Soothing The Blood-Thirsty Fires Within.

[Noir.]

Closed for Lye, The Crimson Assassin.

Roaming along the snow against such an austere backdrop were two odd figures trudging fourth relentlessly. Indentations of their existence left behind in the form of human footprints as well as prints of a little fluffy carnivorous fox keeping distance by strutting a few feet behind the woman. This duo could almost blend into the white landscape; both were mostly ivory except for a few glistens of violet and opal from the woman and the flowing attire she wore. Speaking of the woman, she was perhaps the most peculiar item found among the wastes of Skavia present. There were no signs of weapons besides the slim steel claws worn on her fingers that looked like decorative jewelry, and no bag consisting of travel gear. In fact, she was not even properly dressed to be out in this unforgiving tundra, but still she walked ahead with arms listlessly by her side.

Wind whistled through the pines eerily as the scene refused to change, like a cruel labyrinth one would stroll in for amusement. The silence was deafening leaving thoughts to take precedence over the stalking danger surrounding this area. There was not much to ponder upon, however, up until a few years ago her life had been a clean slate but nowadays time meant nothing because days and years passed by and still her course was unaltered, and she un-aged. Was this how life was to be—wandering endlessly in search of warmth to keep her body animated or would she simply give into the pleading chill and physically freeze over once again? She had been content to spend eternity encased in ice sleeping, and dreaming of peaceful serenity while giving into the inevitable desolation. Unfortunately life is full of sadistic humor; Noir was to partake in routine once again after a demon inexplicably took interest and involved itself in the strange matter. This demon Noir referred to as Zai was not even friendly; Noir had not been able to touch its fur since it cracked the icy tomb from which she escaped. They never exchanged syllables and sometimes when Noir would gaze back to test its whereabouts Zai’s body would implode into nothing leaving black smoke lingering in its place only to soon vanish completely. No matter how hard, Noir’s cold fingers could not coax the creature near. All the while the shifting demon followed loyally, refusing to forgo Noir’s unending quest as if it had its own special agenda.

Up until this point nothing had given the travelers trouble surprisingly, perhaps it was the company she kept in Zai, or the fact that Salvar’s blizzards were enough to discourage the toughest foes, and clearly the two posed no threat. Zai would scamper usually in the darkest hours as a snow leopard, probably for added protection, though the demon could change into a snowy owl and fly above the danger regardless. Suddenly the fragrance of burning timber filled the arid air; the area ahead had been cleared by sweeping branches against the powered earth. Flames danced below a dreary fire where a makeshift spit was charring skinned meat. There were shabby tents and three scruffy men wearing light armor and fur were hunched over on logs sharing alcohol to keep warm. Bundles of animal hide were strewn around in separate piles; another man glided a blade down the base of the animal’s neck skinning the once magnificent dire wolf. “Look yonder boys, such creatures.” Acknowledged one of the tipsy poachers gawking in awe of Noir and Zai’s sudden passing.

Zai halted with ears tightly folded back growling as menacingly as a fox could, the men smiled eager to catch this beauty and sell the remains. Noir was simply icing on the cake, an extra perk to dispose of after a few jollies were had, the fox although small was the true prize. Noir paid no mind and continued to walk past the camp; this stunned the men who expected an entirely different response, and they looked at each other dumbfounded. “Ay you!” One shouted toward her while one had readied a bow; quickly nocking the arrow to draw back the bow in one smooth motion and released. The arrow soared threw the air swiftly but missed the target, landing only inches away from the fox who aptly vanished in the blink of an eye. “Luca, it’s gone! She’s a witch, kill her!” Startled, the men were now gathering their weapons in a hurry and setting their sights on Noir who had abruptly stopped, still not facing the group. Two more tumbled out of their tents after hearing the shouts, each were hesitant, and knew not what to expect. The same bowman drew another arrow from the quiver and quickly let the sharp point fly toward her body. Noir’s hands were still at her sides, but she slowly flicked both wrists in a rolling motion, but nothing seemed to happen.

Gasps sounded from most of the men when the arrow shaft mysteriously split in half, the point had made contact with an invisible force surrounding her body. A ray of light shown through the forest canopy illuminating what was keeping her safe from the arrow, crystal octagons were slowly circulating leaving cold vapors hovering in the chilly air. “Witchcraft--Sorcery.” The men hissed and began to charge forward, they outnumbered her six to one, not including the demon. An icy shape began to materialize in her hand, a long azure sword with jagged edges. Both hands worked in unison, keeping busy as she would dissipate the protective barrier to clash her sword against another, and wait 20 seconds to summon the force again to nearly avoid a back stab. Zai reappeared as a pouncing snow leopard, attaching itself to the jugular of an unsuspecting man who was about to release another arrow. Lengthy fangs sunk into the flesh with ease like a knife slicing into butter. Zai violently shook its head severing the man’s artery, and when his tepid blood began to flow out steam rose as it kissed the chilled ground. Screaming echoed through the pine forest as did the clash of steel; no longer did the snow remain pure as now it was splashed with vibrant crimson--magnificent.

Her movement was fluid, like water guilelessly flowing down a stream. She seemed to dance, the blade acting as an extension of her arms, which she switched between both left and right hand effortlessly. Turning this way and that, and spinning to thrust her sword to the left of her slashing an outlaws trachea. Gracefully her right foot swept under a different bandit’s leg sending him plummeting to the hard ground below. As he lay blindsided Noir plunged the end of the crystal blade through his thoracic cavity with much resistance. Two bodies presently rested awkwardly upon their own bloodshed near her nimble feet, fatally wounded. Noir began feeling the effects of fatigue, and her frozen soul spell that regenerated health was decreasing her casting speed where diamond aura could not be used as quickly as before. With no chain mail sheathing, parts of her body were exposed such as her arms and chest; leaving her dangerously vulnerable to their attacks.

Red liquid sprayed onto one of the towering trees’ bark, Noir’s lower arm was nicked by one of the swordsman’s blades. Amidst parrying another blow her body purposely leaned toward the man just enough to deliver four long gashes across his leathery face with those sharp finger claw weapons. Clutching the lacerations with an able hand he wailed painfully, and motioned with the sword for the other to finish her off already. Zai was busy fending off an aggressor as well and could not run to aid; together they had only killed three, and three more remained as vigorous as ever. This surprising event was unforeseen; she had never thought that death would occur this way, but if there was a sweet hereafter it would be another endless torture. Never-the-less Noir continued for reasons unknown not wanting to welcome the demise, as her breathing became more pronounced with each strike.

[Lye]

These winters grew warm and familiar to him. Lye spent much of his time in the Salavarian wilderness, mainly for peace of mind. He hated beauty and life, and this area, chilled to the depths, was a perfect reprieve from it. Desolated and barren, with little vegetation and fauna, this was paradise. He knew how to keep himself alive here, unlike the many others he saw perish. His most treasured perk of living out here had to be the game. Not the animals he hunted for food, no. He enjoyed the men foolish enough to brave these areas for whatever selfish reasons they may have. Unlike the typical city-faring folk, those that ventured here were rough and hearty. They knew hardship and put up a good fight.

It had been a dry spell for some time; not much fun for the lonely katars sheathed at his side. Fortunately, he was having a stroke of luck by coming upon a traveling band of poachers about a week ago. Instead of carving them up immediately, as per the customary routine, the bloodthirsty assassin decided to savor the hunt. Each day he kept distance, far from sight, letting the depressions in the snow mark their direction. It was until the night before, they had decided to set up a central camp, much more robust than the ones prior. This was the moment – the crescendo to his little game of cat and mouse. He knew that this would be the place they opted to close their eyes one last time... because he willed it.

The soft white powder was a perfect nest and camouflage. Already garbed in artic fox furs from his past meals, he had burrowed just under a hundred feet outside of camp the night before. The freshly fallen snow helped his prone body lay seamless on the land, only keeping his eyes on them through the swaying hairs of his fur robes. The back of his mind tingled as the hours past. Perhaps from the bite of frost, but a deeper fire was to blame. Rage. He wanted to kill them and relished in the feeling of letting the the fury build. The more he held off, the more blood he knew would spill and the greater the final masterpiece would be.

Emerald eyes grew narrow in his winter hide when he witnessed the ghostly figure of a woman cut through his line of sight. ”What the hell?” he thought to himself, only to witness the inevitable unfold. The men took interest, and who could blame them? The journey to this part of the world was at least two weeks from the nearest civilization. Plus, just by their looks, they hadn’t seen the warmth of a woman’s flesh in several moons. They took aim, not at her originally, but at the curious little fox that trekked in her shadow. To his own disbelief, the beast became smoke and vanished, leaving the brutes only one trophy.

He scowled from his mound of snow and fur, muscles tensing. Lye hated people, but the worst of all were men that preyed on defenseless women. Lye had no qualms of leaving his own scars upon innocent flesh, but something about watching others commit the act turned his blood to fire. He broke the inches of collective ice around his body and began to propel himself forward.

As his momentum began to pick up, he took in the fact she was far from as defenseless. It seemed as though the winter’s grasp was hers to command. Between glimmering flashes of snow, ice, and steam, she danced her own ballet of death. Blood dashed to the snow and skilled veterans of the field buried their faces to the powder. His muscles tightened with ecstasy and anger. Ecstasy for the sight of flesh blood, and anger that his prey was being claimed from him.

“Die wench!” shouted an axe-wielding poacher as he bared his axe towards the girl’s back. Lye flicked his wrist while bounding into the air, two blackened needles finding their way into the assailant’s neck. Like a rag doll, he collapsed to the ground.

“Drake, ‘ere’s ‘nother one!” roared an exceptionally burly man as he parried one of the girl’s graceful attacks.

“I got ‘em, you take care of the witch,” howled his associate, taking aim at the airborne assassin with a crossbow.

Lye grimaced, letting whisper, “You shall know penance for your sins…”

The bolt flew from the crossbow and pierced the fur of Lye’s winter-fox cowl only to have it collapse in mid-air. Lye slipped from under his shed skins, the trademark crimson scarf flashing wildly against the sky, and his right hand holding a ball of eerie crimson light. His bladed leather boots dashed the snow as he landed, bolting past the girl and thug locked in equal combat.

“Kill him already!” shouted the leader as he clashed his blade against a mysterious shield plate of ice.

Another bolt let fly, planting itself in Lye’s left shoulder and sending him reeling. Pain like this wasn’t normal for him, for it was child’s play. His eyes shot wide with hysteria, lips twisting into a psychotic smile beneath the scarf. As a masochist for pain much greater than this, this small pleasure stoked fires of rage. He lusted for more. Lye tumbled to a stop on his back in the snow and thrust his right arm toward his attacker. A flash of crimson expelled forth.

“There will be blood,” the assassin hissed cheerfully, kicking back to his feet.

The crimson bolt crashed into the bowman while he desperately tried to reload another round. His face grew twisted in both shock and pain. The skin began to part at his shoulder, letting blood freely flow down his arm. His hands began to sizzle and crack, blistering over. His screams of agony grew shrill and faded to a hoarse whisper. Several other spots on his body began to split open, and his hands flailed as he pulled away the garbs at his waist. The exposed flesh of his abdomen grew black and sloughed off, crawling towards his chest. Eyes finally rolled into the back of his skull and he fell to the ground, sores and wounds continuing to open on his motionless body.

Lye smiled from ear to ear with adrenaline pumping in his veins and pleasure wreaking havoc on his mind. One more left. His vibrant green eyes shot towards the sole surviving poacher. The fear in his eyes was poetry to the assassin and he began his advance. It was clear that this man was seasoned, and he kept his focus on cutting the young girl down. Lye noticed the fatigue growing in her motions and the ferocity brewing in her assailant’s. He had too much land to close before it was evident the lurching behemoth would claim a fatal blow. Lye wasn’t the type to save the damsel in distress, but what’s not to say he couldn't have fun with her screams later? Prey was best claimed while well rested, fed, and capable of defense.

His feet pounded the snow as he rushed onward. He needed to give her an opening, or it would be too late. His good hand kissed the frosted titanium at his waste, letting darkness swallow the blade’s entirety. He flicked his arm as if throwing an invisible object, yet the blade screeched from its sheath and bolted towards her swift as an arrow. His shadow possession let loose the grasp on the two foot katar just as her body moved from its path. The sound of enemy steel clashed against titanium, dashing her assailant’s blade under a bank of snow.

Either she would put this beast to rest, or Lye would be able to close the gap and rip the life from his chest. Eager for the latter, his right arm twisted and writhed, readying its next gambit of death.

[Noir.]

A murmur caught the attention of Noir; who then looked behind to find a downed man with two unmistakable ebony needles protruding from his neck. This was obviously not the work of Zai, but another who was encompassing the fray--aiding. The clash of steel against her diamond barrier snapped her attention forward once again to the colossal man desperately trying to slaughter her. Only a few more swings and the crystal octagons would splinter apart, afterward leaving her slender body defenseless to be carved on freely. Though Noir knew this, guarding was the best option at this point. The long sword shielding the front of her body as well for when the final blow would land and destroy the barrier, she would be shifted downward from the pressure needing to counter back immediately.

The stranger was so agile that Noir saw dashes of his body more so than his face, while defending her peripheral vision watched almost in absorption. The skills he used were nothing before witnessed; it was dark menacing power where Noir’s elemental magic was neutral and organic. As the howls of suffering filled the air, she took immediate note that this man was dangerous. The ambiance had changed drastically since his arrival, the force of it was heavy and tainted; this was easily observed by Noir. Spending a considerable amount of time in treacherous locations alone, she had grown capable of attaining certain awareness of nature’s raw form between the constant battle of good and evil. That was acceptable, predictable, and simple but something about the way this man fought was otherworldly and even more presently sinister than Zai.

Crystal began to crack and shatter away as the azure long sword was no more, and another weapon began to take its place. The sword would be too long and take too much momentum to offer a swift end so a dagger had materialized by absorbing the water in the atmosphere and freezing it. After the shadowy stranger had expelled the foe’s blade, he left her with the perfect chance to eradicate the barrier and finish him. Retracting her capable arm backward she then plunged the sharp weapon forward with steady aim. With a successful blow the man immediately latched onto the end, instinctively trying to pry the weapon out of his neck. After losing the ability to function the hefty man slumped backward giving way to one last twitch of bloody death.

Meanwhile, Zai clawed away at the downed enemies it had slain, making sure no pulse remained before moving nearer to Noir where its nostrils began to sniff at the air. Stained with red the leopard’s maw dripped with the life force of the fallen, head bowed low it continued to keep a stalking demeanor setting its piercing gray eyes at the stranger. The demonic creature disappeared once again into onyx smoke, not wanting to remain visible after seeing his brute strength and savage nature. The fact that the demon did not trust this man served little significance; Zai always kept distance from Noir as well, and yet it continued to pursue her every venture. It seems this curious creature would trail alongside Noir to the ends of earth and back, only doing so on its own terms of course.

Noir released a lengthy exhale, a frosty haze expelling from her pale parted lips after scanning the carnage only a few moments before slightly tilting her head at the stranger adorned with those gleaming emerald hues. The color so distinctive they could be a beacon in the distance of this white washed out wilderness. Green signified freedom, protection from fear, and balance that this man proved to already acquire from simply assisting her. Mysteriously enough, the few times she caught sight of him whilst fighting he wore an impish grin across his face. Noir could not remember anyone in battle receiving such bliss among the chaos, though the images of fallen enemies afterward were appealing. Her flawless face was often void of expression during a brawl besides a few small grimaces of pain sporadically.

Crackling of fire was now the dominating sound, although the clash of steel slightly rang in her ears still. Multiple streams of blood were trickling down her slim arm from the previous slice taken by one of the men; the drops reached her fingertips and fell upon the snow. Unfazed, it was as if she were detached from this body, a separate vessel. Skin resembling porcelain, she appeared hauntingly serene yet cold and her aura was quite strange and unpredictable. Many in her position would offer gratitude and be drawn to acknowledge his act of valor regardless of his craft, but Noir narrowed her violet hues in apparent judgment and continued on her way without any sign of praise. As she had turned lengthened hair swirled with each tug of the wind while placing one foot in front of the other leaving behind a speckled trail of red. Her able hand motioned like it had before, managing with the last bit of strength to conjure the same diamond aura barrier, she was not naive as to turn her back to someone before summoning protection—she had forgotten how to trust and the humility the princess had once taught. Zai had evolved into a snowy owl, which had been surveying while perched upon a branch in one of the pines. Whooshing echoed throughout the forest while its wings flapped away a few flecks of snow before soaring above. Was Noir testing the brazen stranger or was she truly aloof to all mankind?

[Lye]

His body came to a stop, the worm-like movements of the skin on his arm fading to smooth once more. His breaths were slightly labored, an unfortunate side effect of the biting cold he was just breathing to keep in action. Keeping an eye on the female, he pulled the bolt from his shoulder and cast it to the ground. Thanks to the strength of his skeleton, the bolt halted at the bone. Any normal Salvarian would have had his shoulder splintered from the impact. Still, the injury was deep enough to let blood flow freely. Fortunately, it only felt as if a small spider bite.

Lye stood calmly and, admired her tenacity, choosing to attack the remaining bandit with such a small blade instead of her previous one? Up close and personal – attractive. She, on the other hand, was quick to dismiss the assassin; no words came from her lips. It seemed a snow leopard had more interest in him than she. Even that was short lived when it burst into smoke as he had seen the fox do before.

“It must be a familiar,” he thought to himself, still reeling from the ecstasy of battle, ”Pretty bold considering rouge magic is punishable by death…”

Lye flashed a sinister grin under the safety of his crimson scarf. Although bold, she was also foolish. Turning her back to yet another unknown in these lands? Perhaps she was suicidal – also attractive. Lye decided to go along with this little game, but knew better than to fling himself straight into another confrontation. He did have to get his belongings after all. He moved first to the motionless corpse of the recently fallen and retrieved his katar. With a light dusting of his gloved hand, he knocked the snow from its surface and returned it to home at his side. Next on his list was the fur cowl. Although he grew accustomed to these frigid temperatures, a sudden blizzard would quickly lock the blood in his veins. Warm dress would at least afford him the time of finding shelter, and was also an effective use of camouflage. He lifted the garb from the snow and wrenched the crossbow bolt from it.

“I’m offended,” Lye stated in a raised voice so that she could hear, throwing the furs back over his body, “You’ll just walk away to die alone? If you’d like I can make the journey shorter for you.”

Lye dusted the furs free of dirt and snow, managing to spread his own blood to the pure white skins. The wound on his shoulder was still open and the warm blood had been seeping down his arm. He would have to give that injury more thought soon as he was aware that bandits like these did not care for their weapons very well. The same would go for that slash on her arm.

“Or you could just let that wound fester…” he continued, making his way to the poachers’ campsite after retrieving his steel needles.

Lye pulled a fox head over his own, forming a hood as he advanced. Emerald eyes danced with the campfires, as he drew closer, keeping wise to watch his step over the fresh corpses. There were several lines of thinking in sharing a turned back to this woman: She could continue on her way and give him another delightful hunt, or she could decide to join him in scavenging the campsite for goods. It was ultimately her choice and Lye devilishly plotted his actions no matter the outcome. Maybe she would even delight him in further combat?

One could only dream.

[Noir.]

Her steps were slow so she could hear the rustling of items being moved to and fro at the camp. She did not quite care what the man was up to, but his words halted her mid-step. ‘Offended?’ Noir thought confused, had she actually been able to stir an emotion from someone other than disgust or fear? The rest of his sentence made her ponder; death was inevitable, but did he offer absolution? Perhaps he was the one she had needed to seek, maybe—just maybe he had the answers to which she sought. There was no way of knowing unless she asked, and time was always of the essence.

Pale hues gazed to the blood trickling from the cut where they remained thinking about his warning ‘or you could just let that wound fester’. She did need to take better care of her health; she had forgotten that being cold sometimes had to do with blood loss. Continuously cold, she always felt the sensation of freezing within, but this weather suited her best. Zai hooted a few times as if a threatening presence waited nearby; however Noir did not speak animal thus whatever it said went unnoticed.

His assertive comments were enough to make her change course. Nimble feet rotated around toward the direction of the gory camp, ignoring the prodding feeling begging her to ignore him entirely. A hand was brought up to the wound covering the opening. Pressure would pause further bleeding, but it was deep and would need to be cauterized, sewn close, or magically healed. Noir was pretty sure the stranger did not know of her healing properties, every action she took needed to be thought through carefully. She did not use her frozen soul spell to fade this wound fully quite yet, observing him would be to her best advantage for now.

While trekking through the bloodied snow, she found little appeal to walk around it, since her silken slippers were already stained. Reaching the campfire the multicolored flames illuminated a bit of the surrounding, so she could examine him more thoroughly. Even though covered by furs the stranger’s cast seemed young and hale. He was probably the epitome of what one would expect from an exceedingly capable fighter. Although her face remained expressionless, she felt eager to share a conversation with him—actually she was intrigued, but more so curious. Any human conversation was welcomed. After spending years in silence with nothing but Mother Nature’s company, and a mute demon stalking close by it would be a fair change.

Zai wanted absolutely nothing to do with this endeavor; usually it was partial to land, but clearly it was unsettled and stayed air bound. Perfect white feathers were ruffled as its full bisque eyes blinked every so often, keeping especially keen sights on the man. It stayed dormant on a branch where it could overlook both bodies with dissatisfaction.

“Your magic is malevolent, and I do not trust you." A calm ethereal voice finally spoke fourth, and she still had not sat down. She did however; noticeably summon her crystal barrier once again. The sound it made when forming resembled frost encasing a window pane, and cracking slightly. The barrier’s shapes were mostly invisible, only rarely did they glisten from light.

She was not necessarily judging his magical trait, since she too used the arts. His motives were simply concerning, and in nature one that possesses great power, used great power against the weak. In this case, and in her current state he could overtake her.

