#are there even any grish left?

[illicthearts]

I cried, literally the only people I cried for. They stole the show for me. I hated every single one of the heroes for what happened to them. They were just fitting for their freedoms and their right as people and they were murdered and looked at as the bad guys for. I knew they were done for when the crows showed up.

[verbjectives]

hey....have a thieves guild era valko thing that’s been sitting in my google docs for like two months now. it’s got some waxplay in it tho so just a heads up also sorry to everyone on mobile who don’t get the read more cut, this is gonna take a bit to scroll past

You never considered yourself particularly drawn to fire. Not the same way some of the other guild members were. Sure, it had its practical uses but the type of reverence you’ve seen others behold it with had always manage to escape you.

But you think that you might be beginning understand.

Fire is....versatile.

After days in the dark, it’s a welcome sight, yet there’s always that primal fear lingering just behind the eyes that no one can escape. They want to get closer, to take comfort in the light and warmth, but not so close that they are burned. It’s funny, you think, that we love and need something that could so easily destroy us.

You’re sitting at a small table in one of the barrack’s common areas, watching a candle burn. The flame flickers and dances, bringing the shadows around you to life. The wax slips down the stick like sweat from the brow. It’s enchanting in a way. Alluring. Even the slightest breath causes a quiver, and how the fire fights to stay alive. It’s beautiful. You want to see it destroy. Consume.

You want to hold it against someone’s hand and watch as the skin on their palm blisters and blackens.

You want to see someone squirm.

“You’re not turning into a pyromaniac on me, are you?��

The words slide like ice down your back and your eyes snap up to see Grisha slip into the seat across from you. You didn’t hear him enter. Then again, you never do. Shadows and silence, like everything else in the world, seem to submit to his will. You’ve learned long ago not to jump at his sudden appearances. It’s happened often enough that the general lack of noise was in itself a dead giveaway.

You’ve known him long enough to see the subtle look of disapproval on his face. Grisha doesn’t care for that which couldn’t be controlled, so you can only reason that he doesn’t care much for fire. It’s wild. Erratic. Unpredictable.

You sit up straight and set the deck of cards you were absentmindedly shuffling down on the table. “No,” you say, leaning back in your chair. “Just thinking.”

The mild disapproval shifts into mild curiosity. Grisha reaches for the stack of cards and shuffles them. “Care to share?” he asks, setting the deck back on the table.

You cut it and he takes it back to deal a hand. You take your cards and sigh. “It’s nothing, I just…” you shake your head, “I’ve got this guy in the chair and he’s been….difficult to crack.”

Grisha begins to organize his hand. “I take it he doesn’t have any family, otherwise you would have brought them in already.” He looks at you pointedly. “Right?”

You throw down the first card with more force than you had initially intended. The implication that you were lazy and didn’t bother looking into this man’s family as a viable way to torture him was, frankly, insulting. (As if you didn’t know that the most effective way to torture someone was to make them watch as you hurt the ones they love.) “Right,” you say, trying to mask your sneer as a smile, even though you know he saw it. “No friends either. Nothing to lose other than smaller bits of himself.” You draw from the deck. “He does have clients, but they’re important enough to make him worth more to us alive than dead, so I can’t do anything that’ll actually kill him.”

Grisha plays his card and draws. “How many fingers are gone?”

“Left hand is missing three, all his nails are gone, and his right hand is completely shattered.” You try to slip two cards from your hand into the discard pile, but you’re stopped by a sharp warning noise. Grisha gives you a look that tells you that really, you should know better than to cheat while playing against him. He’s right, you really should, but there’s always that glimmer of hope that maybe someday you’ll get away with it. Reluctantly, you pick up the discard pile, adding the cards to your hand. “Asshole has a stupid high pain tolerance. Most people would have given in by now.”

You play in silence for a few rounds, during which Grisha was forced to pick up the discard pile as well, putting the two of you back on equal ground. Eventually, Grisha speaks. “I could talk to him if you wanted.”

His tone is casual, but you hear the smug smile hiding behind the offer. I can do it if it’s too hard for you, is what he’s really saying. You bark out a laugh, which comes out much harsher sounding than you thought it would, and you look at him with narrowed eyes. “Believe it or not, Grish, but I can do my job without your constant assistance or supervision.” You play two cards at a time this round, dropping them on the table, not bothering to be sneaky about it. And you stare at him, challenging him, daring him to do or say something about it.

A vein throbs in his jaw and his eyes darken, but (to your disappointment) he maintains his composure. “I’m just trying to help you, Valko,” he says with a gentle shrug, playing his next card. “I’d hate to see you punished because you weren’t able to finish an assignment.”

You’re not sure how much you believe him. Lately it feels like all of your conversations with him are a sort of song and dance, and you’ve been struggling to keep in time. You think he means what he says. He really would hate for you to receive punishments from higher ups. But you also don’t think he’s necessarily saying what he means. Is he saying this because he’d hate to have your use temporarily taken away from him, or would he hate it because he wouldn’t be the one punishing you?

“Whatever,” you say. You don’t push it because you really don’t want to think about it. You lean in to gather the cards to shuffle for another hand, but Grisha reaches out and snatches your wrist, pulling your arm across the table. Cards scatter and fall to the floor. His grip is so tight that the bones in your wrist shift and grind together. You grit your teeth in pain, and you meet Grisha’s gaze. And he just stares back at you with those cold blue eyes of his and that wicked smile he gets whenever he has an idea. “The hells, Grish?” you growl. “That fucking hurts.”

He pushes the sleeve of your shirt up to your elbow and he grabs the candle from its holder. “Don’t be an infant.”

Your eyes flick back and forth between him and the candle in his hand. You struggle against him, but his grip only grows tighter. He’s far stronger than he looks. (Or maybe you’re just weak to his touch). He brings the candle closer, holds it just above your arm, and the realization hits you.

He lowers his voice dangerously. “Hold still.”

Your heart races in your chest. You hear the blood rushing in your head, and by the look Grisha is giving you, you know he feels your rapid pulse where he’s gripping your arm. You want to say that what you’re feeling is fear, but the heat in your body betrays you. (This is excitement, and both of you know it.) He tips the candle down, the flame hovering above the exposed underside of your forearm. The wax slowly crawls down the stick, and a groan escapes your lips before the first droplet lands on your skin.

A cruel smile cracks his face in two. You can only recall a handful of other times you’ve seen him smile so wide. “Good boy,” he says softly. “Let me hear you.”

