Her World Entirely Shattered and Remade

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Set right after The Disappearance of Lady Heysan

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Day one.

Into the early hours she lay still, curled up in that tight, foetal position where no one could mistake her emotional state. All she wanted was to forget, but the burns of the memories wrecked her mind. Many, many hours before had she rid her body of tears. Now she lay in a state of silence and depression, heart heavy and slowly beating to the rhythm of a non-existent but still noisesome drum. The same one that filled her head and told her:

“He's in love with you. He was always in love with you.”

Feverishly she grabbed as many cushions as she could and piled them around her. She buried herself into them, feeling like she was more in a nest than anything and that felt good. A nest was what she watched born in, and a nest was where she was determined to hide in right now. Her space of safety, her realm of security. They were behind and surrounding her by the time he walked in again.

He said nothing, only paused before walking quietly over to an armchair. She heard the sound of springs, and the shuffling of paper. There was just the briefest moment of silence before he began to write, the faint scratching of pencil alive.

Stare curled tighter, huffing into her pillows, and neither of them spoke.

It passed for at least an hour. Then there was the sudden thud of a door and then a grunt as someone failed to open it. A pause, and there was another thud, causing Stare to seize somewhat from the suddenness of the sound. She began to sit up to look at the door, when a sigh came from across the room. Then there was a quiet click and she froze, partially out of her lying position, a cushion nudging out of the way. The door was just within her sights now and she saw it hesitantly open and a face appear - of Zulon.

The door had been locked?

“Yes?” came the low voice from behind her.

Zulon’s eyes flickered to hers, then somewhere beyond her shoulder. There was no way she was going to turn around, and so she ducked back down, grabbing the cushion from behind her and saving it from falling.

“Ah … Sir … Miss, food is ready.”

“Bring it in here, Zulon,” Vitruvion said, “if you will.”

“Of course, sir,” he commented, then paused. “Is - will the door be locked again?”

“The door was locked to not allow in unnecessary company, Zulon, but no. It will not be on your return.”

“Very good sir,” and there was the sound of a closing door.

Stare buried herself back under the cushions, pulling one right over her head and tightened her jaw. Firmly she closed her eyes, as if seeing anything anymore would cause her immense pain. At least Vitruvion was not locking the door to keep her in, though she would not be surprised if that was a secondary purpose.

“Stare,” came a quiet, cautious voice, “you must eat when the food comes.”

He was addressing her directly now. She wrapped her arms closer around her, making a small noise of discontent. Her stomach was truly empty, but eating was not something she really wanted to do right now. Not just because he was in the room, but because starving right now was a much more attractive option.

“Please,” he sighed.

“Not hungry,” she whispered. “Don’t want to. Not hungry.”

“Then at least drink, my dear, please.”

And ‘my dear’ was not said with any harshness, any sarcasm like he had many times. There was no brutal meaning behind it, but rather a depth of care of actual tenderness. SHe had no doubt of its genuine regard for her, because she could feel the very emotions through the tone, and for a moment she softened, knowing that he was just wanting her good health and wellbeing.

“Vitruvion, I cannot eat right now,” she replied in a louder voice, “please do not ask me again.”

He made no sound, and did not ask her again that day.

Day two.

It started much like the first. Stare had to move a couple of times, stretching her legs to avoid cramp, twist and move. At one point she twisted right the way around and found herself to looking right at where he was examining a book intently, lips pursed and brow low. For a long moment she stared at the man who had ruined her life, and was even now keeping her captive, even if it was for her safety. After a few seconds he paused, his attention wavering from the book, and focusing on the room, as he clearly grew conscious of her gaze. Tensing he drew in his breath, and paused before slowly lifting his eyes to look right back at her.

She held his eye contact for only a moment before switching to look emptily into the middle of the room, and he let out a discontented sigh, but that made her more satisfied. Let him be dissatisfied with how she was treating him, and treating herself. He more than deserved it for what he had put her through - god or no god. Right now, she did not care about his divinity, or the fact that they were undeniably linked. This was her misery, her sorrow and he could darn well deal with it if he wanted her around that much.

Zulon came in again with food, bringing it straight in wordlessly, though knocking first this time. Stare saw there were two plates, each as equally fine as the last with no difference aside from one was slightly larger. As Vitruvion set his books aside to move towards it he threw a glance towards her, but she made no move to get up.

“You will make yourself ill,” was his only comment as he reached for cutlery.

But she did not reply. Instead there was awkwardness in the room as Zulon remained standing, shifting his weight from one foot to the other.

“What?” Vitruvion growled, leaning back in his chair, alongside the food, “if you are asking if she is going to eat today, then I can give you no answer.”

“Ah … ah no sir,” Zulon spoke delicately, “no this is about … about outside. A note came today from the mansion asking if Miss Stare was going to return at all. It said something about it being ‘Tuesday tomorrow’ and the ‘accounts’ needing to be done?”

“Reply that Mer can handle all duties that Stare does,” Vitruvion spoke quickly, “inform them that Stare is ill, and it is unknown when she will be back to her duties.”

Well. At least she had an excuse for not attending any of her meetings. Most definitely she was not in the mood to go back to work. Yes, she had dealt with harsh realities before, such as the whole being immortal thing, but that had mostly been anger, and she could do practical things with anger. This was … well, giving up mostly. The final straw in her mental state, that had sent her into this pit of despair where there was little desire to move or even live right now.

Vitruvion’s gaze snapped up. He sucked in his breath as he stared at her, alarmed. Zulon paused, looking confused for a moment, but then understood. Realising it was likely time to go he backed out quickly, giving a quick bow of the head to the room before leaving. It was then that Vitruvion pushed his food to the side, shoving the plate onto the table and started rapidly advancing towards her, concern written deep on his face.

Quickly, Stare pulled herself tighter, curling back into her foetal position, wings folded tightly against her back. Clearly he had been in her mind at that time, not distracted by his food, and now she regretted even thinking it, but it had slipped by her consciousness. Making a small whining sound she buried her face onto her arms and whispered.

“I am not going to, Vitruvion. It would only cause me unnecessary pain, I would have to come back anyway and-”

A very light touch met her head, and she broke off. As she did she felt it pause, and the touch become nothing more than that - a hesitation on the edge of contact. It drew back though, and she opened one eye to peer up to see him standing over her, distress clear on his face - a far cry from the proud, cruel man she had known when first coming here. He shook his head, rubbing a hand over his skin.

“Don’t - don’t do that, Stare. I am not being trivial, if you have those … types of feelings, then I cannot let you avoid the discussion, because it is highly a serious topic of conversation that needs to be undertaken, no matter what your angst and issues with me. Indeed, I may be-”

“I won’t, okay,” she interrupted him, her voice softer again. And slightly, she shook her head as she uttered a sigh. “I promise I won’t.”

And she had never broken one of her promises to him. They were rare and unusual, but each was formed out of sincerity, similar to his own. Vitruvion had orders and commands - but then he also had his promises to her. Both of their uncertainties met in that battlefield of discussed and matters were settled. With this very different way that he was treating her currently Stare imagined that they would be more common in the days to come.

He left her side and moved back to his seat after five more minutes of standing, watching her. Eventually she relaxed out of her tensed roll and lay flat, wings beneath her, sighing out to the world. Though she did not eat still, he seemed more comfortable that day.

Day three.

The day itself passed in silence and very little of anything.

That night, however ... her thirst got the better of her.

Water had been placed for her in plentiful reach. When the pain of her throat grew too vast she growled deeply, and reached out to snatch a bottle up. Dragging her weary body into a sitting position she slumped in the darkness and drowned her throat in needful liquid, making her body scream as it did. An uncontrollable and uncomfortable headache that she had been dealing with began to ebb, allowing her to breathe freer and stretch somewhat. Indeed, it still was not the full sustenance her body entirely desired - after all, her stomach still lay empty - but, it was still something needed. Once she had finished that bottle she laid the glass to the side and took up another, savouring each drop and letting the satisfaction run through her systems.

Sighing contentedly she fell back against the cushions. Her eyes slid closed as she stayed upright, clawed hand still curled around the neck of the second bottle and her back now resting against the back of the chair. Steadily she breathed as her systems rejoiced in the much needed life source and began to get back to work.

In that itself, a problem arose.

It was the dead of night, and she knew that the door leading beyond to the other rooms was locked. Guards could be there, waiting but it was also possible that they were not. From what also the last few times Zulon had come in and delivered messages or food, it had been Vitruvion's prerogative to unlock the door. That highly meant that only his magic could work it, and that meant her only real choice of bathroom was …

Through the bedroom door. Right where Vitruvion slept.

Peeing into a bottle was both disgusting and beneath her - she was not that kind of being to do so, even considering the mental state she was in. Darkly, she cursed, swearing in thick kenku tongue and grinding hands into her fists. She did not know the time, but hells be it she was not going to wander straight away now. There was a chance morning was coming and soon he would rise from his bed and she could dart in, not having to see him for more than a few minutes. Damn, maybe she could even have a bath.

Odd as it was, even in the mindset she was in, the latter sounded marvellously attractive. And as the minutes slipped by, and her bladder refused to budge it's heaviness she clung to the idea of a long, deep soak in warm water with more and more fervour. Gradually her hammering heart began to slow, her breathing became more regular and she - she actually felt okay for once.

For once. She savoured the moment deeply, letting it warm her form and wrap her in a thousand pleasant memories. Of when she was young, and her family was happy, even though they were outcasts. Of how she had been friends with thieves and murderers, but still terribly safe. Of how she had come to Beinost to have a new life after her whole family had passed and met Skra, that dwarf baker. And then Raevin himself had found her and her entire world had changed …

Damn. Damn. Damn.

Distractions were not working. Her bladder was still pregnant and crying for release. She did not think it was possible without will but it was in danger of spilling itself and now she had been here for possibly an hour, dreaming of baths full of -

Water.

She stoppered the bottle finally, and pushed it to the side. Her eyes moved over to the door to the door leading to the rest of the apartments. Surely there would be someone, possibly. Or there was a chance it could be unlocked.

Determination gathering within her she slipped herself as quietly as she could off the couch, and immediately regretted it. Two long days of doing nothing but lying did not help. That and a need for the toilet. Cursing she grabbed the sofa as it got worse, and her wings flapped as they tried to keep her steady, but they were weakened also. She began to drag her sorry and ruined body towards the door. There were violent sounds as her claws scraped along the ground and she ended up groaning because of the pain. It was her own stupid fault, she knew, because she had refused to eat or drink, and this now was her suffering. With a great amount of difficulty she got to the door, and slammed a hand hard down on the handle. Unsurprisingly, it did not budge and only bounced back into her palm unhelpfully.

And agonisingly; a moan of irritation erupted from her beak and several dark curses as she gave up caring. For anything.

Sliding down the door she knew it was only moments before he came - it was inevitable. Extremely weak and shaking she was at a state where she now knew food was her only option. She garbled in kenku how much of an idiot she was as she tipped her head back and laid it against the door, waiting.

The sound of hurried footsteps followed, as well as the soft shifting sounds of the bedroom door opened. No words came out, but strong arms began to wrap themselves around her as she garbled a simple sentence.

“I need to piss.”

Day four.

Certainly, this day was easier.

Having given in to the base needs of her body, Stare finally ate, much to the immense satisfaction of her keeper. Even though she only pushed at food around her plate and picked at what little her current sensitive stomach could endure, Vitruvion seemed a little easier. Naturally, she was still in an immense mood with him, stiffening the first time he came close. After that he had avoided her general vicinity, but been more watchful.

Eventually, however, the matter of the door became too much to ignore and so, when the world seemed to be quieter and a sense of evening drew closer, she spoke up.

“Okay, why the hell am I locked in here?”

He glanced up from the paper he was writing on; now part of a thick manuscript he seemed to have made. From its top page she could work out some strange forms that looked like the diagram of circles within circles, and various lines with words connection to them.

Brow furrowed somewhat he stared at her before answering; in a tense, dark voice. “You are not so much locked in here as all others are locked out.”

“You hired all those men,” she shoved a hand towards the door, “Who do you not trust?”