“Regardless, you do have my gratitude.” She then paused for a couple of seconds; her eyes fell to the snow covered ground, and then back to him.

“Am I now in your debt stranger?” Violet orbs gazed to him intensely, searching for a true response behind his emerald eyes. This situation seemed deje vu because she had met a princess in a similar circumstance.

[Lye]

The camp was rather organized for poachers. Six triangular fur tents formed a crude semi-circle around the central campfire. They had set up an iron hanging rod for cooking and had taken caution to place rocks around the burning wood. Some boulders and sacks rest close to the flickering heat which previously served as seats for the fallen. Luckily, it had seemed the poachers were in the middle of a simple fox stew, left simmering and unscathed from the skirmish. The entirety of the camp was nicely tucked within the edge of the frigid Scavian forest, both providing decent cover from the falling snow and enough breaking to reduce the wind’s bite.

Lye began to feel the heat penetrate his clothes as he drew to the center of the camp. He glanced about and took quick inventory of the spoils. There would be much to go through, but the useful items would be few and far between. Aside from food, their equipment seemed very crude and worn. Thus, he expected the items they carried to be of similar simplicity. First and foremost, Lye began to break open one of the abandoned traveling sacks. Kneeling, he sifted through the equipment, careful not to get prodded by whatever tools and traps they may have kept packed for the hunt. One could never know if they would happenstance on an exposed poisoned blade or loaded trap, especially when dealing with illiterate thugs. After some careful searching, Lye came across some rolls of linen tied together with the pull strings of small leather pouches. He set these aside on the dark soil of the heated earth. Lye knew by their appearance that the items were intended to patch up injuries. He also decided to take ownership of a particularly polished skinning blade, a satchel of coin, and a dirty glass flask filled with a thick violet fluid – most likely a poison of sorts.

While he searched for more useful items, his ears keyed to the sound of footsteps. Still crouched, he pulled his hands from the leather bag and shot up a chilling glance. It seemed that the girl had chosen to take the bait. How lovely. Lye pushed his collected spoils into the pouch tied at his lower back, keeping the bandages in hand. He then stood and found himself a warmed boulder to take a seat upon for which he hunched over and kept an observant gaze on this lovely specimen approaching him.

Her skin was much more fair than his with eyes of an exotic violet left only to compliment her unusually pristine, lavender hair. Ghostly and ethereal were accurate adjectives to describe the aura she held, not only in her expression, but her movements. Something was unsettling about her. Unlike typical women, she held no fear or panicked expression. Especially after such a violent confrontation. Moreso, she showed no intrigue or caution – a truly stoic expression. Lye was curious as to what she had been through. It was apparent she possessed some magical affinity, and her dress suggested a sense of elegance. So far, her actions had been unpredictable. One thing was certain; she did not have a strong sense of self-preservation having put herself in such an odd situation.

“Malevolent?” he repeated in a deep, raspy voice before letting out a dry chuckle, “I suppose that was a complement – and you are wise not to trust me.”

Lye tossed a roll of the linen to her feet, consciously aware of his mixed signals. It was a gesture of kindness, but he had no pure intentions.

“Here, use the herbs in the pouch to keep the wound from infection. I assume you have wrapped a bandage before?” he asked before pulling the arctic furs from the left side of his body. In an effort to show her this was not a ploy to poison or deceive, he took the second set of bandages and did as he instructed. Two fingers dipped into the leather pouch, scooping out a fine green powder to which he pushed into his wound with a wince and masochistic smile. He took care to make sure the entirety of the wound was filled, allowing the blood to clot and maximize the herbs' medical potentials. The powder was most likely a mix of healing and antidotal leaves to stave off general infections or venoms found in the field - a staple for any seasoned hunter. Once satisfied with the amount applied, he tightly wrapped his shoulder in the linen and let the excess blood dye the off-white fabric to a crimson hue. He used his teeth to tear off the excess and tied the bandage off.

“I’m sure a beauty like yourself can figure it out,” he mocked with deceiving eyes, proceeding to lean forward to the fire to pull a mixing ladle from the stew to take a whiff.

“I wonder if you’ve eaten?” He stated, openly looking at her from head to toe.

Lye turned to his right, presenting his back to the girl, and began to rifle through another abandoned sack. Clinking sounded and Lye produced a crudely made wooden bowl.

“You speak of a life debt. When, in truth, you owe me three lives. Yours I could care less of, but these men were mine to kill, and your…” he paused, turning back to the simmering stew, “was it ‘malevolent?’ magic stole them from me. I don’t appreciate thieves…”

He clenched his teeth with disgust growing on his features. Lye could only bring to mind one face and it took all of his fortitude to keep his blood from rising to a boil. With rigid movement, he began to transfer some of the savory mix to the bowl. The bandages were already working their purpose, stealing the pain from his shoulder.

“So why not tell me, why exactly are you here? Escaped slave? Run-away prostitute? Perhaps a discovered magic adept running from Archen to save herself from execution?” he asked and extended a filled bowl of food in her direction. Lye took cautious note of the mysterious shimmer about her and the unusual nocturnal predator watching in the distance.

[Noir.]

Unlike adventurers or regular vagabonds, or so they were called, Noir did not plan on gathering any items here. Nothing would leave this place unless the stranger wanted to claim it, and she would let him willingly. Observant eyes followed his every movement while her body remained fixed in place. Noir tilted her head to the side a bit after listening to him, a complement; she meant no such thing. Only did she wish to state the obvious, and then felt content knowing that he had confirmed her distrust. Was this man offering cautionary advice already? What an unprecedented world they thrived within. She did not expect honesty, especially from him. Noir’s indifferent expression softened and would have otherwise led to a smile, but she did not care to do so.

Soon sights fell to the roll of linen he flung, but she left the plain material there to instead examine his actions. His hands were diligent, and although one would not perceive him to be a decent instructor—he was, oddly enough. After watching him she bent down to pick up the object, and held in between her fingers. There was another dried off boulder adjacent to the man, which she took while continuing to listen to his brash dialogue. How was she to know that these men where his prey? His logic was crude and nowhere near justifiable in her mind, but she continued to show no objection.

Noir began to reach for the bowl because she was going to eat after tending to the laceration, but a loud bustle sounded. Zai was noisily flapping it's white wings to lift off and soar downward in a dive. Noir’s fingers retracted catching a glimpse of Zai's shadow flying at them with great speed. Sharp talons knocked the bowl away leaving the contents spewed on the ground--wasted. Noir was surprised, never before had this demon interrupted a motion before. Noir retreated as to wait and dine later, after all she needed very little to sustain her. The owl flew back to its perch in the pine trees and settled down, hooting almost cheerfully once again. It would have been humorous on a different occasion, perhaps in an alternate dimension. Placing both hands on her lap intertwined, Noir thought for a moment on his questions. His examples seemed like petty reasons to be escaping through such dangerous land, but reasons non-the-less. Deciding to pay little mind to the tantrum Zai had just thrown, she began speaking.

“I know not of Archen, or slaves, and I have not worked as a prostitute. You will also find no bounty on my head.” She did not know whether to feel offended or flattered. Some whores appeared luxurious and could hardly be told apart from royalty.

“I am looking for someone, or perhaps this place shall be my swan song. The latter seems promising.” She added matter-of-factly. Noir spoke of death as if she were chatting about the weather, unemotionally almost as if she owed no ties to this mortal world. She clearly did not fear dissolution, and wondered if he were disappointed by this fact. He seemed to seek out combat expecting to kill, and she was not particularly attached to life.

Suddenly she raised herself walking over to the empty bowl, and knelt down directly in front of him. Noir was so close that her chilled hand could reach out, and almost caress his ill-tempered face. She seemed to possess no sense of personal space, and if she did know, she purposely avoided the fact. She particularly wanted to feel if his heart was burning, like a princess she had come to know in the past. His was faint, although enough to satisfy her for now. This was pleasing, another unexpected turn of events. This stranger was unknowingly serving her well because he held an unique requirement Noir prospered from.

While resting on her knees, she then picked up the wooden bowl with grace and placed it to the side. Her hair was so long that the violet tresses pooled around her, and almost blended with the colorless snow. The scene looked as if a woman was trying to console a respected lover after shaming him. She brought her full astral eyes to him and stared boldly.

“I have displeased you.” This was a statement opposed to a question. The conversation was also backtracking to the men she had previously killed. Innocently a hand reached next to him taking hold of the pouch filled with medicinal herbs. Soon pressing the powder into her wound, she occasionally glanced up to him out of curiosity. Never before had she needed to use remedies like these before because there had been no need. Once a powerful spell caster, she could heal many, including herself expending almost no energy. That was a long time ago, and she may never again reach that potential. A single steel tipped claw sliced through the excess linen with ease, and then more fingers swiftly tied the bandage together; this task was completed with one hand in seconds while speaking to him.

“Let me assure you stranger—that I am no thief. If three lifetimes is what you desire, I could easily give you eternity.” Suspecting not many others in passing could give him this Noir’s eyes glistened, and she mischievously half smiled. She would readily be able to pay off this debt if that was his true wish.

“There is a certain impression you display however, and I have a feeling that you would not be sated. So, pray tell--why are you here?”

Her phrase held four meanings, and the last sentence could have been taken two different ways. She could have been either asking why he was in the wilderness as well, or why he was still in the wilderness with her. Either way, it was up for him to decipher. By now and because of his trait, her icy demeanor had seemed to dissolve a bit. Unbeknownst to him she felt slightly better, and not because of the green powder.

[Lye]

His hand remained immobile when the bird of prey expanded its wings. His cold, emerald gaze observed it from the corner of his vision, assessing its relation and purpose to the maiden before him. He stayed intentionally still and traced its magnificent speed while it knocked the bowl from his grasp with sharp talons. Only his eyes moved, following its flight path back to a high perch. This was a nocturnal animal. It found best to hunt at night, and sleep during the day. He may have understood if it wanted some of the food out of desperation, but this bird was of an otherworldly nature. As a matter of fact, he had expected it to burst into a puff of smoke. Her familiar was problematic. It was lucky, for if he had so chosen, Lye would have a pulpy mess of feather and flesh in his hands instead of a hooting observer in the pine tops.

Becoming further aggravated, and questioning his own ability to maintain a calm demeanor, Lye returned his gaze to her as she spoke. ”Why am I letting you talk?” he asked himself, ”I do enjoy a game from time to time, but I hate your lack of expression. You don’t fear me, you're not uneasy, and that thing of yours it waning on my patience…” Restlessness began to work into his bones and the whispers of ill will gnawed at the back of his mind. Beneath the arctic furs, and leather gloves, his clenched fists began to grow pale at the knuckle.

Despite his urge to coax a scream from her delicate throat, he listened to her reply. Her voice was soft, elegant, but… empty. This stirred back faded memories of his earlier days, when all he could remember was the black of his own mind. There was a point he too used to be that empty. He didn’t know whether to hate this about her or welcome it out of pity. She seemed to have no qualms for death, but Lye had met these “types” of people before. They acted as though the void was nothing to be afraid of, but when his hand helped them teeter on the cusp, they all sung a different tune. The mention of her search for someone was also familiar to him. He could relate, although his searching was more of a manhunt.

When she rose to kneel in front of him, his whole body tensed. Combat was the first thing to come to mind, and he felt adrenaline flood into his veins. The heat from the flames and bite of the wind intensified against his exposed face while his senses piqued. Instead, she tended to the bowl dashed at his feet. The adrenaline nearly forced an attention of detail into his eyes, combing over her long, elegant her. He observed her fair, nearly goddess-like skin. Those defiant lavender eyes became pits to cast oneself into. Slender and dexterous fingers, covered in ornate armor, seemed to dance like water as she tended her wounds at his feet. They were lovely, yet sinister with their razor’s edge. He did not understand her, but with the dancing light of the flame at her back and pale, rocky desert of ice framing her features, Lye felt a pang of something unknown. There grew many voices in his head and some were unfamiliar. He knew the comforting sound of hate, malice, death, and rage, but this whisper was gentle – something unpleasant. Was this her ploy to seduce him? He didn’t know the answer, but he was starting to question his mental fortitude. This was a problem.

“You do not trust me,” he began, avoiding her initial question, “but here you are, kneeling within striking distance.” He leaned inward from his stone seat as if to whisper in her ear. “Your pet wouldn’t be fast enough to stop me…”

His body trembled with excitement, much like a starved dog teased with a cooked steak. ”I could do it,” he whispered to his sub conscious, a gloved hand tense around the shaft of two bloodied steel needles. Maybe it was the eerie shimmer about her or the lack of emotion she showed thus far, but that same uncomfortable voice in his head caused him to simply lean back upright and offer her a stern stare. Not wanting to share his disgusted expression, he pulled the crimson scarf partially covering his lips just a little higher.

“I’m here to thin the population,” he spoke, slightly muffled by the red vlince, “this is my only purpose and cause. When I have gotten my fill, I will continue my hunt, as I too am searching for someone. This man deserves to die for stripping me of my pride. He cannot be allowed to live and I will only allow my hand to be the one to snuff it out.”

He clenched his teeth, he heat of the memory actually causing a burning sensation in the bandaged pit on his shoulder. His muscles had been so tense with discomfort and internal conflict from the situation that the wound refused to clot. A rouge of red began to show through, seeping through the seams of the sewn furs at the arm of his cowl. Just the thought of his target stoked the embers of his bloodlust. To ease his tension, he rose to his feet and gave a few paces between himself and his company.

“I do not collect on life debts with measly favors,” his voice was more aggressive, but hinted ever so slightly with sadness, “I take lives, I do not save them. I had hoped you were part of a larger group, or perhaps could give me a direction to my next victim…”

He kept a sinister gaze fixed on her over his shoulder. His mind teetered on carving her up, or giving her a running start. Still, the unfamiliar whispers in his mind poisoned the serenity of madness, as if creating prison bars to cage a rabid animal.

“Instead, I will kill you…” he stated blunt, cold, and calm with an unwavering stance. He let the silence sink in, letting the hissing wind and crackling of fire add their contribution to the conversation. A leather boot crunched in the snow, turning to face her dead on. His gloved hand tightened on a katar, hidden from sight beneath the wind-licked furs.

“Have you forgotten me?”

He felt pain.

”We met just like this, don’t you remember?”

“What magic is this?!” he hissed at her clenching a hand against his head and crumpling his rigid posture.

”You had such innocent eyes. Why don’t you think of me anymore?”

The pain was immense, unlike anything he felt before. The unfamiliar whisper in his mind was now a roar, penetrating his core. His chest pounded, the world grew fuzzy, and he the strength left his knees, reducing him to the ground.

“Get out of my head you witch!” he shouted at her, looking up from his agony with a blaze in his eyes. She must have poisoned him, or used those entrancing eyes to cast a spell of sorts.

”I loved you, Lye…”

Something snapped. His eyes grew heavy, but he kept them fixed on her. His gaze grew out of focus, and her sharp features faded. She seemed different. She seemed familiar. He felt warm, but not from the fire. Something felt as though a locked door had been flung open and he was being flooded with water – suffocating. He gripped his chest, trying to breathe, keeping his gaze on what seemed to be someone completely different.

“I-Isabelle...?” he stuttered.

This was bad. He openly voiced his ill intentions and now his composure fell to pieces. One blade to his neck and the story stopped here. He felt powerless. Was this an effect of her hidden magic? Was it the lack of sleep? Maybe the herbs were actually a poison? Had he finally lost his mind? Karma? Something paralyzed this slayer of many and reduced him to nothing. It was all so... pathetic, and more so in the presence of such a fragile maiden. Lye was broken and suddenly at the world’s mercy.

[Noir.]

She was completely fascinated with this man, and his mixed signals; since he had confirmed her suspicions not to trust him. He also warned her once again how easy it would be to strike, but yet he did not—why? Her eyes looked ahead into the vast distance of infinity; the wintery scenery looked exactly the same. Images of his crimson scarf flowing in the snowy winds appeared as she began to wonder what torments haunted him. Why did he garner hate so intensely and not let it go. The side of her cheek felt the warmth of breath as he faintly neared her, and spoke light threats—unusually enticing. He seemed so consumed with revenge, and yet she was rather drawn to his mystery like a moth to a flame. She eventually would be hypnotized by the dangerous sight, and fly into it willingly engulfed in the overwhelming pain. Would it be worth the price?

Noir was waiting for a sudden duel to begin at any moment between them, but nothing happened. Instead he offered a bit of insight to his wild schemes, surprised he was divulging this information to her; there was probably some catch. As he rose she turned her body toward him, and then gazed to the blazing fire while his shadow twitched and twisted with each flicker. The stranger’s movements were still visible from the corners of her eyes, as she continued to kneel hushed. Up until this point all emotion had been concealed, but as he turned to face her she narrowed her eyes--vexed. Displeasure consumed her because of five words spoken. Refusing to be killed by this man, but there was little she could do to change his mind. When suggesting a truce to repay her debt the idea was still below him. Her end was not for him to decide, and she would be damned to let him steal her life before it was time. He was the true thief in her belief.

As she opened her mouth to speak, she was cut off by his question, and watched him abruptly buckle into pieces before her. Bitter pupils widened in shock because she had not done anything deceitful, but she certainly felt a dramatic change within him. For a moment it was the most intensified heat, far surpassing the Jade princess’. Noir stood and felt completely replenished. She had forgotten what it felt like to experience such warmth. The wound on Noirs arm had completely healed, he had seemed to unintentionally trigger her regeneration process; speeding it up tenfold with this burst. This pressure caught her off guard so much that her diamond barrier loudly shattered into hundreds of tiny pieces, resembling pure falling snow. She could not help but deeply inhale, her pale lips now tinged with a rosy hue along with flushed cheeks. For the first time in eons, she felt—human. Sudden emotions so powerful tears began to fill her once empty eyes, but as she acknowledged the stranger none decided to fall, instead they crawled back inside.

She was experiencing so much positive emotional capacity while he was clearly suffering; she had this precarious feeling of animosity welling inside, however. Something she had hardly felt before except on that particularly devastating day. In fact, he was making her feel an array of emotions she only had experienced a few times previously. He seemed paralyzed and a question rose within her head, ‘why are you still here?’ This would be the perfect time to escape this being devoured by rage. Had he not said it before that he wanted to kill her? He probably would, or at the very least try. Was she feeling angry now that she had found someone who held this unique trait? Why did it have to be this man? The options were distressing, she could not leave him here—she needed him for now, or did she?

Now was the perfect chance for him to hear her out. He needed guidance although the question was rather would he listen? In an almost levitating state, Noir moved to his body and looked down upon his weakened state; lithely dropping to her knees once more, a tense hand took him by the throat--fearless. Curved steel claws indented into his flesh just enough to be felt, lilac eyes fiercely staring straight into him while she brought her face close to his. She had been hiding how truly irate she was with him, and his actions of greed. Noir was not at all what she appeared to be, and with her whole being renewed she had the strength and ability to vigorously fight back.

“You speak of thieves yet you steal priceless lives--souls you can never return, perhaps you have become the thief you loath so much.” Her words were seething. A free hand began to conjure an icy dagger; it crackled and glistened from the vibrant flames.

“Shall I end your suffering, is that what Isabelle would want?” She did not know who this Isabelle was, or if she were alive or dead. Noir doubted anyone in his past, present, or future would want to witness this rage, or associate with this monster any longer.

“Instead of facing your fears you obliterate everything in your path, you are weak, and there is nothing more terrifying than that.” Her resentful expression faded into empathy. Although she was furious at his life being wasted in search of past controversy, she was also envious. He could grow stronger, find love easily, and live, while she wandered alone learning to accept her depressing fate. She was given time, momentous amounts of time if she could find someone who possessed such fire. This trait was exceptionally rare and would not last forever. She would have to continuously watch the people she grew close to die--cursed. He was wasting his fury on a disastrous obsession while life was simply passing him by. He was slowly killing himself by giving into this all-consuming darkness within. She was already inexcusably entranced with him beyond her control, but also despised his vindictive nature.

[Lye]

“Daddy!”

“Hey there Alyssa!” Lye said, spreading his arms wide enough for the little half-human to pounce into. “Woah! You’ve gotten bigger since I last saw you!”

“You just saw’d me!” she giggled in reply as little, white ears atop her head twitched playfully.

“Did I?” Lye spoke in a silly voice. He gave her a big squeeze, provoking a feline sway of her snowy tail. He felt her squirm, laugh, and a warm smile spread his young face.

“You were gone for quite a bit. Was the bazaar busy?” called a sweet, melodic voice from the other room. Moments after, a slender, feline female produced herself into the main foyer. Her form was elegant, more-so than the average human, and her skin was replaced with a velvet fur. Large blue eyes scrunched up with happiness and compassion, causing faint wrinkles on her adorable short snout. Long, wavy blond hair came to a stop against the loose, laced cotton dress hugging her curves. Lye’s eyes grew wide at the sight of her.

“You are beautiful as ever, Isabelle,” he said to her, letting the wriggling ball of hair and skin loose from his grasp.

Isabelle’s ears dropped back, and if the anthropomorphic lynx had a human’s cheeks, they would be flushed with red. She approached Lye with a glide of her padded feet and embraced his sturdy frame with her slender arms. Her touch alone sent a chill down his spine and warmed his being. Pursed pink lips pressed up against his for just a brief moment, her tail swaying joyously.

“Eww!” Alyssa shouted, tugging at Lye’s denim slacks. “Stop being gross!”

Lye broke away from Isabelle, letting his bare hands slip through her fine, silky hair. His expression switched drastically to mortification as she began to fall into darkness. The walls of his cozy estate turned to ash and crumbled into nothingness. Isabelle’s face was void of life, her crystal blue eyes growing smaller as she fell. Her beautiful porcelain coat was tainted with splotches of blood; from her throat ran a river of red. By some manner of horror, her blood hung weightlessly in front of his terror-stricken eyes.

