She had it all wrong. I was not a slave. Slaves were property, bought and sold at markets who had no choice in who they served and were beaten, given nothing but rags, treated with little to no respect. I was very different to that. Vindrexis had explained it to me thusly - I was a warrior, and in life I had followed orders. Now that I had been brought back my orders were different and those who I took them from were different too, but it was the same situation. They had more authority even so than my past rulers. One was a half god, the other a demon. They were incredibly powerful and knew many more things than I did. As my creators they held the highest possible will over me. With that in mind I had sworn fealty to them. And they had given me gifts, such as better knowledge of how the world should work, and my restored weaponry. Yes, Vindrexis had a habit of killing me in the most annoying of times, and that had made me want to take this break. This concept of slavery - was nonsense.

Shaking my head I began to stand, using my long spear as a crutch as I went. After ensuring all my other weapons were safely and practically situated I held out a hand to her. This human girl (at least by appearance) who I was steadily finding fascinating. She argued, but by the stars her music and her passion was beautiful.

“Come with me,” I said, “I promise, if you want to leave, you will be able to.”

“If- you promise I can leave when I want to and they won’t make me a slave I will meet your Masters.” Her voice was soft as she stood up, her legs shaking slightly. I extended my gloved hand better to her, scooping it under her elbow.

“I will talk to Vindrexis when we arrive. I am sure he will let you go when you want.” I gave her a firm nod, moving my hand to be a support for her as she got her balance. “I cannot promise for I am not his voice … but you will be able to leave.”

She took a deep breath, “as long as I can leave…”

“I promise you will be able to leave.” I told her, and in my heart I was certain of this fact. I was sure I would be able to persuade Vindrexis that she would be able to go. After all, my purpose was to show McKinley the good in my creators, the truth that they were actually not my enslavers. I was determined for this, and it was a simple little thing, and nothing to keep her at the temple for. All she needed was to be shown.

I waited until she had gathered her things, and then offered her my arm. Cheerily, I smiled at her, forcing the emotion to the surface, even it was born from mostly fakery. Indeed, I was happy that she had accepted my offer, and I did like this musician, and I liked having a being to talk to who was other than the lords I served. Other than myself. But I was not fully enthusiastic about anything anymore - aside from killing.

“Have you ever smelt the scent of death?” I asked as we began walking.

The red head gave me an odd look for such a random question, “uhm- yes I have why do you ask?”

I looked at her surprised. “Not many do. Or not many seem to be able to understand that it is there.” I blinked. “I am attuned to it. For me, it is … strong. Pungent. Beautiful.”

The one scent that I truly lived for, that filled my nostrils with its strength and joy. Like a burnt odour, but stuffed with sweet notes, that made my insides tremble and my body feel like it was truly alive - with blood, a heart and everything.

I watched as she caught her lower lip between her teeth, she nibbled on the plush flesh for a moment before releasing again. “Some death can be beautiful yes but I don’t think I have ever thought of the smell that way..”

My head tilting I kept on speaking. This was quite the most I had spoken in a few weeks. The last time had been with my lord Vindrexis over what different countries in this world used for manners of execution. Currently he was working through the list, working from the simplest to the harshest. Being hung, drawn and quartered was next, hence why I had been eager to not get home faster.

But now I had another reason to go there.

“Some deaths are very beautiful,” I nodded. “I have seen many. I have killed many.” I paused, looking back at the front. “I am good at it.”

She tilted her head slightly as if to get a better look at me. “I don’t mind people killing, my lover kills and fights for a living. I do however don’t like innocent blood shed.” Her tone was almost like that of a mother scolding a small child.

So, she had a lover. I twisted my head to look her up and down. There was a good figure beneath her purple blouse and black, snugly fitting trousers. It was strong, with arms built with muscle that had played on strings over the course of years. There was a decent waist, a good pair of boots upon her feet. As for myself - I strode beside her without any clothes save for my gloves and etchu-fundoshi. Looking away I let the thought of my appreciation of her looks fall to the side. They were too distracting for now, and not beneficial in letting her see the truth of my situation.

“Last being I killed was their - my enemy,” I said, my brow furrowing. “But she told me my name when I have not ever met her. I was - am confused.”

She pursed her plush lips, “so you killed her because she knew your name? How was she your enemy? The restrictions of you killing someone seem very weak Avin..” She frowned, casting her bright blue gaze at me.

I furrowed my brow. “No, I killed her as she is my enemy. The enemy of my masters. She works for Vindrexis’ worst enemy, who is wholly …” Evil? Was this other god evil? I did not know. Certainly he was bad, at least in my masters eyes. I took a pause, then finished. “Wrong. He is wrong.”

“So your Master’s enemies are your enemies and you kill your Master’s enemies for them.” She nodded slowly processing the information I gave her. “You Master Vindrexis also has an arch rival that also has a slave that you killed for your Master … hmm.”

“I am not a slave,” I growled at her suddenly. I hated the word, it was sick and putrid. “He is a god. Half a god. The other is a demon. I have sworn fealty to them.”

I kept my head up, determined to show her the truth. That I had my own rights and thoughts and that I was different to a beaten and bruised object. That I was not a possession, but an individual.