#this stray cat must be as pathetic as his twin in some way

[stormvanari]

Name: Darian Vernworth

Occupation: Head Witch of the Illusion Coven (NBI Era), engineer, daredevil; thief (pre-DoU)

Age: Early 40s

Pronouns: He/Ze/Zir

Relatives: Adrian Graye Vernworth (twin)

Alma Mater: Unknown

Coven: Illusion

Likes: Steampunk, stunt performances, engineering, hoodies, joyrides, fruit-infused water, pranks

Dislikes: Those titandamn Basilisk experiments, Adrian being an asshole, getting spoiled (in terms of media like crystal balls), his tail “betraying him,” being outsmarted by Loopy

A former thief, Darian Vernworth is one of the New Boiling Isles’ Coven Heads, specifically as the new leader of the Illusion Coven. He is also a basilisk, who once relied on heavy evasion to avoid the Emperor’s Coven for ~30 years, after their raid at his former home. Most of his knowledge is solely based on human books bought from a market, especially the engineering ones. It helped him develop his signature tail prosthetic.

While Adrian threw his identity as a basilisk out the window, Darian did not.

——————————————————————

Backstory: There was once a place near the center of the Boiling Isles that Basilisks used to thrive in. Among them were twins Darian and Adrian (the former is a month older than the latter): the two used to sneak to the nearest town and steal items to liven their home more. Part of this activity was suggested by Adrian, because he was tired of eating the same food.

When the Emperor’s Coven invaded their territory, both Darian and Adrian accidentally separated each other during a fight. The older basilisk hid inside a cave and casted an illusion over it to hide his spot from the Emperor’s Coven.

However, Darian was more concerned about where Adrian fled: when the coast was clear, he looked everywhere for the younger twin, but couldn’t find him in the end.

Until he heard the sound of airships flying over head.

•••••

It was then that Darian planned to follow them to facilities operated by the Emperor’s Coven under the illusory disguise of a coven scout.

For several times, he tried to free all of the captured basilisks (some were successful, such as letting III, IV, and Vee escape), but kept getting caught by coven forces. One day, when he came back for a soon-to-be-last attempt, Darian was shocked to see the rest of the basilisks(even Adrian) missing from every facility. Instead of fleeing, Darian got into a fight with coven forces out of fury, believing they have eliminated the basilisks for good. During the fight, one of the coven members managed to cut his tell via firing a spell at Darian.

Expecting to be on a wanted poster, he fled back to the same empty cave he hid in during his first escape from the coven. It would eventually become the basilisk’s secluded hideout for the next ~30 years.

•••••

During those ~30 years, Darian became an elusive cryptid who raided markets and stores at night for his survival supply (and hid the mess under an illusion). Moreover, Darian was searching for a tail replacement, as the original was lost to the raid years ago.

But there was a market that stood out to Darian’s interest: one that sells “human treasures.” He will eventually buy a book on human engineering that will help him make a prosthetic for his missing tail. This goal led to an improvement of his evasion (and illusion) skills, as he did this on a daily basis. He also created handmade weapons back at his cave for additional support (plus casting illusion magic over his projectiles to speed up the damage).

Did I also mention that the earring Darian wears is part of a concealment stone he stole from a market? The earring amplified his magic, while the concealment stone transformed the basilisk into a witch that bears a striking resemblance to Adrian (he had to get a cloak to avoid raising suspicion).

From here, Darian frequently used this disguise for his next heists, which will eventually catch Adrian Graye’s (the Head of the Illusion Coven during this time) interest. This will become a test for Darian’s evasion skills honed over time.

It was a perfectly normal reunion that did not end in a wanted poster after an argument of conflicting ideas between the twins.

•••••

After the Day of Unity, Abomination magic has been looked down upon due to the Blight Industries’ contribution to the horrific event. As a result, many demanded an alternative to abomination prosthetics (Belos loyalists preferred to stick to this option, though). As a result, Darian became the last member to be appointed to the Titan’s Council: he wanted to take a chair because, being the arrogant engineer he is, wishes to show off his mechanical knowledge to the rest of the New Boiling Isles. With that, he brought up the idea of illusion prosthetics, by left space for abomination-engineered ones for witches who preferred to gain accessibility with the latter.

In addition, Darian’s position allowed him to make friends, especially a young prankster who took the Abomination chair, and have a better lab to move his work into afterwards. Moreover, Darian began to oversee a rising industrial age of his home.

During breaks, the basilisk makes visiting arrangements for his twin when they both have the chance together. They try to piece back their relationship slowly, even though Adrian is hesitant due to their argument in the past. Darian also took on a new activity that involves performing stunts.

——————————————————————

During Duels: Although he is an engineer, Darian has shown front-line competency with illusions. As previously implied, he is very evasive and athletic. In other words, he is more active in battle than Adrian.

His prosthetic tail is his signature weapon: it can shapeshift into various weapons, such as a mace, and his most notable is the head of a basilisk. The tail can also grab (onto) objects, either for protection or leaping across a platform.

However, Darian’s tail also serves as a weakness: it is easily vulnerable when extended at great lengths, as an opponent can grab a part of the tail. A common consequence is Darian being tangled by his own tail.

He uses his earring that functions similarly to Adrian’s, only that the former acts as a monocle and the lens has a larger shape. But, Darian upgraded it to cast miniature illusions of various blueprints and figures.

——————————————————————

Personality: Clever, Resourceful, Detailed, Inventive, Observant, Snarky, Melodramatic, Secretive

Darian is best described as a streetwise quick-thinker. He relies on observation in order to make his next move to overcome difficulties. Moreover, the basilisk has good photographic memory.

Although the size of his ego is smaller than Adrian’s, Darian does have a tendency to show off his inventions in an arrogant and dramatic manner. That’s why he took the Illusion chair of the Titan’s Council.

Darian likes to be detailed with his notes, but it can get confusing.

——————————————————————

Relationships with Titan’s Council members:

• Sonore Skual: The captain of the Demon Realm Expedition drags Darian to provide better defense for his ships. Additionally, Sonore is often tasked to keep an eye on Darian, who would wander off and come back with stolen items packed away in bags attached to his belt. This is a case during their travels to the Human Realm.

• Loopy Crulle: Darian is an honorary “Crulle” to her, otherwise they share one sibling-like brain cell. These Coven Heads love pulling pranks at each other, but Darian hates being outsmarted by the clown (he is the Head Illusionist, and “should be the one that outsmarts her!”).

[ko-fanatic]

Are You Sure This Isn’t The Black Magic Club? (part two)

Rating: Gen / Teen and Up

Fandom: Ouran High School Host Club

Pairing(s): KyoKao

Summary: There was always something strange about the host club… (Halloween fic, witch!Kyoya, werewolf!Tamaki)

Other parts in this series: Part one

Kyoya stretched his arms above his head, back cracking, after he placed the book of shadows and orange candle on the table. His mind was straying to Tamaki, despite the fact that he knew the wolf was more than capable of looking after himself, even if he didn't give off that impression. He didn't want to tempt fate if he went there; three strong, capable werewolves roaming the grounds wasn't something you wanted to stroll into. Magick wouldn't protect him from being torn apart, after all; protection amulets and spells weren't that strong.