“Isabelle? Isabelle?! IS --“

“Daddy!”

Lye was reluctant to look away, sick to his stomach, and pale, but he forced himself to turn from his fading wife to be only to be further struck by dispair.

“Get the fuck away from her!” Lye shouted, trying to run to his daughter, but the blackness of the void would not let him move. He was paralyzed in by a twisted wind of ash and shadow. All he could do was stretch out his hand, just inches from Alyssa’s and watch her get dragged away by a ghastly apparition.

“Alyssa! Alyssaaaa!”

She was gone, only the faint whisper of her screams echoing in the pitch black of this place. His body forgot how to exist and he crumpled into the pile of char he previously stood. Tears poured from his eyes and his mind ran rampant with fear, misery, and torture. He felt the pit of his stomach wrench his core and his body willed to die.

“Come find me…” echoed a dark voice.

A fire began to burn beneath the skin.

Despair boiled into rage. The pit of his stomach swallowed his being, and the black winds of dust began to cling to his body. Vast emptiness began to take form as black sands stuck against his chest to form his usual, black leather vest. They became also his black combat pants and bladed boots. His hands became gloved, and the river of Isabelle’s suspended blood wrapped around his neck to form the crimson scarf. Lye felt the cold surface under him grow sticky and wet. Upon bringing a hand to his face, he saw it coated with dark red. The musk of death wafted into his nose. When his eyes came into focus, the void had taken new form. Fire burned wildly around him and it felt as if his blood began to simmer. What was previously ash underneath was now a mountain of corpses.

Lye’s innocent emerald eyes grew cold and dark. The fires of rage growing within him turned his tears to steam, and he felt new vigor in his limbs. His thoughts became filled with madness and destruction and he began to rise to his feet, fist clenched tighter than a vice.

“Matthaemus…” Even his voice dropped an octave and grew raspy. Almost as if walking the fine line of death himself. “I will find you… And I will rip your bones from the cowardly skin you walk upon… You. Will. Die.”



Lye flashed from his trance, his eyes snapping focus on the pale face framed with lavender. His muscles tensed and he grew to know the cold steel digging into his neck. He felt the fires of his waking nightmare still hot upon his skin.

“Get your fucking hands off of me!” He shouted, forcibly pulling himself from her grasp, leaving pieces of flesh mangled into the fine intricacies of her gauntlets. His own blood began to spill down his neck and mist upon his cheeks as he repelled back to his feet. Whether it be hatred, shock, or adrenaline, he could not feel the near-fatal wounds carved into him. His arms flashed to his side and he crashed cold titanium into invisible plates of ice, forcing him to stagger backward from the force of his own blow.

“Who are you to call me a thief!” He shouted while he rooted his footing defiantly.

His senses started to come back to him. First, the cold stung at his face. Then, the smell of cooking food and bleeding corpses hit his nostrils. Finally, the warmth of thick fluid seeping into the collar of the furs touched his skin.

“Shit…” Lye dropped a katar, pressing the crimson scarf around his neck against the deep gashes.

He had let his guard down and suffered the cost. Something about Noir stirred up pains long lost and buried. The assassin was thrown off, wanting to kill her but leery of letting her get close for what it might do. Either she possessed some strange magic, or there was an element about her that stirred his dead heart. He was a mess of confusion and emotion. He wanted her dead, but couldn’t. He feared her…

“What is you want from me?” he asked on the borderline of delusion. “You should have cleaved my head off while you had the chance.”

Drops of red began to litter the pure powder at his feet. The wounds were deeper than he thought. The vlince scarf had its fill of its owner’s blood and began to stick to the leather of his gloved hand. Pressure was not enough to seal the wound; he needed to apply medicine to at least clot the bleeding.

“Damn it! If I don’t kill her now, I’m going to bleed out. Or even worse, live long enough to watch her claim my head!” he thought, the sense of dread weakening the fire of his rage.

Lye kept his hand to his throat and bent his knees in an aggressive stance. He quickly sheathed his remaining katar and unlatched the Damascus chained sickle from his belt. Darkness spread from his hand across the rippled texture of the metal’s grain, slowly swallowing weapon’s entirety. It lost its luster and shine, nearly devoid of light, and began to rattle its links as if possessed. With his one hand, he brought the bladed handle to his chest. The shadow-enchanted chain rose in the air and fluttered in front of him with the sickle poised like a snake ready to strike.

“I am no thief nor a coward,” he said with heavy breath. “And if I must die trying to prove it, you are free to bare witness.”

He stood at the ready, totally aware that after witnessing her display of power before, she would possess the capability of claiming his life. Whatever was causing these flashes of memories were crippling his ability to fight. The haunting face of someone he once knew still lingered in his mind, holding onto the name, Isabelle. Just the thought of this faded recollection caused the pit of his heart to ache. By now he would be locked in euphoria of blood and screams, but his mind was a storm in the harbor of emotions. Bleeding, remembering, confusion, and rage – all running rampant.

“Why am I doing this?” he asked inwardly. “What has she done to deserve my hatred? Why am I out here? Who… am I?”

The image of a man’s face, Seth Dahlios, came into his mind.

“You… you stole my pride, my glory! All with your pathetic little rules! I’m out here to train for your death. But there is something more… Some other reason.”

Looking toward Noir, he didn’t see her as herself. Instead of pale skin was white fur, her eyes were blue as a clear summer sky, her features grew feline in nature. It almost seemed as if the girl from the memory was standing right before him yet again. Noir was just like her: defiant, beautiful, and elegant. It may have been madness or bloodloss, but the illusions were beginning to piece together a long lost puzzle.

“You, killed her,” he though whilst staring at Isabelle’s likeness in Noir. “I remember that face now, Seth. You killed her!”

Lye let his hand loose from the dagger chained sickle and held his hand above his head.

“I concede,” he stated, relaxing his posture, but keeping the sickle magically suspended for safe measure. “You have a point. I no longer wish to fight. Please accept my defeat, I am in no shape to continue...”

There was no telling if she would believe him at this point. If he had to fight for his life, he would do all within his power to survive. This nostalgia refreshed his purpose and if he expired here, he would not be able to exact the bloody revenge he so strongly sought. This girl invoked something forgotten within him, and for that he felt a sense of debt to her. The urge to end her life fizzled to a soft whisper, becoming curiosity as to what else she could evoke within him. He hated these emotions, but there were too many elements crawling from this open can of worms. If he could, he wanted to take a step back and approach the situation more delicately.

Sadly, the next move was not his to make. Lye had eliminated his preemptive ability and had forced himself to a reactionary position. Noir held the future now and Lye would need to react however she decided. Feeling faint and still lost in the chaos of unknown, it was the first time in decades he prayed for mercy…

[Noir.]

The ice dagger purposely shattered in her grasp when he suddenly came to, and after he successfully had pried away from her hand she was frozen in the same position--as if he were still there. Fury had consumed her for a fleeting moment, and already caused significant damage. Frenzy was so easy to override any sensible notion within and exchange every other emotion for pure rage. Placing both hands on her lap she looked to him with fierce eyes; he still seemed engulfed by rage. Allowing him to throw a temper tantrum as shards of glass like pieces flickered off the barrier like shavings from an ice sculpture when impacted by his blade. She was not afraid of him. Narrowing her eyes she awaited another hit from him, which would not pierce the barrier anyway-at least not yet.

When he questioned her intentions velvety hues had been glossed over, but seemed to thaw quickly when sight of the red liquid freely trailed down his neck. It was unacceptable and unexpected to be this rattled by someone she barely knew, but she could not help it. She continued to keep an acute eye on him, and did not answer. Now was not the proper time to bring up such sensitive subjects, especially not with the mixed glances she kept receiving from his emerald eyes.

Noir inhaled deeply, it seems he had not come to his senses after all because his shadowy magic began to transpire—he still craved blood. Her body arose gracefully as if readying to start a dance, but instead she stood still, intently glancing over every movement he made. It seemed there was no way of reaching him. Without hesitation she turned her palms outward, envisioning how beautiful the scene would be with more snow—more ice. The air itself began dropping in temperature, and the wind began to pick up so a storm of hail could to emerge, leading to her escape. She did not wish to kill him because she needed him after all, but she could not waste another precious minuet on him.

With that in mind he bluntly retreated to her surprise; he was so difficult to understand. She tilted her head to the side like a curious kitten once again trying to comprehend his actions. Perhaps he wanted to recover before claiming her head, and after all it was a completely one sided battle. He would not be able to offer her a fair fight—not like this. With a quick brush of both hands outward like flinging aside curtains the spell immediately stopped manifesting. The wind quickly died down and the temperature rose back to its previous state as if it had never even happened. Maybe she finally would be able to gain some insight into his madness.

In any other situation she did not dare remove the barrier because that would be one way to meet a quick demise. On further recognition what could he possibly due to her that she could not easily deflect because of his weakened state? She slowly brought her hands up in front of her, palms facing toward him in a submissive state, closing in on him. Deciding now would be a better time than any to test his true intentions—was he still full of deception at his weakest? She would have to wait and see. With that last thought the barrier visibly shattered into tiny pieces resembling crystal, shimmering as they fell to the snowy ground below. One could say she was extremely vulnerable this way, but it represented a risky act of trust. With anyone else she would have left long ago, refusing to deal with his or her melodrama, and devious temperament. She was a bit obligated no less in this circumstance, and had to try once more to gain his trust—that seemed the quickest option albeit laborious.

With a finger she sliced through the beige knotted bandage that had been tied earlier around her arm. No longer did a bloodied graze disgrace her pale-complexioned skin. She did this to show him there was no catching her off guard with that arm, just in case he wanted to fight dirty. To further exhibit that she meant him no harm she plucked the silver claws worn on each finger from her right hand, and dropped them beside her feet. Zai would be able to retrieve them safely once it believed that the stranger was distracted enough. An index finger pointed to the medicinal herbs used upon both of them before, it had been a waste to use them on her because she could heal herself.

“You do not look so well; may I?”

After stating the obvious Noir felt sound in her decision finally to close the distance between them fully. She wondered if he thought of her too trusting, which would be a natural observation. It was true that she often chose a rather brazen approach with everything, but she did not waste her time on anyone or thing that did not otherwise deserve it. Time was something she valued highly, and she needed to be daring with her actions to survive.

“I have already seen more sides of you than I’d care to stranger, and I do not even know your name.” Noir’s tone was still as calm as ever, it harbored no hard feelings or sense of fear.

With her left hand holding onto the pouch after picking it up, she started with the deepest lacerations on his neck. Her fingers first gradually peeling away the sticky and already crimson colored scarf, afterward removing the material she tossed it into the air. The wrap evenly tumbled down around her own neck as to not let it be carried away by the inconsistent wind; the red accessory probably did not suit her. The cold once resonating within her body had left, her hands should feel relatively warm to him even in this weather as she scoped out the green powder and applied generously to each cut. Instantly the healing properties clotted the blood. While attending to his wounds, she spoke to break the awkward silence.

“You seem so ridden with turmoil. I cannot imagine how you deal with all this hate. I am surprised it has not been the death of you-“ After realizing what she had just said, there was a slight pause before she added on.

“Well, it could have been.” Smirking faintly.

With a blink of an eye one of her left hands had sliced through his knotted bandage, during a previous conversation she noticed that it had begun to bleed again. He was definitely a unique character, and she was eager to hear more about him if he permitted that information to her. Still focusing on his neck, her fingers continued to apply the remedy as delicately as possible. The mixed powder filling in the missing flesh and then mixing with his blood.

[Lye]

Fist the dagger, then the invisible glass he struck, and finally those bloodstained claws. Lye clutched his neck and through the cloth squeezed more viscous fluid. Her approach caused tension, but he could not seem to muster a reaction. Conflicts within him prevented any certainty. The soft patter of red against white and the crunch of powder beneath her gentle steps was the only interruption of jingling, shadow-possessed chain. The razor edge of his weapons did not move even as she entered his immediate space.

“She’s already healed?” he asked internally, mystified by everything she seemed to be.

His boots would not move. He did not want to run, nor did he want to fight. This was all new and that tingling within his mind was more prominent than ever. He was swimming in confusion, pain, and unrest. Her words seemed to still the waves of chaos. Her hands were so familiar, yet so very strange upon his flesh. His iron grip about his neck became loose as slack rope and she pulled his treasured garb from his body.

“I’ve killed for less,” he thought in a haze.

It was nearly as if he was only an observer of what transpired and no longer within his own body. Many men lost their hands for even touching that scarf. It was special to him even though he had forgotten exactly why. Perhaps she could stir up more of these visions in him and he would remember. He wanted that.

“My name?” he replied to her inquiry. “People know me by many names.”

She was upon him now; her surprisingly warm touch was soft upon his wounds. The sting was similar to the fire of hate he grew to know, but it ached deep to his core. The ache was awful, and it stirred him enough to break his concentration upon the chain floating all this while. Color flushed upon its metal surface, and with chimes, it coiled onto the ice. She brought a strange sense of calm to the noises stirring in his skull. He could make out a soft, sweet aroma that muddled the scent of fire, stew, and blood – her hair.

“Lye,” he stated. “Those that have survived my blade know this name. They are few, I admit.”

Her touch was gentle. It made his neck numb, but then again he couldn’t tell if that was the medicinal herbs or not. Curiosity took over his hand at the sight of a rogue lavender hair. Something screamed to stop this nonsense and plunge his fist into her chest to still that beating heart, but the whisper that kept growing brought the hand to sweep the pale, purple hair to join the others. The warmth from the touch was unlike any victim he claimed or corpse he twisted. It nearly staved off the arctic chill of the Scavian wilds. A pained look wrought his bewildered face.

“Who are you?” he thought again, feeling as lost as the orphans of Rubble Town. “Who are you looking for? What are you?”

The tables mysteriously were turning when all the hatred that gave him life felt as if it spilled out of his body with the blood. The usual emptiness and black of his soul was lighter. He wanted to hate this feeling, but it commanded him.

“Ridden with turmoil?” he questioned himself. “Hate is all I know… right?”

“Hate is what has kept me alive for so long,” he shared with her in his lapsing trance. “Without this hate, you would see me as I am now, but at the tip of a blade instead of the hands of a stranger.”

He observed her graceful appearance with obvious eyes.

“Who’s entirely to say you aren’t one of those blades in a sweet disguise? I said I wasn’t trustworthy, yet here you are. Do you pity me?”

Pity. He never saw himself as someone who could be pitiful. He was a cold-blooded killer - an artist of his trade and master of fleeting death. Pity was never a word he would imagine others to use to describe him. The Bone Eater, The Green-Eyed Demon of Skavia, The Crimson Assassin… None of these seemed to welcome such a word.



“Y’er out of yer bloody mind. T’was most likely the winds of a stirrin’ blizzard,” scratched a voice over the music of crunching tundra, cracking branches, and the jingle of chain.

“I swear I heard a clamor! Shouts even! Maybe what ‘ere huntin’ got after the lot when we buggered off,” replied an equally hoarse and deep tone. “The damn huntin’ dogs are all in a stir. Some’n ain’t right. Maybe its that bastard th’boys back home talk about. The one with the red around ‘is neck?”

“I tell ya again – y’see them boughs swayin’ like a mead-drunk mate?” replied the ruffian with a blocky digit pointed upwards briefly as to maintain control over the pulling beasts. “That’d be all the screamin’ and hollering y’heard. These storms’ll brew in th’blink of’n an eye.”

“Aye, but what’ll make of that Horris?” asked the second, diverting their attention to an opening in the thick trunks of pine. Chains rang tight as two young dire wolves lunged forward against the resistance of their master’s restraints. The heavy growling and yelping served the two no element of surprise as they gazed upon the two standing figures above a display of fallen comrades.

“That? Oh that’d be two corpses that’re dead but don’t yet know it…”



“We have company,” Lye stated. His sight broke to the two men and their dogs. The softness and confusion in his expression blew away in the accelerating arctic breeze. He felt not only the usual burn of bloodlust, but also a fiery desire to keep them from his new interest. Again, a feeling so foreign but oddly familiar.

[Noir.]

Noir attentively listened to his responses not wanting to interfere. Her expression was not completely void any longer, a once complex gaze was inviting, subtly engaging him with enamored eyes. Although she did not smile, her aura suggested she was quite content at this moment, especially after his hand decided to brush a stray lilac strand aside. His expression plagued by two distinctly different emotions made her all the more interested in his thoughts, and past. Her delicate fingers had applied nearly the entire bag of herbs to his neck, leaving just enough to fill the wound on his arm. As he ended his last sentence with a question, she began the task over, packing the deep cut with sage talc.

“I still do not trust you—entirely. I also agree, who’s to say I am not a blade in a sweet disguise? I can however, still reassure you that I am no thief. So, do I pity you?” Her eyes averted for a minute; she had to think of what that word entailed.

He was not starving or near death’s door anymore, even though he seemed a bit lost he appeared to be finding his way again. Pity seemed an incorrect term for what she had come to see in him so far. Before she could answer that simple question Lye spoke again, with her hand still placed on his arm lilac hues scanned the area until they scoped out two bandits. These men were determined but utterly daft, for they would meet the same fate as their fellow allies. It would have been a haunting sight for any on looker, two intriguing souls static among a bright red graveyard, if they sought revenge for the fallen so be it. Noir quickly gathered and tied a new piece of linen around his patched up arm. There was not much she could do about his neck now, he should forego fighting indefinitely and leave it to rest—but that did not seem likely.

Zai had yet to collect her talons but as Noir reached down to retrieve them; all of the five pieces were missing. Noir had been so focused on Lye that the sound of paws scurrying in the snow went by undetected. The snow leopard reappeared holding onto the steel in its mouth, as Noir opened and brought fourth her right hand she gently tapped it on the tip of the nose with her left. Zai wiggled it’s whiskers as though it were about to sneeze and stuck its head up like it was too radiant to be bothered with anymore. She had never been able to touch this demon before; the day was full of continuing surprises.

Noir knew that even with his injuries not fully healed that Lye would be able to slaughter these men with ease, but the question was rather should she let him? Would he once again be lost in the blood that so direly beckoned him? She pondered these questions while sliding on each ring like dagger after partly cleaning them off in the snow, all the while looking up to the man she barely knew in wonder.

“Lye.” She began to say, but stopped not wanting to overstep her boundaries--even though she had very little boundaries.

To say the least she was uneasy about him fighting in his condition, the adrenaline could drive him into frenzy and who’s to say he would not try to slay her again? She quickly thought back to the ruffians’ conversation. ‘Storms and blizzards do brew in the blink of an eye, and perhaps he will not suspect that I interfered and caused them.’ Zai was a few feet behind Noir’s body, riveted by the dire wolves but not so much the men. Jowls extended roaring with brutal intensity, Zai was hunched in a stalking position ready to strike if they neared. That would not be necessary if Noir had anything to do with the weather.

The bandits were progressing with readied weapons, but before they could reach the camp Noir focused on creating that hellish storm these men had been discussing. If Lye ran ahead and started to clash steel it would not be for too long. Noir arose, arms straight to her sides, eyes forward as if casually observing the brawl about to take place. The wind began to pick up, tugging at the glossy tiered ruffles of her long sleeves. A hint of metallic swept through the air, the crimson scarf worn around her neck was drenched in Lye’s sickeningly sweet essence. Some would either be appalled or indifferent surrounded by all this garnet, but it was the price of humanity, and it was precious.

Tiny snowflakes rapidly turned into chunks of snow, which tumbled down onto the landscape, but disappeared when encountering a warm body. Visibility would soon decrease the longer the spell continued, giving Noir, and Lye a perfect opportunity to slip away. The only thing she could do now was to watch her storm unfold in silence, and await her emerald sentinel to react accordingly—but his actions were difficult to predict. Zai ceased growling and began to shake the collecting powder off its spotted fur coat, the dire wolves, on the other hand, started to howl in tune with the whistling gale. The long furred duo sensed a terrible squall and were becoming restless, knowing all too well they could be buried and lost amidst the heavy snow quick.

[Lye]

His eyes remain locked on the bandits and their wolves. These last two brutes would be quick work if he hadn’t decided to become her carving board. He tried to move, but his muscles were not willing to participate. The loss of blood was enough for him to curse his inability in this matter. This was probably best overall since the only thing seeming to keep him stitched together was damp powder freshly packed into the wound.

Where he was unable, she took responsibility. The fleeting sense of calm disappeared from her as she left his proximity. Her warmth grew cold as she fetched her finger blades from the mouth of an unusual snow cat. It wasn’t just the loss of her proximity, but he could feel winter’s grasp tighten. The wind began to intensify, carrying pale dust on its wings. The dust grew to crumbs and continued to worsen to near hail. The pungent odor of snuffed flame stung his nostrils as the storm extinguished the life of the campfire. Visibility dropped by the seconds, yet he stayed focused on one object. He watched this girl, with arms outstretched, stand like a stone against the roar of nature. He stance and focus did not waiver.

“Is she making this happen?” he inquired while adding up the variables.

Her mysteries were continuing to expand. He came to these wilds to hone his abilities and paint red upon the vast white canvas. Instead, he stumbled upon this unusual entity that not only had no fear for him, but was now aiding him after an attempt on her life. These questions he began to grow needed answers and a Skavian blizzard was no time nor place to seek them.

“We need to go,” Lye shouted over the hiss and crack of the wind-struck pines, “This weather will still our hearts in minutes! You need to come with me!”

He desperately tried to clear his mind, and made haste to pull his own supply of linen from his pouch, messily covering his still exposed wounds. Not having his scarf made him feel so naked in this icy squall. It bit sharply at his skin, a warning that the cold wanted in to snuff the life out. He tied a crude knot and left the remaining fabric loose to dance about in the gusts. His legs willed forward to allow his hand to lay grasp on Noir’s wrists. For only a second did he let his eyes meet hers; they conveyed urgency. He began to lead her, the white and ice closing in. What once was miles of wilderness and trees became a few feet of ground lost in the fury. The cold worked quickly upon his weakened condition, already aching his joints and numbing his face. If this could be said about him, there would be no telling what the frail figure behind was going through.

