to make sure they don’t see me.�

Calmly, she curled her arm under her head and pulled the blanket up to cover her face. It smelled dusty and a bit like unwashed body, but she just made sure not to breathe through her nose and it wouldn’t bother her anymore than it had growing up.

“G’night…� she whispered her body relaxing into sleep almost against her will and her breathing becoming slow and steady. Her last thought as she fell into an exhausted sleep was that she hoped she could trust this stranger to keep her safe while she slept.

[Inkfinger]

She trusted him.

There was a girl in his bed, and she trusted him. Cael watched, bemused, as Skyler lay down and pulled the blanket over her head. It had been his suggestion, yes, but he’d not quite been prepared for the strange feelings her actually following that suggestion awoke: a strange mixture of guilt, fear, pride and nostalgia.

The last time he’d had a woman in his bed had been nearly four years ago, and that had been (like now) a matter of necessity: share a bed, or freeze to death. He saw nothing wrong with sharing a bed in need, so long as all parties kept their hands to themselves. It was easier said than done for some people, perhaps, but not, usually, for Cael.

But those thoughts trod a little too close to those other thoughts clamoring for his attention, and he shied away from them as he would from a hot coal, watching the flicker of the torch in the hall. The orange-yellow flame made the guard’s shadow seem to engulf half the passageway. His shadow danced, hulking, malevolent, and just waiting for Cael to make a mistake.

She’s trusting me.

The thought caused more pain that he could have thought he’d feel at this point. The last person to trust him had been hanged for his stupidity. Cael had seen him over and over again in his nightmares the first few weeks after his execution, after ReznÃ*k had been appointed to his interrogation – even after the nightmares he had while awake became worse than those while asleep.

But… he thought, slowly, staring at his hands, maybe my luck is finally changing.

He barely recognized his hands as his own anymore. The layers of ink and callused skin were now covered with a layer of grime and filth, one thumbnail gone and that ugly, hateful brand covering the back of the other hand. It panged, once, as if Cael noticing it had given it permission to hurt again; but it was such a small pain that it barely even registered.

It would be nice to think my luck is changing, anyways.

Now that he’d had conversation, now that he’d actually seen someone civilized, and kind and (his mind added) quite pretty, he nearly felt couldn’t sit still and be silent any longer. He wanted to run, slip free from his chains and all out charge down the hall, towards the clarion call of the portal. He’d barely paid any mind to the tiny tugging these last few months, but now…now with a way out of the cell in sight, the call was more like a demand: I’m right here, you idiot, get to me and you’re home free.

…even magic transportation had an attitude in his head. He sighed, shifting on the cot, gaze flickering back to the lumpy, wrinkled pile of blanket. Wouldn’t mind having more food…but the last thing I want to do is throw up. The broth and bread had taken the edge off the daggers slicing at his gut, and that would have to do for now. Besides that, it was all packed away, and if he tried to get at it, he might wake the girl - and she needed to be well rested for their escape.

And so do I, he slowly realized, when he realized he’d been sitting for at least five minutes, simply watching the minuscule rise and fall of the blanket. He could hear voices out in the hall now, past the ringing in his ear, and see the shadows shifting; changing… Exhaustion would spoil things just as easily as sickness, he thought, slowly laying down, trying his best to make it look like it did day in and day out, and not as if he was trying to hide something. And so would getting caught.

The guards didn’t pay one moment’s attention into the dark cell; there was some debate going about tobacco, and pipes, and Cael thanked whoever it was out there that he had these guards right now, instead of any of those who would be quicker to notice things out of place. He curled up, finally, beneath the blanket; inches from Skyler, back to back.

Months of this place left him able to tell when people shifted and changed outside, even in slumber; but right now, with Skyler there, it would be hours before he let himself relax enough to sleep. He needed to watch, needed to stand guard, needed to protect…

For all the good I’d do at that.

[skyler manfield]

Skyler had always slept alone, and until she was eleven, rarely did she have a bed to call her own. A corner in the kitchen with a ragged blanket , or behind a dresser, under a table, in a closet. Wherever she could fall asleep for a few hours without being under foot, because if she were in the way they’d sure make her pay. Falling asleep with this on her mind wasn’t necessarily a good idea, and she dreamed of her first “home�. It wasn’t much of a home.

She’d grown up in a brothel, child of one of the whores, although she never was quite sure which one and none were brave enough to claim her. As a baby they’d taken turns caring for her, although she’d sometimes gone for days in the same old cloth diaper, and cried for hours with hunger. Fortunately she didn’t remember any of those times. What she did remember was later.

A thin arm slipped across Cael’s waist, and she pressed her body closer to his without being aware of it, her nightmares filling every piece of her conscious mind. They were violent and took her back to her childhood, a time she preferred to forget.

The first time she remembered making the mistake of being seen by one of the clients, Skyler was four years old. A tiny child, lanky and thin as a reed, her dark hair had always been cut short to keep the fleas and lice from gathering there - it was at least the one consideration they had made for her, considering none of them really had the time or energy to brush her thick mousy hair every night. Her feet were always bare even in winter, and she was usually dressed in a filthy shift that never seemed to cover enough to keep her warm. Skyler shivered in her sleep, as if she were there that winter when it seemed to snow a foot a day in Radasanth.

She’d been about to starve, nobody had remembered to feed her, and the madam had warned her not to leave the tiny room she’d been shoved into for the day (maybe it was actually a closet, it did have several brooms and a bucket that crowded the small space). But her stomach hurt so bad and she knew there had to be a heel of bread in the kitchen. So Skyler, shivering and hungry, crept out of the closet and ran down the steps toward her destination - and ran smack into one of the customers.