That, and he was busy. The full moon was the best night to cast spells, after all, and he needed to do the usual; focusing, money, and... one that was more than a little embarrassing to admit, even to himself. It was a nice night, however, and there was a pleasantly still air around the mansion with the only light being from the large, full moon above. The balcony outside of his bedroom wasn't that cold, either; he only had to wear a jumper over his shirt to stave off a majority of the chill.

His phone buzzed, cutting through the silence, but not unpleasantly so as Kyoya spotted Kaoru's name on the notification.

Kaoru: Hey kitty ;)

So cheesy. So corny... So cute. He hated the fact that he actually really liked the nickname, feeling too close to lovesick. It wasn't like they were dating... He actually wasn't too sure what you could dub their relationship, as no conversation had happened. Of course, he should bring it up, but... He didn't want to make things weird between him and Kaoru. Not only that, but rejection was a realistic outcome and he didn't know how he'd deal with it. He loved Kaoru, and he didn't want to let that go.

You: Don’t call me that, I keep telling you not to. What do you want, anyway?

He sighed, knowing that he couldn’t cast his spells while his phone dinged away in the background, but a smile quirked his lips. While it was inconvenient, he didn’t hate it. It wasn’t annoying, but that itself was annoying, and so the cycle continued; he was turning into Tamaki, for Godess’ sake!

Kaoru: I just wanted to see how you were getting on with those spells, Kyoya. After all, it’s not like witch magick is similar to Fae magic; it all seems horribly complicated!

Kyoya couldn't help the surge of soft warmth in his chest at that, despite desperately wanting to be irritated. His father was busy doing his own charms, so he wouldn't wonder what was taking his youngest son so long, but... What if his father did catch him acting like a love-struck moron?

Not too long ago, he'd been convinced that Kaoru was blinding him with some spell or other, like faeries often did to travellers in the woods. He thought the only way he could be acting that way was if he'd been cursed with this... affliction. This affection.

Still, as time went on, he realised that - while the twins kept up their heritage's reputation for tricks - they were mostly harmless pranks. Kaoru wouldn't worm his way into Kyoya's heart and mind, not so easily, and that left the conclusion that he probably should have come to first; this was self-inflicted.

Every touch seemed to burn, his head spinning off his shoulders and ending up somewhere in the clouds. Their thighs brushing as they sat on one of the sofa's in music room three, the lingering touch of fingers as one passed a cup of tea to the other, the friendly, teasing greeting of "hey kitty". He was beginning to realise that he was actually something of a hopeless romantic, seeing how sickly sweet his imaginings had become.

He daydreamed about soft lips pressed against his own, those dexterous fingers slipping under his shirt and rubbing little circles over his hipbones, that melodic voice murmuring "I love you"s into his neck. His face felt hot just thinking about it, wrapping his arms around his torso as those warm feelings squirmed under his skin. He was a mess, it was official. He just couldn't seem to help himself, not with Kaoru smiling so beautifully, red hair catching the sunlight.

He really had to pull himself together, but for now, he could just focus on his feelings. The money and focusing spells could wait a minute, especially as it would be best to cast his other spell in this condition.

You: It's a lot harder with you distracting me. I'll talk to you when I'm done.

He sent the message quickly, hand shaking slightly as he picked up his pink candle and jasmine oil, anointing the wax. It wasn’t like it was a bad spell, far from, but it still made him hesitant. After all, Kaoru was quite right when he said witch magick wasn't simple. It wasn't just the process, either; whatever you did or wished on someone else came back to you three-fold. It wasn't like fae, like the twins, who could simply will things into being. Out of all of them, he was probably the closest to human. Working out the consequences of something could give you a headache if you got lured into overthinking it, which Kyoya did frequently. It wasn't malicious, but it was selfish. Or was it? He just wished for Kaoru and him to be happy together... It wasn't selfless, not completely, but it was in an odd, grey area.

He hated magick. It'd be a lot easier if he was just a cat.

Shaking those thoughts from his head, not wanting them to affect the spell, he picked up the pen and paper he'd brought outside earlier, following the next step. The only sounds were the rustling of leaves, the odd bug or small animal, and the scratching of pen on paper.

Dear Kaoru,

I am so happy that you consented to start a relationship with me, and I must say that I completely adore you, and have for the longest time. I really enjoy our lazy Sunday mornings, laying on the sofa and watching television, as well as the more high-profile outings to restaurants. Time flies when I'm with you, and I just can't help but bathe in the warmth you give me when you say, "I love you". How your lips press to mine, like they were made for each other, and how our fingers interlace perfectly.

I love you, my dearest.

He wasn't sure if that was enough, or if that was even how he was supposed to write it. The instructions only said that he was meant to write a letter to the one you love as though you were writing in the future. He might have high grades, but it was different. Doing something like this made writer’s block something all too frequent, and he wasn’t sure what to stipulate. Honestly, he’d just be happy with Kaoru, so perhaps it was best to keep it vague.

He laid out the letter on the small table, placing the pink candle on top, and struck a match. The sound of the gunpowder lighting was awfully loud in the quiet night - at least to him - but he pressed on, holding the lit match to the candle’s wick as he said the incantation.

“This flame represents my burning desire; I summon the energies to draw to me a magical love,” He recited, the words feeling foreign on his tongue and his face feeling far to hot. He was so embarrassed that he, of all people, was casting a love spell. It was somewhat pathetic, really. He was just so enamoured by the fairy he shared so much in common with that, rather than talk to him like a normal person, he was casting a charm.

He sat there for a while, meditating on the feelings he had for Kaoru, eyes closed and taking calm, deep breaths. As long as he could, the instructions said, and so that’s what he did.

When he felt he was done, having thought on his saccharine fantasies more than enough, he folded up his letter and drizzled some of the molten, pink wax to seal it. All that was left was to place the candle back on the letter, and wait for it to burn out, then bury its remains. He’d tuck the letter in his book of shadows, and the spell would be cast.

However, another thing that was just plain awful about witch magick, was that this was only a helping hand. If you want something, you also have to take steps to see it come to fruition. Hence, spending more time with Kaoru, and he had to at least attempt to initiate something…

Fighting the urge to let his head hit the desk and groan, he continued to watch the candle burn, wondering how he could be so sure in business but so cluelessly nervous when it came to romance and feelings…

[thestraggletag]

Mistaken Identity, a RCIJ Fic

Prompt: Tinkerbae Twins Reveal Rumbelle Grandparents

Recipient: @maddiebonanafana

Rating: PG

Summary: There’s nothing quite like having people confuse you and your crush for expecting parents.