“Not much further…” he thought, beginning to sweep his steps in front of him. “Should be around here…”

Black leather halted against rock.

“Here.”

Lye let loose a raging kick with the little remaining strength he had and the stone gave way with a slide. As it snapped in place, the building sheets of snow gave way to darkness at his feet and the wind began to howl as it forced its way into the hide. Lye wasted not a second to drop himself into the hole, hitting the ice beneath less gracefully than usual and stumbling into a small underground hide. Lye braced himself, turning to the screaming entrance.

“Jump down!” he shouted to her.

This hide, among many, had been used my he and his ilk for years. This one in particular was the assassin’s favorite retreat. He never really understood why, but this hide always seemed more like a home than any building or cave. It was enough for two, but not much larger for a third. In the rounded corners lay a stack of furs similar to the one’s he wore. They seemed arranged as a place to rest with more than ample remains to fashion more attire. Should the poachers have come across such a place, it would have been a gold mine to them. In the middle hissed a hearth against a stack of dried twigs and branches, still aglow with wind-exposed embers. It was simple, but it was all a man of the field needed to rest heavy eyes.

Here they would be best to wait out the blizzard. Although viscous, they typically lasted only a few hours. Hopefully her involvement provoking it wouldn’t prolong the duration.

[Noir.]

A violent blizzard had begun to transpire just as she had hoped, but concealing the fact from Lye that she had invoked the spell may not have been so successful. His emerald stare though blurred through the blankets of snow, were still detectable all the while. Noir looked to Lye and nodded in agreement to his concern, and then to Zai who continued to shake the snow away and then vanished into a puff of black smog. Noir trudged forth, led by his hands toward an unknown area in the stacking snow. She did not know how long that spell would last because she could not remember the last time she fully used it—decades possibly? It definitely seemed less powerful and disheveled one-the-less; with being out of practice for so long it was still a small feat. There was a time when she could wave her hand without thinking to summon a spell, she also did not need to concentrate so hard and expend so much energy—she longed to get there once again.

The further they ventured the further the chill sunk deep into her flesh and could be felt in the bone marrow it seemed. It was freezing, she felt unusually chilled now that she had known heat once again. There were no furs covering her exposed skin, the only protection from the storms grasp was Lye’s scarf. This weather had not bothered her all too much in the years she roamed freely before because she had been numb emotionally and almost physically.

When Lye managed to find the shelter opening Noir could not see into the cavern, but could already feel a bit of warmth from inside. Before entering the refuge she quickly searched for the demon disguised as a snow leopard, owl, or fox. but did not see it through the thick sheets of snow. Zai managed to reappear as a fox before Noir leapt in, and it chittered perhaps letting her know that it would not be joining them. Noir then gazed down what looked as though a bottomless pit and jumped, landing on two feet lithely in near silence.

Her eyes scanned the quaint area, the popping of timber against a fire resonated the air. The snow which, had fallen on long eyelashes and hair alike melted in seconds, leaving her glimmering dress and lavender hair damp. Previously warm skin felt wet, clammy and was also a shade paler, but her cheeks were rosy from the repeated kisses of wind and snow. A steel claw faintly glided across her forehead, parting matted bangs to the side, and out of her sight. Once voluminous hair was currently pin straight from the moisture. Somehow her body felt even worse than before. She clutched her own arms in an embrace meaning to keep warm as she slowly walked toward the dim embers, brushing the dress underneath her chilled legs like a Geisha before kneeling.

She looked down remembering that she possessed his scarf and casually unwrapped the layers, exposing her neck slightly stained with Lye’s partially dried blood, placing the material on her lap. He was welcome to claim it back at any time. Although the cinders flickered dully, her elegant silhouette could still be seen casting a shadow against the walls. With every breath the droplets of melted snow shimmered when they fell, leaving faint moisture trails along her exposed flesh.

“It’s a wonder how our paths have not crossed sooner, since you seem to know this area quite well.” Noir spoke softly through quivering lips; body beginning to tremble a little trying to create heat.

The entire wilderness seemed to glide toward more identical terrain; she could have passed this hideout multiple times and would never have known it. For all she knew, she could have been walking circles for years, automatically--lost in thought.

“How long have you been searching for this infamous thief, he seems the bane of your existence. If not for him you would not be in this predicament?” Asking the last question in a lighter teasing sense; mostly Noir was not one to take all speech too seriously. She knew that neither expected to meet under such unexpected circumstances, and thus they both created another predicament by continuing to travel together.

Noir was also not one to sugarcoat topics; she otherwise had no qualms about bringing up touchy subjects. Although not completely heartless as to bring up the name Isabelle, which stirred a deeper emotion that would best be addressed from his own mouth.

[Lye]

The winds and blinding sting of the snow whistled to a close as Lye pushed the trap door back into place. He took a gloved hand to snap a wooden lever back into place. The scrape of stone against stone sounded signaling the complete reset of the opening mechanism. Content, he turned around to face his unnamed guest.

“These have been my hunting grounds for some time now,” he replied.

The light was barely enough to make out her figure, and the winter’s grasp was still upon them. He knew she was just spent the last several minutes in a storm that could claim the lives of any lesser man, and lightly clad at that. He was lucky to have the furs about his shoulders that maintained his warmth. She, on the other hand, was not so fortunate. Familiar with the layout, he moved through the damp, cold darkness to the pile of tinder. He picked up a handful of the dry pine and cast it into the glowing hearth. With one of the larger sticks, he prodded at the heated remains until a warm flickering glow took seed. The flame was just large enough to give light and warmth, but small enough so it would not smoke them out. In the low flicker, he brought his eyes back upon her to notice a shiver.

“Get closer to the embers,” he commanded while he turned to the furs collected in the corner. “In the years I’ve scoured these desolate fields, I have never seen a lone wandering woman.”

He fetched a large sheet of sewn together fur and bought it around her shoulders. A knot writhed in his stomach as he did so. Such actions were so alien to a man who felt at home only when the feel of fresh blood dripped from his fingers. He questioned his own actions, but curiosity drove him to continue.

“The women usually seen here are either used as midnight entertainment or are as brutish as the men who attacked you.”

He stood behind her with hands upon her shoulders, so close to her neck. His blood red scarf lay defiant against the pale white of her supple skin and soft furs. The swirling mayhem of mixed emotions called out to his familiar tendencies. Gloved hands grew rigid with a cold sweat flushing his body.

“Just kill her,” called a voice within.

He felt his pulse raise and heat spurred in his cheeks. A sting from his injured neck crawled to the base of his skull before his hands pulled away from her. He held his wrist as if it were injured, staring at it intently.

“We met in this exact den, don’t you remember?” a feminine voice echoed against the deadly urge.

“Get out of my head!” was his internal demand.

Lye clutched at his head in an attempt to quell another outburst. The air was still frigid, but his body felt so hot. While he made his way around the small flame to the opposing side as her, he shed his bloodied furs but to no avail. This heat was unnatural. It was unlike any fire of hatred or fever of sickness.

“The thief?” he asked to her inquiry, his voice strained from his unseen conflict.

“That’s right,” he thought, “I’m here to train. I must become stronger. I must—“

“You let him kill me…”

The warm flickers of the hearth revealed a sudden pain possess his features. Sweat began bead beneath his platinum strands of hair.

“He,” a pause lapsed as he struggled with his thoughts, “took something very precious from me.”

The memories were faded, but he could recall that bleak day upon the summit of the Onyx Tower. They had fought a bloody battle that seemed to last for hours. It was a close match, but Lye had obtained the upper hand. The final blow was his to make, but the thief was always just one step ahead. Lye had sapped nearly all of his marrow, yet before the light left his eyes, this “Thief Extraordinaire” plunged his black and white daggers deep into Lye’s one vulnerable area. It could have ended there, but he knew Seth was still alive.

“I had the opportunity to still his heart, but before the cold of death could consume his life, he found a way to slip my grasp,” he explained, looking to the fire as if it were unfolding upon the orange embers. “A man who fights with emotion falls short, a man who fights without goes far... Those were his last words before the darkness fell upon me. All I have known is hatred and death since that day. That arrogant fool could never understand my strife.”

The pop of a rouge pine seed stirred him from his trance. A memory that would usually spur an unyielding hatred brought him nothing. Perhaps this was part of the effect she was inflicting upon him.

“I have told you a little about my story,” he stated to change the subject, “and yet I know nothing about you or even your name.”

There was no telling how long the storm would last and he was not about to completely drop his guard to this stranger. Perhaps knowing more about her would stop the urges to kill her. Although her presence seemed to stir some unknown memories, he felt she was useful. He could only remember the river of blood he brought forth with his own hands, but the reason was so unclear. Getting revenge was all he knew about his past until today. Although haunting and unpleasant, he needed to know more. Perhaps she was this Isabelle? Perhaps she had the answers…

[Noir.]

Noir scooted closer toward the tiny flare as he commanded; although the den was dry it would take a bit of time for her to warm back up again this way. While listening to his words her eyes tried to follow his movements the best they could, until she settled on watching the roasting tinder subtly change colors instead. A heavy material suddenly weighed down her shoulders for a moment; Lye had unexpectedly brought her cover. Frozen fingers slowly pulled the fur closer around her figure; then noticing that his hands were still resting on her. She thought about placing a hand over his, and slipping off those gloves to examine his fingers, but before she was able he pulled away.

Noir could finally see his face a bit more distinctly now that the radiating embers were close to him; she found it unusual however that he did not need the warmth of furs to keep him heated. It could not have been his heart, the same heat produced to internally keep her from freezing over. The princess had once said she felt no different from anyone else, this invisible power Noir felt played no important role to the princess.

“I had something very precious once. It was destroyed—by my hands unfortunately.” She softly shared after he had finished speaking, and inquired to know her name and a little about her. Noir was eerily calm as she spoke. There was not a hint of remorse or any emotion in the faint tone. Her expression was also difficult to decipher once again, as if she were reverting back to when he first encountered her.

She looked to the fire, the reflection of cherry embers displaying in her irises. She felt torn on this subject in every way possible; her actions at that time were a reflection of what she saw as justifiable. Instead of pain like Lye was enduring toward his loss she felt apathetic, and knew that such an emotion was wrong to feel since what she had done was terrible, unnecessary, and murderous. It was clear now that this Isabelle had been taken from him by a ‘Thief Extraordinaire’. If she were to disclose her full story Lye may come to resent her for the choice she made against someone who had shown her nothing but kindness. The way she felt about the jade princess was different, however she was able to sacrifice her freely without a second thought—she had asked her to. Noir oddly enough regarded Lye’s well-being for a different reason—which was saying quite a lot. She did not know why, perhaps it was his potential, his power, and the darkness that beckoned. The rare bits of kindness he showed to her every now and then was also intriguing, who would have thought that she would be taught humility from an assassin.

“I am called Noir.” After a brief pause violet eyes peered up to him, scanning his face for any detectable emotions, especially to see if he were caught up in her earlier confession.

She was not going to readily dive into her past unless he specially asked because the topic of losing close ones seemed more agonizing for him to talk about. She was unsure whether or not he wanted to hear those particular details, especially if she killed someone who was once devoted to her. She would explain honestly and take full responsibility for that event, which occurred long ago regardless; she had no reason to hide even though she could be deemed a monster. His actions were out of revenge, which was completely understandable while hers were for an entirely different reason—selfish reasons.

“There is not much to know. I have spent the majority of my life on a different plain of existence, before I manifested…”

Her sentence was vague, leaving out many crucial details. She had told a similar story once before except the details were fuller and Zai had not been discovered yet. Noir visually could see the princess laughing after she had said something similar along those lines. ‘That is some story; it is hard to believe that strange beings such as yourself actually do exist. I often forget’ the princess had said. The next day Noir was introduced to the Kingdom curator who possessed numerous ancient texts, but her kind was hardly mentioned only in scrambled symbolisms and drawings. Those scrolls were now dust, long gone along with any evidence of the Jade Kingdom.

“I was told that my kind has existed for centuries, though what little was written about us is gone...”

Warmth was starting to slowly creep back into her flesh; the furs were helping to retain what little heat formed. Unluckily for him, her responses left much to the imagination. She wondered if he would settle for those answers or if he were as curious to learn about her like she was about him.

“Are your wounds starting to feel better? Your neck lacerations should really be sewn up, it may not heal properly otherwise, or you could catch fever--are you started to feel feverish Lye?”

Noir innocently changed the subject, perhaps he was already starting to feel the effects of infection although her steel talons were pristine. The sickness could have been brought on by the bandit’s blade to his arm instead, or the blistering chill of the blizzard she brought on. Maybe he was feeling warm for an entirely different reason, she was unsure.

[Lye]

“Noir,” he mumbled through steepled fingers, the dance of light casting an ominous shadow across his glistening features.

She was just like him, or at least similar to him, but something didn’t make sense. If she was not this Isabelle whispering in his mind then why was he tortured by these memories? Did she have some form of connection? What was it that she lost? Many more questions grew and the answers became fewer and farther out of reach. His head pounded with the influx of events and recent instability. If the cause lay within Noir or himself, it was uncertain, but he would find out.

“You’re wasting time here,” a dark voice spoke inside.

“Manifested?” Lye asked with a wince and strain in his voice, “Your kind? You’re not human?”

“Daddy, where are you? Daddy?!” Now, it was a child.

He tried to keep his attention toward his attractive guest when she mentioned fever, still unsure of her intentions with him. His body had a different plan in mind. The dew on his forehead had become a rolling drip. His head shook to ward off the feeling to no avail. The bloody furs around his shoulders felt hot and heavy. He unclasped them and cast the garb into the remaining pile of skins. His gloved hands were clammy, and another pair of garbs were cast aside. Dilated green spheres locked onto the exposed fleshy appendages. His hands flexed open and shut as they began to quiver. He did not feel cold – this was worse than a fever.

“It’s not too late to join us, Lye.” It was the woman’s voice from before.

“Come play daddy!” cried the child.

“Poison…” he choked out, beginning to wobble with the flicker of the light. He had only sustained two injuries, so it had to be hers or theirs. Vision began to blur as he pulled the bandages loose from his shoulder, the easier of the two to see. The skin around the mottled crimson and green was raised with red lines tracing the veins and vessels outward. The poachers. Why didn’t he connect the two sooner? The poison in the satchel – they were skinners with no need for meat. As long as the animal died, they had coin to be made. Was that what he was to become - an animal waiting to die?

“Why do you want to forget about us?” They chimed together.

Time was of the essence.

He hadn’t realized it until now, but the strength had left his body. The increased heart rate from recent events must have pushed it through his veins. He looked to Noir, his face now pale and damp with perspiration. He needed her help yet again.

“Behind you in the corner…” he forced through labored breaths. “The flask... I need you to get it.”

Speech was difficult, but he was already unable to control his muscles. The shake of his hands and quiver of his arms was the overpowering, yet he still managed to push himself upon the stack of animal skins behind him.

“Bring it to the hearth,” he pointed toward it and winced as his muscles unintentionally tightened in his abdomen, “and put a pinch of char into it.”

Lye tilted his head back and clenched his teeth. His whole body grew tense.

“Ugh!” The pain and rigidity subsided. “Bring it here, quickly!”

“You’ve grown weak because you didn’t kill her.” The dark voice echoed again.

He tried to ignore the cacophony in his head; they had proven enough of a distraction today. Through the shakes and tumors, he managed bottle of thick, dark fluid from his pouch. He grabbed for the ornately silver-foiled glass flask Noir held toward him. Glass tapped against glass as he struggled to drop a few globs of the venom into the empty container. Again, he winced in pain from tightened muscles, but his will held strong. Lye pinched some bloody herbal powder from his wound into the mix.

“It needs blood,” he managed in a hoarse voice.

He forcibly gripped Noir’s clawed hand and opened a wound unto his palm. Lye pulled away and pumped his fist to generate a flow. Blood spilled freely, even though he had already lost so much of it earlier. He managed a few drops into the flask, but made quite a mess of the ornate silver on its exterior.

“So you do remember...” cooed the woman’s sweet voice inside.

Lye tensed with pain, but managed one eye open and a steady grip on the flasks contents. This late in the game, he could not to start over. When the muscles let loose, he was able to utter some words in a foreign language.

“Alu d’kuile,” he paused in another bout of tension, “Unquale ha’hauta, Fhaor!”

The flask he clutched to his heaving chest began to let off a faint glow. What little substance was within swirled about and expanded. Just a few seconds later, the flask was full to the brim with thin rouge liquid. He snapped it to his quivering lips and gulped its contents to the last drop. His body stopped shaking. His chest stopped heaving, and the empty flask fell from his loose grip down upon his chest then to the furs beneath him.

“Welcome home...” The three voiced called at once.

There was silence.

Suddenly, his arm shot out and firmly gripped Noir’s thigh before he gasped deeply followed by abrupt, wet coughs. This continued for a while before his grip and body came to rest. His chest rhythmically paced up and down as he turned his gaze to meet hers.

“Close call,” he stated with a weak smirk, his whole body still on fire as the alchemic antidote worked out the poison. He winced again, less painfully as before. “You were saying?”

Although his body burned from the counter-poison, he finally felt the chill of the cavern upon his bare arms and shoulders. Lye’s mind had finally grown calm. Perhaps the venom was the reason for the outbursts, or perhaps he was simply exhausted from recent events. This time spent trapped in the hideout was fortunate after all; the assassin needed rest and conversation would pass the time.

[Noir.]

Noir’s lucid eyes began to narrow noting the semi-distressed expression that sprung up occasionally, and strain in his voice. Something was awry, his presence becoming weaker by each passing minuet, but he did not respond to her observations so she continued with a response.

“Not entirely, no. We have been referred to as sirens, muses, succubus, and demons. I have read about the names mentioned, and do not find that my kind fits into those categories. I have yet to meet another entity because our life span is--not ideal, but under perfect circumstances we could be immortal.” She continued with a soft-spoken tone while examining his removal of garb with curiosity.

Fingers let the sheet of fur loose, the material sliding down her shoulders and to the floor so she could check on his wounds again. Deciding to rise up and make way over to him, but before she could sit down and examine the lacerations he had figured out the reason for his illness--poison was coursing through his veins.

Taking instruction, Noir listened to Lye’s direction post haste. Quickly rising to her feet once more to make way to the hidden flask in the corner somewhere, although the room was small the dim embers could not illuminate the area where this bottle was. Hands groped the wall and earth to where she finally found it in the darkness, then heading to the hearth scooping fine bits of char into this flask as guided. After readying the ingredient her body rushed over to him concoction in hand, while lilac hues were wide with uncertainty how she had not been conflicted with the toxin too.

Those same uncertain eyes watched him drink the fluid right down, but she was sharply tugged toward him afterward by the still strong grasp of his hand. A thin slice from her steel talon opened his palm, the blood gradually trickling out. There was plenty of blood rushing throughout her being to spare, and easily those wounds could be healed by her magic. Why did he not shed her blood like he had so eagerly wanted to hours ago, instead of creating more injuries to himself?

The foreign words and faint glow from the bottle increased Noir’s interest in Lye’s history; he was quite the wanderer, prepared for anything. Though, following the ingestion of the bizarre liquid Lye ceased moving, and during this silence she called out to him—had she been too slow in aiding him?

“Lye?”

Noir raised herself on knees and leaned over him slowly, bringing up a hand toward his mouth and nose to feel for any breath. As she was about to place her head on his chest to listen for a pulse the sudden grasp on her thigh immediately straightened her back up, startled by his return and the intimate accidental touch. Her heart was beating at a rapid rate as she stared at him with stunned eyes. Blinking a couple of times in disbelief at his whimsical yet unusual comments disregarding his near death experience, and bit down on her bottom lip lightly trying to withhold an amused smile.

Witnessing his near demise sent a mixture of emotions flooding to the surface, although she was still unafraid of death she felt less inclined to seek it out like before. Searching continuously for a life source would be draining on anyone, and some days she had welcomed the idea of eternal rest. No one would desire to switch places with her if they knew immortality came with a price. She had come to terms long ago that her icy demise was inevitable none-the-less, but after finding him it did not have to be…

Even in this dry den she managed to conjure a small block of ice, her hands had felt the heat radiating from his body. Beginning to rub the ice over his already damp forehead, slowly it trailed down the side of his face. Crystalline hues watching as the frozen permafrost left more moisture on his skin; it had been a long time since she tended to anyone. The princess she had known came down with fever once; Noir placed a cool damp rag across her forehead. Singing haunting lullabies to sooth her to sleep, the same one taught to her by that very princess—how ironic.

“I was just thinking how fragile your life is and how reckless you are with it. In my eons of life I have managed to find two people who possess a vital trait that I need to survive. It’s a rare quality that serves no other visible purpose to the owner, except that it already sustains their life as well. This fact causes past indiscretions to become insignificant when one is slowly dying like I was, but humans are unique in the sense that they are so compelled by emotion. It seems to override every impulse.” Gentle fingers continued to move the ice cube gradually downward, gliding across his strong neck.

“With this in mind, your very existence would be for naught if you died unlike mine—will you never be sated?” Noir voiced a slight emphasis on the last word and looked deep into his mesmerizing emerald eyes.

Did he even know what would become of himself after the thief chapter closed? He was so consumed with this ‘Thief Extraordinaire’ that she doubted he had plans to live a normal life. He wanted to kill her, and he stated that he had slayed many, but he continued to slaughter never filling the void within him it seemed. Would killing this thief make any difference? She was curious to know would he ever be satisfied.