“Everyone,” he answered flatly. “Aside from you, Zulon and Ventrua. Now Raevin is secure, and my sister is fucking gone, so you are the last worry - do you want to me to explain to you how far I am willing to go to keep you safe, do you Stare?”

She scowled deeply, but looked away. “No you don't need to,” she replied in a foul voice. “But I'd rather that trust extended to me being able to leave this room.”

“A day ago you were not willing to leave that sofa.” He used the exact same tone.

“Yes, and I wonder whose fault that is.”

Immediately he went silent. His chest rose and fell with passionate energy. As he threw the darkest glare at her, full of a fury that she had created Stare sat up somewhat straighter, rolling back her shoulders and preparing to hold her own ground. Likewise his chin tilted up, a certain brand of pride in that arched neck and he tightened his jaw steadily.

“If you are that desperate, Stare,” he finally said after a long, exponential pause, “then when you have improved your health again, then we can arrange to go outside. Bare in mind, however, I will still not let you out of my sight, and there will be so many guards that others would suspect you were royalty.”

“I want freedom, Vitruvion, not … not this life anymore.”

“Dearest, as far as I am concerned I am keeping you from being imprisoned.”

And he was right. It seemed for her there was little choice: his cage … or Vindrexis’. Her life was not her own anymore.

Day five.

With more food deposited down her gullet, even if it was the few scraps of bread, meat and the odd boiled vegetable, the kenku gained strength. Vitruvion seemed content with her eating, as long as it was something, and the bottles of water were steadily emptied as the day wore on. With the knowledge now of the door, and more clarity on what Vitruvion’s main concerns were - namely, her safety, health and sanity - her attention came to settle on the fact that she had to admit that this was it. It was her life now.

Indeed, for over a year she had been in his company, working under him as first a project, then rising to housekeeper, and then steward. She had wielded the power over all his companies, been his representative here, within the Hollow itself, and caused him now to place a hold on his personal projects so that he might better protect her. When he had said that she would not leave his sight, she had not realised to what extreme that meant; literally he was having his letters and other correspondence delivered to the Hollow via couriers. Not one of them seemingly had concerned her directly, for he had said nothing as he rolled his eyes and scribbled out replies, then given them back to Zulon for eventual reversion.

There was frustration, however, building in him, and she could see it in his eyes. Only two times did he leave the room, and he had both times locked the door behind him. On the fifth day when it happened, and he exited without a word, Stare paced, moving as slowly as her still strengthening legs would allow, and using as much furniture and her strengthening wings for support. Her mind became filled with thoughts that she had very little choice currently with what was happening in her existence. And it seemed she was going to have to live with that, like she had done so far in the year. Here she was, almost eighteen, and a mature kenku but never going to age. A young woman stuck in a world that she had never wanted, but she had come to adapt into and even excel in. Somehow she had had a god fall in love with him.

So really, did she have a choice at all? Well, yes perhaps she had a choice in how that life was going to work out. Already she had persuaded, through arguing admittedly, to let her outside of the Hollow ‘when she was healthy’. Now she was working on that health, building on her strength, and already with her emotions in check. Far was she from the state when she had, for instance, woken up from her first and only death so far. Or the first day here, when she had been curled on the sofa, lost in a misery of tears.

Sounds began to come from the door. Twisting her head she remained standing, balanced on foot, stretching her wings and flexing the toes of the other as he came through, his white hair pulled back into a ponytail and dressed in cleaner clothes than he had left in. His brow slightly rose as he saw her out of the sofa, but he nodded a little and took a step in. A curious face from behind him leaned in, which was shortly joined by another, and Vitruvion kicked the door sharply in their faces. Stare was taken aback by the ogling, and was strangely relieved in that single moment that the beings on the other side could not get in.

“Clothes,” he grunted, lifting up an arm from his body, and in it Stare could see a carefully folded and neatly tied bundle of fabric.

“You were at the mansion?” she questioned, not hiding the envy in her voice.

He nodded once, setting the package on the end of the sofa, “Yes, if only briefly. Mer had some issues she needed addressing and -” he curled his lip with distaste, “that does not matter. It was an opportunity to gather supplies.”

“So you are allowed to leave,” she grumbled. “But I am not.”

“For one, I am me,” Vitruvion said, none too humbly. He began to walk over towards the armchair he had been occupying before he left. “Second, yes you are powerful, more so than the other guards, but in your current state potentially not the most astute to your surroundings. And as previously addressed, I do not trust anyone but myself specifically to keep you safe in this current moment of time.”

“Zulon, Eirik and Jordain did a fine enough job whilst you were away,” she savagely commented.

“Hmm, indeed, and managed to let you slip from their presence. My dearest,” he picked up a cushion from the chair and plumped it once before placing it back down, “there is no arguing this point.”

“Dickhead,” she muttered as she grabbed the fresh clothing. “I am having a bath.”

“Be my guest,” he replied dryly.

Day Six.

Judging currently what was an issue in her life and how she could improve on the situation was arduous. There were certainly a great amount of unpredictable variables to consider, whether Vitruvion would, at any point, give up on his quest to keep her permanently safe, and allow her back to feeling more useful. It made her realise that she was beginning to get bored here, and especially after she had sworn off suicide as an option there was less self-orientated sympathy in her mind and far more dissatisfaction. The very issue that he was fond of her had fallen out of conversation, as he had made clear his desire from the evening of the discovery. Indeed, he had never even specifically said that it should be forgotten as a memory, and Stare was none too glad - although the memory still burned.

What had she then, to bargain with, and what did she want to gain? Certainly, she wanted more freedoms than she currently had - being ordered where to go and what she could not do was another bar to her gilded cage that she did not especially find attractive. Even knowing what plans he had for her, instead of just sending her to some far off place, and lying to her as he had done various times, would be of use. Being able to bargain with those plans also, to be an equal in the general rules that constructed her life, aside from the larger structure of her enclosure was something she had been without for all this time, and it was something that, as she thought about it, she truly, honestly wanted.

She could deal with more generalised changes. A switch to business perhaps, an alteration in circumstance, such as the household which she was controller of, and even a decision to move home - those were all simple things that she felt she could endure through. But currently there were not enough freedoms to satisfy her. There were also the underlying issues of her being his thrice-cursed-Ansaldo property, as well as being linked to his mind. Even though she could bare them, and had been baring so far, it was uncomfortable to consider them, especially, most primarily, the former.

She also knew that she would never want to lie intimately with another person again, most especially not him. Not currently, anyway. The very idea of sex was, right now, sickening to her, even though she had minorly enjoyed the temptations of the flesh with demons. Most definitely she neither wanted, nor needed it.

Arms folded across her chest she sat in the corner of what had become her sofa, still surrounded by blankets but no longer buried. Her legs were drawn up beneath her, her wings were folded perfectly neatly, and she had her beak resting on the back of the sofa, so she huffed into the air as she thought all of this. Vitruvion throughout the day had been working on what was apparently now a treatise, taking pages and rearranging and rewriting them as light and small smiles crept across his face.

Clearly he was absorbed, as a new layer of understanding or some such was coming into his mind. She knew he was highly intelligent, and had a great comprehension of the ways life and the stars worked, yet apparently had used these past few days to come to some form of new discovery. His pencils worked fluidly to build images of structures she could only describe as ‘wiggly,’ and had no idea what all those words meant. ‘Acidum,’ ‘biologia,’ and ‘duplex helix’ were not within her vocabulary.

“Sir?” came a polite knock.

“Mmm,” Vitruvion waved a hand and the door slipped open.

Zulon’s face appeared, bearing a tray filled with sumptuous steaks, what seemed like potatoes and a salad. Stare blinked at him from her view of the back of the sofa, and he smiled briefly, looking more satisfied at her appearance. Behind him there were again faces peering in, and Stare wondered what rumours were currently running rampant through the Hollow. Certainly some of interesting context for them to work with, as likely the story of what had occurred in the theatre had in some way been translated into the workings of the guards.

Shutting the door as fast as he could, Zulon came into the room and headed right over to Vitruvion. He held out a meal to him, extending an arm. The god pushed his manuscript carefully to the side before taking it, and quietly made a comment. Zulon nodded once, then turned to head over to Stare, and, surprisingly, extended the plate towards her. For the first time in several days.

Lifting her beak from the sofa back she blinked at him, tilting her head. “My lady,” Zulon said quietly. Lowering her brow she slowly unfolded her arms and began to curl fingers around the plate. It was the first time he had ever used that instead of, ‘Miss,’ and she wondered precisely what Vitruvion had said. Taking the food onto her lap she simply mumbled a reply.

“Thank you.”

Day seven.

Quite happily, she slept in. After stealing a blanket she had slumped upon her sofa and slept with a full stomach, after eating all of the food and not feeling nauseous after. It was much more suitable to sleep in her clothing, and so she had for the past few days including this one, and had a single set of clean clothing left. When she began to become aware she noticed that fresh candles had been set into the room, and lit to signal it was day time. There was also the keen knowledge that a figure was there, and he was already keenly pouring through the pages of his book.

For a while she just looked at his pages with her eyes half closed, blinking in the light. Then she sighed, once her stance became too uncomfortable and she leaned over to grab a bottle of water close by.

“Morning,” he said in a low voice.

She grunted a reply, pushing herself up into a seated position, the blanket falling around her shoulders. Tugging it fully back up she uncorked the bottle, and began to glug the cold liquid. Vitruvion said nothing more and returned to his writing. Once she was done she shoved the stopper back into the bottle and dumped it back on the ground before staring at her feet. It took her a moment to speak.

“I am bored. I need something to do.”

“Like what?” he replied, lifting up a page and narrowing his eyes at it.

“A book,” she answered. “Brer brought me books when I … then.”

He raised his eyes and looked at her for a moment, before inclining his head and setting the page back down. “Very well,” he stood up from his seat, pulling straight his clothes. “Any other requests?” He paused, “reasonable ones.”

“I want to go outside,” she said, tightening the blanket around her. Then she added, as a salty afterthought, “please.”

Pursing his lips slightly he gazed at her before answering. “I will consider it.” And he nodded once before striding out of the room, a small click occurring before he got to the door and pulled it open.

“Fuck OFF!”

Stare seized. Quickly she pulled the blanket around her as if it was a shield, tugging it up her neck and over half of her head. Vitruvion began to bellow as the door slid closed and she could still hear him shouting loudly. Clearly there was some controversy outwith her small world of the past week, and spectators to come see the captive kenku, but kept there for entirely protective reasons.

It kept going, the yelling, for a long few seconds. Stare curled up onto the sofa, sighing as she felt like she belonged in a freak circus, and was nothing more than the latest oddity. There was some comfort in the fact that Vitruvion did not consider her such, but then he was the one keeping her detained in the initial instance. There she remained, in her quiet comfort until once more the shouting began again.

A book was slid onto the sofa before her as the door was shut. Glancing at the cover she saw that it was one of Brer’s old romances - something she had actually read before. Curling her hand around it she tugged it underneath her form but did not open it just yet.

“I have sworn extreme punishment on any of them that are still remaining the next time the door opens,” he growled angrily. “And my wrath will be great.”

Remaining where she was she ignored his comments, but hoped that the threat would be taken seriously. Out of the corner of her eye she watched him take back his seat, then lift up the paper once more. Eventually she dragged the book from underneath her and opened it, sitting up onto her elbows to begin to read.

It was late evening, and Stare had picked at her meal, leaving around a quarter of the potato cakes, fine quality chicken and roasted vegetables that were all cooked with a honey glaze. Very steadily she breathed as she supported the book upon her lap, still dressed closely in the depths of the blanket. Around mid afternoon she had washed, and come back to find laundered clothes patiently waiting on her, neatly folded on the end of the bed. She chose the plainest tunic and undergarments she saw, tugging them on slowly. Then she had returned to the book, which was entitled ‘All is in the Garden’ and told a story about a gardener and his secret affair with the local Bardsinger’s daughter.

There a tap at the door. Stare braced herself for an onslaught of possible ogling eyes as Vitruvion looked up and there was the now familiar click. After a pause, and hearing no roar from the god, Stare glanced up, and was surprised to see no one at all, aside from Zulon slipping into the room. He nodded.