His grip on your arm doesn’t weaken as he pours drop after drop, and you follow his instructions. Each time a new drop lands on your arm, you feel the muscles twitch.  You clench your fist, nails biting into your palm and your head falls to rest on the wooden table. A sharp intake of breath when each drop of wax lands. A low whine shortly after it cools. You know you should be embarrassed by the noises spilling from your mouth, but you can’t control it. (You want to keep him satisfied.)

The heat seems to move from your arm down into the pit of your belly, where it settles and burns steadily. You shift uncomfortably in your seat and the nails of your clenched fist dig tighter into your palm. It’s too much (it’s not enough). You want it to stop (gods you want more).

He’s definitely enjoying this, the sick bastard (but so are you).

What would your mother say?

By the time he finishes you’re left breathless and the skin on your arms feels raw. You would be shaking if his grip weren’t so tight. “Chin up,” he orders, and you obey without hesitation. The world is fuzzy except for him and where he touches you. Your gaze falls to your arm and you let out another strangled moan when you see that he’s written his name using the wax.

He leans in close -- dangerously close-- and you feel the warmth of his breath against your neck and ear. “Now imagine that on open cuts,” he whispers, low and dark, and your breathing hitches. “The wax will dry out the skin.” He traces the outline of the wax with his other hand, making the sensitive skin tingle just beneath his touch. “It’ll itch.” In one swift movement, he scratches his nails across your arm, ripping pieces of dried wax from your skin.

Gods it hurts. (It hurts so good). You cry out and every muscle in your body suddenly seizes and relaxes, leaving you feeling boneless and floaty. (It’s not an orgasm, but it’s damn close to one.)

You can feel him smiling from where his face lingers so close to yours, and your brain is fuzzy, but you manage to turn to meet his eyes as he leans away. His hold on your wrist slackens and he changes his grip so that his thumb is rubbing gentle circles where your pulse thuds in your wrist. The tone of his voice changes. “It would be terrible for anyone,” he says, as if he were discussing someone having their coin-purse stolen, and he gingerly peels the remaining wax off your forearm. “Especially for a man who can’t use his hands. Don’t you agree?”

Your head feels heavy but you nod it slowly because any words would be incoherent. Cold hands run over the tender skin of your forearm and a soft sigh escapes your lips, and you watch as Grisha moves his hand back and forth across the welts. Eventually, he leans back, giving his work one last approving look before slowly lifting himself out of the chair. As he walks past you, he gives you a small pat on the cheek. “Give him hell,” he says, before stalking back into the dark tunnels.

You sit there, trying to regain your composure and regulate your breathing. You don’t exactly understand what happened just now, but whatever it was, he certainly left you wanting more. The wax was painful, sure, but that was only for a moment. The attention he gave you, the touch, it felt...good. You wanted to feel it again. He’s always so busy these days, and he never seems to have time for you anymore. But you look down at his name written on your skin and you think that maybe this is just a reminder that he’s still there; that even when he’s away, he’s still with you. He’s always with you.

You take a moment, blinking yourself back to reality and shaking yourself from the haze. You collect the playing cards from where they scattered, give them one last shuffle, and tuck them inside a breast pocket underneath your armor.

You’ve wasted enough time. You have to get back to work. But at least now you have a fresh approach.

You’ll have to thank Grisha later.

[talldarkandroguesome]

30th of Sun’s Dusk, Tirdas

How quickly winter will soon be upon us. The house grew chill and the thicker slippers were passed out amongst the staff.

No longer will the thin fabric be enough to keep feet from growing cold while walking across the stone of the floors. Even where the floors are wood, it is too cold to bear standing upon for long without the thicker soles and fur lining.

I gave Cheerz the approval to fit some of our newer members of staff who had only their summer slippers.

This time when I went to Shad Astula, I brought along Sildras.

Mother sent word that I should make it clear that what I was doing was all in service of my son’s education, rather than to my own benefit.

So we took the ferry across to the academy and were given an official tour of the grounds.

I could see how excited Sildras was to see students practicing so freely out of doors. Watching the elder mer, along with their Argonian and Nord counterparts, working on different feats of the arcane.

He gripped my arm tightly as he cast his eyes ‘round, huge with wonderment at all that his future might behold.

Yet it was nothing compared to his gasp when we set foot inside of the library.

He was silent, a hush of awe overtaking him, before I whispered, careful not to break the spell the place cast upon him, that he was free to explore. With slow and careful steps, he walked to each row of shelves, looking over the catalogue of what each contained and then going to the next.

When he had made the full rounds of the shelves, he wandered up and down, making stifled cries of excitement, his hands pressed to his lips to try not to make any sound.

Our guide, an Argonian woman, who must have recently graduated, looked pleased to see how reverently he enjoyed the library.

We were then shown the dormitories. I could feel Sildras’ nerves stirring, but we passed the rooms meant to house two or three occupants and were led to the noble dorms, where the rooms were slightly smaller, but made for one.

We were introduced to a young Argonian named, Grish, of the Wasseek-haleel tribe. Apparently he is the son of one of their tribal leaders and therefore given a room befitting his station. Sildras was left with him to ask questions while our guide took me to the training rooms, where I was to meet Sildras later.

Grish was going to take Sildras through his daily schedule and then to the cafeteria to see what a meal was like and several other things that it was decided would be best if done on his own.

I went back to my lessons, though today with only my Conjuration professor, the others opting to take me on only after I was seen to have mastered more of other traditional spells.

Likely they were senior to the professor of Conjuration and so pulled strings to get out of teaching me, though they could not entirely decline given the situation.

It was a bit of a relief, if I am honest. It is hard enough to be disappointing to a single person, three is so much worse.

I cannot tell if I am improving or not. Though I did not throttle the poor scamp with shadows quite as often as the day before, so I suppose that is something.

All in all, it is very discouraging.

If what I learned of shadow spells was truly magicka, then why was that so fetching simple?! I could learn each of the lessons in basic as though I already understood it somewhere within me. It was almost second nature. The lessons simply made myself aware of things. I always felt as though it were not so much learning a new skill as becoming aware that I had another option of how to use what I knew. Like being told that a tool you used everyday had a different use you had never thought of before. As soon as you are told how it could be done, you are able to do it.

That is not to say I did not have to practice to make sure I got it right, but it just felt so... so... intuitive!

This feels like my mind and body are fighting me the entire time I attempt to do whatever it is I am being asked of.

It feels awful. Wrong. Like I am trying to breathe and being told I have to do it only through a wool blanket. It just in wrong.

I would give up if I were allowed to.

Of course I want to learn these spells. I have a deep enough well of magicka to draw from, if what I am told repeatedly is correct. And yet... this whole thing is repellent. The magicka does not seem to want to come out and it feels awful when it does.