[Lye]

“Is Daddy going to be okay?” asked the concerned cat-eared girl.

“He’ll be just fine,” replied the feline mother with a pat on her daughter’s head. Blond strands of the girl’s curly locks were tussled out of order. “He just has a little cold is all.”

Her elegant figure was poised at the beside, smiling at the girl clung close beside. She turned her attention back to the figure that lay in front of her. Her long, furred fingers clasped a cold block wrapped in cloth and, with delicate finesse, she pressed the cold compress against a man’s heated forehead. A clear orb of melted ice rolled over a scarred left brow tensed in a restless sleep. Silver hair lay matted against a soft down pillow, his body covered to the neck in thick linens and wools. The young man’s face twitched in discomfort and was met with the concerned cerulean gaze of his feline lover and child.

“When will he be better, mommy?” she whimpered with her head pressed against the man’s clammy hand.

“I don’t know sweetheart, mommy’s medicine isn’t working,” she looked over to the ornate, silver-decorated glass flask. Various flowers and vials lay strewn about in a wicker basket atop a wooden nightstand. “She’s missing something very important.”

“Like what?”

“Mommy needs whatever it was that made daddy sick in the first place,” she stated with a fake smile. The statement seemed to satisfy the little girl as she closed her eyes to rest against the heaving body beneath the covers. The snow-white mother ran her hand through Lye's hair, ears folded back in concern.



He felt the cold sting of ice against his forehead. The feeling was strangely welcome. An escaped bead trailed across his scar, feeling as a frigid razor dragged across his warm skin. He noticed the concern and turmoil in her eyes, and felt a pang in his chest. Without his anger, his hatred, his need to spill blood, he felt emptiness – but not with that look upon him. Those dark emotions did not sir, and the assassin felt peace for once.

“I only live for a purpose of ending others,” he noticed his bare hand resting against the fair skin of her leg and drew it back with a snap. “I… don’t know if I will ever be satisfied. One cannot obtain that which is lost, can they?”

He ran his finger along the ridges of permanently damaged skin near his eye. The howl of winds filled silence, and the warm flicker of light forced shadows to dance at its will. The chill of ice slid down to his neck, cooling away the warmth of a fever. Although the worst had passed, healing the unseen damage would take more time. Unfortunately, some wounds have never healed nor would they ever be forgotten. More of the solid became fluid against his skin and ran to hide within his silver strands. This moment of time was peaceful. The voices were gone, and he appreciated the brief reprieve.

“You said you lost something precious by your own hands,” his stare remained locked at the stone and mud above him, “What happened? Why would you steal away something from yourself? That must be why you were out here in the first place. You wanted to die?”

His tone injected slight concern into his final word, wincing slightly from residual pain that lingered. His mind tried to wrap around her words with great struggle. He was finding himself uneasy that she still had not shared her purpose. She was not human, and yet she behaved like no animal or abomination. The terms “muse”, “siren”, and “succubus” all seemed to fit what knelt beside him. She certainly possessed a beauty and elegance that was surreal. The word “demon” however, did not fit what he had witnessed in her recent actions. What monster would create such an elaborate facade? This compassion must be genuine.

The ice ran near the tender flesh ravaged by her claws earlier, sparking a memory.

“She does harbor a fury…” he noted internally at the mild sting of damaged tissue.

Perhaps she was a demon after all. He was uneasy at how comfortable she made him. No other creature alive could claim they were able to see this killer in a light not tainted with the lives of the fallen. None the less, even in a casual conversation that did not involve some form of threat. Somehow, she had accomplished this.

“She could kill me after all. It’s not too late to finish the job.”

She just helped saved his live and possibly prevented him from getting himself killed moments ago. He still had no reason to trust her – he had no reason to stop himself from bleeding the life from her. Yet, somehow, these feelings were kept in check. He broke his fixation from the ceiling above and ran his glance over her once more while she continued to comfort him.

“Why?” the thought clearly expressed in his face. “Why are you here? What do you want? Why don’t you flee?”

[Noir.]

Violet hues watched with amusement as he hurriedly withdrew a hand from her flesh, was he simply courteous or did she make him nervous?

“One does not have to, one can obtain something else—something new.” Coyly she replied with cryptic charm.

A few short intervals of silence passed with Noir continuing to break his fever, while she was reducing his sweltering temperature he was keeping the biting cold at bay from possessing her skin. Surprisingly the quiet was broken with questions pertaining to her past. Not expecting his curiosity to pique so soon, she momentarily hesitated before starting from the very beginning.

“After manifesting, I wandered for years lost without the faintest idea of what to do with my new life. Time was difficult to comprehend at first, so I was unknowingly wasting it. A year to me seemed only a mere week. Oddly enough, each passing day restricted me more physically until finally becoming trapped in a paralytic state. At that time a grand Kingdom existed nearby where I was frozen. A princess had returned from leading a brigade and took pity upon me. Mysteriously resurrecting me; I felt an overwhelming heat as soon as she walked near me, and like an icicle suddenly finding itself in the heat of summer melting free.

She gave me a name and I stayed in the Jade Kingdom, sang for her and her guests and discovered my magic soon after. My powers awakened to an expansive state and I was her sole mystic for an entire Kingdom; they had not believed in using such craft until meeting me. We fought side by side; she told me childhood stories and tried to teach me humility; often commenting about my apparent soullessness. My curiosity was endless during this time; everything was brand new and all within my reach.

They appeared in the night, creatures we could not identify. We underestimated their strength, and more kept materializing. They must have stalked the land for a time from a far; because they knew our weaknesses. Reports of missing villagers were often voiced before that fateful night, but her guards found nothing. The bodies were absent with no trace of what had happened. That night many were slaughtered, these beasts devouring the Kingdom—it was a massacre.” All the while Noir remained indifferent despite the dismal events, although continuing to tend to Lye visually she recounted the memory, which recited in her mind.

“After hours of torturous battle the princess demanded I do something more. These creatures were so powerful they would have dominated many kingdoms with ease. For some reason my magic rarely put any dent into their numbers, so without indecision I drew together every part deep within myself, all the magic that I contained and expelled it outward. This combustion was so massive and effective that it destroyed those monsters, but also the Kingdom, and nearly ripped me apart too. All my magic was drained in that single spell, or so it seemed. I instantly felt cold again because Haruka was—gone, everything was.” A hint of disbelief presented itself upon Noir’s usually impassive face. She also had not said that name in ages, it felt so foreign and dreamlike.

“There was nothing left; my existence was meaningless and would come to a frozen end once again. I found myself wandering out of the ruin in a daze to the top of a cliff where I gazed down into a body of water, at which point I flung myself into. I cannot recall the years during that time I was encased. Fate is wicked however, and light flooded into my eyes once again. A demon unleashed me to the world by cracking open the ice, and has been following me ever since.” She let the massive amount of information known as her tale register for a couple of minutes before continuing. There was much to comprehend.

“The Kingdom could have been spared; I could have conjured a massive shield in the meantime to keep the beasts at bay until more help was summoned. If nothing else I could have saved the princess; the options were limitless. I could have used any other means of magic necessary, but instead sacrificed a whole Kingdom because it was in my power to do so. Maybe I manifested for an entirely different reason, a reason more sinister than even I know. A blade in a sweet disguise was it?” Referring back to his previous doubt, and she was brutally honest—cause did not exist.

Noir knew firsthand how lucrative it was to act on darkness; there was a part within her overflowing with insidious intention, and it exposed itself at random. She had almost killed Lye purposely, but he had snapped her out of frenzy like she had done for him. There had been no ties besides that burning trait to make Noir feel anything, but restrained obligation instead of devotion to the princess. What she felt for this man lying before her was completely different; lust mixed with affinity. She saw an apex predator residing in him and wanted to worship him.

“This is what I see in you, someone who seeks revenge finding reason behind madness. Anything that gets in the way of your goal, you destroy. You are also superior to many, granting deliverance by execution to the weak. That is a natural instinct.” Her words were composed but unintentionally lethal; her true nature beginning to reveal itself.

“I have no obvious reason to kill, for I am hollow and feel no guilt.” Casually speaking, she then held the ice block away from him forcing the mass to shatter almost completely, leaving only a miniscule piece that she brought to his mouth, dampening his lips. Her fingers placed the small ice chip in her mouth which melted near instantaneously. Afterward, she boldly brought her face close pressing her lips to his in an icy caress, and gently biting the bottom of his lip before drawing away.

“In time you may understand my intentions, but perhaps you should rest now.” She smoothly stated with a mischievous half-smile, answering an unspoken question. There had been confusion in his eyes a while back; it was indeed odd that she tended to her alleged perpetrator—but it made perfect sense to her.

She gracefully rose, walking over toward the little collection of tinder near the hearth. Fingers placed a few more sticks into the fading embers before taking a seat to watch the flickering char. She had openly placed her cards on the table; it was his choice if he deemed her a threat and wanted to absolve her. She eagerly awaited his next move regardless of the consequences.

[Lye]

“Something… new?”

His face scrunched up in thought.

“Isn’t that what I have done? Killing fills the void. It gives me purpose.”

His exposed flesh began to feel the Skavian weather and replied with raised stippling. The chill of her icy care and lack of proximity to the fire reminded him of their situation. Although they were safe from the blizzard, an extended stay could very well mean an early grave should the snow pack too high. His concerns were silenced when her emotionless, yet soothing voice occupied his mind.

He listened to her story as if a babe readying for bed. The fantasy she described seemed as though it was stolen from a book. Her lack of expression and straight presentation was more of a recollection of facts. Still, the mystery of it all had been captivating.

“Jade Kingdom?” he ran his mind while she continued. “A whole kingdom erased in one blow?! That powerful?!”

He stirred in the bed of animal skins, only to feel the bite of healing sting his abdomen. He winced, forced to realize he was still not capable of moving of his own volition just yet. Once his vision corrected, he witnessed her break from her stoic demeanor at the mention of a foreign name. Whoever this person was, held great value. She too lost someone important. Although this princess in the story sounded like a child abusing its toy, Noir’s tone was enough to convey a similar void he knew so well. She is just as haunted as he.

“A blade in a sweet disguise? More like a blade without a sheath or master…” echoed in his mind. His thought was oddly double edged for it also applied to the assassin. Perhaps blood was not the only thing that could hide his lonely blade, and perhaps the cold was not the only thing to hide hers.

Words about her perception of him rang true in his mind. He was not a complex being to decipher, but she clearly understood his motive.

“Hollow with no guilt…” the words rang in the darkness. He knew this feeling, even with his shaky reasons behind his bloody habits.

“Noir--” he began only to feel the spine tingling cold of ice upon his dry lips. It startled him, but not nearly as much as what soon followed. Enchanting lavender eyes came close, slender fingers pulling soft strands of hair to the side. He felt something painfully ache in his chest at the same time those enticing lips came upon his. For a split second he tried to resist, muscles failing to act, but above his intuitive attempt, he succumbed to a greater comfort. Her playful tease at his lower lip spurred an influx of ancient feelings. Obsessed with nothing but revenge and death, her brief caress caused more pain in him than any wound or poison. Her departure seemed too soon, and he fell into a spiral of confusion, nostalgia, and… desire.

“What do y—“

Her words preemptively stalled his question. The playful, yet sly expression as she gave him distance reflected in his bewildered stare. Pain hammered his body once again and with surprise, he flopped back into his makeshift bed he nearly lifted himself from. The bout passed, yet he still breathed heavily.

“You,” he paused, unsure of how to collect his words, “I do know how much of your story is truth, or what your reasons for still being here are…” He turned to watch her fiddle with the glowing hearth. “But I owe you as much as to stay my blades. And… thank you.”

Those last two words sounded forced as if foreign to his vocabulary. He watched for her expression, as if she may not understand the unusual utterance herself.

“I still do not trust you, but I do not see you as a threat… for now at least.”

He was hesitant. So much about her felt familiar and he ached for it. His mind was spinning on the possibility she could be as she described – a succubus. His instincts urged him to reject her advances and aid, but his mind screamed out in protest. Too much had happened today, and he wasn’t in any position to fully understand it. He was alive, she was with him, and her icy touch was oddly welcome – this much was fact.

The assassin came to rest, again to monitor the dancing shadows above.

“Something new...” he mumbled to himself in conflict.

[Noir.]

She turned her head to face him, an indifferent expression turned softer as she nodded her head once in acceptance of his thanks. Conveying that she knew how awkward such words were with a faint tell-tale smile, this smile grew as he disclosed his mistrust. She had stated those very words to him before; and although neither one fully trusted the other there was a likeness between them. Hands pulled the sheet of furs up and around her shoulders once more, making herself more comfortable and warm.

“You are wise not to trust me.” She quoted in a whisper; though she appeared content the words sounded the faintest bit sorrowful. The truth was that she did not trust herself, but did not wish to harm him. Many impulses were stirring once again, but killing him was not one of them—not any longer.

Noir did not sleep—she chose not to; instead she watched over Lye, occasionally witnessing a twinge from the wounded assassin. Dying embers were tended to every so often as she recounted their deep and harrowing conversation. He had not commented because she had not given him time to do so. She wondered what he thought about, what maddening thoughts stirred within his frenzied head. Many questions were continuing to fester, but never once did she think about Haruka since previously mentioning that burdensome name…

A rasping caught the attention of a daydreaming entity, the distinct sound of claws against stone. It took only a few minutes in attempts and Noir managed to open the entryway hidden by a secret lever. A thin layer of snow tumbled in from the self-generated blizzard. The near camouflaged snow leopard had brought with it a plump rabbit still barely alive, setting the twitching animal down gently at Noir’s feet with an eager accomplished glare.

‘Atonement for yesterday?’ Noir thought with a smug stare, neither Lye nor Noir had been able to eat since their small altercation. Physically--more so her stomach was beginning to feel empty like her soul. Noir twisted the little rabbit’s neck ending its suffering with a ‘pop,’ and left the stone entryway open. She decided to prepare it outside, flaying the animal open down the middle with ease. Bitter cold gusts of wind began to seep deep into her skin again. Stinging touches like thousands of tiny needles as smoke lingered from her mouth as she continued to dissect the animal. This had to be done relatively quickly for multiple reasons, which did not pose a problem. If she stayed out any longer her motor skills would begin to fail leaving her nearly defenseless, and Lye may suspect she had purposely vanished without word.

After cleaning out the animal, she tossed the inedible remains aside, and cleared tense hands off with snow not dyed in red. A stew would be best to savor this small kill, increasing the portions. Once inside behind the closed mud and stone walls, she rummaged through a crate containing leftover goods such as nuts and berries. There was not much to mix together, but Noir had never been picky. In the Skavian wilderness one would eat whatever one could manage to kill and not complain. A few of the lingering ingredients were mixed into a cast iron pot, which hung above the hearth with no broth. Noir resorted to conjuring ice that would eventually melt down. This concoction would be bland, but edible.

[Lye]

He hung on her words. Something new would surely be a change he had never considered. He strove to surround himself with the familiar as to keep his unstable mind from tumbling over the edge into the precipice of chaos and despair. These thoughts and recollections of recent events stirred and repeated in his head, creating a white noise for him to grow drowsy to. The ethereal swirl of emotions quickly faded to a fog before blackening completely. Eyes shut and chest rhythmically heaved up and down, the killer nodded off under the watch of his new acquaintance.

----

The warm flicker of candelabras created comforting warmth throughout the Coronian household. The dry, dusty aroma of lumber seeped through the walls into all of the rooms, still fresh from the recent construction from the Concordian woods. Although mostly barren earth flooring, the occasional splash of color from fur rug or elegant tapestry created a beautiful flow of of the interior decor. A startle worked into his bones as he rose from the length of a hand carved bench in what seemed to be the main foyer. Groggy, he looked about the alien environment. Although foreign, it still felt comfortable and welcoming. Unusually warm, he glanced to his own arms and body to find himself clothed in expensive cottons and linens. Everything screamed elegance, serenity, and calm.

"I see you are awake," called a soothing voice standing underneath the wooden frame of a richly crafted entranceway.

His eyes were adjusting to the oddity he found himself in; his mind clearly recalled being somewhere cold just moments ago. The figure in the doorway was easily defined by a single word - beautiful. Light blue lace and sheer hugged every curve and draped like flowing water from her petite frame. Lavender hues accentuated against the extravagant dress, draping down in long curls. The blue of the dress hung parallel to the ground, crossing over fair, porcelain skin, just above the breasts. Around her neck, an ornate lace choker bearing a deep amethyst gem with sparkle only matched by enticing eyes.

"Who are--"

"You were asleep for the better part of the afternoon," she began, letting herself glide like and elegant apparition across the room to him. "I didn't want to wake you; you seemed so peaceful."

Her long, thin fingers reached out to caress the side of his face, sweeping down to his chin. She bent over, lifting his chin to assist his lips to hers in a soft embrace. Lye's eyes flared, but he felt compelled to close them and savor the moment. He taste was sweet, the connection reverberated through his being, and he felt the necessity to weave his hand within her violet locks. This only let him pull her closer. Although only seconds, it felt eternal and as she pulled away, the varying senses that enforced reality shackled him back to this world.

"Are you hungry?" she cooed, rolling a stray hair in line with the other with a sweep of her hand.

Only then he had realized that hunger was upon him. The wafts of rich flavor crawled from the adjacent room into his nostrils. Suddenly, it was the only thought he could manage.

"Yes, very much so." he replied with a nod.

Her succulent lips curled into a smile and eyes lit up the room more so than the dance of the candelabras. She turned about with a flare of her elegant attire and made her way to the doorway she emerged from. With a hand on the frame, she paused. A playful glance was tossed his way. Lye had not removed his focus from her for a second and her latest tease called him to his feet. As he rose, she disappeared. Lye followed, noticing the power of the aroma amplifying with each step. Between the hunger and her kiss, he was completely vexed.

With a smile foolishly stretched from ear to ear, he turned to look within the room. His expression immediately turned to shock. Frigid winds stung at his face. A setting sun in the far horizon contrasted the cold with an intense burn on the exposed skin. The scent of mixed herbs and spices turned to bland earthy tones hinted with char and metallic twangs. Instead of fresh lumber walls and cooking utensils, the world continued endlessly. Collapsed piles of rubble and twisted pyres of ice expanded for miles, stopped only by the distant mountain crags which framed the carnage. Though difficult to make out, beneath the jagged piles of verdant stone sprouted various human appendages, heads, or crushed torsos. The scene was utter destruction.

Lye found himself plunged into confusion. He could not make sense of the situation and the room he came from was no more. He was trapped in this barren wasteland of death and devastation. The sting of the cold forced his eyes to squint, but this brought to notice a silhouette standing in the midst of a central clearing. To help reduce the glare from the orange and red hues of the setting sun, he brought a hand to his brow. He made steps to get closer, wondering what this figure may be. As he pasted the mangled remains of people lost to the rubble, their flesh burst to clouds of ash, carried to the breeze. Finally, he could perceive the details of this lone being and was shocked to see similar lace and sheer spattered with deep reds. He could only see the low cut of the dress along her back, before she glanced over her shoulder with a cocked head.

"The heavens and earth are eternal, but my heart is full of sorrow. If there is a sweet hereafter, it will be another endless torture."

The sorrow filled words resembled a tune to a haunting lullaby Lye had not heard before, but where the exact same lyrics the now ashen princess had taught to her. The melody a ebbing shadow of something that was no more.

"Those who know me say, your heart is filled with sorrow. Those who know me not say, what more do you want."

A single salty tear dripped from a blinked eye, the moisture crystallizing into a frosty path. Noir slowly turned to extend a steady hand, smiling nostalgically as bitter wind swept through shimmering iridescent tresses.

----

Emerald eyes shot wide, and his body stirred from the nightmare. He winced, expecting the pain to shoot up through his abdomen, yet he experienced no such sensation. A sweaty palm patted against his stomach, looking around from the ceiling, to the hearth, to the cracked-open entrance of their little den. Skavian winds again nipped at Lye's exposed skin, but the warmth of the surrounding furs and maintained embers kept the chill at bay.

Noir tilted her head a bit to the soft rustling of his faint movements, content that the weary assassin finally awoke. A hand had been stirring around the mixed ingredients of strew with a silver ladle, before pouring a decent amount into a wooden bowl.

"You were asleep for the better part of the afternoon, are you hungry?" Already well aware of his answer to her soft spoken silly question.

His attention snapped to the source of the voice, beads of sweat glistening from the strange dream. The familiar words swamped him with a deep nostalgia. He was hesitant to reply, unsure if he may still be asleep. He glance to his shoulder and pressed a thumb against the medicine-filled crossbow injury. The tinge of pain carried through his chest and to the base of his skull like a chill- this was real.

"I am," he replied shortly as his hand moved to his abdomen. The energy exerted in combat combined with the amount of healing that had progressed forced his body to call out for sustenance with a low rumble.

He was surprised to see his unusual guest creating a meal with the bare bones stock gathered within the hide. Typically, these ingredients were meant to keep the body from starvation, yet he could smell an aroma richer than though possible. Involuntarily, his mouth grew moist with anticipation.

“Forgive my intrusion of pillaging your supply to add to the stew. You need something a bit hearty to regain some strength.” She closed the distance between them while speaking. Then she knelt beside him once again but this time with fresh sustenance.

Pale rose tinted lips pursed together leaving enough space to blow a chilling breeze toward the boiling concoction. Steam continually swirled away while she repeated the process of cooling the soup, until she was satisfied the meal had tempered down. The touch of her hands would seem enough to reduce the temperature, but her body did not contain much of that frosty energy as before.

“Your fever finally broke while you were sleeping. You should feel much better now.” Slight soothing sincerity filled the tone of her voice, resembling much of a concerned lover who had once been stricken with worry.

One hand gently reached behind his head and beneath his ivory hair scooping him a bit forward, while the other brought the rounded bowl toward his lips. All the while intense violet hues never took their sights away from the man filled with the painful blood-soaked past.