“We are ready sir … if you are.”

“Indeed,” Vitruvion nodded and set his papers to the side, slipping them now into a large leather pouch. “Stare?” he said, not looking at her.

“What?” she looked surprised, hands tightening around the book, and staring up at him.

“You wanted to go outside.”

Alert suddenly, she perked up, her back straightening and inhaling once, sharply. She slammed the book shut, not caring for once where she was and nodded. “Now?”

“Now,” Vitruvion answered. “It has taken most of the day to ensure the other hosts are out of the Hollow, or at least occupied, and enough guards to be available.” He paused, looking now at her with raised eyebrows. “Or are you now saying-”

Tugging off her blanket she rose fast, smoothing down her tunic. “Is it cold outside?” she asked.

He inclined his head. “Bring your dagger also. It is in your trunk.”

Glancing briefly to Zulon Stare started straight to the bedroom. No matter how he wanted her to dress - even if he had wanted her to wear her full chainmail, Stare would have done so quite happily. This was her chance now, her opportunity no matter how late in the day to finally get out of this hellhole and stretch her legs. Despite it meaning she would need to stride pass ears that had heard wild rumours, Stare was eager to breathe the fresh air. For too many days now had she been down here, with very little to do, and making herself sick because of her own stupidity.

In the bedroom she kicked open the leather trunk that had housed her clothes for her stay here. From it she grabbed a grey woollen cloak, as well as her mythril that was neatly tucked away. Gathering up these items she swung the cloak around her body, and tied the dagger onto her belt, before rejoining Vitruvion who now seemed better to walk. The glint of the end of his new sheath for that golden secret dagger could be spotted by a keen eye akin to her own.

His eyes washed over her once, and there was a lingering smile that touched his lips, a rare, warm softness in his eyes. Stare paused, cautious of it, before he gave her a single nod. Suddenly the warmth was gone and he was back to being formal - his strong, powerful demeanor - and he stepped back to gesture for her to go before him. Eyes glancing over she saw that the door was open, and behind it the half giant Brer waited, huge hammer slung over his shoulder. There was some comfort in seeing that, in seeing her friend that she had made despite the months of incarceration here. Pulling her cloak around her front she started forwards, beak ducking slightly as she stepped from the room in the first time in an entire week.

The room before her had been changed. Gone was the old world of tables and devices with clear metal hoops for chains. Instead, a large table was shoved against the back wall, and on it a collection of assorted objects that did not seem to belong to anybody - blankets, candlesticks, a variety of horse crops and a painting of a young, brown haired dwarf. Aside from the crops there was nothing to remind Stare about this room's former purpose - where Vitruvion had taken her virginity. Now he was something of a different man, with a different attitude entirely as to how to treat her. Stare moved slowly as she took it in, then turned to see the door that led through into the next room.

More guards waited. Three at least, and amongst them Stare spied Jordain. Behind her there was noise and she turned to see Zulon and Vitruvion come out of the antechamber. Briefly the god looked at her, before gesturing for her to go.

Sucking in a short breath she squared her shoulders and began out. As soon as she did the guards who were there already pushed into a formation clearly already decided. Brer draw right to her side, blinking twice at her before looking forwards. Zulon moved his way around to take the lead, and Vitruvion unsurprisingly took up a place right behind her. Turning slightly she spied the face of Sable at the glass partition of her door, gazing out at her. The young woman looked curious, but also had a kind and encouraging look on her face. Stare breathed out and gave her a single nod, not sure of how to deal with the emotions concerning that woman who had changed hers and Vitruvion's relationship so dramatically. If Sable had not burst out with her sudden comprehension, what would have happened? Would life had just gone on, Vitruvion angrily keeping her close and forcing her to follow him everywhere he went like a dog?

It was too late to ask those questions now. Shuffling of feet was sounding and people were beginning to steadily move forwards. Her retinue, her over compensating protection.

Stare twisted back around, and began to walk, hugging the cloak around herself as silently their exodus began their way from the Hollow.

Most definitely the god, her god, had chosen his timing correctly. The corridor that led to the surface was more or less empty. No brothers dragging their stolen women or guards peering to see the rogue kenku who had now risen in hierarchy above all of them, yet still was somehow trapped.

They walked in silence. More guards joined them on their excursion and Stare became more rigid as they reached the end of it - to the door where the large mess hall was. She squared her shoulders, twisted her hand around the hilt of her dagger and became fully intent on marching past them without any reaction.

There were fewer guards then normal in the hall, but some nevertheless. Some of them turned their way, raising eyebrows to the large company that was entering. A couple of them gawped at Stare like idiots before Vitruvion growled.

Hurriedly they looked away and Stare knew she was going to have to add that to her list of requests. To let her fight her own battles. Treat her with respect and send her on missions as he had before, by herself. Indeed, his sister had just gone missing, and she had been lying in self pity for some long days, but that did not mean she was pathetic. The kenku walked faster, folding her arms tightly over her chest and there was a need for a general picking up of the pace.

Eventually the front door came into view. Stare perked up, excitedly for the desire to simply see the outside. Eyes darting around she began to take in the dream of the outside world, that she had partly refused to see herself, then been refused to see by others. Slowly, she stepped into the dusklight, her lungs filling with the crisp, cold air. Her entire stance relaxed, her eyes took in the buildings, the street and the world beyond and suddenly … things were good again.

She began to walk, turning around as if to head for the stables hidden behind the side of the Guard House. But a voice disagreed.

“Walking,” he said, and for the briefest moment touched her shoulder. Her body spun in surprise of it. Already he was taking steps, and gesturing ahead. “Come.”

She looked at him a moment, breathing in long and gradual. He tilted his head back to her, raising a brow.

“What?”

“Nothing,” she grunted, though was sorely disappointed in being told where she was to go.

Vitruvion watched her for a moment as she started towards him. A couple of times he blinked, but he did not answer her, rolling back his shoulders and beginning to walk.

-+-

For some long hours they walked, the sun setting around them, the world quietly becoming a still life. The guards separated from them, merging into the streets and alleyways surrounding, keeping a respectful distance away, but still there. More than once Stare caught sight of one of them, passing across the width of a perpendicular avenue, as she crossed, and sometimes shadows flickered at the tops of buildings. Her pace, however, was set to that of Vitruvion, who walked ahead at a reasonable pace, forging a path through this night time city, the two of them as ghosts confined to a plane of existence.

She kept quiet, simply enjoying the silence and stillness for what it was. Not getting tired easily, she kept going after him, although sometimes they paused as he reached a crossroad with indecision. Keeping her eyes mostly on the ground or at his back Stare felt the metaphor similar to her own situation - being at the crux of unknown futures. Indeed, she could probably try to get away now, simply stopping and falling behind, or ducking into a nearby doorway. She did not have her marbles - in fact she wasn't sure where they were at all currently, having not seen them after her return from the theatre. After she had slumped and eventually fallen asleep she had woken without any of her weapons either on her.

But the fact she had once used them already to escape from Vitruvion's obsessive 'protection’ was somewhat understandable. Justifiable was something else, but with his controlling personality it was going to take a rather extreme amount of negotiation to gain them back. To persuade him that she was better with them.

It made her decision to try to make a deal with him all the more attractive. Without the conversation, where would she be? Stuck, doing this silence for days, weeks, months on end? Practically a prisoner, although in some terms free, and nowhere near what she had been once. What could she honestly offer him though, that he would agree with for all of the benefits and changes that she desired? Her agreement to stay with him? That was already a given, surely. He had said, quite plainly in answer to her question that he would never let her go. So what else? A willingness to stay perhaps, a guarantee that she would no longer complain, no longer fight his authority. Because he was her god, she had to remind herself of that.

What else? What did he actually want from her that she was willing to give? Intimacy was definitely out of the question for her - she was going to remain adamant on that front. Perhaps, if she offered her fealty, as Raevin once had? Was that really something she wanted to do? Swear her allegiance to him? Well, wasn't she loyal to him anyway?

The problem was, there was a list twice as tall as her of things she wanted, but there was very little she could think of that she could offer him. Certainly, he could have some suggestions of his own - that she was open to. Maybe he would surprise her, and ask for some odd guarantee, like a promise or a favour, saved for later. What did he actually want? Well her, for one, and her safety. He wanted his kingdom, his power. He wanted his sister back. He wanted Raevin well, and he wanted security. Stare did not know how to find a way to give many of those things. For instance, finding him power … was that even possible?

It was, simply by her staying with him. She made him stronger, that had become clear from one of the initial months of when she had first demonstrated her magic. And now - now she had wings, had speed, had an ability to stare and cause a plethora of negative effects on people. All the world was hers, could be for the taking.

It got colder into the dark, as night settled around them. Still they walked, onwards through the empty streets that had never been filled, in the wake after the Corpse War. Some areas of the city of course were alive, such as the centre and the residential area, but those they seemed to try to avoid.

Or were going to. Around the early hours of the morning Vitruvion seemed to realise that she might be hungry, or thirsty. He headed into an area with a few shops, that were all closed, but also a pub, with a large area of window to give a view of the interior. As they got there, he gave it a once over, then paused and looked back to her, questioningly. Slightly, she nodded, drawing her cloak around herself.

Straightening, the god became tall and keen and sauntered into the pub, head held high. Stare was left by herself in the street, with the laughter of those who were still enjoying life into these small hours. She saw a flicker from a shadow, and a great hulking figure detached himself from it. Brer stepped into the light of the lanterns that brightened this small lively street, and then stopped beneath, lurking and downlit so his features were exaggerated to look drawn and horrifying.

It made Stare internally laugh, though, when one considered the giant's gentle nature. He was there to make her know there she knew someone was watching, a sort of attempt at comfort.

This, she took in, but she also knew it was partly so that because Vitruvion was gone presently, someone was able to directly watch her. Watch what the world was like around her. Rolling her eyes slightly she looked back to the pub, counting the frames in her head of the individual panels that were in a patchwork style. There were twenty of the small squares that made up the whole, with some of them warped with circular or bumpier patterns. Through them, however, a rough view of the interior could be seen, and the tall, white haired man who waited at the bar in a manner he never usually would do. Normally someone else, like her, would be standing for him. Slowly she took some places forwards as she took in the quite ordinary scene and wished her life were that normal.

There was a sudden shout. She saw various people twist around towards the door. Then there was a louder yell, and someone crashed through the door at the same time a sudden dark shape came towards the window The tiny wooden barriers holding the glass panels in could not stand for the sudden dwarf that was being thrown through, and suddenly -

She was shoved over by the same man who was running from the door. Cursing, Stare slammed into the ground backwards. The thrown dwarf landed near her head, rolling for a couple of moments before he stopped. Stare looked from him, and up, to see the one who had pushed her over standing and staring into the pub. Hissing darkly she began to stand, letting a string of kenku annoyances coming to her beak before -

Thwunk. The sound of a crossbow bolt being released. Now Stare was the one pushing the man to the side, aiming to knock him out of the way as she lifted her eyes to see where the bolt was darting -

A split second was all she got. A thick line heading right for her skull. Quickly, she sucked in breath, knowing it was still impossible for Brer to get to her, or for her to duck already, even with her speed. It was so few microseconds until it hit her breast and she began to twist, as the shoulder would be better, when -

Nothing happened. Stare blinked, confused, as no pain exploded in her upper arm, her collar or anywhere similar. Instead there was now a second figure looming over her, this one pale and gaunt-looking, holding the bolt in two fingers, like he had just plucked it straight from the air.

Like he of course had actually done.

She sighed, as he stared daggers at her - a meaningful 'I told you so,’ look in his eyes. There was a secondary series of small thunks, and both of them looked over to see a man reloading the crossbow. Stare didn't pause. Immediately she summoned up an image of horror - the realisation that her brother had just killed her, this time - and shoved those emotions through her eyes at the man's wrist. He let out a vivid scream, and she used her current fury to drive her to look to his eyes. Dropping the unloaded crossbow he used his good hand to begin clutching at his face, crying, “I can't see! I can't … see!”