There must be some other way. Surely.

[fanfictionsrookie]

Homo Homini Lupus Est Chapter 2: In Hunt’s Wake, Cursed By Blade’s Bane

The walk from the cabin to Patch was always a quiet one. With only the sound of distant birdsong and the crunching of dirt under Ruby's boots. It was a trek that left her alone with her thoughts. Moments like those were rare in their noisy little cabin with her life now centring around their rambunctious toddler and the second one on the way. But it wasn't a life that she'd trade for anything else. Cinder and Saffron were her whole world.

And as rejuvenating as lungfuls of fresh air and calming silence can be. Ruby knew that it could never replace the youthful squeals, cosy cuddles and the loving embraces that came with being home. 

Home. 

As the thought crossed her mind, so did a smile grace her lips. Most of the villagers still couldn't wrap their minds around why her they would want to live so secluded, and close to the dangers of the  enclosing woodlands. But neither of the werewolves saw it like that. Their little cottage was an island of safety among turbulent seas.

 And they weren't considered outcasts by any means. The Rose family was well known among the villagers of Patch, and liked by both children and adults. Although the children did seem to be a little shy around Cinder. 

 Ruby knew that the woman could seem quite intimidating…even when she didn't mean to be. One of the reasons why the older woman was convinced that she wouldn't be a good mother. At times Cinder still had her doubts and wasn't without her faults. But after seeing just how tender and loving, how caring and protective she could be. Ruby knew that she was the luckiest woman in the world.

 And when the woman did snap out of her thoughts, it was with a full out grin on her features and a slight skip in her step. "Good morning Mrs Mulberry!" She chirped with an enthusiastic wave as she passed the entrance to the farm. Where one middle aged woman with rosy cheeks and auburn curls of hair looked up from the mail she was sorting through. Her eyes lighting up with cheer of equal intensity. "A very good morning to you too Ruby." The letters in her hands forgotten for the moment. "I didn't think I'd see you up and about today. Where are you headed off to?" Both women now standing on either side of the gate. "Oh I'm just going to help out at the bookshop today." Ruby shrugged and absentmindedly started to sway the basket in her hands. Mrs Mulberry frowning in a light confusion. "I thought you took time off to stay with little Saffron?"

 "I am, but I heard that the new shipment came in early. And because Grish is still helping your husband at the farm I decided that I'd lend a hand." There was a sheepish smile on her face as she spoke. And Ruby hoped that she didn't sound accusing in anyway.

 "But we could spare him for at least few hours." The woman insisted, before stuffing the letters in the pockets of a coffee stained apron. Turning to wobble back to the house. "Let me go get him quickly and then you'll-"

 "Oh no no no."  Frantically waving her hands in front of her as to stop the woman from taking another step.  "It's alright, really, I don't mind helping out and Cinder's staying at home with Saffron today so it's no trouble." And Ruby offered her a reassuring smile that Mrs. Mulberry returned with a relieved sigh. "Well that's good to hear." Hands on her hips as she tried to remember the last time she saw the toddler.

 Those moments being few and far in between as both Ruby and Cinder decided long ago that it was best to keep Saffron away from humans. At least until she was about five years old. The last thing they wanted was for her to unknowingly sprout ears and fangs in the middle of town.

 "Speaking of staying at home, how's Ridge doing?" Ruby interjected before she could ask. "Has the swelling gone down yet?" Remembering very clearly how Ridge Mulberry, had gotten bit by a spider while in the woods a few days ago. The young man had given the whole village quite a scare. And if it wasn't for the fact that Ruby lived nearby, the result could've been devastating. 

 "The effects of that tea you gave him was nothing short of a miracle, it wasn't even a few hours after when the fever broke." The woman's sea blue orbs were wide with disbelief as she spoke.

 "Thyme and Marigold. They work wonders." Ruby murmured with a warmth swelling up in her chest

 "Ridge is convinced that it gave his arm mystical healing abilities." The older woman recounted as she shook her head at her son's antics. Ruby chuckled in return, hoping that Pastor Noir wouldn't catch wind of this. As there might have been a few spells of…darker magic involved in making the curing tea. "He was back in the forest just yesterday. One would think he'd learn his lesson by now."

 Besides Ruby, Ridge was the only one in the village who crafted weapons, bows specifically and his passion for his craft was something the woman could relate too.

 "Cinder loves his work so it shouldn't be too hard to get her to make a pair of gloves for him." 

 Although her wife did need some convincing when it came to saving the young man’s life. Not that she let Cinder have much say in the matter. After all Ruby was the only one who was still able to effectively use her Aura to cast spells. An ability that used to be quite common among were-kind. But that was centuries ago. Their abilities were fading. Magic growing all the weaker with their thinning bloodline. 

 Cinder’s casting skills were minuscule at best and it was not a topic she enjoyed bringing up. But whether Ruby was considered proficient or not, it was not something that she partook in frequently. Casting of such magic took immense concentration and an even greater amount of Aura. The obtaining of such scripts were increasingly difficult. Not to mention illegal and punishable by death.

 "You know, just the other day, Persephone showed me the embroidery that your wife did on her dress." The woman gestured as if she could map out the patterns in the fabric. Tone nothing short of gushing. "Such delicate work and the patterns! Out of this world."

 Ruby was glad that there was at least someone other than herself who thought it was a beautiful dress. "I'll be sure to let her know." Cinder had been so caught up in the smallest of details and imperfections while working on it.  In fact, she would've thrown a month's work into the furnace if Ruby hadn't intervened.

 "But before I forget…" She reminded herself and took a bottle of marmalade from out the basket. "…this is for you."

 Mrs. Mulberry not knowing what to say in her surprise. "And for whatever for my dear?"

 "That strawberry jam you gave me.” Her mouth watering at the memory of the delectable treat. “It was delicious and I wanted to return the favour." For a moment Ruby wondered if she could convince the woman to share a secret family recipe. "I'm also planning on selling it at the First Harvest Festival so I would like the opinion of a master cook."

 The older woman scoffed. "Oh now you're just flattering me." Waving a hand at Ruby in between chuckles. "But I'm glad you enjoyed it and I'll be sure to do so, thank you Ruby." Her eyes returning the smile that was in the other's silver gaze. 

 "Always a pleasure Mrs. Mulberry, it was nice speaking to you again." Shuffling back, she turned to head down the road once again. "Take care." Waving her goodbyes before setting off with the woman returning the gesture as she called after her. "You too my darling!" 