Lye hesitated against the pull of her hand, but found it futile. Instead of resisting, he lifted himself up upon his elbows. His brow furrowed at the stiffness in his movements. Although the worst had passed, there still seemed to be some rigidity dug deep into the tissue. This had all left him feeling rather emasculated; a faint scowl possessed his features.

"I can feed myself," he said plainly. He was still unsure of how to act in her presence.

Noir nodded while adding a courteous half smile, and delivered the bowl containing the rabbit stew into his hands.

“As you wish.” Politely both hands were placed on her lap intertwining fingers together, her sight trailing to the side from hearing a tiny whine.

Zai must have snuck in using its stealth ability while Noir gutted the kill, and with a burst of scentless smoke the fox reappeared. Long ivory fur covered in beads of melted snow that it shook off viciously, and then scurried a few feet away from the hearth unabashed. The animal curled into a mini ball burying it’s rounded black nose into the over fluffed tail, with darkened eyes drowsily squinting trying to stay awake.

Lye's stiff fingers struggled with the heated mixture. He made great efforts to appear as though he was fully capable, yet managed to get some of the thick fluid on his leather chest piece. Still, he made it to his lips and began to take in the makeshift rabbit stew. Though not extraordinary, the meal tickled his taste buds and satiated his hunger better than anything he had in the previous week. Audible slurps and gurgles emanated from his attempts to consume faster than usual. He displayed no table etiquette despite the company.

The bland broth and reconstituted ingredients were enough to fill the emptiness in his stomach. Satisfied, he placed the bowl on the ground beside him. The stagnant air carried just enough of a breeze to cool the droplets on his person from the poor motor control. He made a quick attempt to blot out the mess before he completely forced himself to sit upright. The silence continued long enough to create unrest - something that needed to be broken.

"Noir..." he began, but paused. Not only because the imagery of his dream rang back into focus, but conversation on a more personal level was not a strong suit for the isolated killer. "The Kingdom you mentioned, you said you leveled everything just because it was in your power to do so. If you had such power, why did you do this Haruka's bidding? What was the reason you sacrificed so much for those lesser than you?"

[Noir.]

As the liquid splashed about dripping over his hands and exposed chest. Noir fought the urge to aid his eager pursuit. Violet orbs instead examined the dim glow of embers battling a losing fight against the bleak atmosphere. After his finishing post haste, her hand reached to collect the empty bowl, placing the item aside. The welcoming sound of her name voiced by Lye captured the attention of the cursed entity.

For obvious reasons the princess' name began to stir dangerous emotions, and even though she did not wish to revert back to the treacherous past--the curious questions were required to discuss. Noir glimpsed to Lye after a brief pause wearing a semi-amused yet beguiled expression upon her face. The answer much more apparent and closer to home then he seemed to realize. Were their paths truly that different, or were they simply kindred spirits?

"It is simple really, obligation. A tiger in a cage grows weary watching those around him stare in awe of his magnificence, especially the poacher. Yet--he is restricted and not aware of his full potential. How can he be?"

The context of such a sentence conveyed multiple meanings; and instead of coming across as deliberately callous she often chose a clandestine approach. Conversation with Noir left much to the imagination, one could perceive answers any which way they desired--a defensive tactic.

"Obligation?" Lye replied with a furrowed brow. "Why would anyone feel obliged to another? Obligation is not enforced upon you, it is decided by you. You mentioned you could have saved this Kingdom without destroying them, instead you turned it all to rubble. Was that when you decided being a pawn was no longer acceptable - finally had enough of this cage you speak of?"

He spoke with a slight irritation. Perhaps he was naive, because he could not recall a time for which re relied on another for anything.

Her amused expression did not wane after receiving such an irked response; in fact, his tone piqued further interest with the current topic.

"That Kingdom knew they were weak and at a disadvantage, the situation disappointing at best. Perhaps I performed a favor, or perhaps that favor was theirs." She placidly stated this reply none-the-better than the previous.

"Do you often see the world in black and white? Nothing is so simple, Lye."

How easy life would be if all situations consisted of right or wrong, yes or no, good or evil, but that was not necessarily the case or what Noir had so far experienced.

"So you slayed them out of pity," he stated, accepting this much more easily than her previous explanation. His disdain turned to amusement, but quickly reverted at her jeer.

"The world is not black and white," he started, but brought his hand to his right eye, letting a bare finger trace the valley of flesh scarring his face, "but seeing it in that manner is easier to perceive. I do not have the luxury of being indecisive, and the gray is just that."

He glanced her over; she was so close to him considering the moderate room they had. He couldn't help but wonder if she felt a sense of obligation to him as well. He did recall a look of pity upon him as well. Either way, would this still be a ploy to bring him to demise like in her stories? He continued to teeter between the black and white of whether to trust her or not. Ironically, he found himself in the gray.

"Earlier," he digressed, his mind still in a fog from the events, "that kiss... Why?"

Noir accepted his complicated reasoning with a nod of understanding, saving the true reason for her madness for perhaps a more intimate affair--now was not the right time to dive into issues so deep. Lye's next question would surely backfire, and bring about another unsolved mystery to personally solve.

"Are you displeased?" She asked in a faint deceivingly innocent tone. An impish glimmer eluded from such pristine eyes as she fired back with another misguided question.

He was dumbfounded by the retort and had to recall in greater detail. Her demeanor was clearly playful, something foreign to him.

"Displeased?" he asked internally.

"No, just unexpected. It's not something one would expect to do for a stranger that tried to kill you," he replied while he maintained eye contact.

"You are not displeased then? I will make sure to keep that in mind." She was returning the eye contact, the littlest faint of a smirk vanishing as quickly as it appeared.

"You are a very curious creature," he stated plainly.

It was clear to him that although she had nursed him to health, provided him a meal, and displayed a moment of intimacy, she was not going to divulge her reasons to him. He did, after all, tell her not to trust him, and she did just that. This did not settle well with him, and the gray tilted toward the black. He would not be able to let his guard down around her until all her little intricacies came to light. Following the same line of thinking mixed with the idea of harnessing her potential value as an asset, he decided to change the subject.

"Do you have a home - a place to rest?" he asked.

Defeated in the act of tugging free answers she was not ready to share, she noted the shift in topic. The playfulness subsided quickly reverting back to a more frigid demeanor; it seems their two dramatically distinct personalities would take time to mesh together. Both parties just as uncertain about the other. Noir tended to be brash with actions, while her words were oftentimes problematic to decipher. Instead of bluntly confessing her feelings toward him in words, she let her behavior speak for itself--unfortunately Lye did not seem to understand this method.

"No, I do not have a permanent home..." Pointedly stated, she wondered what he was asking.

"I organized a small group in a stronghold not far from here. These people help me further my cause and helped me orchestrate a secret order reaching across all corners of Althanas. The stronghold has ample room and board," he glanced over to the curled ball of fluff in the corner, then back to the enigmatic succubus before him. "You would have to become one of them, a blood pact signed to secrecy, but I can repay you with a place to stay and resources to your disposal."

He reached to the pile of skins behind him to fetch gloves previously discarded in his delirium. One by one, their crumpled leather pulled tight to his skin. His hands flexed repeatedly to bring them to a comfortable fit.

"One stipulation," he mentioned, focused on his hand versus making eye contact, "you are to remain in close proximity to me."

He gave her a stern dose of emerald irises.

"Do you accept?"

'Close proximity' she thought for only a diminutive second--was this to be the only catch? The terms deemed easy enough, but the reasoning behind the invitation roused numerous questions. Did he feel obligated in returning her favor, or perhaps pity, she dare not ask, and instead decided to accept this tempting blood pact.

"Yes, I shall utilize my abilities for you." A mixed tone of ire and woe jaded the entities voice, turning intense sights to the sleeping fox.

"Then we should get moving."

Slowly, the battle-worn Salvan rose to his feet. Muscles ached from the healing process and his movements were sluggish. He ran a gambit of various stretches to test his capabilities. Sure enough, he was back to combat ready.

"Here," he tossed her another fur cowl similar to the one he wore earlier while he fetched his own to follow. Fingers nimbly clasped it to his being, harboring the same blood stains from before.

"The winds seemed to have died down while I slept. No telling when another storm will brew."

The assassin carried himself with hindered grace to the opening. An click echoed and stone on stone screeched as the mouth of the den grew wide. Pristine powder scattered to the ground and disappeared to darken the earth with moisture. Winter's grasp was still strong upon the day, but the eerie glow of orange hinted at the sun's inevitable retirement. He turned to his lavender companion and beckoned her with a gesture of his arm, prepared to hoist her up.

Noir shifted as he rose to ready himself for the trek to the headquarters, peeking over her shoulder to gather a glimpse of his further actions. The hand signaling her departure stirred her luke-warm body to rise wrapping the fur cowl around, and making way over toward him. Zai immediately jilted its little head up in wonder, uncurling to hastily stretch the ligaments that had been idle for a while. Little paws patted the ground below gaining speed before lunging forward, the invariable fog that disperses when shifting surrounded the animal. As if emerging from an unseen portal, suddenly wings outstretched instead of legs, Zai assumed its snowy owl form soaring out through the den’s open passage.

The closeness they shared during this simple process was brief, yet she took in the redolence of him while placing a hand on his shoulder. The essence of blood tainted the assassin, but subtle hints of his enticing natural pheromones drafted through the lingering metallic scent. A sense of longing ever so slightly cracked through austere violet orbs like webbed lines inching through breaking glass. Feeling extraordinarily compelled to bring him in close for another embrace, alas, she denied the powerful urge. With much difficulty Noir pried celestial eyes away from his captivating emerald hues, trying to regain focus on the task at hand.

Beneath a firm grip she felt his muscles tighten to hoist her up, and out to the snow swept terrain once again. Talons wrapped around a withered branch gazing down upon the duo, perched high above two gleaming amber eyes attached to a snowy owl blinked casually. It too would be following the crimson assassin to a new destination, tagging along on dangerous future endeavors without complaint.

A troublesome thought wandered into her mind while awaiting Lye’s emergence, perhaps he had more sway in her psyche than previously anticipated. The unnatural pull his presence emitted could ultimately alter her entire being, leaving him with the true control in this budding partnership--unlike that of Haruka's. The cold started sweeping in brushing aside any lingering thoughts. The weather soon affected her hands, the cold biting at exposed skin as she clenched onto the fur cowl bringing the small bit of warmth closer.

Whistling winds echoed through what empty space it could find, a harsh melody in the vast background covered with pure snow. Noir trudged fourth leaving footprints behind in the shimmery powder, which covered the frozen ground. Crystal hues occasionally peered over to the determined assassin, perhaps reflecting back on the day they had spent together--or beautiful death she was not sure which.

[Lye]

Before she had the opportunity to accept his aid, the demon familiar took to life. Once asleep, it gradually reacquainted itself with canine limbs before dashing to a burst of smoke and emerging with glorious alabaster wings. The speed at which it brushed by the assassin was certainly startling, but he remained unflinching.

The frosty femme fatale placed a slender hand upon his shoulder. The seemingly routine touch sent a chill through to his spine. Her soft figure and light frame kissed his gloves but for a brief moment afterward. Aching muscles filled with tension and she was hoisted into the frosty expanse above. He could not help but to rub at his arms afterward, but it did little to satiate the burn. He gave himself a small amount of space to build momentum and drove his leather boots into the wall of the den. With less grace than the norm, he still managed to produce his frame above ground. There was a pause to allow the fire within his bones to calm. While he tried to recover from the bout of pain, Lye took notice of the clear visibility.

They were not far from the camp they sacked earlier. After the storm, all that remained were various shapes of glistening white. Even the fire that once simmered a pot of stew lay under a blanket of winter with only the dark prongs of wrought iron to mark its grave. The various mounds indicated places where bodies came to rest. One thing was certain, no life was present and the canvas once littered in red was again renewed.

"It's not too much farther from here," he spoke in clouds of breath.

The assassin turned to Noir, who stood framed by the dense forest atmosphere of the Skavian Deepwoods. An odd silence soon followed as he found himself lost - confused even. Was he awe stricken? Was he questioning his decision to bring her along? Was he wondering why his blades were not hilt deep in her supple chest? He shook it off, trying not to draw attention to the hesitation.

"Just stick behind me," he stated while passing her by.

Firm and steady steps were made in contrast to the burning and tingling it took to remain in motion. The cold did little to distract from the hindrance. Although each step caused less agony than the last, Lye was still suffering from the damage wrought by the poison. The events that previously past had forced him to deviate from what he had come to know. He wandered these plains of snow to snuff out the lives of those ill minded to traverse it. Instead of a pile of corpses, he nearly became one and in the process he met a woman of mysterious talent, recalled fragments of times long lost, and recalled an ancient alchemic magic that saved him from demise. This pain was a constant reminder to these facts.

The towering limbs of the Deepwoods held on the horizon for some time. Their height and density stood testament to their history as perilous and deadly. The assassin placed a frosted glove against the trunk of an outer tree, only the length of one man in diameter. The varied cracks and crevices in the bark could just as easily prove a grip or foothold for a full appendage. If these trees didn't mark the beginning of the way home, one would be stricken by awe knowing this massive tree was but one of the youngest.

The venture drove them deeper, and the orange of the setting sun became but an accent of color on the dark horizon. The deeper they penetrated the forest, the more the details would vanish into the darkness of perpetual shadows. Being a place of frozen waste, not even the chatter of nightlife broke the silence and the couple was truly alone. This nothingness wrapped around the killer like a blanket of comfort. This is something he knew - something familiar.

His feet had made this trek several times and had grown familiar to the terrain even in this limited visibility. This did not account for the girl behind and became apparent when he felt a tug on the pouch to his back. He stopped, and although her features could not be made out, her naturally sweet aroma was apparent.

"Let me get us some light," he spoke in a strangely quiet tone while producing the flask that earlier saved his life. The recipe came to him in a fog, but he still managed to gather some frostmoss from one of the trees, a handful of soil, a few young saplings, and lastly, an icicle from one of the low-hung branches. Once combined into the mysterious container, he recalled more words of foreign tongue.

"Naara kalina tuulo' coia," he spoke from a fragment of memory.

The ornate glass flask began to swirl into an array of colors, varying in brightness and glow before holding stead a faint light blue luminescence. This was enough to shed light on their immediate surroundings. Almost instantly one could make out towering walls of bark and brush. Divisions between trees seemed like weaving hallways lost into the labyrinth. The bite of winter was weak here, almost as if the life from the flora alone gave a greater warmth. The ground was damp and rich with years of compost cycling upon itself. Although complex in design, the textures were primarily bark and soil with the occasional pyre of ice or patch of frostmoss.

"This should help, but be alert," Lye began, keeping his voice low, "the creatures here are attracted to sources of light and we would be no match for them if they attacked enmasse."

The brightness from the elixir gave light to Noir's pale features, and Lye felt a sense of calm. He fixed the neck of the container into the twine holding the fox furs together to allow full use of his hands as he lead the way through the winding maze. The swish of fluid sounded with every step, orchestrating a dance of shadows about them. Every once in a while, Lye would offer a subtle glance over his shoulders to ensure those lovely lavender locks remained close.

Once they arrived at Black Mist Hollows, he would have to ensure his demeanor remained cold and threatening. The characters that shared that place as home saw him as a leader or feared him as a killer of legend in these lands. Either way, returning with a female would reflect poorly on him, especially one so elegant and mesmerizing. He may be able to play her off as one of the girls sent to the brothels, but he wanted he close to him at all times. She had helped him and possibly saved his life, yet her motives were not clear. He had agreed to stay his blade, but with the ability to level a whole civilization, he needed to be able to act on a moment's notice. Several precautions would have to be made and the situation would be delicate.

"Wait," the assassin shot out an arm to emphasize the point. He remained still and silent, trying to listen in the silence. Something was amiss. Only their foggy breaths broke the still air, and his arm gradually fell back into place. He took a deep breath through numb nostrils and identified a scent uncommon to fragrant pines, musty compost, and personal aromas. Without hesitation, he ran his hand along the remaining needles to his side. The five of them lifted from their positions and hovered above him completely invisible against the Deepwood shadows.

"We're being followed..." he muttered, eyeing the lightless voids from endless hallways of living wood. Something made an audible stir.

[Noir.]

The urgent tone of his voice abruptly halted all movement from Noir and Zai alike, along the way the shifting demon had assumed the identity of a spiritedly fox. Playfully hopping over high mounds of gathered snow for sport, following a safe distance behind the two winter touched figures. Beady azure eyes trailed ancient towering timber, and the flecks of uplifted snow dancing along the bitter wind. Rounded ears coated with fluff perked upward, hearing a familiar bustle somewhere off in the near distance. The silver haired fox cocked its head to the side in full alert, gazing at the cautious assassin before turning its attention to the opalescent entity.

A slight go fourth motion of her head indicated a silent command in which the fox responded to immediately, shifting to take quiet flight into the brisk wilderness. Wings propelled the creature deeper through the draping pine trees sighing heavily from weighted snow, further the feathers glided against the wind until it finally vanished. She kept keen eyes open, sight jumping from one unknown shuffle of noise to the next before an unusual high pitched screech alarmed. Howling followed, deep bellowing forcefully from the maws of wolves--massive wolves. An obvious encounter began to transpire yet the two could not see it commence; only resounding shrills were proof that something dreadful was happening from afar.

Noir visibly tensed hearing the wales of distress, and the harrowing sounds turned from an owl shriek to a roaring injured leopard. Zai needed to shift to a more aggressive form in order to better defend against the ravenous fangs, and claws relentlessly trying to maul it to bits. The two had traveled together for years in peaceful silence sharing not one word, but what they lacked in affection toward one another was made up in fierce loyalty, and understanding. Violet hues widened in concern as she shot a ‘forgive me’ glance to Lye before bolting toward the open brush, not able to stand idle any longer. Charging forward was probably not the proper way to handle such a situation as this, especially since those beasts could be protecting others hidden from view--but that mattered not.

Lengthy violet tresses swung behind as feet kicked up snow with each sprinted step forward, the ringing of Zai’s helpless growls echoing inside her troubled mind. It was not too far before the whoosh of an arrow flew straight toward her torso, but was deflected by the diamond shield ability. Subconsciously this defensive ability triggered along the way. The poison tipped arrow snapped in half after coming in contact with the invisible barrier, and the luminescent entity paid no mind to the hidden archer. Her unhinged mind only focusing on one thing, which completely threw off all reason at this point.

Droplets of red littered the ivory snow, and upon further approach the snow leopard hunched surrounded by two dire wolves stalking for the final kill. They gradually turned with nostrils flaring up at the air, smelling the sweet altered aroma of the entity. Thick clear strands of drool flowed from their giant jowls, snarling as her hand wasted no time in conjuring a jagged long sword. Ice materialized by popping together as the two wolves fully turned, and readied themselves for the perfect chance to combine a strike. The pointed tip dropped to the ground from sheer weight, both hands would be needed to control this giant icy sword.

Zai abruptly mustered up one last roar to throw the dire wolves off kilter, and leaving her with a free strike; sure enough they turned their heads slightly at the sound. Noir gathered enough strength to sweep the sword at the closest one; the tip slicing at the wolves furred shoulder gathering their full attention once again. They roared in vengeance as a slight movement further behind them caught her eye, ‘another bandit?’ she thought downtrodden.

“Back beasts!” A deep ragged voice rang fourth before these massive animals lunged forward to sink elongated canines into skin.

A trap...

Naivete befallen her as the man's mouth began to curl open revealing decrepit stubs, which were once teeth. His disgusting smirk stretched from ear to enormous ear, then signaling the hidden archer to once again disperse arrows at the ready. It would seem she had gotten herself into more trouble without realizing it, danger seemed to loomed wherever she ventured—especially now that she had met the assassin.

The rugged man stepped forward mildly resembling that of a brutish ogar, a spiked ball dangled below a silver chain as he moved within striking distance of the defiant lavender figure.

“Aye, wench! Where’s that bloke that'as with yeh? I 'ave somethin' t'give 'im, personally...” He visibly eyed her and then scoffed at her wielding a blade.

She certainly did not look battle forged, and the weathered thug obviously did not take her actions seriously. The fact that he had halted the fight to ask of her emerald sentinel instead severely irked her nerves, but left open another free strike. In her peripheral vision she saw Zai holding up a wounded paw unable to shift to flee; at least it was safe for now. Noir was not one for trash talk--or talk in general, and immediately lifted the sword in silence with pent up rage. Suddenly pieces of the blade began shattering away to that of a long sword instead, an easier weapon to wield. With a twist of her wrist it twirled in a circular motion for her to jab fiercely at him. Startled he reared back and flung his Morningstar flail to block the incoming stint.

“Why yeh!” He cursed

A barrage of arrows were raining down upon her with no effect as she relentlessly threw every move at this man, as he continuously blocked his body was being driven back regardless. Anger surged throughout her entire being, flushing with rising heat. She had felt no emotions while battling the other bandits, but the fact that his dogs had wounded Zai and how he had thought about nothing but revenge against Lye was simply unacceptable. She was finding her swings oddly ineffective, fighting while angry was a new experience for her, and she could not think straight. She knew she had to gain control again and end this fight quick because Zai could not hold off those beasts anymore if they decided to break command and lunge. Even though they were fending with anticipation to rip into her porcelain flesh their master was obviously testing her ability, and refusing to let them attack so far.

During this scuffle perhaps Lye had found this sudden departure a perfect opportunity to be rid of her—what soul could blame him? His emotions tightly sealed off, and his actions distant whenever she offered to aid him. These memories fueled her hate fire, but flashes of vivid emerald hues seemed to regulate the blinding heat almost instantaneously. With this lingering image she was able to finally slice into the man, a light laceration to the side of his face—this did not sit well with him…

[Lye]

As he shifted his focus from shadow to shadow, the rustle of movement grew more robust. Noir took heed to his warning and with a motion, her familiar took to flight. The auditory markers of a desperate struggle soon followed. The assassin took no heed to the sound of a losing battle and began his sluggish pace to avoid confrontation. Familiars were just expendable tools to him; pets to give you company, nothing more.