Horrified, she simply froze, large grey eyes staring up at the man who stood there staring back as if a snake were slithering right up his leg. It was a miracle she didn’t pee on herself, but possibly she was too frightened even for that. With a disdainful snort, the man snatched her up by the arm and dragged her to the “parlor�, a small room where the patrons could view the “merchandise�, and it was there that Skyler learned the consequences of being visible.

The assassin flinched in her sleep, literally clinging to Cael as if he were a single board in a storm-tossed sea, whimpering as her mind forced her through the memory of the ruthless beating she received for being seen by one of the customers. She had pissed herself then, the chair leg had splintered against her arm as she held it up to block her face, and left a long sliver of wood under her skin, and when one of the whores (probably her mother, with Skyler’s luck) kicked her in the ribs, the little girl had screamed as they cracked. When they had finally stopped, she dragged her bruised and broken little body into the closet she should never have left, and stayed there. At least she’d forgotten she was hungry.

With a start, Skyler awoke, her fist clenching the front of Cael’s shirt, her arm pulling him to her. She thought about letting go, but something wouldn’t let her, so she just leaned her forehead against his back and pretended to herself that there weren’t hot tears streaking down her face. It had been a miracle she’d healed from that ordeal, but somehow she had, and as far as she knew it was that experience which had turned on her strange ability.

Afraid to go back to sleep, she lay there for a moment listening before carefully uncovering and sitting up just enough to look out into the orangey dimness just outside the cell. The torch was recently replaced, flickering fitfully above the guard who was snoring quietly, slumped against the wall. She wasn’t quite sure if Cael was asleep, but she figured it was safe to sit up and lean against the cold wall. With a sigh, she pressed her body into the bricks, as though anchoring herself back to the cold reality of the life she now lived. Even being an assassin, attempting to break someone she didn’t even know or care about out of a prison that she might never leave with her skin in tact, her life was infinitely better than before.

“You awake, Cael?� she said in a low voice, praying he’d say yes and she’d have someone to distract her from the nightmares that seemed to play on the backs of her eyelids every time she blinked.

[Inkfinger]

Cael hadn’t been, really; he'd drifted to something like half asleep, watching the torch's flames flare and subside as regular as breathing. Each flicker of that light meant that doors were opening and closing somewhere; somewhere, someone was getting out.

...or, he had to admit, coming in, but getting out is a far more encouraging thought. We'll go with getting out. His mind tried to dance to the thought of Kamen twitching and gasping on the gallows, and the soldiers laughing... He shook the thought off, desperately, before it could catch a true foothold. Not their way, either.

He was watching the flame, aware but not truly awake until she’d hugged him – if it could be called hugging. She’d clung to him, like a small child going through night terrors; clung, and shook, and cried. And he had lain there, staring at the shadows the torch sent dancing on the walls through half-hooded eyes, and let her.

Sometimes, the body just needed to cry, and the mind just needed to let it, and no amount of comfort would make the tears cease. Sometimes, all you could do was let them fall, and mop up the mess when you were done. This cell had seen a lot of tears in the last few months. Up until now, they’d been his and his alone – he didn’t really think this was an improvement.

The trembling against him slowed, and stopped, and then he could feel her moving. He stayed still, leaving her time to collect herself. While it might be needed, crying like that was no less embarrassing. He simply listened to her breathe until she finally spoke.

“’m awake,� he mumbled back after a second, still laying down, still facing away. She’d moved her arm now, and he missed the warmth, but he wasn’t about to ask for it back. Her touches earlier had been enough to drag him from his doze, frantic, half-blocked memories shoved to the forefront even by her innocent motions.

Gods. The first thing I’m going to do once I get out is burn everything I’m wearing.

“Are y' alright?� He finally continued, voice soft out of habit, though he could see through the bars that the guard was asleep. Asleep, and probably drooling as well. There didn’t seem to be much of a middle ground in the guards they shoved down here: there were either those who were as dull as rocks (like the fellow out there now), or those who were sharp as knives (like Reznik himself).

That might work to their advantage, so long as the guard woke up before the next time Reznik came. If he didn’t, the captain would probably reassign him, and replace him with someone more intelligent. Cael winced for even thinking that. Not at all helpful.

“I mean,� he hurried to clarify, suddenly aware of the awkward silence he’d let fall, “Y' seemed…� What did she seem? How should I put this? Terrified? Lost? Sad? None of the words seemed appropriate for his would-be rescuer, so he shrugged, rolling over on his back to blink up at her. She looked so very young. He fought the urge to ask her how old she was as he finished. “Y' seemed like y' weren’t...weren't sleeping well.�

That was the easy way out, the sanitized version. She hadn’t seemed like she simply wasn’t sleeping well, she’d seemed like she was scared half to death by the insides of her own eyelids. But they didn’t know each other well enough for him to just blurt that out; and for all he knew, she might take offense at the suggestion.

She, however, just stared. Cael sighed, rubbing his hand across his eyes in a jangle of chains that rang loud in the silence. He sat up, hurriedly, scrambling to sit next to Skyler, leaning on the wall. The guard woke with a snort, blinking blearily at the cell. His eyes narrowed as he glared at Cael, but Cael held the stare –

-for all of a moment before the guard smirked, licking his lips. Cael’s defiance shriveled against red-hot embarrassment, and he looked away, hearing the guard’s mocking chuckle echo in the hall. He risked a quick glance – and smirked. The guard was already leaning against the wall again, arms crossed, eyes closed. He hadn’t noticed – and that had been the point.