 Mrs. Mulberry watched the young woman depart into the rising sun, with a strange melancholy stirring up in her chest. And for some reason the woman couldn't place any motivation behind the feeling. Swift, potent and remaining unknown to her…

 After about a ten minute’s walk the dirt road faded into uneven cobblestone. Finally arriving at the small village of Patch. Buildings, small clusters of wood and stone structures rising up around her. Huddled around a small church like a man searching for warmth and protection against the cold of the night.

 Most of the buildings being two storeys tall. A two up two down. The families lived in the upper floor with their small business on the ground floor. Ruby always thought of it as cosy and welcoming. Where Cinder said it was cramped. Always voicing the same argument when they walked through town together. 

'And then they continue to build on the church as if anything off 'holy ground' would mean their deaths.' A sentiment both understood but only Ruby could tolerate with a smile. Then catching a glance of a scraggly old man. Wrapped in greying robes as he rushed up the stairs of the small building.

 "Good morning Pastor Noir." Ruby greeted with a cheerful smile. But he didn't so much as look her way. Too busy mumbling to himself and keeping the rolls of parchment from falling out of his bony grasp. And she couldn't help but to think that he looked troubled. Then again the Blood Moon was less than a week away. Luckily the other villagers didn't seem that affected by the rare occurrence. 

Striding past another cluster of buildings it wasn't long before she came to a standstill in front of the stone structure. 'Patch's Parchments.' With the steel lettering glinting in the sun against dark wood posts. As if calling over anyone who walked past. And doing just that, Ruby swung the door open.  

Greeted with the sight of russet hair sticking out from behind piles and piles of books that lied scattered about the shop, enveloped in the smell of old parchment and paper in the air.

"Good morning Mr. Cloves." She chirped, then rounded the counter before seeing a man covered with dust, ink blotches and stray cobwebs. "Aah good morning Ruby." Pushing up a pair of comically large glasses as he faced her. "Thank you for being here this morning. As you can see this place is a mess." 

The woman took a light sniff at the building, nose wrinkling at the trace of dust in the air. ‘Looks like he's decided to finally clean out the back storage.’ Ruby thought with a somewhat relieved smile. "Don't worry Mr. Cloves, I'll get this sorted out." Setting down her basket before moving over to a pile of books.

"Don't too work too hard." He warned with a teasing smile. "This was supposed to be your day off after all.”

"I'll try not to." Ruby shrugged before picking them up, looking for the appropriate aisle as her eyes flew over the titles. The Man With Two Souls, Grimm Reaper and one of her personal favourites, A Warrior's Crusade.

A riveting tale about two opposing kingdoms caught in a seemingly endless war as it follows the two main characters. Both fighting in the war for their respective kingdoms as sworn enemies. Only then to fall in love as they try to find a way to end the war peacefully. A classic in her eye and a cliché in Cinder's. Ruby preferred light hearted tales with a happy ending where her partner would rather indulge in something more realistic, tinged with dark undertones. Something that the younger woman didn't always understand.

But she left her train of thought upon coming to a standstill in front of one of the shelves. Sorting through the pile in her arms. Fiction and biographies in the front rows, education in the middle along with nonfiction that stretched to the back of the shop. 

"If you need me just yell, I'll be in the back." A voice snapped Ruby back reality and she shuffled to the front once more. "Ah…no problem." Looking left and right at the mountain of books as she tried to decide how she was going to tackle the task ahead of her.

 "Maybe I should sort the- achoo!" Suddenly breaking out into a fit of sneezes. Sure that Mr. Cloves had started sweeping out the back room. "Achoo!" It must've been at least two years since they last cleaned it out…or opened the storage room for that matter. So Ruby was glad for the handkerchief that she kept in one of her pockets. Stifling her sniffles before starting to sort out the books by genre. It would've been more productive to just put them away the moment she picked them up. But Ruby knew that if Cinder smelled even a hint of exertion on her, then Mr. Cloves will need to find someone else to help around the shop.

 "Helloooo."

 Ruby's heart nearly stopped at the sudden disembodied voice behind her. In a flash she whirled around, the sight bringing shock with it.

 "Sorry, I didn't mean to frighten you." Standing a head taller than her, a woman with an apologetic smile and shining emerald eyes that did nothing to stop the hammering in Ruby's chest.

 "N-no it's alright, I just didn't sme- see you…you aren't from here." Stuttering a reply before the stranger’s gaze grew worried. "S-sorry uhm…is there anything I can help you with…this morning?"  And if her red and gold, battle scratched amour wasn't concerning enough, the strange woman seemed to be invisible when it came to sense of smell. 

 Wait. 

 No smell. 

 Something was off. 

 But as soon as the thought of her being a Huntress crossed her mind, Ruby stomped it out with denial. What would a Huntress be doing in Patch of all places? Again she sniffed the room. Nothing but dust in the air, threatening to suffocate her.

 "If you have a map of the surrounding area or the location that would be a big help. My husband…misplaced ours during our journey and we have been wandering the forest for almost three days now." She explained albeit a bit embarrassingly while swaying on her feet.

 Ruby had to use every ounce of will power not to show a trace of fear. "S-stroke of luck you stumbled in here then." Willing a smile on to her face. "Welcome to Patch."

 And before the other woman could reply, Ruby crouched behind the counter. Sorting through the rolls of parchment in the drawers. "So…where were you headed off to…before you got lost?"  Surprising even herself when her voice didn't break despite how weak it felt at that moment. And although some part of her was intrigued by the woman's story, it wasn't the reason why she chose to strike up conversation. As a werewolf with acute senses, talking to people were as exciting as just being around them. They were a plethora of new smells. And to find one to suddenly be cut off from those senses… it was unsettling to her.

 "The capital city of Beacon." She explained with a bashful smile, tilting her head ever so slightly to the side. "We were due arrive almost a week ago, but our navigating problem ended up extending our mission."  

 "A mission? S-sounds exciting." Finally finding a map of Vale and taking it in jittering hands. Trying to stop it from shaking as she spread the parchment and landscape over the creaking desk. 

 The traveler's voice resonated with light humour. "There's certainly never a dull moment when you're fighting creatures of Grimm that's for sure."

 Words that drained the colour from Ruby's face when it reached her. Almost tearing the parchment with the sharp gasp that followed. "That…that means you're…a Huntress?" It was as if her own voice, was constricting her chest even further as the air left her lungs. Wanting to escape just as much as she did.

 "That's right. My name is Pyrrha Arc, I hope you can forgive my late introduction. Being where all that's known is my name does that to a person I'm afraid."

 The werewolf nodded dumbfounded. 

 She needed to get out of here.

 She needed to get out of here. 

 She needed-no. 

