Administrator
EXP: 87,404, Level: 12
Level completed: 81%,
EXP required for next Level: 2,596
His serpentine eyes pinned her unconscious body where it laid. He scowled, but stood motionless in the downpour as if he expected her to rise with fists flying. Covered in mud, donned in crimson, and skin cracked like damaged porcelain, she looked every bit as broken as she warned. But Lye knew that her definition of broken varied greatly from his own. He was mortal, she was not. At least to his understanding, he only controlled her through thin mental fibers of his teachings and a precise display of his own power. Beyond that, the assassin knew what laid unconscious in the street was quickly growing beyond his control.
And it could not be stopped. By him at least.
With a grunt, the silver crested killer clutched the open wound in his chest. He processed the poison from the crossbow bolt, but the injury remained. For a reason unknown to him, he struggled to suture it shut with his living marrow and bone. Despite this, he could not leave Scarlet in the streets of this backwater town. He would never hear the end of it. With clenched teeth to brunt the pain and his frustrations, he took a knee and lifted her over his shoulder. A wave of blood seeped from his chest and washed down his body with the waves of rainwater.
Three of the cardinal directions offered nothing but plains and the closest city meant three day's travel by foot. The occupants of the tavern either arrived on foot, or carriage, for no horses waited idly outside. Lye hefted his dead weight to a more comfortable position on his shoulder, and he began his trudge to the only semblance of cover away from others: the forest.
Hours passed with no sign of relief from the dark sky above. The canopy of the woods provided a limited reprieve from the frigid downpour so long as the assassin kept off the main road. As he struggled to carry Scarlet along, his wound constantly bled. So long as the rain kept him wet, the wound would not close. He looked for opportunities to set her down and take a moment, but the flat land didn't afford the luxury of a cave or cliffside. It came to the point, Lye's vision began to grow dark at the edges. His bones would keep him alive no matter how much he bled out, but conscious was a different story entirely.
Through the trunks and boughs, far off the worn path and honestly lost beneath a star or sunless sky, the assassin spotted two downed trees conveniently crossed atop one another. It would do. He hefted the Ar'Tuel off his shoulder and propped her under the two logs where the rain struggled to encroach. Lye shook his head. His mind fogged and each breath resounded in his ears as the steady thrum of his heart beat slower and softer.
He righted himself and set to work with what time he had left. With khukri in hand, the assassin cleaved boughs and branches nearby. Each one set on top of the fallen logs, extending their shelter to accommodate more than one. The darkness grew from the edges, leaving him a fogged window no bigger than a viewing glass by the time he could call his efforts complete. Through ragged, raspy breaths, he weighed his time to find enough dry wood for a kindling but knew his limits.
The assassin gulped back a dry mouth and mustered enough strength to settle himself into the impromptu shelter. The steel of his blade cut the front of his drenched cloak from his chest, then thudded into the black dirt beside him. His fingers, shaking and weak, fumbled with his leather chest plate. Buckle by buckle he finally freed the carapace from his body but before he could remove his tunic, both hands slumped to his side. His head cocked off against his shoulder and pinhole vision settled on the woman beside him.
He let a bemused breath escape his lips as a haze in the chilled air.
"If you're going to do it," his voice manifested low as a whisper. "Then get it over with."
And the two found peace, side by side, in the ambient hiss and roar of the storm.