“It seemed,� he finally muttered, looking back at Skyler, “like y’ were havin’ a nightmare?� She nodded, the expression on her face unreadable. But it wasn’t anger, at least not open anger, and Cael rambled on. “I have nightmares, a lot now…nothin’ like wakin’ up with some old d-dead friend starin’ d-� No, see, that was what you decided not to think about, remember?

He changed the subject as quickly as he could.

“People, I mean, there are people who study dreams, an’ they say they’re usually things we’re worried about durin’ the day shovin’ they’re way t’ the front of our brains while we can’t stop our brains…uh.� Every story he’d ever encountered about dreams –and there were quite a few; much of his scribe-training had come from handcopying texts from down-on-their-luck scientists, magicians and other speculators- seemed intent on shoving its way out of his mouth. “Can’t stop our brains from focusin’ on them. Did you know that dreamin’ about cyclones - � he paused there, casting a look at Skyler. “-you do know what a cyclone is? Big ol’ windstorm, looks like water goin' down a drain?" She nodded again, and he continued with barely a breath.

"They say dreamin’ about them means you’re overly worried about somethin’, and…and tigers – those big cats they have in Akashi-how-ever-you-say it- mean you’re goin’ to be ‘beset by enemies,’ which I think is just bullshit or I’d’ve been dreamin’ about bloody great pussycats for a bloody year before I fu-�

And that, children, the unkind voice in his head said, in a tone that sounded like a grin felt, is what we call rambling. Cael felt the embarrassment shift to a completely different spectrum of discomfort: the kind he’s always used to feel when trying (and, usually, failing) to impress the village girls.

“I. Uh.� He trailed off, stammering, suddenly aware of just how fast he’d been speaking. “I a-assume you’ve not been dreamin’ about kitties. Kitties don’t make pretty girls cry…� Oh, gods, that is without a doubt the stupidest thing you’ve said thus far. “So what’re your nightmares, Skyler?�

No, strike that. You just outdid yourself.

[skyler manfield]

“Sorry if I woke you,� she mumbled, leaning her head against the wall and closing her eyes. His voice was slurred like he’d been on the edge of sleep, dozing in the silence of the prison. And who could blame him - what else was there to do to fill the hours?

Perhaps he’d been close enough to sleeping, deep enough in his own dream world, that he hadn’t noticed her arm around him, or her fitful reaction to her own tormented nightmares. Nobody else ever seemed to, their own world being more than enough to occupy their attentions.

“Are y’ alright?� he asked quietly, his voice hoarse. Okay, so maybe he had noticed. Skyler sighed, and took a mental inventory of herself. She was still in one piece, and she was now awake, the fear of the four year old little girl curled up in the corner of a closet in pain now faded to the back of her mind instead of seared into her every thought.

“It seemed like y’ weren’t sleeping well,� the words almost made her laugh. No she hadn’t slept well at all - rarely did in fact. She hadn’t slept a full night in years, and on occasion it had been the only thing that saved her hide. There was no polite way to respond to his observation, which was so glaringly obvious. Grey eyes simply watched him, as though he would pull a bouquet of flowers from his sleeve or some other trick, since he could obviously read minds so well.

Instead he began rambling. Her eyebrows raised, and the assassin tilted her head like a confused puppy as she listened to his ideas on nightmares and dreams, the subconscious and symbolism. Quite a bit of what he preached was well beyond her scope of understanding - while she was by no means stupid, education hadn’t really been the focus of Skyler’s rather difficult life. Survival had been at the top of her list and learning somewhere near the bottom if she had an extra moment or it might help her to live another few days.

“Kitties don’t make pretty girls cry,� he said rather vaguely, and Skyler frowned. Perhaps she had tuned him out. Why had he referred to her as a pretty girl? Glancing down at her rather grimy clothes (nowhere near as nasty as his, but the trek through the prison hadn’t done them much good), and back up at him, Skyler wondered just how long he’d been in the prison after all. Did he not know a plain jane when he saw one? It had been made very clear to Skyler that she was not a “pretty� girl by any stretch of the imagination. Her legs were too long, her eyes were too big for her face, her nose turned upwards a bit at the end, her lips were very thin and her mouth quite wide, and her hair was a non-descript mousy brown that was neither straight nor curly.

“So what’re yer nightmares, Skyler?�

What in the world would make anyone ask her what her nightmares were? Nobody in the world had ever given a half a damn what she dreamed about or feared. Not Hawk, not her mother, not Deacon. Not even Malagen who she’d shared a bed with for a night or two and had escaped this same prison with. It had never mattered enough for anyone to notice her restless sleep, much less wonder why she was so disturbed by what hid in her subconscious. This man truly was a strange one. He really must be very lonely.

“Oh, they’re just about my childhood,� she shrugged, brushing off the question. She figured that just like when someone asked how you were doing, or how your day was, he didn’t REALLY care what her nightmares were about, he must just be asking out of politeness. And even if he was asking out of curiosity, she could guarantee he wouldn’t want to hear the details of what haunted her sleep if he knew what ghosties lurked there.

“Your childhood?� he was obviously incredulous, his face twisted into a smirk, “It seems unlikely your childhood is what had y’ crying out in yer sleep and clinging to me like a wee babe.�

For Skyler this was like a challenge.