 Ruby shook her head. Breathing out a sigh as she tried to regain control of her erratic heartbeat.

 This woman. Pyrrha. Huntsmen or not, had no idea who...what she was. She wasn't hunting her down. Pyrrha and her partner were simply lost and trying to find their way back to Beacon. There was... no reason to be paranoid. And Ruby kept telling herself that until she could trust herself to speak again.

 "Ruby Rose." Introducing herself with a nod and tight lipped smile before shifting her attention downward.

 "So uhm I found what you were looking for. But unfortunately Patch is a lot smaller than Beacon…or any other village and doesn't often show up on a map. But if you are looking for a general location then that would be…here." Index finger ghosting over a small spec of land bridging mountain and forest.

 There was an audible sigh escaping Pyrrha's lips as she tried to cover it up with a smile. Emerald eyes glancing at the other before flying over the map once again. She deducted that their journey would take them about ten days on foot. With the closest village being at the northern edge of the forest. The town of Grove. One of the many small clusters that made out the agricultural district. Which they needed to cross before arriving at Vermella's Plains. Then finally at the industrial district leading them to the capital city. 

 "I never realized there was a town so…isolated from the rest of the kingdom." Ruby faintly picked up on her worried tone and offered her a comforting smile. 

 "I think that's what we like about Patch. It's… peaceful." And only then realized that Pyrrha didn't seem much older than herself. Five years at the most. The fact giving her a faint sense of comfort. But the moment was fleeting.

 "I think dangerous is more accurate." 

 She tried to assure her. "N-no not really." Hoping that it would lighten the darkening colour in those emerald orbs. "There are the occasional small Grimm and bandits passing through. But Cinder usually takes care of them…" Voice fading out after saying something she might shouldn't have. Information that Pyrrha quickly picked up on. Sounding hopeful as she spoke. "Is he a Huntsman?"

 As she wiped clammy hands against her dress, Ruby wondered about what she was going to say. Smiling nervously as she did so. "Ah she's m-my wife actually... but no. She just goes…hunting a lot."

 "I see." A frown creased her brow upon finding her mind to be somewhere else. Fingers fidgeting with one another as she held her clasped hands in front of her.  "Are…you alright?" Instantly jerking Ruby form her thoughts as her head snapped to the side.

 "Oh yes…sorry. Just a bit tired that's a-"

 "Ruby do you know where I- oh…good morning." Mr Cloves froze in his tracks.  Eyes widening at the sight of the woman before clearing his throat and replacing it with an apologetic smile. "Forgive my surprise. But as you might have heard already, Huntsmen in Patch is quite a rare occurrence." Glancing over the piece of parchment on the counter as moved over to an adjacent bookshelf. "I trust Mrs Rose has been helping you with everything you need?" All of the books being thickly wrapped in leather covers, the golden imprinting faded with time. 

 The young warrior nodded in appreciation. "Yes, thank you." Then to Ruby. "How much do I owe you?"

 She frowned. "Uh…Mr Cloves?" Who squinted down at the map in turn while adjusting his glasses as he did so. The answer coming to him with the snap of his fingers. "That would be…twenty Lien my dear."

 Then with a few quick movements Ruby secured the rolled up parchment with a red ribbon. While Pyrrha searched through the small leather pouches, threaded through her belt. Handing her two bronze coins.  Looking around as she debated whether to ask or not. "Excuse me. I know the chances are slim but is there perhaps a weapon smith in town?"

 Ruby gulped. Her heart suddenly feeling like it was made out of lead, almost choking on words.

 "I'm no-“

 "Well I'm sure Ruby could help you with that." Mr Cloves quickly answered for her. Retrieving the sought after book with a contented sigh. Surprise flickered in the Huntress eyes. "Oh I didn't realize you forged weapons." Suddenly looking with a different perspective at the young woman before her. The woman now stuttering while she bashfully scratched the back of her head. "Ah... well I haven’t...in quite some time now. Is there…something you needed?"

 "I don't want to impose." She stepped back towards the exit. But against her better judgement, the werewolf stopped her with a reassuring smile. Shining with selflessness that Cinder always said would be the death of her. Only this time it might actually be the case. "It's no problem. I…I’d be happy to help." But whether she wanted to or not, Ruby knew that if she refused it could arouse suspicion. Something that the Rose family couldn't afford to have against them.

 "Well…if you're sure." Then drawing a matching gold and red javelin, held in place by the circlet on her belt. "I was hoping to get this repaired." The weapon hidden by the red sash around her waist.

 But the intricate patterns that decorated the spear wasn't what caught Ruby's attention. "What…what did that?" But rather the crude bend in the spine that must've been made from the finest materials in the kingdom. 

 "A Death Stalker."

 Ruby gulped. Reminded of how Huntsmen will stop at nothing to free Remnant of the monsters that plagued Mankind. An infestation that Ruby's kind was undoubtedly a part of. The realization bringing with it sickening dread. 

 "Must…have been terrifying." She murmured downcast. Instinctively stepping back once Pyrrha set the weapon down before her. The hairs on the back of her neck stood on end. Goosebumps erupting at the tingling touch on her skin.

 Ruby's gaze bore down on the javelin. It's outward appearance convincing, but not enough to fool her. Gold plated. But underneath the protective coating, undoubtedly silver. 

 "There's no need to be afraid." Laying a gloved hand over the weapon as if to assure her. "Upon touch it's only harmful to Mythical- and creatures of Grimm." But it had the opposite effect on the werewolf as her  hand hovered over it. A cold warmth gently pressed against her palm as if to keep her away. “I can assure you that it’s perfectly safe.”Expectantly looking down at the young woman.  Upon noticing this, Ruby broke out in cold sweat before picking it up. Her attention now fully on the craftsmanship of the javelin.

 A small glimmer of skepticism in Pyrrha was surprised that there wasn’t much of a reaction from the woman at all. No searing pain as the metal ate away her skin or unseen force striking her back. And the Huntress couldn’t help but to utter a soft sigh of relief with an internal shake of her head. Discarding that possibility as soon as it surfaced.

 "What do you think?"

 Ruby yelped. Startled at the sudden voice jerking her away from sub consciousness. Fumbling with the blade at first as she viewed it at different perspective. The bend in the spine being the most fatal damage.

 "W-well the warp is pretty bad. And I’ve never worked with enchanted metals before. So I'm afraid that if I try to straighten the blade I will most likely weaken if not break my own tools. Your best bet is to take it to Cleddyf. It's a few days' travel southwest from here, if you want to get it fixed."