Vitruvion paused before he extended a free hand to start pushing apart the feathers at her shoulder. Stare leant out of the way.

“I’m fine,” she muttered. An eyebrow rose at her. “Honestly,” she stared at him flatly.

Vitruvion curled his lip as he snapped the bolt into two. There was a hissing sound as it disintegrated from the bottom up, falling to dust in his hand.

There was a stunned silence. From all within and outwith the pub. Aside from a single whimper coming from beneath them - the man the crossbow had been aimed at. “I'm sorry,” he mumbled, “please don't.”

Stare huffed, then took a step back and began to stalk away, back in the direction of Brer. She did not pause or look back to see if Vitruvion exacted any vengeance on those who had enacted the violence - in all honesty she did not care. It was his personality, his way. Dutifully, she had done her part, told him she was well, and that was all there was to it, as far as she was concerned. Still fuming, she began to walk right away, the half-giant in her shadow.

It was several minutes before Vitruvion caught up with her. This time he walked beside her, though still a full person's width away. Silence fell between them, the guards merged back into the darkness and all was as it was before.

Early dawn came, the first light of the new day - day eight - whispering over the tops of trees and heralding life. Flowers began to open, extending their petals wide, stalks of grass drew upright, like soldiers, and the various early morning merchants - bakers, deliverers and the like - began to shuffle in the streets. Vitruvion steered them at this point towards the emptier parts of the city - the outskirts - and Stare let him, thoughts riddling her mind.

The fact he had quite literally plucked a bolt from the air that she could not stop. The fact he had made his primary concern her health. The fact he had forgotten the food.

But hunger wasn't her priority. He life was. And Stare kept running over and over in her mind over what had actually happened, why it had happened, what good it had brought her. Her life was - what? Hers? Or was it his? What did she want now? How much freedom was he willing to give her now that he owned her body and mind? She knew she had to be adamant in her thoughts of non intimacy right from the beginning.

Vitruvion was ahead by a few paces. Currently he was angling down a street where the buildings had no doors or windows. Instead empty lintels held buildings that had either never been completed, or had all their glass stolen. Through them was emptiness, and Stare thought of the cage she was in, and the bars she would begin to construct for herself.

She sighed. “I … I need to speak,” she said quietly, her voice barely steady with the thousands of emotions wrecking her body.

For a long time now they had been walking in silence, the steady breeze of the afternoon all the sound they needed, and so her voice was a riot in the peace. The god drew to a halt, back as rigid as it had been when they had begun this walk, back when the dawnlight had been darkness. Stare slowed with him, her heart thumping in her small chest like it would break free any seconds and cause havoc, ricocheting through the streets and back to the ten or so guards who outwith hearing distance, but ultimately followed them.

“Vitruvion?” she said determinedly.

He did not turn. He simply acknowledged her. “Yes.”

It was an invitation if there ever was one. The kenku swallowed, her eyes following the waves of his pure white hair and the build of his person. They studied how he was perfectly pieced together, what divine magics had made him, and the proud way that he held himself. Still held himself, after all that he had been through, all he had done.

“Vitruvion, I want you listen,” Stare kept gazing at the back of the man whom she now knew had deeper feelings for her than he would ever confess. Than he wanted to admit. That she wanted him to admit.

He did not move. Instead he remained as statuesque as he had been, upright and strong. Baring his back to whatever words were to come from her mouth.

“Vitruvion, you ruined my life,” she told him. “You stole everything from me. My freedom, my virginity, my future, all of my dreams. You had me kidnapped, you abused and raped me like I was one other worthless mortal to be despised. One other being who you had to misuse, all because you thought that was your right. Your purpose. You took me from what little home I had, changed my name and identity, enslaved me - actually made me belong to you with no preset conditions. You stole the freedom of my mind, took my mortality, made me yours in every respect.”

Her voice was hot, full of anger and burning. Her eyes blazed into the back of him, and if he was not immune to her abilities he would be screaming, huddling on the floor, worse than the man at the pub - because right now she was willing it.

Instead, though, he remained still, a frozen form that was listening but not reacting to her bitter words. Not that she would see anyway.

“I should hate you. With every fibre of my being I should despise and want you dead. Even though you're the son of the being who created my race, I should utterly be disgusted whenever I am in your presence. I should be far away by now, have run a long time ago and never looked back, I should have-”

“Stare!” he interjected, whispering in a low, haunting voice. Immediately she broke off, sucking in her breath and glaring at his back. Slowly, he began to move, his shoulders lifting up and down as he exhaled a great sigh. “Stare … I … I cannot let you go. Yes, you should have run from me, a being who did all those things to you, but I cannot let you go. The very core of my being forbids it, letting you be elsewhere that is not under my protection, letting you stray somewhere that someone else could harm you, I cannot let that happen, for …”

For he could not bare to see her go. He could see her hate him, spit at him, not want him near her but he could not see her die. To not have her was to be with death, and he was a god. Immortal, potentially invulnerable, responsible for everything he claimed protection over and she was it for him. The centre of his divine concentration.

“I know,” she said gently. “I know,” she breathed out, her eyes sliding to the floor.

“I told you once, and I will tell you again,” his voice rumbled, filled with agony. “If I have to I will keep you with me, no matter how reluctant you become. If you come to despise me, then there is a solution. The first home I ever owned here is a tall house, on the edge of a cliff. I would keep you there, where you would not have to see me, but I could know you were safe. But still I would know where you are. You are mine, Stare. Nobody else's.”

“So you don't regret it?” she said, now pain and sorrow coming into her voice. “Taking my life from me? Making me … this?”

His head tilted around. The white hair wavered as he twisted at the shoulder, the stern line of his jaw coupled with the smooth curve of that nose and the corner of a single ice blue eye that bore into her black ones with an intensity that told her that he was listening. That he did care about this conversation. That he did care about everything.

“I regret what you had to endure for it,” he quietly replied. “That I have hurt you. That I am … hurting you. But you have to know that I cannot - I -” he twisted back around, his expression twisting into something macabre. “Fuck this darn world,” he cursed, “These people in it. You want to never see me again? Fine. I'll make it that you do not, I'll send you to that house. But there is danger out there, Stare, a far greater danger than there ever has been before and I - cannot see you get hurt again. Not by me. Not by him. Not by anyone!”

And he threw himself all of a sudden. His ringed fist rose, glinting with power and wonder as it flew. In a split second he went from calm to a swift, his hand colliding with the wall of the empty building closest to him.

[B]Wham.[/I] There was a mist of dust. Tiny hurricanes twisted into the air, rising on unseen currents with a rain of brickwork splinters. Stare jumped as the god gouged out a heavy portion of the wall, the stone crumbling like powder as his divine strength slammed against it. But she remained quiet and as the mist cleared, slowly but easily, the brown dust falling to the ground she could see him remaining there. Arm extended, elbow high and fist still shoved into the wall. His face was a contorted mess of frustration, angry at himself, angry at his world, angry at what his father had done to him, and how he had treated her even as time had gone on and he had learnt more about what she meant to him, what she could do for his life, how she was bringing him closer and closer to the god he could honestly be …

“Fucking shit,” he whispered as he stared.

And in that moment Stare felt pity for him. Or, she had always felt pity for him, knowing what he had been through in his own life, all of it out with his control. He was her rapist, her enslaver, the one creature she truly blamed for all that was wrong in her life, yet - yet.

As he began to shake, she took a step forwards. And, as slow as a bear first emerging from its winter hide, she extended her hand forwards, her clawed fingers twisted and black, as black as he had made her or as black as perhaps she had always been, and he had merely found that side of her. Carefully she stretched and touched his shoulder, fingers shaking as their flesh met.

“Vitruvion?” she whispered.

And his eyes slid closed. He moved, head coming forwards to meet his fist and pressing his temples against the cold, broken stone. A god, but broken, hating what he had done to her, not able to forgive himself yet still unable to give her up.

“Vitruvion, “ she breathed slow as she came closer. “My lord, I'm not going to ever truly be happy, but I -” she tightened her grip around his shoulder, swallowing for what she was about to say. “I … I want to make a deal.”

Confused, and alert, his eyes sparked open. Now his sorrow and anger was quickly gone and he turned to look at her directly, brow coming low over his eyes with deep concern.
“A deal?” he asked, unsure, not hiding his disgust and distrust at the idea. “Stare, this is about you and I, not-”

“Will you please let me speak?”

His expression darkened and narrowed his eyes slightly. Still he hated being talked to in that manner but he was pausing, letting her talk in a way he would never have done pre-discovery of their divine connection. The god huffed, straightening slightly and looking at her with a disgruntled irritation.

Stare felt her heart hammer as she looked at the man who had stolen everything from her, and prepared to negotiate him for the remainder of her existence. She dropped her hand from his shoulder and neatened her wings beneath her cloak.

“I … I will stay with you Vitruvion,” the words slipped through her beak with deliberation, each one a century of meaning. “Willingly and without protestation. I will stop fighting, stop blaming you for every little thing. I will put my trust in you, give you my loyalty if you want it … my fealty if you're that arrogant.”

The words fell from her beak like drops of snow, gentle but able to cause an avalanche.

Vitruvion breathed in slowly, not betraying any thoughts on his face, as it became a mask of neutrality. He blinked, the azure eyes disappearing for just a single second. It was a few seconds before he answered. “And what do you want in return?” he asked quietly.

Stare swallowed. “I … know you want more from me,” she murmured, her eyes slipping from his to look at her hand on his shoulder. Letting it slide off she kept talking. “But I cannot give you it all. For reasons you have to understand I - I do not want to be intimate ever again with you, Vitruvion. I also want to ask that you - you free me for Ansaldo's sake. I will be yours in loyalty, but I ask not in property.”

He looked at her a moment, eyes narrowing. “The latter …”

“Please,” she said desperately. “Just think about it.”

There was a look of disgruntlement on his face but he nodded slightly.

She let out a sigh of relief. It was the best she had gotten in a while. “That, and I want to know the plans you have for me, I want to know if you wish to … turn me into a crow or whatever. I want to have a say in my life. But I will take into consideration what you have for me and my future, and stay with you.”

“Into consideration?” he replied, and her gaze darted up again. His eyebrow arching slightly, but in his eyes she could see intensity, as if he was delighted in what she spoke of, what she was proposing.

“Vitruvion, I don't want to be simply told what I am doing with my life. For the majority of things, such as if we moved city, if you decided to have a child,” his other brow shot up, “if you … decided to wage war on an entire civilisation - those you could tell me the minute before it occurs. But if they concern me directly, for instance you wanted me to marry, those are times I will-”

Suddenly Vitruvion leant forwards, cutting off her words with surprise. His arm that had previously been battering on the wall slipped down and wrapped around her waist, carefully curling around her wings. Stare's eyes widened as he grabbed her and then hoisted her into the air, pulling her easily up so that her head was level with his, as her back wing pressed into his side. His eyes were still dark but she saw upon his lips the faintest flicker of a smile. Easily he switched his grip so that he was embracing her but also holding under her legs. Then, quite elegantly, he twisted around, moving his eyes away from her face and continued down the way they had been headed, except now with her fully in tow.

“Vitruvion, I have not even finished,” she said, trying to shove at his arm.

“I agree to the majority,” he said simply. “You should know, however, that you will never marry.”

“That is precisely one of the situations that concern myself that I am asking that we discuss!” she stressed. As she struggled she found herself unstable and her more free wing began to flop. Quickly he adjusted his hold to take her spare wing into account, pinning it to her back as she gripped into his shirt. It was not that she was comfortable with his holding her so, but that she had more pressing matters to discuss, than his apparent dismissal of the entire negotiation.

“Fine,” he replied, dryly, coming to a halt. He lowered his arm, letting her drop to the floor, but kept a hand on her shoulder. Looking at her right in the eyes he spoke. “Do you agree, that given the circumstances, having stated what has been said, that you marrying would be entirely inappropriate?”

Stare growled. “At the moment, yes, but-”

“And romantic relationships,” he went on, “How about them?”