“If you’d had my childhood, you would say differently,� she growled at him, her eyes narrowing as if threatened and expecting an attack. He didn’t speak, only held her gaze as though not believing her or waiting for her to continue or explain. Well, she was one foot in already, might as well dive in all the way now. Nothing to lose if he was horrified by her nightmares, after all he wasn’t her friend, just a job, right?

“I grew up in a brothel - my mother was a whore, although she didn’t think it was worth it to claim me,� she began quietly, looking out at the guard for a moment as he snorted back into sleep, before continuing.

“My earliest memory is when I was four. I got seen by one of the men, and he took me to the lady that ran the place. That was the one rule - I couldn’t be seen. I had to stay out of the way - that day it was a closet she put me in. But I was hungry so I snuck out and he found me,� she shuddered as she remembered, wishing she could stop. It was like putting into words what had happened to her, made it more real. She wished it was just some crazy nightmare and nothing more. Her stomach turned and she looked away from him, no longer able to make eye contact.

“Let’s just say,� she decided it would be easier to summarize, and he probably wouldn’t care, “That I learned really quick why it was better to go hungry. I got the shit beat out of me, or rather the fear beat into me. I think that’s when I developed my little… ability.�

Skyler kept her head down, eyes averted. She worried he would scoff at her, either disbelieving what she said, or at the very least unsympathetic of her experience. She wished she hadn’t said anything, just lied and told him she’d dreamed about tigers or cyclones. It would have shut him up.

[Inkfinger]

Cael never would have pushed anywhere else; under any other circumstances, he'd have never prodded her into talking. He should have known it would be something like that, something unfair and tragic. But here…he’d been too quiet too long. It’d been like the floodgates opening; a conversation for the first time in a very long time, he’d just…he hadn’t been thinking.

And that’s no excuse, he scolded himself, drawing his legs up in another chime of metal to sit with them crossed beneath the blanket. It was still rude. They sat in silence before he finally reached out and curled a sore arm around the assassin’s narrow shoulders, his other hand touching her chin, gently turning her face so she’d at least look at him, stunned by his own daring.

“There’s no excuse for tha’ one,� he said, softly, but his voice was stern; his spoken words mirrored his thoughts, directed towards the demons of her past instead of at his own speaking faux pas. “It doesn’t matter who y’mum was, or what she did, she shouldn’t ‘ave been able t’get away with that…� he trailed off, again picking his words carefully. The expression in her stormy eyes was somewhere between stunned, angry, and some…some emotion he couldn’t quite read. He let go of her chin, reminded of the grime that covered his fingertips.

“But…Skyler…’s the past. The past can’t hurt you now, hurt either of us now. ‘s over an’ done with, s’ we need to be over an’ done with it.� He shook his head, and sighed again. “…Sway knows I need to follow my own damn advice.� It was hard, trying not to think of his family, his nieces and nephews, growing up in Skyler’s place. “…funny how it seems the people who really need the punishin’ aren’t ever the ones to get it...� Instead it was little girls getting beaten, innocent people strung up just for trying to survive… if it was funny, it was funny in a way that made his heart hurt.

I suppose that means its not very funny after all.

He could just hear the torch crackling through the constant muted whistling of his bad ear; the pitch used as fuel popping loudly in the still air. They’d changed it while he’d dozed, again - he must have been asleep longer than he’d thought. Brilliant. You sleep, they find her in the cell, and you don’t even get a half-hour death. They’ll find some way to make dying take days, and it won’t be just you. That slow realization stretched the days between now and escape to almost endless: either he had to give up the conversation, or the sleep. He couldn’t have both if they wanted to survive.

“I think,� he muttered, hoarse and desperate to change the subject, “I would just about kill for a cup of coffee right now.� He bit back a short laugh, nudging his forehead against Skyler’s shoulder before sitting back upright with an audible crack of stiff muscles. “I hadn’t even thought about coffee ‘til you got here. You’re a bad influence.� His arm across her shoulders had started merely as comfort, but she was warm, so he left it there, still leaned against the wall.

“I should have been a fisherman. This never would have happened if I’d just…followed the family business.� Or if they had all followed the family business, anyways. Somehow, he got the feeling Ludvik would have dragged him into this even if he was a mere fish monger. But family business was probably not a term his would-be rescuer would appreciate. He looked sideways at Skyler, giving a small shrug that could, technically, been seen as apologetic.

“So. Your-� absolute bitch of a mother, his mind filled in the gaps, but thirty-two years of manners kept him from saying most of it out loud, “childhood helped you…become unseen? Mine…helped me become a rumor spreading malcontent with a habit of angering the wrong people. I have to say, I think yours worked out a tiny bit better than mine. At least you are somewhat useful.�

[skyler manfield]

“Somewhat useful?” she snorted, “Yeah, I’m so very useful. I get paid to off people who happen to be inconvenient. I kill people like you, who spread rumors, or worse, truths that people don‘t want their friends and enemies to know about.”

The assassin lifted her fingers to her chin, lightly touching the place where his hand had touched her face. It had been nonchalant, meaningless to him, probably something his mother had done when he was a child to make him look at her when he was feeling down. It had left Skyler’s heart beating a little faster than before, and she worried the guard would wake up to the sound of it pounding it seemed so loud.

“This is the first time I’ve ever been sent on a recovery mission,” she admitted, finally relaxing against his side. She’d stiffened when his arm had first gone around her narrow shoulders, but it felt almost as if it belonged there now, like it was fit to lay there.

