#* gemshroud thread ; intertwined

[maestrojax]

Matching Hats..

Closed starter for @gemshroud

Summon daggers darted though the air. Taking out enemy after enemy. Truly this was a practiced dance he had with his partner. He always kept an eye on him, careful not to let and enemy get too close to getting his human companion. Though that did mean he was moving trying to stay away and fight things one on one.

In typical JarIaxle fashion, he hadn't taken to many hits but it was far more than he was accustomed to. Now to focus on his tricks and not on how he was loosing blood and messing up his foot work.

[maestrojax]

Jarlaxle hated feeling so weak and vulnerable. But he couldn't control this, which he also hated. He just had to watch him. Tears in his red eyes as he listened to him.

"You were always my muse." He said back in a whisper. Of course, Jarlaxle knew what he meant. Because it was what he meant when he said it.

They both were stupid old bastards.

The drow just squeezed his hand around the daggers hilt as he felt the warmth flood his body. His gaze on Artemis and his heart breaking at the sight. The deep gash mending as he watched Artemis weaken. With a growl or something close to it, he gathered his strength. Pulling the magical blade away from his friends flesh. Letting it fall to the side with a clatter that Jarlaxle barely heard.

He didn't want to be alone and really never felt alone when he had Artemis at his side.

"You fool." He said almost affectionately as he put his hand over the wound in the humans skin. It would be a tender moment if not for the fact he was bleeding. "You better not die on me." He said through the tears ran down his face. His free hand reaching into a bag on his belt. There had to be something in here. Maybe the wand would have enough charges. All it needed to do was save him.

The recognition of what was happening finally registered across Jarlaxle's face, and yet his attempts to pull away were already too weak. In a distant way, it was almost funny. How many times had they sparred together? Whether verbally or with real knives? And Entreri couldn't say he'd ever fully bested Jarlaxle, not until now.

Or maybe he wasn't besting him here either, in the ways that actually mattered. He was taking the selfish route, after all.

He forced a smile, a harried rueful thing, but also with a sort of helplessness underpining it. Almost a laugh. A sort of What else can I do?

"I'm gonna say the worst thing I've ever said to you," Entreri croaked, the tears blurring his vision, at his own betrayal now (--and perhaps, just that barest flicker of death-fear still, even after all he'd been through.)

He gripped Jarlaxle's hand in both of his and guided the dagger to his own chest.

"Live," he said, pleaded really. "Just... Let me--"

What? Thank you? Repay you?

No, they were beyond things like that...

"Just let it be me this time," he said. And a laugh actually did shamble out of him then, a jumpy thing. "Let me be Jarlaxle's 'muse' for once, eh?"

That had always been such a terrible line, but surely Jarlaxle must know what he meant. Even now, on death's door, his friend was somehow alone in the world.

Stop it, you idiot bastard.

He didn't know whether that thought was directed at Jarlaxle or himself.

As always, he just didn't have the right words. The main point went unsaid. But if anybody could decipher this mess--decipher Entreri as a person, in all his jangling discordant pieces--it would be Jarlaxle.

Which was exactly why he clenched his teeth and guided Jarlaxle's hand to sink the vampiric dagger into his flesh.

Pain.

The knife began its work, pulling the essence of his life out of his chest, drawing up the blade, up up into Jarlaxle's limp arm. It was a cold sort of slide, a spreading numbness that made his heartbeat seem to echo more and more distantly, as if from another room. His eyes began to lose focus, staring at a spot on Jarlaxle's bloodied shirt.

He couldn't bear to watch his face in this moment.

[maestrojax]

Oh the humans touch was warm or maybe he was just colder? It was hard to tell when he was on the edge of death. His own crimson eyes daring to let tears spill. Even now he couldn't bring himself to drop the mask. To let him see him as who he was. Hell did he even know who he was? The mask had been up for so long only crumbling slightly when he dared to let anyone close.