He had once ordered her never to have one. Now, he was doing little more than that, presenting her with information that showed just exactly how less of a possibility they were now. Not that she was entirely interested in them - there was something in her growing that she did not need romance in her life in order to continue. Even having intercourse with anyone would cause complications to a degree that neither of them were willing to discuss. Quite simply, Stare had seemingly won her side with a lack of intimacy between herself and Vitruvion, and she was currently satisfied to leave her sexual experiences entirely in the past. Her eyes dropped down. So, this was going to be one of his points of negotiation.

“I … do not need them,” she honestly said, “I did not need them even when you forbade me from them. I agree to them not being a part of my life.”

“Good,” and he tugged her to him, sweeping an arm down to take her up once more. She rolled her eyes, but this time gripped onto his shoulder as she felt a confidence come into his stride. His paces lengthened, his breathing seemed to ease, and his shoulders relaxed. Eyes dropping down she saw his fingers clutching around just behind her knees, holding her steady against himself, and she huffed a little as he murmured.

“Willingly mine, Stare,” he said, “that is what you said.”

“Public displays of … this does concern me,” she replied, letting the dislike coming into her voice. “And so, this should be discussed.”

“A negotiation works both ways.” he tightened his jaw, and she could feel the tension in his body, “This is one of mine.”

“They also take time,” she hissed, “this is precisely the sort of thing that I wanted to talk about before you just-”

They moved around a corner. Stare cut off as Vitruvion, possibly deliberately, turned them right into the path of Zulon. The guard’s breath rushed out of his chest, and drew to a halt, automatically pulling himself up sharper.

“Sir,” he said quickly, “This was not deliberate, I ordered the men to remain a respectful distance.”

Vitruvion shook his head slightly, the gentleness of a smile coming to his lips. Shifting his arm he lifted Stare higher onto his body, causing her already shocked and frozen form to need to lean back against his shoulder. “It is likely time we should be heading back. Would you inform the men that there is a change of direction?”

Zulon blinked a few times, his brows rising as he glanced up to Stare. As dumbfounded as she she looked first from him to Vitruvion and began to open her beak, but the god let out a light laugh. She could hear the joyous being of his heart through his skin, suddenly aware that this was exactly what he had wanted for months. To bear her, to hold her without her struggling and moaning, and though it had been forced Stare had not immediately fought against it. Rather, she had anchored herself better, and somewhat settled now into his hold as he carried her past Zulon, his acting captain of the guard …

His request, he had called it. His desire. The closest he could get to intimately touching her, bestowing her with sweet kisses, and ultimately having her body. Public displays of affection. Willingly his, to an extent. Stare had a choice in that moment, a single chance to choose how her future life would be. As Vitruvion started up the pace again, heading right past Zulon, Stare saw her existence before her, now eternally accepting that she was going to be with him. And she could spend it bitter and resented, refusing every each touch that he longed to give her or - or -

Make it easier. Act in the way that she had fought against and that she had forced behind doors, every time Vitruvion crept into her bed at night, every time he had held her close, every time he had had devotedly stroked her feathers. Devoted, not possessive. Or both? A positive possession? Caring, to the point that she had felt claustrophobic, but that was the point of this negotiation, to explain those parts of her life where she felt Vitruvion was smothering her freedom as a suffocation rag.

“Well?” he whispered to her, in his now warmer, curious voice, quiet enough for only her to hear.

Steadily she breathed, her head twisting around to watch Zulon over Vitruvion’s shoulder. The guard stood, brows raised, watching in awe as around him soft snow began to fall from the sky. Cold, but small and harmless it floated down from the heavens and came to rest on the end of his nose and her beak as Vitruvion’s paces carried her further and further away. Away from an old life that had been full of unspoken anger, now into one that she had committed herself to - only with words but it made all the difference now that she had said, that she was submitting entirely into the act of an eternity at his side. Not fighting it anymore, not resisting but rather accepting, and open and at a form of understanding better than she had had not one hour ago.

A world before her. A thousand lifetimes. Living with her god, in a better future with a confirmation that she would be aware of what was to come when she was concerned - nothing like the shock of immortality coming to her again.

Deep her breast her heart continued to throb. But Stare had already made up her mind. Perhaps she had done it long ago, but really now it came to bud, as she sighed finally, and twisted away from Zulon. Sweeping her arm over his shoulder she allowed the man who had ruined her life to carry her. And she forced herself to relax, sighing out a last breath.

“You ruined my life,” she whispered to him.

“Yes I did,” he murmured back, the smile fading from his lips but his hold around her tightening. “But hurting you again is not upon my agenda.”

“Just leave it a couple of hundred years,” she muttered, yet she settled down more, realising that trying to explain her situation now to Nosdyn, Nevin, McKinley and all other friends was going to be interesting. No, she was still not going out with Vitruvion.

They got to the edge of a main road. A rumble told of a carriage coming, and as they waited, Stare could peer over the edge of her arm to see two armed men stepping around corners, their hair sprinkled lightly with the falling snow. It was dotted over her feathers already, starkly contrasting to the dark and she blinked slowly, watching as they paused, similarly to Zulon raising brows. Stare tensed, knowing that this was just the beginning; that the next few days were going to be full of questions, glares, confusion. Blaze was going to be inconsolable, and Sable perhaps more sane. The kenku’s breathing began to accelerate as the man who bore her squared himself, twisting slightly to nod back at the guards.

No words. Two fine horses pulling a carriage rumbled loudly past, causing Stare to sit upright in alarm. Vitruvion steadied her easily, before raising his other arm, and pressed against her shoulder to hold her still as he picked up his feet and headed over the road.

My agreeing to stay with you willingly was not … meant to provoke this.

He quickened his pace to avoid a rider on a grey stallion charging down the road. As I said, Stare, he replied also in the mind, the privacy of it more suitable now. 'This’ is my request. You know - he broke off, and she could feel the pride that ruled him begging him not to continue.

I know, she answered. I never thought it would be so public.

As per your other term, I will not … touch you … like that. His words came out as a growling stutter.

There are others, she growled, Other things I want to say. Not at the very least to get some clarity on what he meant by 'thinking about’ freeing her.

And we will discuss them, he replied. Compromise, but for the most part, we have an agreement.

Stare blinked twice, her eyes wondering over the sliver of his face that she could see from her position. There was a sincerity that she saw in his eyes, a sternness in his jaw that she knew immediately she could trust.

She glanced back over his shoulder, watching as more guards joined their rear, stepping out from the gloom and the early morning snow that they had hidden themselves in as she and Vitruvion had begun their long, nighttime walk. Now, they were gathering, coming out of silence to gaze at what had precisely become of their employer and his favourite.

Finally she saw Brer come around the corner, and the half giant paused for a moment before throwing her a rare smile. She sucked in her breath quickly, sitting up, taller - and Vitruvion played on it. He looked back to see the collection of his employees, surveying them with a general sweep of his eyes before he smiled. Stare saw in that moment genuine pleasure and happiness, a rare sight for a man who had been through so much. And for her - an honest moment of bliss was beyond her much of the time, because of what she had been through and what she had seen. Because of what he had done, but other things also. Her whole family dying, her brother killing her. He had made her with the same hardened heart he had, and now she had decided to devote her life to giving up fighting, to working with him. Indeed, she would have remained in some close proximity to him, fighting for every chance of freedom she could - but this way … there was far more patience and kindness and hope. And the tall house he had mentioned - she doubted it would feel like she was a princess, locked away in a tower. Indeed, the fact that he had not misused Blaze and Sable for the past three months gave Stare some hope - although it could not excuse their ruined lives. With her own willingness to a fairer future with him, Stare honestly hoped that the two girls would now never need to suffer again.

Vitruvion could always use prostitutes.

He shifted with her thoughts. Beneath her he took in a laborious breath before focusing back before them. His grip around her, still with both hands, became more determined. Angling down a further street he quickened his pace, twisting around corners as finally the appearance of all ten guards became apparent. Stare own pulsed raced, knowing now that it was far too late to change her mind in all of this - that word of how he had carried her would spread and any rumours that had been as whispers would be confirmed. It was a life she was going to have to face, and a life he had stated as his part in the agreement.

There before them was the guard house. Old and lonely as the only used building for three blocks, yet bustling with enthusiasm as morning began. Stare mumbled as Vitruvion started towards the door, his stance rigid and full of purpose.

“Please let me down here.” Her voice was barely audible.

“You do not trust me now to carry you down stairs?” he replied, the happiness lingering in his tone.

She stiffened as she stared at the building coming towards them, and the people it bore. “It is not about that, it is -” she stopped though, as his hand carrying her released her. Loosening her hold around his shoulders she slid down to the ground as he allowed her to, never missing a pace in his step.

And then she was walking beside him, her breath fast, and her eyes blinking fast, as the world in which they now lived came to more of a realisation to her. Vitruvion's guards came into place behind them, and the god bore himself proudly. As they approached the door, polite nods came from those exiting and entering. Stare was filled with the knowledge that her decision was suddenly permanent, that this was it, this was her life. As they came to the door, Vitruvion took a pace to the side at just the right moment so that she angled in.

She paused only briefly, confusion hitting her but understanding quickly. Easily he moved in behind her as she took the lead, heading through the only route that she really knew in this place, down into the depths of the building and towards the Hollow.

Silence was between all twelve individuals as they made their way through the doors, stairs and rooms. Stare imagined that those who were with them made up a large part of the guards who lived in the Hollow anyway, under Vitruvion's command. Naturally there would be some currently holding the doors secure at both Blaze’s and Sable's rooms, but beyond that … of the little she knew of the mercenaries Vitruvion employed, the majority of them had followed them into town.
It showed something of his obsession to keep her safe.

“We're headed to the antechamber,” he murmured behind her.

Simply she blinked, and did not argue. She pushed open the various doors, ignoring as best as she could the various accoutrements. Her rear claws clicked softly on the ground as she gained to the room of soft furnishings and minimalist decoration; where she had been kept that past week. Her sofa was still chaotic, with its pile of cushions and abandoned blanket, and his pouch of papers was on a side table. She stopped close to the centre of the room, pausing by an armchair where she looked around her at the patterns in the fabric. There were sounds that followed her; the beats of feet and the mumbles of voices. They were not for her to hear, and likely did not concern her so she ignored them, instead wondering just to what extent she had allowed her life to change by saying a few simple words.

She remained as she was until a louder voice spoke up. “Zulon, if you could arrange for more mine and Stare's belongings to be brought here.”

Stare turned, her brow rising. “What?”

Vitruvion was standing close by, leaning on the arm of his favourite armchair and speaking to the elite human swordsman. He glanced around to her.

“Things are dangerous right now, Stare. I've put off actually bringing more personal effects over here from the mansion for some time, but it must be admitted that this is safest.”

Her brow furrowed and she huffed. “The matter has not changed that I am not fond of it here.”

“Yet you stayed here the past week.”

“Because you locked me in! And sent me here in the first place!”

“Stare, did not you use 'moving city’ as one of your examples wherein I did precisely not have to confluence with you?” The familiar smirking smile began to flicker onto his face.

Stare paused and scowled slightly. He had a point. Zulon glanced between the two of them, curiosity plain. The god waited for her to answer, then twisted back to Zulon, “If you could arrange that. Stare and I apparently have some discussion to do.”

The guard nodded a little, before throwing the kenku a last small grin. “Of course sir.” He left in a rapid movement, a certain spring coming into his pace. As soon as he closed the door behind him Stare looked over.

“This isn't its own city.”

“No,” Vitruvion agreed, “But it is highly similar. Moving here only has your future dependent on it in the way that you could be less safe, where you outside of here. Which is now one of my primary focuses of concentration,” he nodded to the room as he leant away from the armchair. “Yes?”

She blinked, eyeing him, but replied.

“Fine,” she grunted.

“Is there any wine?” he asked as he began to ease off his coat.

Stare paused a moment before she shook herself. Thinking a moment she remembered the dinner the previous night and where Zulon had placed the bottle at, just in case. She moved, wandering over to near the mantlepiece, with its would-be fake fireplace within. There stood a cabinet, and with a slight bend of her legs she opened it. Finding in it actually a variety of red wines she grabbed what she knew would satiate his appetite for now.