"We should keep moving, I'm sure all your pet will do is stall th--"

His last word failed to complete as a blur of lavender faded into the darkness before him.

"Where the fu-- Damn it!"

The assassin voiced a myriad of obscenities in his head, knowing that a venture off the path would certainly mean demise. He changed to a neck breaking pace, trying to keep her patter of footsteps and snapping twigs within range. The glow of the flask at his hip bounced to and fro. The chain weapon under his arctic attire voiced its disdain as well, reminding the assassin that taking to higher ground would prove to be an advantage. Thusly, his hands took up arms, flicking the curved blade of his sickle into a branch above. The blade bit into the frosty panels of the giant's bark, and allowed enough resistance to propel his body with an upward swing. The apex of his height was automatically determined when the tension overcame the bite of wood on damascus and the chain grew slack. This was enough to launch him atop a raised branch to which he completed similar maneuvers to remain writhing the canopies.

"This girl is going to get both of us killed in here," he thought, managing feats of acrobatics through the burn of healed muscle tissue.

As the roars, scrapes, and whimpers came within close range, the killer slowed his pace. The lightless needles he readied still reliantly floated behind him. He finally stopped, just within eye shot, only making out bits and pieces of the skirmish through the snow capped branches littering his field of vision. The cold bite of wind beating against his features as he moved caused him to involuntarily lift his scarf over his mouth, but he gripped nothing but air. He scowled. Noir still possessed his beloved garb.

"Great..." he echoed internally at the thought of exposing his face to scum like that.

Noir was in the process of engaging a larger bloke with striking familiarity. Her movements kept the man on the defensive, attacking relentlessly and without pause. This shifter, on the other hand, was gravely injured and only able to keep up an aggressive facade toward the two dominating dire wolves. The twang of projectiles against her icy barrier only further stressed the degrading situation.

"If she would have only let it die," the thought spewed from his mind.

To remain as hidden as possible, Lye shed the warmth of his furs to a nearby stub. Its blood spattered whites also bared a swinging bottle of fluorescent liquid. These items were left to their solitude as the nimble assassin drew his chain taught to negate sound and bounded with grace to a closer vantage point within the canopy.

"Quit yer movin' yeh icy bitch," muttered one of the two poachers that survived the blizzard. His crossbow swayed at the ready, trying to manage a clear shot at the aggressive assailant to his comrade. Just as a grin spread between his bristly cheeks, a black needle sang deep into the stock of the weapon just in front of the string. The trigger pulled and bolt lazily flopped to the snow spotted forest floor. The startled warrior paced in place, trying to locate the source of the attack. His bewildered and somewhat fearful expressions clear that the confidence they displayed was but a rouse.

"Enough with th' cat y'two," he grumbled. Two filthy fingers plunged into his mouth and blew to produce an ear piercing whistle. Both massive wolves threw their ears back and broke their focus on the mangled snow leopard. They both made eye contact with their master, leaving Zai to its own demise. Ears curled back as their focus broke at the advancing signal of their master. The two menacing figures thrust long snouts in the air, leaving behind the mangled snow leopard.

Emerald glints of light in the midnight shadows of the trees recognized this behavior and the remaining four needles shot past snow and pine. Both wolves gave a twitch of their ears and glance of deep, yellow eyes before weaving themselves from harm of the projectiles. Pearly fangs bore in the direction of the assassin and the master of the beasts righted himself toward their gaze. The crossbow fell to the ground and from each hip he raised a crude iron hatchet.

"Come down 'ere yeh spineless bastard!" he taunted while both dire wolves brought up his flank.

The assassin wouldn't fall to such simple minded tactics and let his body meld into the shadows completely. He had become but a specter in the darkness, invisible to naked eyes and deadly to unsuspecting prey. He pulled his being from shadow to shadow with the help of an ancient magic. Silently he progressed to a different angle to where he now could see his porcelain accomplice struggle in her confrontation. During another audible insult and series of barks, Lye dropped from the limbs of snow and wood to present a dagger and sickle to the shoulders behind Noir's attacker. The shock, hesitation, and pain gave her enough of an opening. Lye watched as a transparent blade emerged from the brute's back and nearly into his own abdomen.

"You're going to get us killed," he spoke to her over the gurgle and spatter of final breaths. He had hoped his words would reach through her hysteria.

"If those wolves don't finish us off, this ruckus surely will attract something much more fatal," Lye was stern with her, meeting amethyst with emerald in a defiant stare. Lye loosed his blades from the limp sack of meat they freshly made together and reverted his focus to the two advancing dogs.

These beasts were keen, strong, fast, and their time was limited. In this darkness, it was only a matter of luck running out before one of the varying denizens of the night produced themselves.

[Noir.]

Noir jerked the sword promptly out of the dead bandit, and with a swift flick of the wrist the blood slid off the blade splattering on nearby frostmoss. Although her facial expression did not convey it, she was pleasantly surprised that the infamous assassin had joined in on this unexpected endeavor. The void expression rapidly shifted to a hint of animosity toward him though as he suggested her actions would be the death of them, and perhaps they would, but she could not leave her injured companion to freeze over.

“Leave me then!” Noir hissed defiantly as brows creased slightly in ire, and with that turned with a snap of her head. Lengthy lavender tresses breezing behind as she continued on to the next fearsome opponents. Full chest rising and falling rapidly with each breath. Violet eyes engaged the fury of their primal counterparts, both of which focused on her advancing form.

"I very well might," Lye thought in protest to her juvenile display.

The seasoned killer was presented with her back to do as he pleased. It was of no consequence to her whether he chose to participate or stay witness. This frosty entity was stubborn and refused to back down, and she would not be satisfied until these beasts were slain, and the earth kissed with their warm blood. Zai had saved her from an icy grave and she would not let it die without first knowing the reason. Her companion for all these years would not be snuffed out by the likes of savage beasts, and bandits. Not if the entity had a say in the matter. No persuasion from her emerald sentinel would differ her firey determination.[or something there of]

Zai remained still in the snow trying to regain lost energy, fur matted with ruby liquid panting hastily from exhaustion. The first lunge came almost too quickly, barely leaving enough room for the entity to dodge a brutal swing of massive paws. This sword would not do, although light and agile a weapon with longer reach would better suffice. Parrying would be the best option until regaining enough energy to conjure a pole arm. Precious stamina vanquished while dueling the hulking man, barely making any leeway in the process. Anger weighing heavily, and consuming her entirety during the brawl. It was such an exhausting emotion, and she could not seem to make it fade. Lye's heeding words only fueling the bitter frenzy within her tormented mind.

The beast drifted as paws gripping the icy ground below tried adjusting itself to turn, and lunge again. This timely action enough for Noir to run a ways back, in doing so clusters of ice began to splinter, and fracture away from the icy long sword. In turn an elongated fauchard took place of the previous blade, glinting like a multitude of faceted diamonds somehow in the dark. A slender frame nearly missed the pounce of the colossal creature, dodging by crouching downwards underneath its body.

"Not her!" rang a shout several feet away. "Get th' other one!" The bandit hollered in sheer annoyance.

The two beasts made no heed of their master's words, and muscled bodies continued to charge fourth in snarling disobedience.

"Damn, I'll finish th' bloke off then," he spat in frustration, advancing towards Lye.

The man was about halfway to his destination when both primal creatures halted their movements, one taking a jab to the shoulder without care. Two pairs of mangy ears rose to an apex, facing the pitch black of the shadows. No sooner had their attention broke, did their ears fall against their necks. An eerie glow produced itself from the canvas of black, similar to flask Lye had conjured earlier. This time, it was haunted by a pair of ominous yellow eyes. One of the wolves dropped it's weight to turn tail to find itself erased from existence. A line of obsidian cut through their small arena, leaving only inches of bloody paw rolling in the dirt from where the beast attempted to flee. Even one of the mighty deep-wood pines groaned in protest to the injury.

"Dark Crawlers!" voiced a shout from the remaining poacher. The quiver of fear was rich upon his tone.

"Noir, we need to go. Now!" Lye shouted from beside Zai, already with both arms beneath the injured beast. He had used the moments delay in combat to secure the reason she had run off in the first place.

"Son of a bi--"

From the shadows poured dozens of small creatures. The flutter of their spider-like appendages against the snow and soil created a prominent white noise as more came into view. One the size of a watermelon made a leap for the lone bandit and prominently wrapped all four of its amorphous limbs around his neck. He struggled to loose its grip, but the pitch black abomination opened a seemingly structure-less jaw and cleanly bit off half his skull. The beast did not chew nor did it seem to meet resistance as it cleaved through bone and flesh alike. As the corpse grew limp and fell to the earth, others varying from the size of boulders to grapefruit descended upon it in a feeding frenzy. Worm-like legs pushed, shoved, pulled, and entwined until only a heaving pile of darkness remained where the man once stood.

Violet hues widened at the horrifying sight, her grip tightening around the jagged fauchard as these terrifying creatures advanced through the frostbitten terrain with ease. Noir's pale mouth parting a ways as if readying to speak, but no words emerged. Feet began to gradually backtrack away from the nightmarish scene, alarmed eyes unable to pry themselves away.

"Noir! Now!" Lye shouted, lifting the bloodied mess of her familiar. He wasted little time, pivoted about, and lurched into a sprint.

His urgent tone forcing her back into commission finally, and she turned away from the deadly crawlers gathering speed. The remaining beast stirred from its spot, shaken by the assassin's call and it too tried to run. So close to the carnage, its attempt was in vain, for a smaller creature had consumed its hind leg with a sweep of its saw-like teeth. A yelp and whine marked the last of the wolf's life, and it came to share the same writhing grave as the master. The duo weaved through the labyrinth of pine avoiding low hanging branches, and dead hidden stumps covered under frost. The crunch of the layered snow beneath each step propelled their movements further away from the blackened monsters.

As they attempted to flee further, the glowing orb of light brought itself within vision. A massive spider shaped creature emerged. The head alone was the size of a full grown swine, bearing the same four joint-less tentacles as the others. As it continued to emerge, its body was revealed to be big as a riding steed. Various onyx black spikes jutted from its elliptical torso with four long arachnid legs sprouting from it. As each limb advanced its form, the honed tip buried itself in the ground like a spear. More of these smaller creatures scampered from its back and from under its swaying mass. The light it held burst into a shimmer and vanished. Darkness washed over the sea of yellow eyes and collectively they loosed a harrowing roar.

[Lye]

His feet grew heavy with the combination of wound, wear, and weight of the familiar slung over his shoulder. This bode ill to the gaining swarm of insectoid constructs that hungrily scampered and consumed all in their path. Puffs of frost escaped through labored breaths. He knew any attempt to see how close they were would only result in catastrophe. The awful sound of ethereal creatures stampeding through the thick woods was enough. The assassin offered a stray eye to secure the location of Noir, struggling to keep pace with the assassin and also on the brink of being swallowed by the swarm.

"Damn it!" he swore to himself, trying to focus on nothing else but running. "This fucking thing... We are going to die because of it!"

A blur of black against the already mottled grays of the night forest caught Lye's attention. It came but inches from his head, platinum strands that were riding the wind, now vanished by the hands of a young crawler.

They were upon them.

"Fuck this!"

Lye heaved his injured shoulder with a sheer of pain and clenched teeth. The carcass of a near-dead snow cat cascaded to the darkness of the woods, several feet away from the killer. He rooted his feet, slid to a neck breaking halt, and spun about with twin prongs of bone sticking from his arm.

They were like a writhing tsunami of hungering beasts.

Lye realized they were dead either way. He had lost his bearings in the confusion and his plan to escape to the sanctity of The Order had been dashed. If he was going to die, he would do so of his own design.

They flung themselves at him like caged animals given a meal for the first time in weeks. He roared like the cornered animal he was and met their semi-physical forms with dodges, parries, and thrusts. Each time he dodged, one of them took advantage of the opening and stole away a piece of his flesh. Each parry he released a shrill of bestial pain while continuing to fell their overwhelming numbers. Each time his bone blade penetrated their form; it was reduced and eaten away.

It was a losing battle.

The assassin lodged his prong of ivory in yet another lightless body. A grotesque pop resounded through the cacophony of chaos. Lye uttered a howl, buckling in pain and nearly avoiding his head being consumed by another pouncing construct. The prong of bone on his left was sheared off completely. The raw, wet marrow exposed to the biting chill of the Salvic air. It flushed his sensed and reality of his exhaustion immobilized his body.

"It's over." He resolved, and two glowing spheres of emerald gazed deep into the abyssal swarm of death soon to give him silence.

"Over here!"

A voice reverberated through the hollows of the forest and was immediately preceded by a flash of blinding light. Lye covered his eyes to the sudden change and shielded them from the sting. His vision could not make out what events were transpiring and the pain disoriented his ability to comprehend the events. The flush of combat penetrated his ears. He heard the clash of metal, the heat of exploding fire, and the impulse of protective magic alter the air.

Something gripped his arm, and Lye lashed in the direction it came.

"Sir! It's me!"

His strike was sloppy and lacked the satisfying resistance of flesh, but the voice was familiar.

"We need to get you out of here! They just secured the girl!"

His vision was still impaired.

"Get the cat," he barked, hoarseness upon his voice.

There was a pause, but the mystery voice replied, "We will try."

Lye nodded and the hand again met his shoulder giving him direction amidst the chaos. The sound of battle began to drown out in the distance and the glare of light was far enough at his back to where he could see.

Black Mist Hollows - They were finally safe.

[Noir.]

Layers of snow acted as tangled vines weaving their way to find each step, slowing the progression of movement from the screaming fiends. Each light step she took would be staggered by deep ivory powder, and gradually the assassin seemed but a blur sprinting forward with ease. Violet hues dare not peek back as she could sense their horrendously morphed bodies inching closer, unfazed by the wintry elements bestowed upon this terrain.

Lye's words were unnerving to hear echoing through the labyrinth of pine, and surely if this infamous man feared these creatures than their situation was indeed dire. Through peripheral vision Noir caught sight of Lye's change of direction, and instead of continuing further away from the volatile crawlers he began to directly scathe them. Expelling a huff in confusion she decided to ensue upon the threat as well, the shining pole arm deflecting lunging critter legs.

"Why are we not running?" Noir yelled, questioning the rationalization of his actions to charge forward and attack.

Unanswered, she threw an uneasy glace his way not knowing if a beast had claimed Lye's life. They were both struggling to repel and slay the hundreds of varying sized dark crawlers skittering across the blankets of snow, but he had been previously harmed and his pain visibly appeared through grimaces and fierce shouts. The glittering diamond aura barrier protecting her active figure continued to receive damage, shards chipping away every minuet until a final blow shattered the shield. Dagger like pieces flew toward the chattering bodies some managing to stick within their obsidian eyes, and detour their advance only slightly.

Completely venerable to these monsters she continued to sprint toward Lye thrashing long scorpion like limbs away with the jagged weapon, and hardly managing to confer any effective damage while doing so. It was a mystery how the duo managed to barely dodge the relentless assault, but she finally managed to reach her weary sentinel in vain. His defeated posture and conquered emerald hues relayed the message of failure loud and clear without word, but that response was not acceptable.

Before the swarm of unending death swept in to devour them a voice resounded followed by a radiant light, which nearly blinded Noir's opalescent hues. She must have immediately ducked toward the ground because she could not recount where Lye or Zai had disappeared to afterward, but unknown hands eventually pulled at her arms. The voices were encouraging her to follow them toward the safe haven, and that she would be safe once again.

It was bittersweet news.

[Lye]

Ominous black mist, for which their haven was named, engulfed the killer and his company. Immediately a man of thin stature and serpentine eyes ran to his side - the overseer.

"Sir, we were not expecting you," he tittered with noble poise and shifted his sagging spectacles back to the bridge of his nose.

The assassin struggled to walk of his own accord and left his overzealous assistant to the whispers of battle in the distance. His crutch, another member of The Order, felt the defeated warrior shift his weight forward, and the two carried on to the centrally located Grand Hall. Spattering of red marked his journey. Exposed marrow, deep gashes, and overall exhaustion pressed the limits of his endurance.

Two towering oaken doors riveted with iron groaned in protest to the cold as they opened. The heat held captive inside the structure washed over them as it fled the confines of its cage. Both figures crossed the threshold and the thick fluid falling from the wounded assassin's body grew audible against the stone tiles.

"My room," his voice was weak, merely a haunting shadow of its former glory. Unwanted pity washed over him, and he felt it but was powerless to resist.

They made their way past the skeletal throne, up polished oak steps, and to the central chamber. One would expect the chamber of a leader to be lavish and decorated with elaborate trinkets, furniture, and mounts. Instead, his seeping carcass was laid to rest upon a plain mattress clothed in dark linens. The crimson blood did nothing but dampen them to a further shade of black. His caretaker pulled away and blood had even spread to the man's cheek and hair. Lye didn't want his men to show him that look of pity.

"Corvanik... Get Corvanik." At this point, his voice was a mixture of a hoarse whisper and a wet wheeze.

The man's face was stoic. It did not change from its concerned expression, but non the less, Lye was glad to see him go. He was left to his quarters with only bare walls, crude wardrobe, and a dining set for purposes the assassin would never use. The expanse otherwise was empty; it felt like a coffin. The idea spurred a bloody smile, and he offered up more of his life in a cough of crimson mist.

"In here, and tread fast!" he heard a voice call. Lye had forfeited his vision, but he could make out the multiple pairs of footsteps echo against the floorboards.

"Dear Thayne!" shouted surprise from an old voice. "Are you certain he was not tortured?! Let me at him! Out of the way! Bring gauze and bandages, a bowl of warm water and some whiskey from the cellar!"

Lye began to fade, but the pressure of another body pushed into the mattress could be made out in the fog. A weary hand stretched itself out. "The girl..." he attempted, but the words were faint, gurgled, and akin to what many would call final breaths.

"Damn! Hang in there, boy!"

The darkness gripped him.

[Noir.]

"Miss, this way," lead one of the many strangers that came to their aide. He was burly, rugged, and similar to the men both her and Lye left frozen in the Great White Expanse.

Several others escorted the nearly frost-bitten maiden into the vast headquarters, which she would share with Zai and the others of The Order. Lye's mangled body had been helped inside already, a trail of vibrant blood drops leading the way further into the dimly lit space. Noir had not realized how injured he had become and this time, for the sake of running after to assist the demon known as simply Zai. The creature laid lifeless in the hands of an unknown man, it's crimson essence trickling down upon the worn wooden planks much similar to her crimson sentinel.

"The master told us to revive a cat," the boy, no older than early teens, spoke to the troubled maiden.

Noir cast an apprehensive glance to this young man before nodding in acceptance of Lye’s command, the same lilac hues falling to the listless cat draped over outstretched arms. Faint fluttering of its weak heart produced much needed effort to expel breath with each rapid puff. There was not much Noir could do besides put trust into these men she did not know, and hope for the best. With a single stroke of the entity's fingers across the cats matted fur, the bustling of numerous feet echoed throughout the hallways above them. Urgently they dashed to and fro tending to Lye, and she motioned for the members to follow through with revitalizing the blood soaked familiar which barely clung onto life. She remained in the archway of what seemed to be the grand establishment's dining hall for sometime, headed by a large throne comprised of various bones.

Curiosity and concern befell until she could not stand idly by, unsure of the crucial events unfolding in the clearances upstairs.Carefully following each patter of footsteps overhead in search of Lye's quarters, her movements past a cadaverous throne instantly revealed the location she desired to a passing member of The Order.

"Up 'ere." A raspy voice called out while pointing a crooked finger toward the stairs.

Over-brimming with restlessness, the way up the stairs and through the drab hallway filled her body with tense anxiety. Alarming voices demanded the assassin to clasp onto any inch of life, and Noir was rendered helpless standing beside the wooden frame. A tip of a silver claw talon gently rested against her bottom lip in deep thought, waiting for something more to transpire. What would happen if he were to perish? The choices would be limited, and she would began diminishing over time once again without the warmth resonating from him to shield her.

[Lye]

Their bodies huddled around the bed, multiples of arms moving feverishly as they tended to him. When on body left, another immediately replaced it. Unruly, and rugged looking individuals made their way past Noir, each held a varying cloth, tool, or object covered in blood. None of them looked to have much experience with the medical field, yet all of them tirelessly contributed to the macabre struggle. Shouts bounced off the barren walls and mingled into chaos. Wafts of frigid tundra air crept towards the back of the hall while more bloodied corpses began to lay out atop the grand feasting table.

"He's losing too much blood!" barked the familiar voice of the elder Ai'Brone. "Fetch the lad with the sunken eyes!"

Three bodies broke away from the pack and like water, more pushed in to fill the absence.

For those keen enough to hear it, calm and steady footsteps contrasted the scuffle of panic. From behind, the serpentine overseer clad in lush azure silks laid a pale hand on celestial skin.

"You," he firmly directed toward Noir as he spun her about with a startle, "Tell me what happened. Who are you? Why did we have to save that useless sack of fur? Details, you will tell them - Now!" The piercing gaze he gave her only seem that much more concentrated thought the thick lenses bridged upon his nose.

She remained calm although a bit unnerved by the man's unsettling display of concern, and the way in which he had gone about grabbing toward her roughly was uncalled for. Glaring back with intense lavender hues, she collected bearing for a brief minuet before deciding upon what to disclose.