He had been lost in thought staring into the other mans usually cold grey eyes. He didn't want to look away. If he was to die then he wanted the last thing he saw to be his eyes. Just like so many of the assassins victims. Though he was sure none of them got to see them as he did. Especially now, he got to see what lay behind them. Hell he always had seen more than others in Artemis.

Perhaps it was why he kept coming back? He saw that he could be more and deserved to have that chance and Jarlaxle wanted to be at his side when he did.

He finally noticed Artemis moving to pull his dagger from his belt. Maybe he was going to make it quick. Really if he was to die he couldn't think of a better way. But no Entreri just wrapped Jarlaxle's hand around the hilt and wrapped his own hands around his.

"No you can't" He tried to pull his hand away but he didn't have the strength. He didn't want him to die and he surely didn't want to be the one to plunge the dagger into him.

Entreri held Jarlaxle's gaze, refused to look away, and despite all he had survived in his life, just keeping their eyes connected here was one of the hardest things he'd ever done. There was too much happening in his friend's eyes, too many unsaid things, and an unintentional openness about it all that was wretchedly painful to accept. They had never been able to say these things, and they still weren't able to now. But it was all still there, always had been. And it was impossible to deny in this gaze.

Artemis, I'm sorry for all of it.

It didn't matter. No... That wasn't quite right. Of course it mattered, of course it had destroyed Entreri over and over more than almost anything, and that was why he was so angry, but even so... In the end, it also didn't matter. They had both clumsily danced around each other all this time, and torn at each other with their sharp edges, their own brokenness, but Entreri always came back because... It was the most real thing he'd ever experienced with another person. All this seeing and knowing and accidental hurting but coming back, all this understanding. They were stumbling through the same things together. They were... well, they were fucking idiots really, but what else could they be?

At the end of the day, Jarlaxle was the one person who saw everything Artemis Entreri was and somehow still wanted him.

"I don't regret it," Entreri said, his own voice grating at his throat.

In the end, I don't regret us. Any of it.

He reached up to clasp Jarlaxle's hand at his cheek, holding it there as Jarlaxle weakened.

His sinuses twanged with the beginning of tears. He felt so useless. Why, when something actually finally mattered, was he always so useless? His mind was still buzzing with the impossibility of this... There had to be something, some way out... There was always a way out...

And then all at once it struck him, in a sort of crazed haze.

His mouth thinned. Still holding Jarlaxle's gaze, still holding his hand, he reached his other hand to his side and pulled out his emerald-hilted dagger. The dagger with the ability to miraculously heal by stealing the soul of another.

He swallowed. Entreri was not fond of the idea of death either. But... Some things were worse.

He removed Jarlaxle's hand from his cheek just far enough to curl it around the dagger's hilt, folding Jarlaxle's fingers around the cool metal delicately, and then closed both his hands around his. Almost pleadingly.

"Sorry," he said back. They were always just sort of sorry to one another, for unforgivable things.

[maestrojax]

Jarlaxle knew this day would come. Though he always imagined he would die alone of old age. Those he called friends would mourn him of course but they wouldn't be at his side. No he had hurt to many in an attempt to protect them and himself. No one could be to close and he couldn't care for them. That was just how he was raised how the drow city had forged him.

Gods he didn't want to die. He was older yes but still he had time left to run around with those he loved on adventures. It would seem though that he wasn't going to get the chance.

Sitting the figurine down, he moved to cup the humans cheek with his hand. Lamenting that he had to leave him. His one true friend the one he loved more than the others. Not that he would admit it. Especially now. It would cruel to admit his feelings as he died.

"Artemis, I'm sorry for all of it." That was really the closest he would get to admitting anything. He really was sorry. He had treated him cruelly in the past done things he regretted.

He only now noticed that he had gotten blood on the humans face and frowned. "I hate to leave you but I don't think we can stop it." it was hard for him to hold his hand up but he was trying fighting to live but there wasn't anything he could do.

He didn't have the strength to hold on...