Author’s Note: I hope you really enjoy this present, Maddie. I have to admit I struggled with it a lot because I just could NOT make it work as a rumbelle prompt. It just... it felt too difficult. The prompt would naturally venture more into Tinkerbae territory but since the focus is supposed to be Rumbelle and I wanted to give you that I tried hard to make it work and this is what came out. I’m sorry there’s no smut, the story just didn’t naturally go that way. I’m sorry that I had such problems with your prompt but I hope you like how I managed to make it all about Rumbelle in the end! Thanks for all your help!

For anyone who is curious about the products mentioned in this fic Gold and Belle go to this baby store, which I thought was very much in keeping with Tink and Bae’s aesthetics. Except that creepy sheep mobile. 

It had taken Bae a year to introduce him to his girlfriend, his old resentment and mistrust making him wary of how things would go. Royce didn't really blame him, after all that had happened between them. He was happy to have been given a second chance at all, really. Cristina- "Please, call me Tink, everyone does"- Green turned out to be a lovely woman. Curious, vivacious and upbeat, and most importantly truly in love with his son. He would have welcomed her in the family even if he'd thought her a horrible person, but thankfully that hadn't been the case. Then again Bae had always been a great judge of character. Not in the way Royce himself was, cerebral and calculating, but in an empathetic way. He saw into the hearts of people.

It was such an ability that first made him distance himself from his father, back when he'd been nothing more than a twisted mass of hurt and anger. And though it had hurt like nothing else in the world had ever had, Royce was glad Bae did it. It allowed him to grow emotionally healthy and carefree, had allowed him to build himself a little family. And had allowed him to, eventually, be open to reconnecting with him, to try to repair what Gold had thought irrevocably broken. And so, little by little, Bae had introduced him to his close circle of friends, his little New York family. Perhaps as a las passive-aggressive gesture he'd started with Fa Mulan, former roommate and chef who took six months to stop giving him the stink-eye. Wendy Darling, though friendly, seemed to always be wary of him, as if she half-expected him to snap at any given moment. Her brothers were little better, though they were a tad more discreet about it.

"Sir, can I help you?"

"I'm waiting for someone."

It had taken Bae weeks to tell him of his first days in New York City, having ran away from his mother's home. At sixteen he'd managed to take odd jobs until landing steady work as a busboy for the restaurant in which Mulan worked. It was her idea to put him up for the night when his landlord evicted him out of the blue but it was her roommate’s idea to sort of adopt him. She'd taken one look at his scrawny teen self and had decided he needed someone. Royce had no doubt Bae had fought tooth and nail against the very notion, still angry at the world and everyone in it, but there had been nothing but love in his eyes when he'd introduced him to "Mama Belle". With a name like that, he'd imagined someone different. Matronly, round, the sort of person that would adopt waifs and strays and keep one too many cats. Reality was... entirely different. Belle French was scarcely ten years older than Bae, a librarian working the Acquisitions department of the NYPL. She was small, even for his standards, and delicate-looking, though incredibly energetic at the same time, a force of nature. Neal found it easier to cave in to her gentle mothering than fight it, even though he was clearly unused to such attention.

Mama Belle was also embarrassingly attractive. A mass of gently-curled brown-red hair, impossible blue eyes, the most enchanting Australian accent he'd ever heard... it wasn't fair. He'd spent the first weeks after meeting her learning how to talk to her in words other than pathetic monosyllabic. Bae, the little shit, seemed to love it. He'd been afraid his father would lash out at Belle, a person who had gotten to be there for Bae when he hadn't, who was privy to a part of his life that Gold was struggling to access. To find him instead falling under Belle's spell was, he often said, karma.

It was Royce's reaction to Belle that finally made Bae introduce him to Cristina, a mechanical engineer working for some Manhattan-based company specializing in green energies or the like, something to do with solar panels that Tink had tried to explain to him at least five times since he'd met her. Fortunately for him his son's girlfriend seemed to be on his side, determined to see father and son working on repairing their relationship.

He considered it a triumph to have been one of the first people to hear about the pregnancy, and the later announcement that they were expecting twins. At forty-seven Royce felt a bit young for grandchildren but he didn't have to pretend to be excited. As unlikely as it seemed he loved children. Children didn't judge, didn't criticise, weren't malicious. Children loved unconditionally, passionately, without pretence or expectations. He'd loved raising Bae, even though they'd been dirt-poor at the time, and had hoped for more children in the future. And though none of his dreams had come true he now had, in a way, a second chance at that. He was wealthy now and had little to spend it on other than grandkids so when Bae asked him for help outfitting the nursery- "Tink's got her hands full trying to finish as much as possible at work before maternity leave and between work and school I just don't have the time"- he'd agreed comically fast. He hadn't considered the dynamics of it at the time, hadn't considered how little he knew about modern childcare products or Bae and Tink's own tastes. When Bae had been born, they had been too poor for anything not donated or second-hand, and had done without much of what he was sure his son and daughter-in-law would consider essential.

"I'm sorry I'm late, but I'm here."

Belle appeared next to him out of thin air, so deep in his own thoughts he'd been. Obligingly he ducked his head a little so she could kiss his cheek, something that had taken some getting used to, and smiled shyly. He was glad the fear of failing his son had pushed him into calling in reinforcements, he was sure that otherwise he wouldn't have dared bother Belle. She, gentle soul that she was, had jumped at the chance to help. At thirty-two she was of an age where friends and acquaintances were starting their own families so she was fairly familiar with what Bae and Tink would need for the twins, and were best to get it. He certainly wouldn't have located the trendy Brooklyn store by himself, with its modern industrial designs very unlike his own preferences. But it was, he acknowledged, very much in keeping with what he had seen in Bae and Tink's flat, modern and sleek.

"So, how does the grandpa-to-be feel? Must be a bit disconcerting, being a grandfather at such an age. I know when Bae joked about his children calling me "Grandma Belle" I almost hit him with a leather-bound edition of Les Mis."

He winced, hoping the glee on his face wasn't stupidly evident.

'She thinks I'm young.'

"Okay, so here we can cover most of the furniture and bedding, but I want to go to other places for the clothing, get more diversity."

It took her one raised hand and a smile to get the attention of an employee, who took one look at Gold's Brioni suit and Belle's patent leather designer shoes and snapped almost comically to action, ready to sell them every single item on the store. Thankfully, however, Belle seemed to have clear ideas about what she wanted and how she wanted it, and though she didn't use intimidation or thinly-veiled threats bur rather charm and gentle coaxing, it reminded him a lot of his own deal-making process.

"Your wife is a very astute shopper, sir."

It took him a moment to realise the shopping assistant was talking to him and a moment longer to realise she was talking to him about Belle. He felt himself grow hot in the face immediately, his mind searching for the words to explain the mistake without dissolving into unintelligible stammering.

"Come, sweetheart, I want you to see this adorable bassinet I just discovered."