 Her brows furrowed. "I see…" Voice hollow with slight disappointment as she took it in her grasp once again. Twirling it about as if pondering its battle strength. "Will it be able to make the returning journey?"

 Ruby pursed her lips. Scrutinizing the weapon under a narrowed glare. Shifting her weight from left to right foot. Weighing the possibilities and outcomes. "If you come across a Beowolf or Faunus it would most likely hold true. But if it takes another hit like that from something like an Ursa…" 'Or a werewolf.' "…then it could break the blade clean off."

 Just as Pyrrha was about to reply. The scent of pine needles and berries flooded the werewolf's nostrils. A scent that brought her a great sense of comfort. Ruby instantly perking up as the turned towards the doorway. "Welcome to Patch's Parch-oh." 

 Only to find that there was not a soul to be seen. 

 No one except the Huntress who looked at her with question. And when scent still remained the werewolf realized that it belonged to the Huntress herself. Enveloping and mapping out her travels in swirling clouds of fragrance. The effects of what could only have been the work of magic, finally wearing off. Ruby nervously glanced from side to side. Looking for an excuse. Hoping that a person would suddenly sprout from the ground. "Thought I...heard someone coming in."  

 And when a flicker of light shone across her iron gaze. Pyrrha wondered if those orbs weren’t grey but rather...

 "You have…silver eyes.” The Huntress found herself murmuring before she could stop herself. And those words drained all colour from Ruby’s face. Her mind spinning out of control as she grasped for something to say. 

 Then she smelt it.

 “You...think so?” Blood. “ I...always thought of it as a gloomy grey.”

 Unmistakably a human's. 

 “I suppose it’s a compliment then.”

 The metallic stench overwhelming to the point of making her feel nauseous. And just as she thought of closing the door, a man came rushing into the shop. Heaving and clear that he was not used to running at all.

 "Miss…there's a man…Huntsman…." 

 Pyrrha's eyes widened at the tone of urgency in his voice. Cautiously nearing the man as if stalking a dangerous beast.  Not yet ready to hear the grim news he would bring.

 "Is something wrong?"

 Ruby watched the sight unfold, with foreboding that swirled like an impending storm in her chest. 

 Finally able to straighten his posture. The look in the man’s eyes dark, something that could mean a thousand words. But only saying a few. "…Attacked...in the woods."

 The Huntress stormed off. And in limbo like state. Ruby stuttered a half baked excuse and apology as she stepped out the door. Her breath was caught in her throat and her mind drew up all kinds of possibilities.  But there was one that she refused to consider.

'Please don't let it be her. Please don't it let be her. Please….Please.'

 Repeating the mantra over and over in her head. As she staggered over to the people gathered at the entrance of town. A buzzing, swirling cloud of anxiety and fear that assaulted her senses. Nearly knocking her over as she wormed her way through the crowd.

 And that's when she saw him.

 Lying in an unconscious heap on the ground. A man that couldn’t have been much older than herself. And yet...he didn’t look like a man at all. His sandy blonde hair was matted with blood. Bones stuck out like needles from the mangled flesh of his shoulder. The skin shredded to the point of doubting whether he would be able to his arm ever again. That is…if it could be saved.

 "This doesn't look good."

 “What kind of beast could’ve done this?”

 "We need to get him inside!"

"Someone get Aegle!"

The village itself seemed to cry out in pain as shouts and calls for help rang through the streets.  Rattling the windows and knocking on doors as the villagers rushed to get the Huntsman under a roof and into a healer’s care. 

 It all faded into the background. Drowned out by Ruby’s racing heartbeat as she stared blankly at the passing blurs of colour. Trying to piece together the bits of information in a swirling storm of paranoia.

 The attack. It couldn’t have been Cinder. Yes, the woman was ruthless when she wanted to be. But she would never go out of her way to attack a Huntsman when her daughter’s life was at risk. 

 Desperately she searched his body. Looking for any kind of sign. But all hope vanished once Ruby noticed five distinctive gashes carved into the side of his face. The mark of a werewolf's claws.

 ………….

 …Arriving at the village, not a moment too soon. Jaune Arc told everyone of the horrendous sight that he had seen. 

 He expected them to break out in panicked shrieks or even be lost for words in their disbelief. But strangely, none of them did much at all. 

 Intent on defending her husband, Pyrrha Arc spoke up to defend his word. Knowing that he would not spew such terrible lies. At first she thought of their reluctance being due to the fact that some Huntsmen were considered to be lose canons. Those who chose to abandon the Kingdom’s rule. Then there was also the possible havoc that a battle between Man and Beast could bring upon their village. But she quickly came to realize that it wasn’t mistrust of Huntsmen that kept them quiet. But rather their fear of the monsters. Whispering to one another in huddled groups. All of them much to afraid to even speak of what lurked among them. 

All except one.

The village's Pastor, a wise and kind old man. Knew that it was his duty to protect Patch from the Evil that tried to destroy it. By keeping silent the Pastor was forsaking that duty. And he knew that. But chose to see the Huntsmen's arrival as a god given gift. A chance to correct his past mistakes and rid Patch from its demons once and for all.

Suddenly filled with courage the Pastor spoke up. Telling both Huntsmen of the women who lived secluded in a nearby cabin. Just out of the village. One with blood stained hair, soulless eyes and a saccharine smile. That attracted children like moths to the flame. The other with a come-hither gait that lured men out of their wives grasp. Hypnotized by her eyes that were set alight with Hellfire.

Upon hearing this, Sir Arc had no doubt in his mind. That she was in fact the demon that escaped him. But when he asked as to where the cabin was located none could give him an answer. 

Some say it was as if the cottage could move. Never in the same place twice. Only seen by those who stumbled upon it by chance. Many travellers and curious children attempted to find it but none succeeded. Some of them, never returned.

And as the villagers convened about the disappearance of the cabin. Pyrrha noticed something peculiar. Or rather she felt it. A bloodthirsty burning on her back. As if it was branding her as a target.

When the Huntress turned around. It stood half hidden by the crowd around her, staring. A pair of silver eyes. Gaze that could only belong to a wolf. Glaring with childlike glee despite the wicked grin spread across her face. Her very presence filled the Huntress with dread. And yet, it was as if no one had noticed the ominous atmosphere among them. 

Then, just as Pyrrha took a step towards her. The strange woman disappeared in the blink of an eye. Drowned in the sea of bodies around her. As if she had never been there in the first place. 

It was at that moment. When a numbing shiver ran down her spine. The Huntress realised that if they were to eradicate the shadow of Darkness that loomed over Patch. They would have to act quick.

Kill the monsters before Blood Moon reached its peak…

..……….