Entreri just made an inarticulate growl of a noise, not accepting the figurine, pressing both hands to Jarlaxle's side instead as if he could keep the wound at bay through pure willpower. But Entreri knew what he was doing. First aid was one of the many skills he'd developed in his too-long life of constant blood and struggle, and so of course he knew exactly how futile this effort was.

The problem was, a part of him had never really considered that Jarlaxle could die. Certainly not like this, just because of some stupid oversight, some wrong turn of luck. He knew he himself would probably die like this someday, just a simple human despite it all, still running desperately away from the death constantly yapping at his heels, but Jarlaxle was supposed to be different. Jarlaxle was the one who pulled the strings, who watched the other dogs dying around him and tutted at how gauche their ends were.

Entreri had even tried to kill the bastard himself more than once, but even at his most furious he'd never fully thought that it would be possible. A part of him always knew Jarlaxle would just get out of it again somehow--would flash him a grin and be delighted by the effort.

For so long now, Entreri had not considered what a world without Jarlaxle would even be, exactly.

Something about it absolutely terrified him.

"No," he said, and then caught himself. "We're not doing any of that bullshit, alright? You're not--"

He couldn't even bring himself to say it. Dying.

When had he gotten so pathetic?

[maestrojax]

For once, there was no joke. There was only Jarlaxle wincing as Artemis prodded at the wound. It was nice that he cared enough to try and help.

"It doesn't have enough charges for a wound this bad." It was too deep and bleeding too much from their running away. Artemis might need it for his escape anyways. He did reach into one of his pouches. Though he didn't pull out anything to heal himself. He felt around in the impossibly deep pouch for something and pulled it free. Not a potion or wand but the obsidian nightmare figurine. Offering it to the assassin to reunite with his own.

"I know you don't need a second one, but -" a cough that he was trying to suppress. "I would hate to think of them separated." Perhaps he meant that, or perhaps he meant he wished this wasn't his time to go, and he didn't want the two of them separated.

Entreri eyed him incredulously, waiting for him to finish the joke, but instead Jarlaxle started sliding down the wall, and without even thinking Entreri lurched forward as if to catch him but instead just kind of... followed him down, his hand at Jarlaxle's arm as they sank to the ground together.

"Don't be ridiculous," Entreri said gruffly, but he couldn't hide the flash of actual alarm that crossed his face. He hovered his other hand over the wound, fingers prodding at its borders to find its source, and then he let go of Jarlaxle and immediately started tending to it. Experienced precision took over his body, while his head still wasn't quite believing what he was seeing. He whipped off his cloak in an almost angry jerk and began tearing off strips for compression bandages.

"Where's the magic healing item up your sleeve?" he demanded, pressing against the blood that just kept on flowing. "You must have one somewhere."

You have to.

[maestrojax]

Corner after corner, every forked in the path marked in his mind even with it a little woozy from the blood loss. As soon as they had stopped Jarlaxle fought hard to stay on his feet. The warm blood still was running down his side.

That couldn't be good. It was going to stain his clothes. Yes thats the worst that could happen in this moment.

He noted Entreri looking at his wound. Okay maybe it was really bad. "That bad huh?" He said with a half-hearted chuckle. He held his hand to his side trying to stop the blood but it wasn't slowing. The warm dark liquid ran over his fingers and at that moment he was fearful.

Is this how he was die? Here in this dismal cistern? At least Artemis was here... He was stealthy enough to sneak out on his own. It would be easier if Jarlaxle wasn't slowing him down.

"I am sorry. It seems like I won't make it back out with you." He chuckled and leaned against one of the walls. Let himself slide down the wall to sit on the floor. He thought about seeing if a wand could heal him but he knew at this point it wouldn't have save him.

Jarlaxle's candor wasn't entirely comforting. It was omnipresent, so it could mean anything, really. But there was something to be said for falling into familiar, well-trodden footsteps.