Naturally she turned and he was already lounging across the sofa that was not designated hers, watching her.

“Where you done detailing your conditions, or was I right, and do we have more to discuss?”

“You accepted them rather fast,” she muttered as she walked over, balancing the wine in her hand as well as two goblet. She unscrewed the bottle with the same hand that held it and began to pour.

“I did,” he agreed, “I agreed to the basics of what you proposed, but there are finer details always. I have not built the businesses I have based on ignorance of that fact.”

“I want you to take my freedom seriously, though,” she said firmly, holding out the filled goblet to him as she gained closer.

“And I will,” he inclined his head as he leant up to take it.

Vitruvion watched her carefully before he took a first sip. “Stare, I need your confirmation that you are wanting this. That you are … willing. Because there will be no going back. I mean it when I say eternity.”

“You yourself have made it clear that the other way of living would be be holed up somewhere, locked in a tower like some destitute princess.”

“That is very abolutist of you, my dear,” he replied, but he did not smile. In fact he was far from the bliss of before. His gaze was still filled with desire for the answer to his question.

Stare looked down at the wine, her heart thudding. Her mind began to whirl, wondering if she really good back out now. If she could say that no, she was no longer interested and that instead she hated him, wanted to leave and -

She dragged in her breath and twisted around, taking both wine bottle and goblet with her. Letting herself fall she moved onto the sofa, placing herself right by him, inches from his form with her hands. Yet she did not settle, not yet; instead she began to pour her own goblet of wine, letting the crimson liquid flow. Beak halves pressed tight together she leant forwards and dumped the bottle on the floor, letting out a huff through her thin nostrils.

And then she sat back, wine in clawed hand, body a slump. Blankly, she stared into the centre of the room, viewing the place that was to become their home for the foreseeable future.

“Stare?” he asked again.

She breathed in and looked over at him, her great black eyes blinking. Studying his features she took in the image of the man and god who was there, whose father had created her race, and who himself had stolen her life from her. A man she knew she could not avoid, whom she had spent more energy on than anyone else to ensure his happiness, his pleasure, and his satisfaction.
Her employer. Her master. Her god.

“I am loyal to you, my lord,” she spoke seriously. “Willingly, I commit to you, from now until my final death.”

His lips parted as she pulled the goblet towards her drink. As she let the rich red liquid run down her throat, he did also, breathing out a satisfied sigh as they imbibed together. When the goblets were brought back down he was unsubtly smiling at her, a look of contentment across his face.
Seconds of silence passed. Stare could only breathe then, listening to the words as they fell away from her ears, those pieces of information that adhered her unbidden fealty.

He switched hands to place the goblet in the one that was far from her. Then his now free arm raised up, extended back, fingers lightly gesturing. Stare blinked before she grunted, unsure of why she was surprised in any manner. She pulled more wine down her throat before she moved closer, ridding the universe of the few inches of space between them.

As soon as she was close enough, his arm fell around her. Scooping her form around, about her waist, he tugged her to his side, easing her against him. Only did she resist slightly as he brought her body in line with his, finally stopping to rest his hand on the rise of her hip. She huffed for a moment, but day there. Quietly, she sighed before relaxing into the position she was sure to be in for some time.

“Other details …” he murmured, bringing his goblet to his lips. “I think it will be easier for all of Mer is sent away.”

Stare blinked, thinking of the elf, bastard daughter of the de facto queen of Raiaera, who lived in Vitruvion's mansion and had originally been hired as Stare's apprentice. For two weeks or so now she had been doing Stare's business management work on her own.

“Is she not useful?” Stare was surprised to hear herself champion the woman, though she was not the greatest fan of her. “She's … doing everything.”

“Stare, we both know perfectly well Mer intends on proving herself as your replacement. With the recent progressions, her arrogance has only grown. Yes, she has her usefulness, and her advantages, but with the considerations of the dangers that we face …”

“But the businesses ..”

“Can cope themselves,” he replied. “You have handled them well this past year, teaching valuable skills to the managers. If there are emergencies then I will visit, but it must be a new era for them.”

“What about the mansion?” Stare asked, sitting up somewhat.

He peered down at her. “If it is necessary, we will close it up, for now, telling the household to return to their homes, giving them a stipend. Many noble families have other homes, to which they reside at certain times of the year.”

“Radasanth,” Stare murmured. “And your mysterious tall house.”

“Indeed.” Vitruvion drank back. He drained his goblet, then took a moment to adjust his hold on her as he leant forwards, taking her briefly with him. Setting his goblet on the ground he allowed her a rest bite of setting her own goblet on the floor before his arm pulled around her waist again. A slight, meaningful nudge and she could adjust to his desire to relax once more. Together they settled back down, his posture less stiff and her feet now curled beneath her body.

“One question,” she asked suddenly. He raised an eyebrow and looked sideways at her. “Am I still technically your employee? Do I have a salary still?”

He pursued his lips a moment and frowned slightly. “Well, I have not arranged for your monthly salary to be cancelled or altered in any way. I do not see any reason to cease it's transaction.”

“I did not know with the change in circumstances …” she shrugged a little. “You would take it as an excuse to save money.”

“I've never been an overly scrupulous person, Stare,” he replied, “In fact I am sure I pay most people too much, there was a comment one of the guards made …” he frowned a little. “I am 'overtly generous’?”

Certainly, Stare had never heard of someone complaining because they were employed by one of Vitruvion's businesses and paid too little. From what she knew of the mansion's accounts, which she herself often organised, the wages for his workers were above the average. But then, even when she had been living with him at the beginning, as his slave concubine, people had mentioned he was a highly rated employer.

“I am?” he raised his brows as he took in her surface thoughts. “Indeed. How curious.”

“My work,” she said, “And title as your steward. Are those to change?”

“Again, I see very little reason to,” he shrugged. “Of course, committing to your usual work duties now in the circumstances would not be appropriate whilst we face the danger we do, but … in time? We shall see. For now the businesses can certainly govern themselves - in fact I will go visit them tomorrow and organise such.”

There was nothing in it that she was interested in arguing. Thus, she only nodded and laid her head back down into the curve of the sofa, between the back of it and his shoulder.

“The greatest change, Stare, will be how people view you. More dramatically now than … those rumours.” He stiffened slightly, “those have been exaggerated and I have instructed Zulon to quell them but - I will not back down from my desire for … this,” he nodded at her, resting on his side. “That, as I said, is my request if you are so determined that I converse with you on many of the smaller details of our existence.”

“Details that concern my future,” she specifically pointed out.

“Those,” he curled his lip. “But I agreed to those terms, and thus, if it makes you less agitated, then …”

“I want to avoid another situation like the immortality meteor,” her voice was slightly bitter and irritated. “That was not good, and I still have not forgiven you on that front.”

“My defences on that still remain.”

Slightly, she rolled her eyes, but was silent. Their conversations on her surprise about immortality had already been and done, as she had been living with the reality of it for two months and more now.

“For your comfort, for those who ask I will not lie about our … lack of intimacy,” he said quietly. “I would not boast of what I do not have.”

She stiffened slightly, a lump forming in her throat. Yes, he had said, promised even, that he would never touch her inappropriately, as a lover might, but his hand on her hip was uncomfortably close. It was not that she did not trust him, but the reminder …

The hand began to slip from her hip, and she could see the consternation cross his face. The disappointment. The irritation.

“No, wait,” she said quickly, surprising herself more than anything. He paused, hand hallway in the air. Quickly, she shook her head. “I do trust you.”

Hesitantly Vitruvion returned the hand, yet he did it terribly lightly. “I have never lied to you, Stare. I may have hidden the truth, but I have never lied.”

Quietly, she nodded as he replaced his hand, and forced herself to relax. It was, after all, quite a sustainable fact to show he had never lied. It was something he had never done, laying out his expectations of her plainly and obviously.

“So,” he muttered, huffing out his own breath. “Is that everything?”

“Is that everything of your requests?” she asked, tilting her head up him.

He paused, forehead creasing slightly, before he shook his head. “Only that you continue to be as you are. As stubborn as you come,” he twisted his lips into a savage smile. “You still work for me, you are still in my employ and my service. The issues of ownership,” her body beneath his hold tensed, but he continued to go on, having completely expected the reaction, “I will think on and give you an answer in due course. As to your cuff … you have not explicitly requested that that be removed in anyway.”

Stare blinked a few times, her body now exceedingly rigid. Her right hand clasped over the cuff at her left wrist - that immovable thing that he had placed the original on many months ago at the same time as legally laying claim to her. They had both been ways to control her before either of them ever knew about their divine connection. The cuff in every respect had become more of a useful tool, and Stare genuinely had gotten used to the fact that there was always a being behind her, potentially watching.

“I would hope you consider the first seriously,” she growled. “That is … you should know how much it disgusts me.” And the second …” she paused, frowning, wondering why it was nothing she had considered. “It never passed my mind. I think I have gotten used to not having privacy even in my mind anymore that … well.”

He let a pause hang in the air, before he answered. “Yet you did not specify it into your proposal. With those words you have just said, I would strongly suggest it remains it is, for a variety of reasons. Your safety for one. Unless a significantly major issue concerning them emerges.”

“Suggest?” she grumbled.

“We are in the realms of negotiation,” he said lightly. “But you would need to negotiate something particular else in exchange. A fair compromise.”

What was worth the freedom of her mind? Stare could think of one thing that she could give him that might make him consider it, but her mind stopped as soon as she considered it.

“I have nothing,” she grumbled.

“Then we continue as we with it,” then he paused, and he looked down at where his hand rested on her hip before breathing in. “However, Stare, there is something of consequence you should perhaps be aware of.”

Immediately full of concern, Stare pulled away from him, which was not something he particularly seemed to like. A snarl of dislike came to his face as she sat up, pushing his arm away significantly. His lips pursed as she started, and she felt a wave of regret coming from him.

“What is it?” she asked. “You did something else to me? Am I … infertile?”

Flatly, he glared at her. “It is not another factor of your existence that I have changed that I have not related to you. Rather, it is in connection to one that already exists. Before I speak, however I will say that I will not be persuaded to alter the situation that it is.”

Tightly, her arms folded across her chest, brow rising, she spoke with a sour voice. “Vitruvion, what did you do?”

“My dear, a little more respect would not go amiss,” he frowned. “Mutual respect in kind - I am telling you this, despite not considering it particularly more consequential than … well.”

“‘My lord’ then. Better?”

His lips drew a thin line, and his eyes narrowed back at her, but he sat up sharper. “Fine. I need to ...” he focused on the door for a moment, and Stare heard the scrape of a lock being drawn. There were a couple of seconds then as she felt a vague popping sensation inside of her ears, Vitruvion's mouth seemed to slow - then speed up. She recognised it as his spell to encase them in a deaf bubble, so that only he and her could hear what was said.

After, he raised his hand and formed it into a pointing finger and indicated it at her chest. “Your soul is not within your body.”

It took her a moment to process what he was saying. Her soul was …

“What?”

Vitruvion ceased to look at her as he slumped back into the sofa. “As I said, as you heard. Your soul resides elsewhere, not within your body. I was reluctant to tell you because of this,” he savagely gestured at her, “reaction, but -”

“Where is it?” she asked quickly, her voice full of anxiety. “And am I … am I going to be sick, or ill or …?”

“Firstly, it is very safe, and currently far away. I will not tell you more than that. Secondly, no, not at all. Paradoxically, you might actually be healthier as some diseases also affect the soul and as it is not with you …” He shrugged slightly, then looked down at his now slumped arm that had been tight around her. His lip curled with distaste.

“Why would you do that?” she asked quietly, her heart hammering. “When …?” Though the answer to the latter question was somewhat more obvious. It was what he chose to answer first.

“'When’ was when I and Galatirion cooperated to enable your mortality negligible,” he answered, his tone now foul and negative. It was clear it was to do with her reaction. “'Why’ is more complex. It will take some time of explanation. Now, you can either listen to me, and let do so, or interrupt me every few seconds in that rude manner you are prone to do.”