As he allowed himself to be lovingly-dragged by Belle he looked around, seeing many sets of eyes on them, many of them male, all of them faintly questioning. And it struck him that what they saw was an old, besotted fool and the pretty young thing he had somehow managed to knock up. They thought they were a couple, shopping and preparing for the arrival of a baby. And, embarrassingly, he found himself loving it. It was easy, especially given Belle's tactile nature, to wrap an arm loosely around her waist and lean close to study the bassinet she was pointing at, easy to keep close to her as they moved on to the mobile section.

"Oh, God, who would buy that awful sheep mobile? It looks like it could be the centre part of a horror movie argument."

It was the shopping experience he'd always wanted for when he'd been waiting for Bae's arrival. A full wallet, a warm and enthusiastic partner and all the time in the world. Belle, with her whimsical yet practical nature, was a perfect complement to his own rather extravagant and over-indulgent tastes. Every purchase meant a lively debate, complete with good-natured bantering and a thrilling dash of flirting. It became a game of sorts between them, a gentle tug-o-war that lead to some interesting purchases.

"Tink's gonna love that giant bunny lamp, just you wait."

"I'm still telling Bae it was solely your idea. I'll tell them I fought valiantly, made him proud."

After the first store came others, and though he had a minor scare when Belle realised people were mistakenly assuming they were expecting parents, she didn't seem to mind, rather the contrary. She played it up, made it a part of her rather formidable shopping strategy. And though he knew it was stupid, and risky and likely to leave him emotionally compromised, he gave himself over to the fantasy completely. It was bittersweet how easy it was, how little effort it required. He was prickly by nature, skittish and touch-shy, but it wasn't so with Belle. Something about her made it dangerously easy to lower his defences, to let her in. By the time the sun began to sink and they exited their last shop, Toys R Us, he knew he was a goner.

"Well, this was fun, being pregnant for a day. Thanks for letting me tag along."

"I couldn't have done this without you. Had no idea babies required so many things, other than the obvious. And I'm glad that people's assumptions didn't make you uncomfortable. I'll admit it was easier to pretend."

Belle bit her lip, which he quickly categorised as the world's most erotic unconscious habit, and tilted her head to the side.

"Maybe people could... mistake us for a couple on their first date? Say... on Sunday? I know a lovely place for brunch, most divine omelettes and a raspberry jam to die for."

It took him a rather long amount of time to process her words, to pair them up with the hopeful, open expression on her face and the rather endearing nervous way in which she tugged a lock of hair behind her ear.

"Y-y-yes, that'd be... yes. Sunday. This Sunday. Around eleven?"

"Eleven would be perfect."

A year later Mr and Mrs Gold were amused at having to pretend to be expecting their second son instead of their first.

"It's the bunny lamp. No shop is going to forget the couple that bought a toddler-sized bunny night lamp."

"Oh, hush and look at this adorable tree bookcase. I swear the moment I saw it I felt Gideon kick. We must have it."

[nortromthesilencer]

Madinni 2: Electric Boogaloo (Compile)

The last of the Madinni trillogy. Thing. Whatever.

Rizzrack

“Please, help me, it hurts!”

Thorny roots twist around the young boy’s neck, silencing his cries for help while drawing blood though countless cuts and gashes. Rizzrack warned him not to go back, there was nothing they could do, no one they could save. It’s the boy’s fault he’s dying now, soaking the bark and leaves with his fading life.

Rizzrack can’t look away from those blue eyes. The pleading, it captures his stare, periphreals darkening until they’re all he can see. The blue glow dims, giving way to other piercing gazes behind. Fierce feline eyes hide among the shade of leaves and branches. There are no words, but none are needed to know they judge him.

He’s dead because of you.

They’re dead because of you.

Everyone’s dead-

The keen awoke with a start from his dream, but it remains vivid and real. His face is drenched with tears and his chest aches. No, no, no.

Please not again.

He sighs a shuddering breath, digging deep down to find his anger, his hatred, pulling at emotions like fabric to be strewn over what he desperately tries to hide.

Guilt.

Damn him, damn him for not running away! Fool! If it weren’t for him none of this would have happened! He wouldn’t have killed an innocent! No, it’s not his fault, it’s the Silencer’s! No matter how indirect, her blood is on his hands! That’s right!

---

She watched from a distance, her sharp eyes and hearing studying his erratic hand gestures and desperate reasoning. Madinni kept the keen within her sights, avoiding direct detection but tormenting him by making it known SOMETHING was following him. It’s been effective. The small keen had little sleep over the course of a week and he’s been breaking. Nearly endless cutting. She waits among fallen trees like a predator, knowing at any moment the suit will fall silent. Any moment.

The sputtering of dark smoke was an indicator he could not miss. However it’s a sign too late when the fuel meter showed empty to Rizzrack. He neglected the Timbersuit’s needs.

No woods stood near him, but it meant no safety. The engine falls quiet, leaving the keen to desperately try and operate his suit manually. It’s a clumsy and futile attempt, especially when you notice a furred assassin make a run for you.

There is no defending himself from her sharp grip plucking him from the suit and throwing him to the earth.

“It has been fun to watch such a sad keen fall apart, but Madinni grows bored.”

Foot meets ribs and sends Rizzrack rolling to his side. Fear and adrenaline kicks in and he recovers, getting on his hands and knees. Scrambling to crawl back to his suit, he’s met with another kick to the face.

“Are you ready to die now? Surely it is too much pain on your mind to live.”

The taste of blood is on his tongue. If his heart wasn’t racing before it definitely is now. No answer from Rizzrack in words, but instead action. He hops to his feet at a surprising speed, even to her. Even more surprising is the sudden helmet to the face.

She hisses in shock, in pain. The impact is enough to chip a fang and she looks in bewildered anger at the trembling keen before her. If he didn’t wish to be dead now, she will ensure he will in the next few minutes.

There’s a gap in his consciousness from the moment he felt himself lifted by his leg and slammed to the ground to the moment he felt her pulling his head back. Instinctively his hands push forward, meeting her head and at that moment he realizes just what she was about to do. Whimpers and grunts interrupt his heavy breathing as he continues to focus on keeping her fangs away from his throat. Although momentarily numb, a growing pain from his body gradually weakens his ability to hold out. Just what this pain could possibly be is hinted at by the string of red ribbon she just suddenly tugged into view.

Oh, entrails.

It didn’t faze him to be a major issue at the moment. His whole focus was on keeping her from ripping out his throat next and his strength was beginning to fade. Arms tremble, straining to hold against Madinni who is unpleasantly surprised on how much will to live this little keen still has in him.

“Give in and let. Me. Kill. You.”

It’s inevitable yet his fate to die doesn’t register in his mind. He holds out for something, for some stroke of luck that he might live somehow because he won’t die so easily

Not now.

NortromtheSilencer

Were he in a play, this would be Rizzrack’s deus ex machina. A not so random encounter that just happened to come at the right time, swooping in to save the day… though not nearly as neat as the stories would have you expect.