“I’m not sure what I’d be doing if Hawk hadn’t discovered me,” she mused quietly, “Deacon had no idea about my… gift… when he bought me. I was just an errand-girl, running barefoot all over Radasanth taking messages back and forth. I used to sneak into the council room and listen to the meetings of the Thirteen - Hawk was their head at the time - the Radasanth Crime Syndicate wasn’t that terrible at the time, just a necessary evil in such a big city. I fell asleep in there one night, and Hawk found me. He decided to teach me his craft, and I started training to be an assassin when I was eleven.”

She’d been rambling, and when she looked over at Cael, his eyes were closed. He was obviously exhausted, and now that he had a chance of escape, his wounds were dressed, and his stomach had real food in it, he could finally rest a bit more easily. Of course, he’d stayed awake while Skyler slept, just in case. It was his turn to sleep now, and his slow steady breathing proved that he’d finally given in to this need.

Carefully, she pulled the blanket up over the two of them. Rather than try to ease away from him, or wake him enough to lay down, she simply shifted so that his head rested against her shoulder, and got comfortable. The way he rested, it would simply appear to any guard that happened to glance into the cell that he was simply leaning against the wall, his head lolling to one side. They shouldn’t be able to see that he laid his head against anyone or anything, and the blanket should just look wrinkled rather than hiding anyone under it other than their prisoner. With only a small amount of effort, she pushed herself even further into her talent, ensuring that no one who wasn’t looking for her would see her there.

It was lucky that Skyler had chosen to err on the side of caution, rather than waiting until she heard something to disappear into the shadows of the cell. She had probably been sitting there for four or five hours, through one changing of the guard, simply reviewing the way she’d entered the prison, and how she planned to get them out, when suddenly one of the guards came sweeping into the cell. He was obviously higher ranked than the other guards that watched Cael’s cell, his uniform freshly pressed and the ornamentation he wore more elaborate. The smirk on his face was a warning for Skyler, and she nudged Cael into wakefulness, hoping to the gods he wouldn’t acknowledge her presence.

“Wakey, wakey…” the guard purred in a sinister voice, standing menacingly in the doorway of the cell. Skyler couldn’t have slipped out of the cell now, even if she’d wanted to. She suppressed a shudder as his eyes crossed over Cael, and seemed to rest on her for a long moment. Surely he couldn’t see her there. They were both dead, very painfully so, if he knew she was there.

[Inkfinger]

Cael awoke from the first dreamless sleep he’d had in days when something nudged him – gentle but insistent – in the ribs. His eyes snapped open, and he jolted upright with a hoarse yelp. The blanket slipped from his shoulder – he almost looked beneath it, almost spoke, almost asked Skyler what she thought she was doing - before the silhouette in the cell’s door registered in his sleep-fogged brain. He let go of the blanket abruptly, swallowing hard.

ReznÃ*k.

The fog disappeared in a flash, cobwebs in an inferno, his heart pounding wildly in his chest and throat and ears. It hadn’t been a week. It hadn’t. Time might not seem to move normal in here, with no real point of reference, but there was no way his time could be up already.

…was there? He clenched his fists beneath the blanket, trying to breathe.

The captain just grinned. “Good morning, sunshine.� He took a step further in, leaning against the bars lazily. His teeth flashed, the only thing truly visible in the shadow of his face. “How’s life?�

Cael shook his head, trying to stem the fierce shiver that jolted through his bones, chilling him to his core. Skyler was leaning against him; she could probably already feel his heartbeat…he knew he could feel hers, small, delicate and fast in counterpoint to his, fluttering against his ribs. It made him feel…strange. Protective and warm and twice-fold terrified, all rolled into one.

“You know as well as I do,â€� he said softly, fighting to keep his voice calm, “I don’t have much of one anymore.â€� Thanks to you was left unspoken, but he had no doubt that ReznÃ*k heard it anyways. He always seemed to pick up on the things that Cael didn’t wish for him to hear.

“Nope, not really,� the captain returned, shifting against the bars. The torch’s flame hit a pocket of pitch, flaring higher; the golden glow caught in his eyes, turned them into a predator’s hungry stare. “And in a couple of days, you won’t even have that anymore.�

I know that, Cael thought, another tremor passing through him. So why are you here, now?

“I had the idea that maybe they ought to let me at you before then…â€� ReznÃ*k went on, taking a step away from the bars. There was an unhealthy tone in his voice that made Cael grind his teeth together, knowing right then where this was going. He couldn’t sit here. No matter what happened, he couldn’t. It was too close.

He patted Skyler’s knee under the blanket, then slipped out from beneath it, being careful to keep it bunched up and wrinkled, praying she’d understand. “You know how I feel about audiences," Reznik continued, "And…well. It’d be a deterrent, I think. More of a deterrent than just chopping you…� He sounded frustrated, and his words were slurring together, carelessly. “The Clergy didn’t agree.�

For once those pompous jackasses make a decision that doesn’t make them even larger hypocrites…amazing. Cael sidled as far from ReznÃ*k as his chains would allow, though he knew in the long run it wasn’t going to do a single bit of good.

ReznÃ*k’s next words came in a low purr. “At least, not to that idea…â€� He took another step closer, his shoulders blocking most of the torch’s light. Cael bit back the urge to whimper.

He can’t kill you. He’s not allowed. And whatever happens, it’s not anything you’ve not been through before. You can handle this. The thoughts didn’t help.