He spat the last. Clearly, he was agitated and had not expected her to react as she had. Stare sucked in her breath, and moved back, away from him, pulse quickening. Her jaw tightened but she remained silent, but his words were more of an order tham anything. Indeed, she could interrupt him, but it was very clear that was not what he wanted. And with her recent pledge to him, and her willingness to accept him as the defacto authority in her life, Stare found herself reigning in her desire to retort and simply stared at him instead.

“Thank you,” he growled. “Now,” he bent to grab the wine and his goblet with rough movements. “'Why’ has to do with the methods in which were used to make you immortal. When Galatirion first blessed the elves with long life he wove it into the very core of their beings - into their souls. This being his expertise, and the fact that he rarely imbues another race with immortality, he suggested the safe detachment of your soul from your body before we worked.” He poured the wine and then shoved it out towards her. Stare took it from him with tense fingers before setting it down, unused. Vitruvion, irritated still, leant back into the cushions. “Naturally, he suggested I do it, as your god, as my magic and yours are supremely intertwined. Thus, I removed your soul from your body, and once the process of true immortality was complete there seemed more reason to keep it out than place it back in.”

He swigged a mouthful of wine, though still managed to keep it elegant. Stare's own hands were shaking, but she curled them into fists and shoved them between her legs to hold them still.

“You might have not noticed, but your body is now quite immune to any magical effects that solely, or in combination with their usual tender, that enact on your soul. As they seek to find your soul within your body and cannot find it there, it is only particularly strong magics that will be able to do you any damage therein. That in itself is a remarkable power that few can boast of,” he paused a moment, and she felt sorely tempted to mutter in a comment. However, for the first time in perhaps forever with him she kept herself focused and quiet, saving any rude remarks until after his reasoning. “That and you have yet another layer of protection around you. Anyone wanting to 'steal your soul’ would be amiss, and find themselves quite surprised to learn the truth.”

He swivelled his head to glare at her once more. “Clearly you have not noticed that you can no longer see your own aura. Your chakras are your energies, thus will still appear as per normal, however your halo that you see in others has quite gone. I imagined at one point you would have noticed, and questioned me upon it, yet apparently not …”

His words faded to nothing. Her eyes were bright and open by this time, wondering how she could have not seen it. How it had been staring at her back every time she looked at herself in the mirror, under the influence of her aura sight. But then - then she realised how rare she actually did do such a thing. She had begun to actively avoid it when she saw her alignment begin to darken, when the neutrality in her had begun to dwindle and she had become more chaotic in nature. She had steadily changed from a socially neutral lichen tone to a more rebellious and impure blue, approaching Vitruvion's own passionate plum chaos that had never faded as the months had passed. As he had intentionally or not intentionally altered her outlook on life.

It was therefore not surprising, as she considered it, that she had not noticed. Because actually looking at herself had made her feel ugly.

“It's not ugliness,” Vitruvion responded, “It's simply having another outlook on life. I was as you were once, more positive about people and optimistic about the world, but when you have lived through what I have - what we have - then your perspective changes.”

The change of subject seemed to be an indication that she could speak. Stare opened her beak to quietly respond.

“I was fine as I was.”

“Indeed, that is your opinion. Yet, we have already had this issue discussed in the conversation. Now we have what we have, and an agreement formed. Or has this changed your opinion about me, and your future now?” He was savage in his tone, reminding her of his intense anger which he had barely been able to control when they first met.

The kenku kept her eyes on her knees, unmoving as she thought. About what he had done here, what he was saying. That she was not like others, and that her soul was entirely gone from her. Cut like Eteri cut small pieces of people away - snip, snip, snip - but in this case Vitruvion had taken it wholly from her body and left it somewhere else that he would not say. Safe, yes, she had no doubt that it was in the safest place he could possibly fathom seeing as it was hers, but not what she had been expecting. In fact she had not noticed it, there had been no signs such as feeling emotionally detached from anything so there still was a connection to her soul. It was just it resided elsewhere, not in the fragile casing of her body.

“So when I died …” she mumbled.

“When you die your mind and essentially being will be where your soul is currently. There it stayed - will stay - until your body has healed itself,” she heard the faint chugging noise as he threw wine down his throat, then a clang as he shoved the goblet back on the ground. “The mind is separate from the body, but also from the soul. In a normal person it will fade when the soul does, but for you it will leave your body and join your soul, your actual immortal section, and wait. It acts as a form of … catalyst between them.”

There was silence as Stare took in what he said. She sucked in, before she asked, “I need … a moment to myself. Will you allow me to leave this room please?”

“Don't leave the Hollow,” he growled as he threw up his hand. The door opened with a soft click and a purr of its hinges.

“I was not going to,” she stood up slowly, her hands still fists by her waist. Then, without looking at him she very slightly bowed her head, then turned to quickly leave the room. Curious expressions and gasps of surprise came from the guards who were outwith. Vitruvion sourly ignored them, throwing his head back against the cushions of the sofa and continuing to glare, yet this time at the ceiling. He let his eyes slid closed.

“So what … happened? If you don’t mind me asking? He seemed livid.”

“He is livid,” she whispered, gazing into her mug of murky, brown lager. “Or at least frustrated with me.”

Zulon perceptively observed her. “And that … frustrates you.”

They were seated in a small mess room, that made up the social area for the guards within Vitruvion's apartments. Other guards of hosts who had less fine quarters came there also, as it was also connected to the upper kitchens. Warm food was bountiful and a fine choice of alcohol. Despite this, Stare had rarely found her way here, for she had preferred to spend more time out of the Hollow or within her own room. Yet, the room that had been described as 'hers’ had once been Ventrua's when she was more involved with Vitruvion's work, and considering the circumstances Stare did not think it appropriate to set one claw within the missing woman's halls. Ventrua, for all her faults, was still someone who had a good vein in her heart and was honest.

Stare narrowed her eyes at the drink in her hands as Zulon spoke. His words were a statement and not a question.

“Zulon …” she sighed.

Hands raised in acceptance he sat forwards towards her in the armchair opposite her, “I am saying nothing more, Miss. Although, I will say I am happy you are better, that you seemed to have reached an agreement with Sir Elssmith.”

But she could see him watching her, the same curiosity dancing in his eyes that had been since they had turned the corner to see him standing in close proximity. The same spark of inquisitive genius that had made him the perfect acting replacement for Raevin. It seemed that after he arranged for Stare and Vitruvion's belongings to be brought to the Hollow that he had lurked within reach of the small mess, just in case she should arrive.

“We had a minor disagreement.”

“Indeed,” he inclined his head slowly, but there was a smile at the corner of his lips.

She kept staring into her lager, though due to her eyes being at angles to the normal expected positions of a humanoid she spied him doing so. She let the seconds pass, even lifting up the glass in her hands to drink back, yet still he smiled. Time passed uneasily, painfully almost and it took a lot of her incorrigible willpower to not turn around at the first few moments.

Eventually, however, she knew she had to reply. Fully turning her head in his direction she paused to first check if there were many others nearby. As it was still the glory of the morning their numbers were few, and thus she found herself and Zulon far enough away from any prying ears. Not that the truth of what she was about to confess would remain in secret for very long.

“Fine. It does frustrate me that he is angry with me. It does make me feel lesser about myself. The reason why he was ecstatic was because I've given in, and told him I'd willing stay with him for the foreseeable future. Which he has already stated will be as long as I live.”

Zulon’s reaction was to blink. To stare in shock as the curiosity melted away from his face as he took in what she was saying. His lips parted as he sucked in his breath, sat up slowly, pulling his hands back from his knees.

“But you're … wait but did not you find out you were …”

“Immortal, yes,” she said stiffly, looking away, “so that means all the lives I have.”

Zulon let out a quiet whistle. “Well. If you do not mind me saying so Miss Stare, that explains his … behaviour.”

He spoke of Vitruvion carrying her as he had, parading her in front of the guards like she was some lover he was taking to bed. And he had held her close upon the sofa. Stare knew she would have to expect more of the closeness, despite it not getting closer than simple canoodling. Still, Vitruvion had already made such displays public, and Stare knew it would only be so long before they would be seen by all beyond the depths of the Hollow, out there in Beinost. Word would reach Mer’s ears and all hope in the elf of ever becoming Vitruvion's lover would fall to nought.

The kenku closed her eyes softly, and took in a long breath. “I do not mind, Zulon. The rumours had already started.”

“You've added fire to the flame, Miss.”

The guard grinned a little. Stare knew he was thinking of the night at the theatre, when Sable had spoken. And Vitruvion had not denied it. After then he had tried to quell the rumours - or, rather, he had specifically tried to quell the ones concerning his feelings. Those exact ones. Rumours of romance were something else.

She considered how he had rolled into her bed throughout the last year. All of those embraces were forced ones, that Stare had felt uncomfortable with, and resisted. Now that she had accepted that these public displays of affection were going to heavily be in her life, things would be smoother.

“To make you aware, we are not … intimate.”

He raised his brows but shrugged. “Still,” he spoke in a low voice. “Miss Stare, it does explain why he has not entertained Sable or Blaze recently …”

Stare tightened her jaw and looked flatly at him. “Just to remind you, Zulon, he is connected to my mind, and can hear what you say.”

He raised his hand in innocence. For a moment she continued to glare at him, though carefully keeping her emotions in check, so as not to cause him any harm. If she had lips they would be pursed.

“The rumours will survive Miss Stare. Of course if you wish I will deny what I hear but they will spread.”

Stare looked away again, but she knew she had to admit it. Very much, she already knew it; from the moment he had carried her in such a way it was only ever going to be a time. And word spread fast in the Hollow, for though the community was divergent it was few in number, and the guests had little to do but socially but converse - with each other and the guards, who were their only communication to the outside world. They would feed on what gossip they could and run riot.

“I would not be surprised if it has already.”

She was silent for a moment then replied dryly. “Well that is that,” the dullness of her eyes made it clear she was not amused.

Zulon leant back, observing her as the wordlessness stretched between them. His hand played on the hilt of his sword. Stare drank slow, her eyes growing heavy with time. Things seemed unable to be said, and it came to be that she discovered she did not really want conversation, just to think about what this revelation meant. Did not having her soul in her current body make her more powerful, as Vitruvion had said? Or was he just saying that to make her feel better? The fact he would not tell her where it was - and she knew for definite that any attempt at persuasion on her part would not make him reveal it as she knew how stubborn he was - bothered her only a little. For the majority it mostly made her uncomfortable, even though she knew it would be safe. The god was so obsessed with keeping her safe that he was forcing her to move into the Hollow indefinitely. However, it still was very unnerving to know suddenly that her soul had not been in her body for more than three months now, without her ever realising or knowing.

These thoughts played on her mind, and she found herself beginning to wallow in self pity. Her eyes grew duller as she finished off the last of her lager. Leaning back in the chair she stared at the wall, watching the way the errant steam from the kitchens nearby curled off them and strained in spiralling efforts to reach the small ventilation shafts that led back into the building of the Guard House. Her arms ended up folded across her chest as she sat there for an hour so in perfect irritation.

After a long time she remembered Zulon was there too, and looked over, only to him not in the same chair. Instead he was over the other side of the room, talking in a low voice with another guard, evidently in the way that their heads were conspiratorially close discussing business. As she blinked at him she realised just how tired she was, after being up most of the night and still not with successful sleep. Indeed, she could fall asleep in this chair - the lager was certainly inviting her to - and her eyes had been drooping ever since he had come to speak to her, but it was not the most comfortable place. Going to Ventrua’s room was not an option because of the same reasons she had not gone to it originally, and the only other place was into the antechamber with her sofa, or Vitruvion’s bedroom, where she certainly did not want to be. For she was still in a bad mood with him and -

An idea struck her as she looked at the acting Captain of the Guard. She realised he had been following her and Vitruvion through the night, but did not seem tired himself. Was it possible that he had briefly laid his head down, somewhere close by that did not need her to go far? Perhaps an overnight guard room for sleeping within Vitruvion’s apartments or similar, that had the potential to be empty this time of day.

Quickly, she sat up, eye bright with the idea. “Zulon?” she asked.