He had come to make sure Rizzrack was alright after his untimely departure during their camp out. He had come to give the keen some sense of innocence in an assumption there would be guilt. He had come following the path of broken trees and destruction only to find a familiar feline face once more.

With little time to react before she might have her fangs at the keen’s throat, Nortrom acted first by glaive, and second by foot. He threw not with the intent to kill, not yet, but to get her to react. What better way than to sever the tail that lie exposed, held upright in anticipation of her kill, an invitingly easy target?

The glaive sliced through Madinni’s flesh easily, half of her tail flopping to the ground as blood spurted in cycles from what was left. She recoiled with a shout, head pulling away from Rizzrack, claws tensing before dropping him to the ground in a messy puddle of his own blood. Turning to see what had caused such pain, she instead saw only violet and gold.

SLAM.

Nortrom arced forward with his right arm, smashing into Madinni with his shield. The sudden force sent her spiraling to the ground, smaller body no match for the kinetic force and weight of the Silencer pushed up against the massive metal bulwark. Moving over her body, dazed and confused, he planted one foot firmly on top of one arm and the other pressed to her throat: Not hard enough to strangle the feline, but enough to make it difficult to breath. He worried not about any counter attack from her claws, his metal boots rising far enough to deflect stray swiping and his weight pinning her well enough to prevent her from rising.

With a stone set and serious face, he looked down upon her. Silent. She would remember him, of this he had no doubt.

Rizzrack

An opportunity granted. What a stroke of luck. Back smacking into dirt once released, he grunts, enduring through his injury to shield his throat with one arm while the other pushes him onto his knees. He expected her to lunge again. What he didn’t expect was to see the Silencer himself overpowering his assailant.

No, that can’t be him, he’s dead. Maybe Rizzrack himself is at the edge of his life, hallucinating the man?

Rizzrack looks down to the foot of pink garland poking through torn fabric and flesh, speckled with bloody mud and shreds of grass. No, he’s still alive, and maybe this is some sort of ridiculous repeat of last time except it’s Nortrom’s twin brother out of nowhere. “Heh.”

He stands, head turning to the Timbersuit…. Then past that, down, more left, up… He sus about on his feet, sudden dizziness jumbling his senses and thoughts. He stumbles, one hand to his abdomen, the other grasping at air. Where was he going again? To the suit? Of course, and he must get inside.

Not even one step forward and the keen falls once more, landing in the paste of dirt and blood. It isn’t much blood (for a human) but for a keen his size, it’s a miracle he’s still conscious. In fact it’s a miracle he’s still alive through all these years, gifted with an uncanny resilience to injury especially for a keen.

Getting up once more, he staggers his way to the suit, eventually slumping off the wooden and metal arm that hung at the side. It’s vitality is an aura that calls to him. A secret he keeps well hidden within the suit. A source of power created of his own blood. He needs to get to it.

As swift and nimble she may be, Madinni was no match for the surprise attack. She lay pinned below the man, the man she killed.

“Aghora?” She hisses, making a few attempts to escape, her smaller form squirming beneath him before she falls still. Her gaze burns upon him, taking great insult to see him alive. “How dare…” Her struggles resume. “How… Ungh…. Dare…!” Movements continue, gradually lacking thought until they’re nothing more than pathetic desperate attempts. Heels kick across dirt, mixing blood.

Hatred. Sadness. “Why couldn’t the gods bring her back? Why you instead?” Claws attempt to slip beneath the boot if only to assist her speaking. “No justice. ” A little more writhing beneath the boot. “Unfair suffering, but it is the way of life.” The feline sighs, searching within acceptance to her defeat. Along with it, more spite.

“Be thankful you know not the loss of a sister.”

NortromtheSilencer

It was at this point that Nortrom no longer had in his mind the reason he first arrived, and instead could think no further than this pitiful creature under foot. He had pushed Rizzrack from thought, focusing solely on this cat, this woman, this THING beneath him that dared speak of justice or suffering.

“Do not be so presumptuous.”

Nortrom bent down, grabbing Madinni by the throat and lifting her from the ground. She kicked and clawed, nails scraping against his metal gauntlets, feet getting caught in his sash, but neither stopping the Silencer from tearing away the hooded wrap around her shoulders that rest over her shirt. Firmly he slammed her back against the nearest surface, the large facing of a rock, the force winding her and causing the cat to gasp. Nortrom used this fabric to bind her hands while she was stunned and unable to fully struggle, hoisting them above her head and over the nearest non-decimated tree branch that was in his reach but out of her own height. He stepped back, glaive materializing into his now free hand as it released her, leaving her to dangle above the frosty ground.

Beneath the brow of his helm, Nortrom’s eyes cast a faint glow, staring at Madinni. He remained silent, stoic, emotionless. Tossing his shield down, his right hand firmly gripped her jaw, squeezing into her fur and flesh tight enough to bruise. He wanted to break her. He wanted that presumptuous maw to be silenced.

“Your sister died of your own actions; Don’t act like it was some twist of fate or game of the gods. You both knew you were playing with flames, yet dare to be offended when burnt? Don’t pretend that you cared. If you ever cared for your sister, you wouldn’t have put them in danger in the first place.”

Was he convincing her, or himself?

Rizzrack

Her legs curl and every other moment there’s a kick as toes attempt to find balance somewhere. She whips her face away from his fingers. Refusing to release any last bit of dignity she may have while hanging there, she spits at him.

“Very well. Her death is by my actions.” She sneers. “But Madinni embraces death now. Vengeance was made by killing that damned keen.” She chuckles, head upturned in pride as she clings to her only chance of having the last laugh. “Go on, kill me now. My job is done, my slate is clear. The same cannot be said for you.”

NortromtheSilencer

the spittle hit his helm guard with a small ting of metal; The Silencer didn’t flinch. Instead, a long, toothy grin, spread across his features: sadistic, malevolent. He thought back on Rizzrack for only a moment, knowing full well that even if the Keen died, he was in contract with the Ancient. He would return.

“Oh Madinni… My slate was doomed to be tarnished from the day I was born. I know the weight of my deeds, and wear them dutifully.”

The closest hand enters he mouth, metal plating protecting him from her fangs. With one hand holding her lower jaw and the other supporting her head, Nortrom wrenched down as hard as he could. There was a delay where the flesh refused to yield, a slight pause before an explosion of pain seared like hot embers from torn tendons and eviscerated ligaments being stretched and divided. Down her jaw went, the rest of her skull not following suit, a torrent of blood pouring down her throat and his gambeson. Nortrom made her look forward, made her see the pleasure he took in literally tearing the words from her wretched mouth.

When the deed was done, her jaw hung limp from the remaining skin of her neck line, tongue dangling comically with nowhere left to sit. It was impossible to tell where fur ended and cloth started, the blood matting both together in macabre reds. Nortrom grabbed on to her ear and tugged her hanging form closer, whispering with a sick satisfaction coated sweetly on every syllable, “And unlike you I’ll even admit to enjoy the dirty deeds that stain my soul.”