“I get your sorry ass tonight instead. Right now.� He stomped his foot down, hard, pinning the chain around Cael’s ankle to the floor. Cael fought down another whine, this time at the pain flaring beneath the bandage. “Don’t complain, and we’ll get this over with.�

Why? Why did it have to be now? Cael glanced past ReznÃ*k, squinting through the bars. There were others there, moving in the shadows. Of course. Couldn’t run the risk of me getting out, somehow, with him like… He shuddered, trying one last time to take one last step away. The chain jangled beneath ReznÃ*k’s heavy boot, but didn’t give an inch. He stopped pulling before he reopened his ankle's wounds and stood as still as he could, his legs quaking.

“N-n-n…� He had to stop and take a deep breath before he managed to finish the simple sentence, praying that giving in would be enough, “N-not the bed.�

ReznÃ*k cast a disdainful glance at the ramshackle door-turned-cot, and seemed to dismiss that as an acceptable surrender without a second thought. “I got splinters last time, anyways.â€�

So did I, Cael thought dully, trying (and not succeeding, not entirely) not to look at anything but the floor, but I didn’t whine…

He’d had other things to worry about.

ReznÃ*k lunged; catching Cael off guard, twisting him around and shoving him face-first into the wall so hard that his forehead smacked stone audibly. The blow left his vision swimming and spinning around the edges, and he bit down hard on his bottom lip to keep from crying out. He felt hands tugging at the remains of his clothes, felt ruined fabric fall from his shoulders, and still he only thought.

You’ll get out of this.

His eyes flickered closed when ReznÃ*k’s lips brushed his cheek. He bit down on his lip, harder than he had done to silence himself, hard enough to draw blood, and forced himself to imagine the lips gentler; as if, maybe, he pretended they were softer, pretended they were…

Well, her lips, maybe…maybe it would help ease the horror, siphon away some of the shame? He almost felt that it would; at the very least it would distract him, but no matter how he looked at it, it still felt like a betrayal.

I’m sorry, Skyler.

…the same with the hands trailing down his now bare (gods, how had that happened? When had that happened?) sides, brushing across his thigh to…

Do.not.think.

It was easier thought than done, with the captain’s full weight pressing him against cold stone, his hands and lips hellishly hot where they danced, where they touched and pinned, fingering the scars that ReznÃ*k himself had spread over his chest, his back, his sides. He tried to imagine the hands slender and quick and gentle, tried to imagine the body against his softer –

The fantasy dissolved in a flash of rough hands and bad breath. ReznÃ*k chuckled in his ear when he made an abortive attempt to writhe away from the invasive fingers; chuckled and bit there too.

“You should have said yes, Cael,â€� he purred when he let go, nuzzling the side of Cael’s neck. Cael felt a shudder that he didn’t even bother to hide lance down his back, followed by ReznÃ*k’s hand, lightning quick along the narrow gutter of his spine. It came to a rest on his hip, fingers tight against his hipbone. “I would have made a good master.â€�

Except now I’ve got Skyler, and I don’t have to die or be your slave… Cael thought, ignoring ReznÃ*k’s hand brushing up his arm, tracing over the sides of his neck, playing with the fine hairs at the base of his skull. I don’t have to…

ReznÃ*k’s voice went hard, abruptly, the hand sliding into his hair and tightening. “On your knees.â€�

Cael flinched, feeling the words vibrate through every sinew of his body. ReznÃ*k couldn’t…he’d just…damn it to all nine hells.

Please don’t try anything, Skyler. Please. It’s better than dying.

“ReznÃ*k… Lev… please.â€�

The hand in his hair yanked him down, shoved him on all fours in a jangle of chains that nearly drowned out his yelp of pain; the captain traced his hand down his jaw and beneath his chin, pulling his head back. His body had lost the coolness of the wall already, and now, with someone else’s fingers mapping his skin, it felt like he was on fire.

Please, please don’t hold this against me.

“The last time you called me Lev,� the captain snarled, the grip in his hair tightening, “You used me, remember? Stole my keys, ran away through that damn portal?� Almost got me removed from my position, could have got me executed - hidden messages practically dripped from the way he said the words.

Cael managed a strangled squawk of protest. “I used you?� The irony was enough to steal his breath away. “I think you’ve got that-� The rest of the sentence choked off when he remembered what he was doing, what they had planned. Anything, even this, was worth it if he got away. If they got away. His mouth snapped shut and he bowed his head, meekly, swallowing his reply past the lump in his throat.

ReznÃ*k let out a long sigh, tugging Cael’s hair back away from his face almost gently. “Good choice, Ricci,â€� he breathed, voice fond, like a father to his child. The tenderness sent a spike of revulsion through Cael’s stomach, stung frustrated tears to his eyes, but he blinked them away angrily. “Good choice.â€� He let go of Cael’s hair, sliding his hand, instead, over Cael’s mouth. The faint sounds of creaking leather and chiming steel, followed by the sounds of denim and linen shifting, painted an ugly picture in Cael’s mind; an explanation to why ReznÃ*k needed his other hand. He felt fever-hot skin against his own, the full length of his back, and ReznÃ*k whispered in his ear.

“At least try not to scream this time.�

Cael drew a shuddering breath against Reznik's sweaty palm, closed his eyes tightly, and obeyed.

You know how they say you can get used to anything?

They lie.

*

He crawled back to the cot what felt like hours later, after ReznÃ*k left; sore, humiliated and sick to his stomach. His limbs shook. He’d pulled what was left of his clothes – every time the captain came, the rags were less and less – on, and they clung to him, sticky with sweat. He’d thrown up, too, and the foul, sour taste still clung to the inside of his mouth.