Ruby's senses felt like they were set on fire. Her heart beat ten times faster than what her legs were capable of running as she raced back home.   

Ignoring the burning in her chest that begged her to stop, pressing forth despite the scorching sun that was beating down on her. Draining the resolve that formed a sheen of sweat on her skin. Close. She was getting close. Swiftly her eyes glanced at the heavens above. Searching for the golden eye now glaring back at her. It was past noon. Cinder and Saffron should be home by now. They had to be.

And just when it felt like her legs were going to give in from under her, a small stone structure peeked out from the horizon. The familiar sight fuelling her with a burst of energy, that exploded into a desperate cry that shook the forest.

“Cinder!”

Rushing deer into the cover of shrubbery. And tearing birds from their nests as they shot up into the sky. 

“Cinder!’

Her voice cracking like thunder in the distance as she burst through the door. Eyes flashing in search of her wife and daughter. Ravishing each and every room in her wake. Only for it to greet her with the same emptiness as when she left. 

“...No.”

Breathless. She collapsed against the wall behind her. Crumbling down to the ground as her shaking hands reached for her face. As if to see if this was really happening. Suddenly enveloped in a deafening silence that she tried to shut out with closing eyes. 

Only to open them in a terrifying blaze of silver.

 “No!”

And in a flash she shot out the back door.  Bones crackled as she gained speed. Her form shading into dark, crimson tipped fur. Muscles rippling with each powerful thrust of her legs as she raced across the landscape. Casting shadows over everything that cowered under her. 

She took in every detail in her attempt to pick up Cinder's trail. Now starting to grow stale with the sinking sun. As she followed the scent, another crossed her path. This one fresher and laced with the metallic tang of blood in the air. Undoubtedly belonging to that of a werewolf. It was an unstoppable force that drove her forward. Along the path that left a faint trail of three distinctive paw prints, coupled with the occasional blood spatter that made Ruby fear the worst. That Cinder's injuries were in fact fatal.

And the possibility only fuelled her resolve as she shot out of the woodlands and into the fields. The long grasses proving good cover with only the werewolf's head sticking out. But also made it increasingly difficult to keep track of Cinder's scent with the surrounding vegetation. And since there was no indication of her passing through here. Ruby became worried that she was starting to lose her trail. No doubt that the woman tried everything in her power to throw the Huntsman off.

 Navigating the fields of grass, Ruby climbed a nearby hilltop in hopes of gaining a better viewpoint. She scanned the sun glazed panorama for even a rustle of movement. The mountains stretched out before her. From the woodlands to the east to the western fields. And in the distance, a stumbling splotch of black, barely visible from out the cover of the overhanging grasses. It's hunched posture limping across the landscape.

There was no mistaking it.

'Cinder!'

At the sound of the familiar voice, the distant silhouette looked up.

 '…Ruby?'

While one ran at full speed and the other half limped half dragged herself forward, only to collapse against Ruby's forechest just as she reached her. Exhausted and drained of all energy as she reverted back to her human form. Caked in drying mud and dripping with blood and sweat. Chest heaving as she grabbed hold of the werewolf's fur to steady herself. 

The erratic thump of Cinder's heartbeat against Ruby's chest. Was slowing choking her with emotion as adrenaline started to fade.

'I was so worried…when...I heard what happened I thought you were…is…is Saffron alright?'

"…Brave...Just like her mom." Her voice was coarse and breathless, choking on fatigue as she leaned back to reveal the small bundle held prospectively against her chest.

And as she handed the toddler over to her mom, now cradling her in one arm. She was tugged from her stupor. Golden eyes fluttered open. Widening at the sight of her mom before it started to well up with tears as her memories resurfaced. Her cries both heartbreaking and a great relief for Ruby to hear. 

'It's alright little one, it's alright… you're save now.' Pressing her snout delicately against Saffron's forehead although it did little to calm the toddler down.

But her solace was short lived. Her stomach dropped with her gaze at Cinder's wounds. The most concerning being the blood that was still seeping between her fingers. One hand clutched over the gash on her side.

"Hunts...man." The woman choked out between gritted teeth. Shutting her eyes as her grip on Ruby's fur tightened. Just by looking, she could tell that the cut was deep. And as much as she wanted to know what happened, now was not the time.

'I know…I saw him. But for now let's just focus on getting back home. Can you still walk?'

Cinder nodded silently. But as soon as she took a shaking step forward her body buckled under the weight. Ruby stepped in front of her before she could crumple to the ground.

'Hold on to me. I'll help you.'  She offered and dipped her head for the other's arm to sling over the werewolf's neck. While the other hand grabbed hold of Ruby's forechest. Swaying ever so slightly as she adjusted her forearm and body to the weight it was now carrying.

Cinder was exhausted, unable to change forms and Ruby doubted that carrying her partner on her back would be any less painful. 

All they could do was gradually inch forward. Step by step. The start of what would be a torturous and painfully slow journey back home...

……………

 Silence.

 The Rose household was deathly quiet.

 Saffron's hysterical cries gradually faded into muffled sobs after what must've been a possibly traumatizing experience. Her breaths steady as she clutched onto the soft wool of her blanket. Asleep. It left Ruby unknowing whether she was supposed feel any kind of relief. Because there was none.

 Only anxiety.

 Welling up in her chest, stomach, throat. An emotion that threatened to explode from within despite only being able to let it out in shuddering breaths. Shaking her entire being with trepidation as she sat down next to Cinder. 

 Motionless. 

 Lost in subconsciousness that left an ever present frown across her features. Stark and drained from its usual soft glow. Body stiff. Arms still at her side. Morbidly reminding Ruby of a corpse. Desperately trying to shake that thought from her mind as she inched closer to her wife. To the comforting warmth that she radiated. Reminding her that Cinder was here. That she was alive…safe. 

 That everything was going to be alright.

 But still Ruby couldn't bring it upon herself to close her eyes. Fearing that she might wake up alone, with Cinder and Saffron still scouring the woods. Being hunted down. Not knowing when or if they'll return. So instead she kept vigil. Gingerly combing through her wife's midnight locks as while listening to the other's breathing. The rhythmic in- and exhale becoming shallow and uneven as the sunlight bled into the horizon. And when the presence next to her started to shiver Ruby's brow creased with a frown. As she placed her palm over the other's forehead her fears were confirmed. 

 Fever.

 Cinder shifted slowly. Uttering a soft groan as she did so. Blanket sliding down her shoulder ever so slightly and revealing a once neatly wrapped wound, now tainted with blood. Slowly seeping through the gauze.

 Ruby's breath hitched.