Another tug, and while the ear was not ripped off, there was an obvious ripping sound where ligaments gave way from the force internally. Nortrom let go of the feline, turning his back to her and leaving her to exsanguinate. There was another he had to see, the one he initially came to talk to.

Nortrom paid no heed to any sounds she may have made, and proceeded to find Rizzrack among the blood and ruined foliage. With luck, he would still be alive.

Rizzrack

Madinni’s eyes followed the hand, expecting the glaive to be the one that moved. But no, this would not be quick.

Her eyes nearly rolled to the back of her skull. Her body trembled violently, causing the hanging remains of her jaw to sway and bounce across her chest. The blood poured down her torso, down her legs and her eyes refocused to follow the Silencer while she awaited darkness.

There he approaches that bladed monstrosity, and up in it…. That damn keen still alive??

Both of them alive.

Her eyes widen, body thrashing with whatever life it has left and from the remnants of her throat come bubbling screeches. Every expansion of her lungs brought in more blood than air, and soon the feline falls still, hanging there in silence.

---

Rizzrack did not notice the man, or anything else regarding the world around him. He sat on the controls of the slumbering suit and within his grasp held tightly was a strange stone, blood-red in color glowing with a bone- reaching warmth. He sniffles. The blood from his nose is mostly now a dried crusted river down his face. A hand moves from the stone to his abdomen, fingers twirling the exposed string of innards absent-mindedly. The pain was dull and distant. Everything was.

Until he saw Nortrom.

“Hmm, how was your dirt nap? Enjoyable I hope?” Rizzrack’s complexion is worrying, incredibly pale from the loss of blood. He should not even be talking in that condition.

“That’s ah, hmph, some nice work you did there.” He leans over to look past Nortrom at the hanging corpse. “And you even made use of that tree! I always had a feeling you were fond of foliage. Heh�� But now that you’re finished with her…” his quivering smile drops into a scowl. “… You’ve come to finish me off too.” His feet deep into the suit’s cockpit as he slides from the controls into his seat, gripping the bloodstone ever so tightly.

“Because it’s MY fault you got killed, isn’t that right? Now you think you can kill me?!” A strange aura of red surrounds the keen, bringing contrast of life to his nearly zombie-like appearance.

If that weren’t worrying enough, the supposed fuel-less Timbersaw twitches, then suddenly becomes quite effortlessly animate with grasping claws. The lack of a roaring engine makes it so unsettling.

NortromtheSilencer

This was not what he had expected to see. The red glow combined with Rizzrack’s taunting words and Madinni’s screeching petering off left Nortrom unsure how to react. His head tilted, the blood smeared on his sash dripping as he stood still before the TImbersuit.

“Blame you?” He sounded off, as if coming down from a high and still unsure of his surroundings, “Rizzrack, I came to make sure you were alright. Why would I blame you for Madinni’s actions?” Was there something more to this he didn’t know about? Now paranoia fluttered through his head, given the number of times he had been betrayed. No- there was no way Rizzrack had planned for Madinni to attack him. If that was the case, Rizzrack wouldn’t have been assaulted as well.

“You’re hurt. Let me help you.”

Rizzrack

“You mean help me DIE?!” Without warning, the ‘palm’ of the metal claw collides with Nortrom’s chest. Cold fingers grip tightly and lifting the man off his feet so that he may get a good look at the keen in his suit.

Rizzrack’s hands are nowhere near the controls, yet the grip tightens enough to pop Nortrom’s spine.

“Look at me! Do I look alright to you?” With the Bloodstone gripped between his legs, Rizzrack pulls at his clothing. Gloves, buckles, top, the torn articles are removed save for his trousers and boots. Not only was there a deep wound near his side that exposed his organs, but many large gashes across his stomach as well.

“THIS is because I killed someone! I admit it!” Hands raise up, the timbersuit following in motion as Rizzrack twisted about to announce to the world “I killed someone! And someone tried to killed ME for it!” A pink finger suddenly jabs out to point at Nortrom. “And now YOU’RE going to kill ME for getting YOU killed! You’re going to hang me off a TREE! But it’s not my fault! I didn’t want it to happen!” The claw then slumps, dropping Nortrom to the ground as the keen continued.

“Because you made me CARE about you… Hah! But, but I know the truth! The truth is you’re horrible murderer too! Haha! Look! You’re a murderer!” Excitedly he bounces in his seat, legs kicking gleefully as he now points to the deceased Madinni. “And you know what I do to murderers, Nortieee?” The saw teeth spin ferociously as the blade dives down eagerly pressing so close to Nortrom he’s practically pinned to the spot.

“I CUT them before they murder me! Hah!”

NortromtheSilencer

Breath forced from his chest as the Timbersuit’s claw lifted him, Nortrom grabbed it’s sides futilely and tried to pry the edges away from him. He looked at Rizzrack, surprised, but not completely unexpecting of such actions. The Keen was already mentally unstable, and with the amount of blood he had lost, an even further degradation should be expected. The red glow, however? That was a new one.

Unable to speak before being roughly dropped, the Silencer gasped a welcomed, full breath of air. Did Rizzrack honestly believe he was going to kill him? This was absurd! Rolling on to his back about to get up, the man is quickly stopped by an incoming blade. Nortrom flattened against the dirt, still. The blade stopped, just short of making contact but still way too close for comfort. He had no space to roll out from under the thing, and scooting away would prove much too slow. Great. He huffed, no longer feeling any of the adrenaline from his most recent kill.

“Rizzrack, if I wanted you dead you would have been dead a long time ago.”

Lying down and staring at Rizzrack from behind the lip of his timber suit, Nortrom made an attempt to cross his arms but found no space to do so and instead opted to just flop them in the dirt on the ground. Tacky crimson and brown mud smeared across his armour and gambeson, now utterly filthy.

“Yes. I’m a murderer. I thought you knew this already? Rizzrack, I was bred and born to kill! I was raised as a child to destroy the enemies of my order, what do you think that means? That I’m lovingly embracing them? Just because I killed Madinni for attacking the two of us, you now act like this, but seemed to have few qualms before hand. I think it would be obvious the glaive was not just for show. I have no illusions about my duty in life, nor the blood on my hands.”

Another huff, this time weaker. He looked away, helm blocking the sun from his eyes, and hopefully his dour expression from the Keen, “But– I am mostly at fault here, for that you are correct. Had you not encountered me during my period of… well, transformation, then you would not have been dragged into killing Madinni’s sister nor be attacked by her in revenge. For that I am sorry.”

Rizzrack

Just how badly did that blade wish to cut that man? Very much, and it wasn’t just restraint that kept it from doing so, but the keen’s initial belief that Nortrom was just some revenge-seeking ghost from the dead. There’s no way Nortrom is just… fine again, is there?