They lost no speed ducking into the tunnel, one cloak billowing just slightly ahead of the other, and then they were navigating dark earthen walls. Before they were far inside, and without missing a step, Entreri threw back something from his own pocket--a bagful of caltrops scattered at the cave's entrance. They sure as hell wouldn't kill anybody, but they were just the sort of annoyance at this stage of a fight to encourage lower-level grunts stumbling into the choke point to give up the chase, leave the mess to their superiors. Sometimes knowing the minds of rogues was just as useful as anything else. Worth a shot, anyway.

They didn't stick around to see how it went, instead continuing down a maze of turns. There were a few forked paths--this would be useful for losing their tail, though potentially irritating on their way out.

With things quieting down, they at last came to a sort of underground cistern, a larger chamber with enough space to allow a moment's rest without the feeling of being automatically cornered by the geology.

At this point, Entreri finally noticed in his magically applied darkvision the stain running down Jarlaxle's side. In darkvision it looked black, but he knew it could only be blood, and a lot more of it than he had anticipated. His eyes widened for the barest moment before he schooled his face back into the customary frown.

"Shit," he said.

[maestrojax]

One more fireball to cover their escape. Making his way to keep up with the assassin. noting the exit that could be a good place for them get away if it was actually an exit. He growled through the pain to accept his challenge.

"Try and keep up."

Dashing past the human to the tunnel looking back at him with a grin. Don't take note of how he was actually really hurt. Hes fine... not really but he wasn't going to show it yet.

Though he would be glad when they were out of danger if only so he could check this gash to his side. It must have been bad considering how it was making even a professional like Jarlaxle off his game.

Although magic would never be Entreri's personal choice in a fight (too complex, too unpredictable), a part of him had to admit that it was very satisfying to watch a whole swath of combatants instantly erupt out of this earth in one of Jarlaxle's fireballs. Probably a terrible way to go. Ergo perfect for enemies.

"Neither was I," Entreri admitted in a rare moment of fairness to Jarlaxle. They had both been caught unprepared this time, which was even rarer. Part of what made them such good partners was how, in the unlikely case one of them overlooked something, the other was just as neurotically forward thinking. Paranoid, some might call it. Or just experienced.

They were approaching a tunnel that would make for a good exit--or at least their only exit.

"We're close," Entreri added, almost with a hint of challenge, because challenging Jarlaxle to keep up pace for these last few bounds despite his injury was easier to do than offering comfort. But the purpose wound up mostly the same regardless.

[maestrojax]

"Isn't always?" He said back not missing a beat... at least in that regard. He hated being off, he liked the controlled chaos he usually caused but he hated being hurt. But it wasn't the first time he was.

He did note that Entreri stayed closer. Not a good sign. Usually that was a sign they were definitely fucked, nothing more.

He held a hand to his side to try and stop the bleeding where a sword had sliced through his enchanted armor. Oh no this couldn't be good.

Jarlaxle threw a dagger into a nearby enemies eye. "I have to admit i wasn't expecting so much resistance." He said taking a moment to regain his footing and pull a wand from his belt. Shooting off a fireball at a group of enemies. In reality if he would have known more he would have brought more agents with him. Gods he hated not knowing things, just as much as he hated that he was hurt.

Entreri had known Jarlaxle for many years now--more years than he would like to count, actually, because the actual number would probably just piss him off. It should have been far fewer years. And yet here he was, still at Jarlaxle's side. Still wildly spinning their way through another ridiculous exploit.

But something uncommon was also happening right in this moment.

Even in all these years together, Entreri still wasn't used to seeing Jarlaxle bleeding. It was the sort of thing that wasn't supposed to happen, you see. Jarlaxle, the master puppeteer, was never supposed to be off his game.

Of course, sometimes he was anyway. Because Entreri was one of the few people who had seen that Master Jarlaxle was just as much a man as any at the end of the day. But it still was slightly unnerving to witness, whenever it happened.

It was usually a sure sign that they were fucked.

Fittingly, Entreri swore, and kept close, carrying his half of the weight of their fight. If he was hanging a bit closer than usual, well, they had also known each other long enough not to mention such things.

"This is your fault by the way," Entreri snapped, resorting to old bickering.