 This wasn't right. 

 She made sure to stop the bleeding before dressing the wound. Even applying a paste of medicinal herbs to accelerate the healing process, while Cinder's Aura was still regenerating. But whether it was silver inflicted or not, the blood should've started clothing up by now.

 As she inched closer, trying her best not to disturb her, Ruby tugged at the blanket until a full view of the bandaged shoulder was before her. Then started to undo the securing pin and gently unwrapped the bandage.

 Only to find that the treated cut had turned into a bleeding gash once again. The injury definitely more severe than it had been three hours ago. It was hardly visible to Man's naked eye but Ruby could see it. The wound was growing. As if the Aura now trying to heal it, was being eaten away. Ripping open the gash even further. 

 Spellworking on the blade was the only explanation that Ruby could come up with. And when it dawned on her, shock settled in. She tore off the blanket in one swift motion. But nothing could've prepared her for what she saw.

…

 Pain.

 Agony…

 The feeling had slowly started to ebb into the void that surrounded her, fading until nothing but a gnawing ache remained. A burning hunger that ate away at her life force. Draining the warmth from her skin…bones…her very being. And she let it be. Or rather…she didn't have the energy to deny it.

 All she could do was wait. Wait until the scorching heat had its fill and faded into a gentle warmth once again…

 Snip.

 Her ears twitched. 

 Snip.

 Eyes fluttered open. But the memory of falling asleep evaded her. She blinked. Once. Twice. Sight focusing on the shades of dwindling sunlight painting the wooden canvas of the roof above her.

 Snip.

 Perking up the sound as she lifted her head despite her body's screams of protest. A silhouette framed with gold sat right before her eyes. Brandishing a pair of scissors that started to cut off the bandages around her waist as not to unnecessarily disturb her.

 Fingers ghosted over inflamed, yet shivering skin. The gentle touch took hold of the bloodied fabric, before agonizingly slow, started to tear it off the wound. Cinder's teeth clenched to bite down a pained hiss. Her body going rigid as she dug her fingers into the covers.

 Only when the other's palms hovered over the gaping wound, that stretched from her rib cage to her abdomen, did Cinder found her voice.

 "…Ruby."  

 Coarse and nearly breathless. When she licked her lips, dry and bitter with the taste of lingering blood. Gaze driving over to the woman before her, who's face remained hidden. Shielded by the curtain of dark, carmine dusted hair.

 "This is going to hurt at first…so try not to move too much."

 The disembodied voice was unyielding and yet…friable at the same time. Unnerving her as she watched Ruby's hands shake. Steadying with deep in and exhale. The porcelain skin gradually darkened with swirls of charcoal that flowed around her. Tentatively dancing around the hissing while light emitting from the wound. Corroding it's edges in small shocks of disintegrating black Aura, to the point of Cinder not wanting to breathe. Fearing that the slightest movement would urge the acidic touch to further eat away at her. 

 Ruby bit her lip. Gaze drifting down to the strangling white tendrils. Not enough Aura. If she wanted to destroy the Divine Magic that was hurting Cinder so, then Ruby had to intensify her own. But the light retaliated when she did. Brightening as both Magic fought for dominance.

 And just when the pain escalated to the point of being unbearable, did Cinder start to feel the sting fade. Aura washing over her in a cool comfort as she breathed out a sigh of relief. But when Ruby didn't stop transferring her Aura, she reached for her hands.

 "…Enough." She choked. Trying to pry away her wife's touch. But she didn't move an inch. And Cinder watched her intently before attempting to speak again."Y-you… shouldn't be wasting-" But her fragile voice died out the moment Ruby turned to look at her. Once soft silver eyes, now a hard, dark stare that seemed to cut deeper than any sword ever could.

 "Is that what this is to you?" There was no place for the slightest reply from the other, as her penetrating tone rang across the room. "Is using my Aura to make you feel better considered a waste to you?" Rising her voice with her growing anger. Shifting her attention to the next cut before she pressed down. Forcing Cinder to shut her eyes once again.

 "What would've happened if I hadn't noticed that your injuries weren't healing up?" Ruby's gaze broke away as her voice cracked with emotion. Hands starting to tremble once again. "Why didn't you tell me you were still in pain?"

 For a moment her gaze softened. And she once again reached out to comfort the other, despite her body's protest. 'I can't have you worrying about me. Not when-'

 But Ruby cut her off with a grab at Cinder's wrist. Amber eyes widening ever so slightly. “Stop.” Her tone was no more than a whisper. Although the words couldn't have been said clearer. And when Ruby's head snapped to the side, her eyes were blazing with bottled up anger, frustration and fear. Now tears brimming in her eyes. "Stop treating me like I'm going to fall apart at any second and stop acting like you're invulnerable! You could've died. Can't you see that?"

 Tears ran down her cheeks in silver streaks. Softening Cinder's resolve with a sinking feeling in her chest. The moment of vulnerability reminding the woman of her countless failures that day. How she wasn't able to defeat a single Huntsman who very well could have killed Saffron. How she was in this humiliating situation of hardly being able to move. 

 But the anger she felt towards herself was reflected back at Ruby, in her unwavering amber gaze, instead. Straining to escape her grasp through gritted teeth. 'I had it unde-aargh!" Letting out a strangled cry when Ruby pressed down harder on her wound. Forcing the woman to back down as her Aura flared.

 "Under control. What did you have under control?" 

 No longer caring for being gentle as she continued to overpower what was left of the Huntsman's Divine Magic. 

 "How does that feel!?"

 Her anguished screams shook the entire room and the air seemed to crackle with electricity. Sending a jolt down Cinder's body who continued fighting to gain the upper hand. Silver and gold meeting in a clash of frustration and fear. 

 "Tell me what part of this is fine to you!" 

 Exploding in a deafening roar from Ruby that melted into silver streaks. Dripping onto Cinder's cheeks as it washed away her malevolence. Leaving in its wake an aching chest.  And a deathly silence. Ruby only then realising the torture that she put Cinder through in her angered state. But was wrapped in a calming embrace before she could pull away.  Her body shaking with uncontrollable sobs as she clutched onto her.

 “I’m sorry. I’m so so...rry.”

 "Shhhhh." She soothed. Her voice a tender whisper while gingerly starting to comb through her lover's hair. "I'm here."

 But if Cinder was honest with herself. She was at a loss. The situation was grim, but telling Ruby that won't do her any good. Her wife had been put through enough already. But giving her false hope was just as cruel. In the end. All Cinder could do was hold her close. Tender little gestures voicing all that words couldn't.

 And when silence fell, Saffron's cries called out for comfort.