The keen looks sternly down, thinking on the man’s reasoning, thinking for once. That is true considering the amount of times he was vulnerable and exposed to being murdered. He did die anyways but not because of Nortrom, but becau-

Oh.

Recalling his own death and revival, he finds it a little easier to believe Nortrom is there in flesh and blood. This would be enough for him to simply press his blade through and kill him, but this was all what he wanted to avoid in the first place wasn’t it?

Suddenly his thoughts were in a loop, a paradox, catching the keen off guard and he gets up from his seat, bloodstone clattering onto the floor of the cockpit as it fell from his lap. Anger and paranoia make-way for hope and excitement as keen leans over to look at the man with wide-eyed lucidity.

Rizzrack’s expression then softens. Guilt returns, but it is no longer the guilt  of Nortrom’s death he desperately tried to avoid. It’s now the guilt of not trusting Nortrom, of believing he’d harm him. How could he after what they’ve been through?

He shakes his head. “N-no, don’t say that. I-I should be the one who’s sorry.” The suit creaks, no longer self-animate. The Rizzrack climbs out , assisting himself by use of the claw arm. “If I didn’t then who knows what would have happened.” The saw blade creaks as Rizzrack pushes it away from Nortrom while still fumbling over his words. He falls silent momentarily, grabbing the Silencer’s hand to urge him to sit up. Feeling him solid and not at all like an apparition finally settled his hopes.

He lets go and stares. Then a shudder long-held escapes on his breath. “Oh God you’re alive.”  With relief came the complete loss of strength, and with that the keen fell on Nortrom, his bloodied body draped across the man’s lap while his arms wrapped around his waist. Solid, warm, alive… touching let alone hugging another was something Rizzrack did rarely, but in this case it was solid evidence, proof there wouldn't be one more tally mark on his tablet of casualties.

“Heh… y-you know even if you wanted me dead I…” the growing dizziness after he dropped that bloodstone made it hard to think. “boy, y-you wouldn’t believe what I’ve a-already been through…”

It sounded like he was going to continue, but no. He straight up passed out on poor Nortrom.

NortromtheSilencer

The suit moved, and with it, Rizzrack came down from the cockpit. His  peritoneum was torn, intestines sliding between thin sheets of blood and flesh; it was a wonder the Keen still stood.

Nortrom sat up on his knees and froze as Rizzrack hugged him, a small sound of discomfort and confusion breaking past his lips. He was bad with affectionate gestures, even more so when they came from such an unexpected source… A source that soon made no sound and pressed all of it’s weight into him.

“Er… Rizzrack?” He snapped out of his uncomfortable trance and gently jostled the smaller Keen. Rizzrack’s body shifted to the side, and it was only Nortrom’s hand that stopped him from falling over completely. Great. Ever so carefully the Silencer slipped out from the Keen’s grasp, his arms bracing the tiny frame so that it didn’t become even more injured. Nortrom attempted to staunch the bleeding with a weak salve and a torn section of his undershirt, knowing that while it wouldn’t suffice it would hopefully prolong the time they had to get help. He had to get Rizzrack medical attention, and fast.

In the dirt his shield still rest, one side marred with blood and soil, the other relatively clean. It would suffice as a makeshift stretcher given it need only hold a smaller body. Flipping the shield over, he gently set Rizzrack down on the concave surface and lifted it up between both of his arms.  

They were much too far from his own home, and had no idea where the Keen himself stayed, so instead it was internally decided that the nearest town would have to suffice. Nortrom wasted no time, nearly sprinting southwards.

It had taken much longer than he had hoped. By the time they both arrived in town and were directed to the apothecary’s residence, a small puddle of blood had pooled inside of the shield under Rizzrack. Needless to say, the healer was mortified by what she saw, both painted in gore, the petite pink keen leaking insides all over; It was a morbid scene.

Assuming he was in good hands, the Silencer relinquished Rizzrack over to the Apothacary’s services, and was advised by her to clean himself up before he spread some sort of blood born infection. It was a sound idea.

Rizzrack

Rizzrack soon stirs from his sleep. His lids are closed but the rest of his senses react to his environment. Despite the warmth and soothing scent, the unfamiliarity sends a jolt through him and his eyes shoot wide open.

Where is he?

Along with his immediate awareness he attempts to sit up, but a sore weak core prevents him from doing so. There’s a hiss followed by a whimper as the keen is forced to stay on his back. One hand tenderly touches his abdomen so that fingers may trail across a material that is not his clothing but is in fact bandages. Along with this discovery he finds he’s not wearing any of his own clothes at all, but instead an ill-fitted plain undergarment. His chest pounds as realizations continue. Oh, how exposed.

Feet pull in and arms fold over his chest. The small-keen is left to observe his surroundings. Shelves and shelves of bottles, vases, books and instruments line the walls as well as rest upon a work bench seemingly lacking any organization. These do little to hold his attention as he eyes the various potted plants below the window his cot was unfortunately placed near. While not large and as dangerous as trees themselves, their shadows do little to ease Rizzrack as they cast down upon him by sunlight. If only he had his suit.

He sighs. Stay calm. Stay calm, Rizzrack. He must be here for a reason. His memory is foggy, but it becomes a necessary distraction from his surroundings as he pieces together the events that led to him being incapacitated. It feels familiar. Did he dream it? Ah, no, but it is a situation which Rizzrack made a foolish assumption and it resulted in one of them bandaged up.

He hums in thought. At least it was himself this time.

NortromtheSilencer

With an airy song, hummed as softly as the sun beams trailing across Rizzrack’s bed and across the floor, the Apothecary entered the room. Her red hair was pulled back into a messy bun held in place by a dark ribbon, charcoal pencil pressed into the mound as to keep track of it’s location. She wore a long white apron, side pockets filled with examination tools and medical supplies, bandages and a bottle with a faded label held in one hand while the other cradles a large mug.

“I see you’re awake. How are you feeling? You were in bad shape when your friend brought you in,” She placed the gauze and bottle on the nearest shelf before pushing a small side table closer to Rizzrack’s bed and setting the mug down. It was steaming, a slight aroma of lemon and herbs coming from the dark coloured liquid, “Here, this tea will help with some of your pain.”

Rizzrack

The attempts made to calm himself are all for nothing. Eyes snap to the woman that entered, attention caught by her red hair that immediately sends a wave of butterflies through the small-keen’s core. Is that really her? His heart races. He hasn’t seen her in so long it takes him a moment to realize that no, he’s only been fooled by her appearance and desperate desire for comfort in familiar company.

Rizzrack swallows dryly and pulls his limbs even closer to himself as he now weathers through an internal onslaught of embarrassment and infatuation. Such a distraction these feelings are. He should be on guard. Who exactly is she? What’s that bottle for? What’s about to happen? And more importantly, is it going to hurt?