There was warmth beneath the woolen blanket, and the promise of escape, and something that seemed safe, and good, and pure, despite what she might have claimed. He couldn’t seem to make himself move closer, so he curled on the edge of the cot instead, knees drawn almost to his chest, quivering from head to toe.

“S-so,â€� he stammered, quietly, his voice quavering as badly as his body, “Th-that's R-ReznÃ*k, he’s, uh. He’s the captain. He’s m-married, got four ch-children, but his wife…he. He hit one of the kids, and sh-she left him.â€�

Some men like to talk too much. ReznÃ*k was one such man. Every time he had come to Cael’s cell, Cael had learned something new: that the captain liked blondes, that his wife’s name was Cynthia, that he’d never forgotten an errand, a birthday, an anniversary. Sometimes, he said these things when he should have been otherwise occupied, hands painfully tight on Cael's shoulder. Other times, he waited until he was satiated, his breath warm and soft on the back of Cael’s neck as he spoke, gently, almost wistfully, about what he feared he was missing now.

Cael was never sure which, exactly, was worse. He only knew he did not want to think about it right now. He was supposed to be distracting himself, not dwelling on it.

“H-he’s a v-very frustrated man,â€� he found himself saying, voice low, “And fr-frustration works itself out in a v-variety of ways, an'...â€� He couldn’t look at her, or towards her, right now. Not with the dried tear-tracks and ReznÃ*k's taunting kiss still on his lips. "An' I d-don't even know what the hells I'm sayin' anymore."

At least the guards were back at their posts now.

See? There’s always a bright side, if you look hard enough.

[skyler manfield]

Skyler held her breath. When she could no longer go without air, she breathed as silently as she could. If the guard sensed anything was amiss, it wouldn’t matter how gifted she was, he would be able to see her. Fortunately for her - not so fortunately for Cael - the man was more interested in his prisoner. His voice was greasy, cunning, and his smile left her chilled. He watched Cael like the poor man was his prey or his possession, rather than his prisoner.

As the man attempted to banter with Cael, baiting him with spiteful words, Skyler tried to send a feeling of calm into Cael. Her friend (or the closest thing to one she’d ever had) was obviously frightened, physically shaken by this intruder. And as the sleazy officer delved into his reasons for being in the cell, Skyler quickly realized why Cael’s heart was about to beat out of his chest. He patted her knee and stood before she could grab his hand to reassure him. For the first time in her life, she was more worried about someone else, rather than saving her own skin.

The man was a deviant. And as he cunningly manipulated Cael, speaking around what he intended, but never quite revealing his exact plans, Skyler found her stomach tightening into a sickened knot. Deacon used to play these humiliating games with her, his words meant to be just as intrusive and perversely hurtful as his eventual touch.

What was worse, not only did Reznik have craven intentions for what he planned to do with Cael - he had an audience. He was one of those. Skyler suppressed a growl, her fists clenching at her sides as Cael gave in, begging only for one thing. How the hell could he think of her even in a moment like this? Reznik took Cael’s offer though, and before Skyler could blink, he had the prisoner against the wall, ragged clothes quickly being shoved out of the way.

She squeezed her eyes shut, knowing she couldn’t move without being noticed - who knew what the repulsive freak would do to the two of them if he saw her. All she knew was that they were both guaranteed to die, very painfully so. She wished though that she could leave, not just seem to be invisible, but completely disappear into the earth and not have to be there unable to do anything while this man hurt Cael in such a way.

Closing her eyes wasn’t enough. She fought back the urge to vomit as she was forced to listen to the sound of Reznik’s muffled groans, her mind refusing to be distracted, but instead imagining exactly where his hands groped or his mouth wandered. What was worse, was when the guard spoke, his voice gruff with tension.

It was all she could do to keep herself seated on the cot, and she gripped the wooden edges until her fingernails were digging into the splintered side. What had happened before? What choice had Cael refused that could have been worse even than this?

Her eyes shot open as Reznik demanded Cael fall to his knees. How much more could he abuse this prisoner? How much more would he feel he must humiliate Cael before his twisted desires were satisfied? And when Cael begged for him to change his mind, this only seemed to infuriate the guard who shoved his victim violently to the ground. Skyler realized she was shaking, but she wasn’t sure if it was anger or something worse.

She could just barely hear the words Reznik whispered into Cael’s ear, and tears stung her eyes at the familiar words. They flowed openly down her face as she watched, unable to force her eyes away. It was that moment the decision was made for her. This man would die. It would be the first time she would kill someone of her own volition, rather than for pay, since she was ten years old. But there was no doubt in her mind, no choice left to her, this perverted malcontent would not live out the week. Or if he did, he would wish he hadn’t.

It didn’t take long for the guard to finish, and he barely glanced at Cael as he resettled his own clothing and left the cell, leaving his victim on his knees and still shivering. As Cael returned to the cot, Skyler watched him, hoping he wouldn’t see the tears that stained her face. She was still afraid to move, the group still standing outside the cell for the moment, Reznik sniggering as they finally walked through the door, not even leaving a guard behind - it wasn’t as if Cael could leave.

Skyler listened as her friend tried to somehow justify what had happened, and it only infuriated her more. She had to breathe in deeply to maintain her calm and not storm out of the cell to go strangle Reznik until he turned blue.