"Zai is my familiar...We were closing distance toward this location and were intercepted by these creatures, I have not seen the likes before. Lye was previously wounded before the last fight however, and had not managed to fully heal before we progressed..." The details were vague and probably not at all what this man expected to hear from such a hauntingly ethereal woman. She looked as though more words would flow forward but they did not, and as much as she wanted to ask of Lye's status words began to fail her.

"Damn, where is that boy?! Get me more gauze!" shouted Corvanik from the madness.

"We're out!" replied another.

The overseer, Volkin, narrowed his eyes and lips curled in response to the maiden. The expression was akin to eating something clearly vile. "Last fight?" the venom dripped from his tongue. "Not good enough. Why are you even here? He brings back people useful to our cause." Volkin looked her over from disheveled hair to soiled tresses. "You clearly do not fit the bill. Were you... saved? Are you his... concubine? Speak from the beginning, tell me all of it."

Two more goons swept by the interrogating conversation with a sickly looking bow with hallowed eyes clamped in their grip. Though jostled like a rag doll with feet not even kissing the ground, the boy held an eerie smile. The chains that dangled from loose shackles about his wrist arms and collar were but a compliment to his ghastly appearance. Noir remained indifferent to the overseer's vile words, keeping composure, and a cold stare. The action surrounding them was not enough to pull her attention away from the investigation however, and her chilled form remained static.

"I've got the boy!" One of them shouted as the youth was thrust into the writhing pile of bodies.

"Get th' blood flowing, boy! Snap to it!"

"It-" Noir paused, seeking the words to his prodding insults and questions without desiring to reveal too much. "It is difficult to recall..." Words began again.

"Difficult to recall?!"

"I wandered upon a bandit camp, and they began to follow--Lye jumped into the middle of the fray without request."

"He what?" The disbelief was clear on Volkin's face, pushing closer to her.

"He claimed that I stole his kill, and sought recompense." she spoke, watching the overseer relax his poise. "If it were not for the wolves, he would have claimed my life as well. I still owe him an eternal debt, nothing more. "Hopefully the malevolent man would be satisfied with the pointed explanation because she would refuse to share anything further.

Volkin held his same disgusted expression throughout the conversation. He diverted his watch to a simple board in his arms littered with stacks of parchment and hastily scribbled upon it. He finished, and turned back up to her with a finger on his glasses. "I sincerely hope your stay is short. You've already become more trouble than you're worth. You are not to leave this building or you will be locked away until the Master Hand has decided what to do with you..."

He looked past Noir's lavender locks to cast his sinister stare upon the deteriorating scene behind her.

"That's if you aren't responsible for his death..." Volkin returned a brief sneer to the maiden, and as if he had no vested emotion in Lye's potential fate, he spun about and returned his calm pace down to the unfolding chaos below. As more bodies were cast onto the feasting table, people worked feverishly to maintain further losses, and the overseer did just as he was made to do - manage.

Noir subtly sneered; she would not forget the overseer and his twisted words.

"Damn it!" A voice aggressively cursed.

She suddenly turned to look at the mayhem at her back. There were far less people assisting than before and the urgency had diminished to what she had remembered prior. The zealous movements of the men grew slack and the boy from earlier lay limp in his shackles, a stream of blood linking him to her crimson sentinel. That hauntingly suspended stream broke and fell from the air, waking the boy from what seemed to be death. The easy smile crossed his lips once again before being dragged off by the same pair who brought him in. As they passed her, their expressions were sullen in sharp contrast to the boy. Noir intently looked upon Corvanik, the Ai'Brone monk, who laid his hands over Lye's face whilst wearing a flat look upon his own. The remaining few that were huddled around Lye's bed gathered up the crimson blotched rags and walked past Noir with a similar aura about them.

"He's gone," Corvanik mumbled through the withered hand that clutched his own face.

[Noir.]

Shock quickly befell the mysterious entity, clear hues scanning about the room tinged with the metallic scent of bested life--gone. Conflict began to stir within, and it felt as if a cold sheet draped over the room. Heavy breaths from the men aiding broke up the inevitable silence. This unexpected tragedy too complex to comprehend and Volkin's words began to rise to the surface of her mind. Certainly they would find her responsible for the death of their leader, and years ahead would be exceptionally gruesome, and freezing would be a bitter welcome, she felt truly cursed now more than ever.

Corvanik lifted his head. He stood, and slid the assassin's eyes shut. The few that remained looked to the elder for guidance. He only shook his head.

"Leave me with him," he stated in a dreary tone. The others, wordless in their affirmation, turned towards the frosty maiden. They made their way past her*with*eyes forward as if she were*part of the building itself. Their footsteps heavy, they trudged down the steps to further scenes of the dead and dying. Volkin was quick to utilize the newly idle hands and directed them into action. As the last of them left the late assassin's chambers, Corvanik took to the doors, closing them slowly behind them, letting their lacquered oaken surfaces slowly shut the lifeless body from view.

Curiosity consumed the frigid maiden, wondering with visible interest at the monk’s decision to lock himself with Lye's mangled body. Thoughts of escaping were prominent during this unnerving event, though she felt an odd desire to stay. Hues suddenly cast down to his crimson scarf wrapped around her slim neck instead. Warm material once worn by the corrupt assassin himself and although only acquaintances, inwardly a tiny bind remained that had not fractured with Lye's ruin. Her fate rested on the hands of his survival and with that privilege ripped from underneath her feet, she was faced with returning to the Sakvian wilds if Volkin eventually allowed it.

What would have been an eerie silence was a cacophony of shouts, screams of pain, and barked orders below. The grand dining hall had quickly found itself a makeshift infirmary. Those that had fallen in combat with the dark crawlers clung to life as those with minimal medical training struggled to sustain them. Blood littered the polished stone floor and the length of cherry wood that was once a table dripped with writhing masses of shredded meat. Fortunately the lack of new incoming bodies had meant the end of the conflict. Still, the carnage that ensued to save just two people and a familiar was substantial. Through the horrifying music of injured warriors, a familiar methodical click could be distinguished against the floor boards.

"How is the master? Where are the others?" Asked Volkin, stoic and expressionless. He glanced to the shut door, drawing some conclusions, then back to the pale maiden that stood idle just outside.

"Corvanik is inside. No word from Lye...but I suppose corpses do not speak." Noir answered softly with a light hint of sarcasm. In truth, she was unsure of the happenings in the room behind heavy doors. She did not know the ability of Corvanik and suspected that his aid would prove futile. Lilac hues remained toward the ground as she did not wish to be gazed upon by displeased eyes as they passed. The atmosphere within the confines were icier inside than permafrost solidifying into sharp icicles among withered tree branches of the wilderness.

"Corpse?" he inquired. "So, he's gone?" The overseer gave pause, his expressionless face attempted to weave an emotion but halted while Noir remained silent. Volkin met her with a sinister stare.

"So we lost him to save you?" he hissed, making an advance on her. "Were you sent by the Ixian Knights?! Chronicle?! A seductress sent to pull him to his demise?! I do not know why he risked his life for you, but no one will be making that same mistake."

'Seductress?' She thought privately. Such an odd term to be used, especially since she did not deem herself particularly skilled in such art of deception. His accusations were met with a quizzical glare, not aware of aforesaid names mentioned or the significance behind them. Volkin did not cease to hide his detest of this mysterious woman, and his curt tone grew bothersome to listen to. If she had wanted to respond he gave her no choice, and*hastily*put an end to the tense conversation.

Volkin gripped two men that brushed by, "Detain her! Throw her in the cells and kill that thing that traveled with them."

The two ruffians, easily twice the size of a normal Coronian, began to close on the girl.

"NOIR!" The name dominated the auditory madness and forced silence upon even the dying. It emanated from the twin closed doors - a bestial roar the men recognized.

Without further ado the brutes did not waver to break further advancement, each taking a shaken step backward from the lavender entity. Numerous faces were wrought with sudden surprise when only a few moments ago his lungs failed. Presumed dead, a grim discovery lay before them with their master's existence no more. Even Noir had been taken aback by the unlikely event, doubting the very thought of his resurrection. Noir did not hesitant to enter the room, with a cavalier glance cast at Volkin they finally parted ways. No words sounded from the remaining men outside Lye's chambers until the hatch locked from the cumbersome doors. Gradually small steps proceeded further toward the center of the drab chamber, not knowing what sight iridescent hues would gaze upon. Surrounded by blood drenched sheets the assassin seemed to make a full return with the help of Corvanik whom still remained, but barely.

"He will make it," Corvanik gasped*as*sores*were*opened on his exposed hands, and dark stains began spreading on his dark brown robes. "It's not complete, but with just one of us, it is sufficient."

Lye's ghastly skin made stark contrast to the dark, moist sheets. His chest heaved slowly, but rhythmically up and down. He did not move, and verdant eyes struggled to remain open.

"He will need rest," the monk continued with pain and fatigue clear on his voice and slumped posture. "I can tend to the remaining wound... after I get some rest..."

The elder's head fell to the side, eyes shut, and he spoke no more.

"Noir," Lye mumbled and with great effort turned his head to bring her into view. "Are you... alright?"

"Am I?" Words slightly abash when her body remained intact and Lye lay bruised. "Lye--you, died...what do you recall?" Visible concern displayed on her face as*narrowed eyes looked on*in wonder while her feet finally closed the gap.*She stood*next to the bed*with crossed arms peering*deeply into*his emerald hues.

"I... A kiss," he muttered, fading in and out of consciousness. The term alive would be a loose one at best. "Welcome to... your home..."

His head cocked to the side and face fell slack. His body tattered, his mind fractured, and spirit barely clinging to his corporeal form, Lye took a much deserved rest. His words were enough to make Noir warmly beam, a tiny smirk crossing peach colored lips in response. If not for his poor condition she would otherwise wait by the wooden entrance way, but instead choose to settle down onto an elongated chaise lounge till time permitted otherwise. Silence befell the room, and their gradual breaths were scarcely heard over the continued suffering on the opposite of the doors. Strangely enough Noir did not find these howls of languishing men atrocious or disturbing, the harrowing sounds inevitable background noise to end a taxing day.

[Lye]

Vermilion eyes shot wide in a panic, labored breaths and clammy skin soon followed. The assassin shot a glance about the desolate room only to fall upon the wrinkled flesh of an Ai’Brone monk.

“You’re awake,” Corvanik stated in a relief. “Welcome back to the living.”

Lye furrowed a brow in confusion. He tried to recall the meaning behind the healer’s words through shattered remains of recent recollection. Like a bolt from a crossbow he was struck suddenly with the realization and immediately frisked his bare torso in response.
“What happened?” Lye inquired, his voice dry and hoarse. His hands, now convinced his body was intact, travelled to his throat at the sound of his own words.

“You arrived in terrible shape, nearly lost to the crawlers in the Deepwoods.” Corvanik rose from his seat and fetched the pitcher at Lye’s bedside. He poured the crystalline water into a gold trimmed drinking horn and offered it to the nude assassin. “We tried to stabilize you, give you more blood, but your wounds were too great - we lost you.”

Lye was hit by a thirst he had not come to realize until now, and clasped the horn from the elder. Voraciously, he gulped it down, letting whatever couldn’t get in his mouth trickle over the scars and rolling hills of his body. He drained the vessel in seconds and loosed a refreshed exhale.

“How long was I gone?” the assassin asked, the normal menace in his tone revived.

“Three full days. I had to bring you back at a cost,” the monk stated. He lifted a thick brown sleeve to reveal a series of scars. Lye took notice of these and held his own arm up to notice the eerie similarity in their pattern. “I was forced to take your wounds upon myself. If I was still with my brothers, we could have done it unharmed. It’s the price those that stray from the cause must pay to take life into their own hands.”

“Corvanik, thank you.” The words came out of him like a foreign language. It was not often the assassin whispered thanks, but given the light of the sacrifice and the breath still in his lungs, Lye was grateful.

“So now that you are awake, tell me more about the girl,” the Ai’Brone inquired, taking his seat again with a groan of old bones. Lye struggled to recall, his most recent memories only shadows of their former self. “Take your time,” the monk continued, “the process of revival has its symptoms.”

“Noir,” the warrior responded with uncertainty. “She was ambushed by poachers. I had been tracking them for the time to strike.”

Lye shifted his weight against the headboard, one free hand held his head in painful contemplation, the other kept the fresh linens from exposing too much.

“She ruined my hunt.” He continued, the memories coming back to him gradually. “I was going to kill her, but I was poisoned…” The flood of recent events renewed as a torrent in his mind. “Where is she?”

The monk jumped back at the viciousness in his tone.

“Volkin was adamant about locking her in a cell. Considering her staying at your bedside for some time, I convinced him to give her the quarters adjacent to yours, but he has kept her under lock and key.”

“Good,” Lye seethed. He kicked his legs to the side and slide free from the charcoal sheets. His barren skin made haste to retrieve his clothes and equipment behind the elder.

“Sir, are you certain you should be walking so soon?” Corvanik asked as he twisted his body to follow his patient. His expressionless face showing no reaction to Lye’s disregard for modesty.

“You’ve done enough Corvanik, I will carry myself from here on.” the assassin sternly replied while covering himself in his usual battle attire.

“As you wish,” the monk replied, lifted himself of weak legs, and exited the room with a click of the iron latch.

“I have problem to address…”

Lye cinched the last of his gloves to his hands and strode into the awning above the great hall below. The once pristine floors and table now lay caked in dried maroon. Along the length of wall leading to the entrance lay figures wrapped in black silks. All of which were marked with a white parchment over the head baring a crimson hand. Lye grimaced, and made way to Noir’s quarters. The two men standing in front of the door jumped at his presence and gave way to the doors.

“Noir!” Lye directed in a stern voice, “Before you get too comfortable, I need to establish one thing between you and I.”

Long flowing lavender tresses rested beside her on the mattress, like puddles of fresh spring water. Zai managed to shift into a quaint little fox, and could be seen sound asleep curled onto Noir’s relatively cozy lap. Long onyx eyelashes blinked rapidly for a second in regards to his scorned tone, and all manner of contentment to see him subsided a bit. The once pleasant aura radiating from him after the restoration ritual had all too soon dissipated to a familiar distant one, and any sign of kindness faded along with it.

"I don't know what your tie is to that thing, but if it becomes a problem one more time, its carcass will decorate my halls. It nearly got you killed twice, apparently succeeded on mine, and it will not have the opportunity for a third. Am I clear?" he commanded, merely inches from her flawless, porcelain features.

"Yes, you have made yourself quite clear," pointedly stating, her docile voice coated with an icy over tone as she straightened her back.

“Good,” the assassin remarked, his gaze trying to burn holes in the familiar she held so dear. “This will be your quarters from now on. You are free to move as you please, but understand that should you decide to leave this place, I will be in your shadow. You are not a prisoner, but you are no longer free - not until my mind has been made about you.”

He did not linger for her response, and he never broke eye contact with the furred cretin he craved to disembowel. His turn was firm and abrupt - there were more important matters at hand. The two at her entrance gave him their attention and in a wave of his gloved hand, they were dismissed. Doors kept open to The Order’s grand hall, Noir was now a member of their ranks with or without consent. This, at the very least, she owed him.

All bunnying in this thread was consensual. Also requesting a glass bottle of poison, silver engraved glass alchemy flask, and iron skinning knife as spoils.

[Amber Eyes]

Thread Title Soothing the Blood-thirsty Fires Within (http://www.althanas.com/world/showthread.php?26140)

Judgment Type: Full Rubric

Participants: Lye, Noir.



Plot: 18/30

Story- 7/10

The story was interesting, blood-thirsty assassin meets immortal drifter. With that said, there were certainly times that the two character’s coexistence seemed forced and not just by the storm. Overall though, the plot was solid. It wasn’t anything overly exciting, but most recruitment style threads aren’t. I am interested to see where the story goes from here though.

Setting- 7/10

The setting was beautifully written and very detailed, I had a clear image of almost everything. Try not to get bogged down in this though, it hurts your pacing and distracts from the point---the story. Instead of giving me half a post of setting in the beginning and then proceeding with the story, interact with the scene so it flows and I slowly see the big picture. Lye might look to the sky to ensure he knows which way he’s going and notices the snow-topped treeline in the distance, or Noir felt fresh snow brush her cheek as she spoke. Make the background compliment the action. The setting should not become the thing most remembered, and in this thread at times it did.

Pacing- 4/10

This is one of the main categories you struggled in, and it and mechanics have a lot of the same feedback, so rather than write it twice I’ll keep those notes in the mechanics section, just be aware that it hurt you here as well as the things I’m listing in this category.


Quite often the first couple paragraphs of a post are a recap of the post before. Keep in mind that the reader has just read that. They are eager to know what happens next and backtracking slows the thread down. If a thread is as long as this one, it needs to flow so that the reading stays fun and doesn’t become a chore. This is especially true in your dialogue.



The over-abundance of setting also hurt this score, as it pulled me from the action and really slowed down the reading. Just the first page of the thread was over 11,000 words. It is perfectly fine to write threads this length, but be sure there is truly 11,000 words worth of story in that page. Honestly this story could have been told with beautiful imagery and character with almost half as much writing. Strive to work on brevity and this score will go up considerably.







Character: 21/30


Communication-7/10

The dialogue was believeable and fit the characters well. My biggest complaints in this area are listed under pacing. The reader shouldn’t have to go back to figure out how a conversation flowed. Working out dialogue beforehand will go a long way to help you here.

Action-8/10

During the fight scenes action was wonderful. I was able to picture each strike. This is an area a lot of people struggle in so good job there. You were also strong in the non-battle scenes, with movement and physical interaction accompanying dialogue.


Persona-6/10

There were times throughout the thread that I felt I had a good understanding of the characters, and there were times I was completely lost to understand their motivations.


The flashbacks that drew comparisons between Lye’s dead wife and Noir helped make things interesting, but the constant ‘he wanted to kill her but something held him back’ got a bit redundant and wasn’t ever truly explained. People are complex, and I’m glad you are finding more to Lye than just murder and mayhem, but you have to explain to me how he finds this part of himself.


Noir was often lost in the thread. She didn’t really have a strong presence at times, and I contribute much of this to your attempting to accommodate Lye’s story. Don’t let your character become the background. Tell me what she is feeling when Lye threatens her, does fear run through her at the possibility? Most of what I felt from her was confusion. You did bring her to the foreground with your talk of her past, but it was such a brief moment in such a long thread and she faded back to the background soon after. Make sure you are using her to her potential and not just allowing her to constantly react to the environment around her.


Another issue here was the cookie-cutter personalities used for the NPCs. Very little thought was given to giving them any sort of depth. Even just noting that you watched the life leave someone’s eyes will remind us that they are a living thing that had hopes and dreams. Killing them off with no humanity assigned makes it difficult for the reader to care.




Prose: 17/30


Mechanics- 5/10


There were a lot of tense changes and run on sentences throughout the thread. There were occasionally fragments, though not nearly as many as the run ons. There were several times when the wrong homophone was used or a words was simply left out or added that shouldn’t have been.


Homophone usage- “The arrow soared threw the air swiftly but missed the target.” Threw should be through.


There were a few times that you used the wrong choice from its and it’s. Both of you did this at least once in the thread. It’s is only used if the sentence can be read as ‘it is’. Its is used for the possessive form of it. Example: “The creature laid lifeless in the hands of an unknown man, it's crimson essence trickling down upon the worn wooden planks much similar to her crimson sentinel.” Since you are using the possessive form of it, it’s should be changed to its.


Keep in mind that if you have two full sentences with a comma in between you have a run on sentence. It is also easy to spot a run on by noting when you change tense after a comma. For Example: “She seemed to dance, the blade acting as an extension of her arms, which she switched between both left and right hand effortlessly.”


Here you have a run on with a tense change mid sentence. You could fix this by saying. “She seemed to dance. The blade acted as an extension of her arm as she switched between both left and right hand effortlessly.”


“Lye was previously wounded before the last fight however” There were a few instances where things were worded like this. You should remove either previously or before to make the sentence flow.


“Fortunately, he was having a stroke of luck by coming upon a traveling band of poachers about a week ago.” This would be better written as “Fortunately, he had a stroke of luck in coming upon a traveling band of poachers about a week ago.”


“Perhaps from the bite of frost, but a deeper fire was to blame.” This is an incomplete thought, make sure you have a subject and a verb in each sentence.


“A slight go fourth motion of her head indicated a silent command in which the fox responded to immediately,” In this sentence you used fourth instead of forth. Also, the end of the sentence is phrased awkwardly. You could either take out the word ‘in’ or change the latter part to “a silent command to which the fox responded immediately.”


These are just a few examples of the issues I found. If you would like more please feel free to contact me. This is a good starting point though, and I hope it will help as you move forward.


Clarity- 5/10

As noted in pacing, mechanics can really hurt you in several categories. The run ons and fragments hurt clarity. There was also several areas where you used so many descriptive phrases that I had to re-read to figure out what happened. Passive voice also hurts you here, as it makes sentences unnecessarily long and confusing. Try to make sure you use active voice as much as possible.


Another issue with clarity is continually using the same descriptive words. Overuse of he, she, it can get confusing and while for most of the thread the three main characters were easily distinguishable, in parts where an NPC was used it became confusing.


Technique- 7/10

Alliteration was used well, as were metaphor and simile throughout. The use the flashbacks to connect Noir to Lye’s past was also very well done. I particularly enjoyed your use of broken english to give the idea that the trappers were uneducated. Overall the technique was solid.



Wildcard: 8/10

I am very eager to see where the story goes from here. Noir, you have a ton of potential and I can’t wait to see you grow. Congratulations on your first completed thread and I hope some of the notes can be useful to you.



Final Score: 64/100


Lye (http://www.althanas.com/world/member.php?2900-Lye) receives:



2500 EXP!

235 GP!




Noir. (http://www.althanas.com/world/member.php?17170-Noir) receives:



1900 EXP!

235 GP!


Congratulations!

[Lye]

EXP & GP Added! Noir. Levels to Level 2!