The guards’ conversation cut off sharply. Green eyes looked over to her, as well as a pair of hazel ones. “Miss Stare?” Zulon replied in the same tone.

“Are there … sleeping quarters nearby? For you lot resting during the night, between shifts and so on?”

Zulon looked over to his companion, then back to her. He paused, confusion in his face as he answered. “... Yes, there is. It’s just a couple of doors down from here. Why do you ask, Miss?”

“Anybody in it now?” she was already starting to get up, brushing down her tunic.

Slowly, he shook his head, sitting up as he realised her intentions. “No, Miss Stare, but-”

She was already moving, raising a hand, “Thanks,” she said lightly, adjusting her wings as she strode. “If anyone is looking for me, tell him he can wait for me to wake up.”

“Miss,” Zulon said in a strangled, shocked tone, “Miss, just wait, please …”

His companion, however, rose a hand and touched Zulon lightly on the shoulder. Stare looked at the hazel-eyed man as she saw, and threw him a glinting pleasure in her eye before she left the room, now more confident.

Apparently Vitruvion was either not interested or too busy to care about the fact she was looking elsewhere to rest. That or he was not even listening into her thoughts which, though it was a rare occurrence, was possible. At the moment she was quite satisfied not to receive any commentary from him as she moved down the corridor.

Two doors, Zulon had said, and she lightly peered through one, finding a store cupboard, then another. In it was a low single bed, with cotton sheets and nothing grand. A small cabinet sat beside it with a small oil lantern that currently lit the room. Blinking, she rejoiced at the simplicity of it, and strode forwards into the room. Casually, she closed the door behind her, then headed straight for the bed. Onto it she collapsed right down, deliberately not thinking of anything, not stripping herself of any clothing. Stare fell onto her front, so her wings were in the air and she did not pause to pull the blanket over herself.

Instead she closed her eyes, and invited sleep to come. For rest was needed for her, in a day like the one she was having. In a night, especially when she had found her voice and will after seven long days. Slowly she began to breathe, and let sleep come, her voice now given.

“N-no, sir, she - she hasn't. She-she said that …”

Peeking open one eye she glared at the door, irritated at the sounds that had lifted her from slumber.

“I-I … I don't know sir.”

Groaning quietly she grabbed a cushion, pulling it over her head. Her wings flopped uselessly from her back, as if wanting to wake up but the rest of her body was unwilling. Quite sharply she told them to back down, and they stilled. Mostly.

There was a low, muttering voice of authority, that had no discernible words - yet still was understood enough for an answer.

“Eh, yes sir. She - she just went in.”

She huffed grumpily into the mattress under her, rolling her eyes about the lack of peace. It was different from the seven days within the antechamber, where sorrow had kept her from talking to anyone, and she was respected. Now it was if the world had a bone to pick with her and wanted her to suffer and be awake when her rest had been so little.

Or she was not that sure. How late had she actually fallen asleep? Was it as yet night once more?

“Eh - eh, sir!”

“If you want her out sir,” came a fresher, crisper voice, “We will get her for you.”

Stare opened one beady eye and peeked out from under the cushion. The door was still shut, and the room was still bare, but it was clear there were was eagerness for others to be within. Groaning a little she stretched and muttered under her breath about gods and how they couldn't leave her alone.

Another low rumble, but this time it was questioning in tone.

“What do I mean sir? I do not understand.”

Yawning a little, she lifted her head up from the mattress, knowing that her chances of falling back asleep were limited. Her claws by her side flexed.

“I mean she is yours, sir. So we will get her -”

Slam!

Now she was awake. Startled, both of her eyes opened and she sat up partly, looking at the door that was now a wooden mass shuddering amongst heavy stone. The slam did not seem to come from that, however, but rather the wall nearby, that was still responding with the force that had hit it. It was so horrendously powerful that it was making the door shudder.

“The fuck do you think you are,” hissed the low voice, full of red hot fire, burning anger and loathing, “you dare …”

“S-sir,” came the shocked, first voice. “P-please.”

A second slam. Quickly, Stare sat up, her whole body now fully alert. Pushing the cushion to one side she began to slide out of the bed, heart racing but with more of an understanding now of what was going on, who was speaking and what he was doing.

And now a fourth voice entered the fray. Whose she was certain was Zulon's, a peaceful negotiator in the apparent chaos outside. “Sir,” he tried to speak calmly, passively, “Harringdon did not mean-”

“He perfectly knew well enough what he meant,” spat Vitruvion. Stare swung herself out of bed, tugging down her tunic. “I knew what he meant, and so do you, Zulon.”

“Sir-”

“But, sir she is yours,” came a choked intone. “She is-”

Grabbing the door handle Stare hauled it open. Dully she blinked into the corridor light, blinking at what she saw, which was more or less what she had expected to see. Vitruvion was holding up a man against the wall just by the door, hand fixed around his neck and eyes blazing. On the other side was the same hazel-eyed man that Stare had seen in the small mess, as well as Zulon. They were all stunned, halting in their arguments as she came in, the focus of their contestation. Raising her brow she looked form one to the other and grunted.

“Stop ... please.”

Vitruvion narrowed his eyes slightly as he switched his gaze from the man he pinned, to her. Tiredly she stared right back at him, still having not entirely forgiven him - yet. But still, he was here, and clearly there had been something in what the pinned guard had said that had caused him anger, for the man could currently not speak, and was quite scrabbling at the hand.

“Is he worth killing?” she asked, flatly.

There was a pause. Hissing darkly Vitruvion straightened, and as he did he leant back. His vice-like grip loosened and suddenly the man was released. He slid down the wall, gasping and collapsing as the hazel-eyed one crouched by him, eager to assist.

“This,” the god threw a dirty look at the guard, “is no longer fit to work here.” He curled a hand into a condemning finger to point at him. His eyes lifted to Zulon. “Let it be known that anyone who even dares to consider Stare one of my guests is very sorely mistaken. She might be mine, but you also also work under her.”

Zulon’s hands tensed, but he nodded. “Yes, sir,” he quietly responded.

“And you,” Vitruvion twisted around to glare at her. “I need you.”

“I guessed as much,” she answered, soullessly.

She dimly was aware of herself stretching, and as she extended her arms out in front of her, of Vitruvion taking a step forwards, and grabbing her around the waist. She blinked as he hoisted her up and slung her over his shoulder. She yawned as he started off the corridor, pausing for a moment before giving up, and letting her tired form hang limp. Zulon watched after them for a while, blinking blankly as she waved a hand farewell.

Vitruvion barged his way through the door at the end of the small corridor, then into the main hallway. A surprised group - who guards alongside a startled Lament stared at his sudden intrusion. Scowling a little, Stare propped herself up on one arm as Vitruvion paused, then stepped around them to continue on his way.

“I can walk,” she muttered quietly. She could feel her feet dangling and slightly swinging, as well as her wings were being crushed. But this seemed a temporary solution - Vitruvion apparently angered that someone had dared to suggest she could be brought to him like she had once been in the early months.

He shoved open the door to the other half of his apartments, not replying. More guards, but this time his employees, appeared and gawped for a moment before glancing away. Vitruvion kept moving, his temper calming according to the slow in his stride, but still he did not loosen his hold. He waited until they were in the antechamber, and even then took his time to walk over to her sofa and deposited her by the pile of cushions.

Raising her brow she looked at him, remaining where she was and pulling her hands to cup them on her lap. Slowly she blinked as her wings adjusted themselves into a more comfortable position and she waited for him to begin. He strode to the other side of the room, where his armchair was, alongside the large leather pouch containing the paper, and grabbed something from the top. It was a thin, white envelope that fit neatly into his long-fingered hand.

Coming back over he thrust the letter at her. “This came. For you.”

Stare paused, but slowly extended a hand, “a letter? This is worth waking me up for?”

He lifted his chin slightly before moving to the side. Then he twisted, and sat elegantly down into the seat to the side - the one not obscured by cushions. He leant back into the sofa, slumping but still keeping his genteel demeanor.

“So?”

It was rare she got her own letters, that was true. And clearly he was making it his intention to have her open it in front of me. For a moment she considered asking for privacy, but then with him in her head he would likely find out soon anyway. Mind, body and effing soul.

Turning the letter over she looked at the address, seeing that it had been scribed in a somewhat practised hand. It was one she recognised but was not sure where to pin it. It was addressed:

‘Miss Stare Tsukaka,
Elssmith Manor,
Beinost,
Raiaera.’

Carefully she used a claw to begin slicing down the edge of the paper. Vitruvion watched, intrigued, his brow slightly creasing.
Two pieces of paper fell out, one written in the same hand, and one with a capitalised scrawl, tucked behind it. Stare paused, before taking out the second page and was surprised to read:

‘NO MEAN GOD PLZ.’

Her beak parted in surprise. There was a stir beside her as Vitruvion leant forwards and held out his hand. Quite eagerly she passed him the page with less writing, trying not to begin to laugh.

“No … mean god pl-” he frowned, “what is that last word? Pulls?”

“I think it is meant to be 'please,’ my lord,” her eyes grinned as she settled to read the rest.

'"Dear Stare:
I am pleased to inform you that you are cordially invited to the wedding between myself, Nevin Aaimaparapatois and one Eteri Yoko. The celebration will be held in two weeks time, in the Crimson Church located in Radasanth.

Now that that formal bother is out of the way. We'd both appreciate it if you could make it, Stare. But I know things are not going well on your end so if you're too busy I understand. Raevin is recuperating well, and taking to his new leg with aplomb - he is invited as well, so I can keep an eye on him just in case. Try to keep the grumbler from weighing you down too much here if you want to come.’

Her brow lifted and her beak fell open in wide astonishment.

“Holy Ansaldo's balls,” she whispered. “They're getting married.”

“'Mean god,’ and … 'grumbler.’ I am assuming both of them refer to myself,” Vitruvion muttered, unappreciative and not amused.

“Two weeks,” Stare paused, and anxiously looked to him. “Please.”

“Please what?” he asked, his expression fully sour. “Can you go? That is out of the question.”

Blinking a couple of times she was taken aback by his absolute rejection. “It's a wedding,” she stressed, “there are no assassins hiding in dark corners, especially not in Nevin's own church. They almost literally worship him there.”

Vitruvion shifted uncomfortably and Stare found herself wincing. Mentioning worship was not a kind subject in front of him. Alongside the act of being forcefully placed into a mortal shell, the Raiaeran gods had also forbidden Vitruvion from receiving any form of worship. To do so would provide him with power, as gods were prone to gather, and thus make him a liable threat.

“I apologise,” she said quietly, eyes dropping down. “... But I will be safe. Raevin is invited, and you can be in my head the entire time.”

“Stare,” he looked at her quite seriously, “they describe me in vulgar manners.”

“Yes, and I understand that infuriates you,” she inclined her head. “However, this is one of those situations that does concern myself, and hence, should be permitted to be open for negotiation.” She thought, then quickly added, “please, Vitruvion.”

“This matter concerns your safety,” he growled, crushing the paper in his hand into a ball. He curled his fingers around it and gestured at her roughly.

“Yes it does,” she accepted. “So what conditions would I be under, if I were to go.”

He narrowed his eyes at her partly, jawline stern. His hand dropped to rest on his knee as he fell silent for a moment. She waited, knowing now was not a time to interrupt.

“You do not stray from Raevin’s side. If I decide it is time for you to leave, you leave. No arguments. Also, you're getting a new weapon.”

“I need a new weapon?” she asked, frowning.

“Stare,” he growled impatiently.

She huffed, but nodded. “I accept. And you'll be in the city also, I imagine.”

“Ready to summon if it is the last resort, yes,” he nodded, thumbing the ring on his finger with the deep blue marble in it. She eyed it, agitated slightly at what it could do - namely, summon her to his side without prior warning. The act of doing so always irritated her, especially as he was in the habit of doing so without her knowledge. As such he limited the use of the power, yet still held it as an option.

“Fine,” she nodded. “I accept that also. But I would like to hear the vows.”

Thread Title: Her World Entirely Shattered and Remade
Type: Basic Rewards

Stare receives:

EXP= 4600
GP= 400

Rewards to be added soon.

Rewards added.