“I’ll fucking kill him,� was all Skyler said as Cael stopped talking, his body curled as far away from her as he could be. She reached over to him, and pulled him over to her, almost dragging him so that his head rested in her lap. She knew he couldn’t possibly want to dwell on the subject anymore, “I know you can’t forget about it, but just know that I will kill him in the most painful way possible.�

It might have seemed like a strange promise, but she had never meant anything as much in her life. Leaving the subject behind, she gently began to stroke his hair, stopping only for a moment when he flinched away from her touch, but starting again hoping he would relax. She knew she couldn’t sing worth a damn, but for some reason it was all she could think of to do to help him forget.

The sky is dark and the hills are white
As the storm-king speed from the north to-night,
And this is the song the storm-king sings,
As over the world ...hmmm…hmmmmmm
"Sleep, sleep, little one, sleep;"
He rustles his wings ... hmmmmmm
"Sleep, little one, sleep."

The words had always frightened her a bit as a child, but the tune was soothing, in a minor key, and she had always calmed down easily when she heard it.

On yonder mountain-side a vine
Clings at the foot of a mother pine;
The tree bends over the trembling thing...
Hmmmmm-hmmmm hear her sing:

Why couldn't the assassin remember who had sang to her? She shifted a little against the wall, her fingers gently threading through Cael's hair as she stared distractedly at the flickering torch. The voice she remembered had sang it much lower, and with a strange accent to it. It was as though the memory hid at the edges of her mind.

"Sleep, sleep, little one, sleep;
What shall you fear when I am here?
Sleep, little one, sleep."

The king may sing in his bitter flight,
The tree ... hmmmm-hmmm-hmmmmm,
But the little snowflake at my breast
Liketh the song I sing the best,--
Sleep, sleep, little one, sleep;
...hmmm-mmmmmm-mmmmmm
Sleep, little one, sleep.

She didn’t remember all the words, or even how she knew the song, but she felt Cael relax as she sang somewhat tunelessly, her fingers twisting through his pale hair. Her voice trembled a little as she sang, but she continued, hoping his experience would fade away more quickly if she did. She cradled him in her lap as though he were a child who had woken from a horrid nightmare, rather than a grown man who had just lived through one.

[Inkfinger]

Cael’s body was tense beneath the trembling, his mind a cacophony of clamoring, conflicting thoughts. He almost jerked away from Skyler’s hands as she pulled at him. His instincts screamed a myriad of emotions at him: he didn’t want touched, ever again; he didn’t deserve her touch; he was a filthy coward, nothing more than the whore the brand marked him as. She deserved a real man, a brave man - one who wouldn’t have just…lain down and let Rezník…

A real man wouldn’t have let Rezník screw him into the floor, you mean? That’s bull. You both would have died if you’d fought – or you would have, and he’d have her for his bed. Giving in didn’t make you a coward. And how do you think she felt? She had to watch.

The very idea made his skin crawl with shame. It wasn’t the first time Rezník had… had raped him – and even now, his mind shied away from the word, though he knew it fit; as if labeling what had happened would make it more real – or the first time he’d had others watch the deed, but…this was entirely different. Other guards were not a girl who might very well be a friend, who had grown up in a life too close to what his had become.

Don’t move away, Cael. She won’t hurt you.

In the end, he let her pull him over without resisting. She was warm, and she somehow wasn’t disgusted with him, and she was safe. He flinched violently, nevertheless, the moment her fingers carded into his hair, feeling the ghost of the captain’s violating touch on his skin. He forced himself to lie still, staring out the bars without really seeing anything out in the shadows. It was easier not to think, after all. Or to try not to think.

She saw. She knows. And she’s choosing to comfort you anyway.

Despite the thoughts running through his head too fast, he couldn’t help the small smile that crept to his lips when she began to sing. She certainly wasn’t a bard; she kept forgetting the words, and some of the notes, but the tune was mostly correct. It was an old song, very old, a traditional Salvic lullaby, translated carefully. Her voice wavered now and again, cracking on one high note here, barely audible at the volume she was singing out of necessity, but it was a clear, sweet voice.

I remember Grandmother singing this. The thoughts that came that time were warm ones, of sitting curled in the matron’s soft lap watching the summer storms roll off the sea, of the smell – herbs and spices and sweet baked bread, mixed with ozone and sea salt – and the sound of thunder echoing off the waves in counterpoint with her low, husky voice.

She was an odd, conflicting combination. The girl comforting him now seemed worlds apart from the one who had just sworn to commit a murder (no matter how deserving) for him, and yet they were – she was - the same person. His mind shimmied away from thinking about her promise, again. That spot was raw and sore right now, like the dull ache that spread through all his body or an open wound on the surface of his soul, and it didn’t want to be poked.

Leave well enough alone.

The tension was slowly ebbing from his body, the shudders and tremors fading as he finally felt himself beginning to relax, though nothing could completely wash the sick feeling from his belly. One hand slowly crept up to take her hand, clinging tighter than he meant to, almost as if he was drowning without realizing.

“I like that,” he finally spoke again when her words trailed off, his voice low, but not shaking like it had been. It took what felt like an unfair amount of energy to speak, and he kept his eyes closed. “My grandmother used to sing it to us children. I haven’t heard it in…oh. Probably close to twenty years now…”

Voicing that thought made him suddenly feel very old, especially when compared to Skyler. She still seemed so young, so very much like the girl she'd never probably had a chance to be. “Where did you learn it? I had never heard it in anything but Salvic…” He paused for a second, clearing his throat awkwardly, barely aware of the fingers laced through his own. “The words sound better your way.”