He’s unable to answer her question immediately, and as the seconds pass in silence, he gives up on doing so. Quiet still, he eyes the mug. Tea? His nose scrunches in disgust. One may think it’s the use of leaves that gives him such a negative opinion of the drink, but that’s not the case. It probably has HONEY. Disgusting!

Finding himself glaring, he sighs roughly and looks away, annoyed even more now with his current situation.

“Where are my clothes?”

NortromtheSilencer

She forces a sympathetic smile, head tilting, trying not to take his crass attitude personally. This patient had just been through a lot, and it was understandable that he would be in a bad mood.

“Your friend took them to be cleaned and stitched. That was a few hours ago, so I doubt it will be long before he’s back,” The Apothecary stood up slowly, not wanting to set off any more anxiety from this small, wary, keen, and went back towards the bottle and gauze she left before, “I need to re-apply your dressings. Wouldn’t want to get infected now, would we? It’s alright, I’m not here to judge or harm you; My job is to make sure you heal.”

Rizzrack

While thankful that it won’t be long until he’s back in familiar fabrics, Rizzrack’s eyes widen.

“C-can’t I change them myself?” he squeaks. Already knowing the answer, he sighs, not pleased at all about allowing a stranger so much freedom with his uncovered body. It was bad enough it went on when he was unconscious.

Slowly and reluctantly the insecure keen loosens up, straightening out his legs and urging his arms to move aside so that she may tend to him. Despite this, he can’t find himself to make eye-contact. He can only wish it’ll be quick.

NortromtheSilencer

Noting his embarrassment, the Apothecary works quickly while still being careful of his injuries. She unraveled the bandages around his midsection, remaining blood drops now dried and causing them to stick to the skin slightly, and tossed them aside temporarily. From the bottle she dabbed a brownish liquid onto some gauze and cleaned the wound, it’s cold and sterile mixture most likely stinging to some degree as it worked it’s magic. Once clean, the next step was securing some fresh gauze to the Keen’s injuries with the bandages. Before long, the process was complete and scooting her chair back she clapped her hands and grinned, “There! That wasn’t so bad, now was it?”

*** *** ***

There was a reason his gambeson was a dark red and not the same violet hue accenting his mantle. Despite most efforts, getting blood from the padded robing was next to impossible without a dissolving agent, and as such he was glad the colour hid what refused to wash out. From his metal plated armour and smooth, coated sash, Nortrom managed to clear evidence of what had transpired, and a bath was all it took to erase the past from his skin and hair; the Silencer knew that it wouldn’t be so easy for Rizzrack.

Having his helm and mantle tucked inside of a roomy cloth sack he purchased, Nortrom cleared his mind outside of the clinic with a large skin of water. He took small sips, less for the quenching effects but more in routine as he thought. Never having used a Bloodstone himself, the utterly apoplectic reaction had by Rizzrack unnerved him, though it was the after math that clouded his head even more so.

A hug. Such an innocent and common display of affection or friendship, yet to Nortrom it served as nothing short of a conundrum. This was Rizzrack of all people who presented such an offering, doing so after threatening to kill him in a moment of fear induced panic, with an expression of such utter relief. It confused Nortrom, questioning if the Keen was delirious from blood loss or truly sincere in his gesture.

Nortrom sighed. No, the Keen was much too unpredictable. There was no certainty that it wasn’t born of some survival instinct at the moment and not actually a sign of friendship. More than likely it served as a ploy to gain pity or mercy. Care is not something so freely given to one such as myself.

*** *** ***

With the old bandages now put away as well as the rest of her dressings, the Apothecary ran a hand over her hair and again pushed the tea towards Rizzrack. Before she could insist he drink, there was a knock on the door. Going to check, she only opened it enough to see through, not wishing to compromise the privacy of her patient, until she saw who it was.

Allowing him access, the woman stepped aside and chuckled welcoming, “Looks like you have a visitor!” One arm extending towards the keen as if introducing their ‘guest’.  From the doorway, stepped a now cleaned up Nortrom.

Helm in arm and a calm expression upon his face, the Silencer nodded to greet the bandaged Keen. “I’m glad to see you’re awake.”

Rizzrack

Hands carefully lower so that his fingertips may brush across the fresh clean wrappings and inspect. Indeed it wasn’t so bad at all, but Rizzrack still pouted.

“Thanks…”

He still wants his cloth-THE CLOTHES, WOMAN, NOT THE TEA!! He recoils and glares at the cup. He fails to notice the knock on the door, far too absorbed with willing himself to avoid his thirst and discomfort so as not to risk drinking hot tree jizz water.

It’s not until the Apothecary catches his attention that he looks and sees Nortrom. Glare turns to excited surprise.

“NORT-auerrgh…! Hmmg…”

Rizzrack huffs, stopped frozen mid sit-up and his face contorted in a pained grin.

“H-how are ya? Hmf.” He doesn’t need that tea. Not at all. “I’m glad to see I"m awake too, heh.”

NortromtheSilencer

Nortrom cringed when he saw Rizzrack attempt to sit up and patted the air with his free hand, “Er, you should lie down. Don’t get up, that was one hell of an injury,” he turned to the Apothecary with an awkward look, not sure how to ask without perhaps offending her, “Could I request you leave us be for a bit?” Not at all offended and quite expecting such a question, she motioned for Nortrom to come down to her level as to whisper something in his ear before leaving the two alone in the room.

The Silencer sighed, setting his helm down along with a large bag heft across his back, and again looked at the Keen, “It was a fortunate coincidence I had come to speak with you at the same time Madinni chose to attack. That could have been a much more fatal encounter.”

Rizzrack

Rizzrack grimaced. “I-I would have been fine. I-at that point I…”

He isn’t quite sure what to say. Rizzrack stares at the cooling cup of tea in thought. There were so many things going through his mind, doubts, conflicting feelings, he didn’t know what he wanted or how he felt. He knows now he’s relieved to see Nortrom alive.

“Huh, how are you alive? I thought you died!” He chuckles with disbelief. “I can’t believe I nearly lost my mind thinking I got you killed! Hilarious, isn’t it?”

NortromtheSilencer

He hissed a slow breath from between clenched teeth, looking pensive. “Well…” Nortrom took the stool once used by the apothecary and sat on it himself, and rested his elbows upon his legs. First things first…

“Rizzrack, did you know I wasn’t bound to the Ancient?” The way he acted upon his death made Nortrom question this. It wasn’t something he told the other Heroes, but why else would the Keen think him to actually die and not just reform as they always did? If so, how did he find out?

“Er, I mean, I’m actually surprised you would even care whether I died on not. It’s not something I would expect of anyone.”

Rizzrack

The keen’s head movement alternated between a nod and a shake before giving a shrug as his final answer. Rizzrack was unsure, feeling he was still missing some information. Was Nortrom supposed to be even bound to the Ancient in the first place? Well, it would make sense wouldn’t it? Was there any reason for him to freak out over the death in the first place then?

Yes, actually. Nortrom just said he isn’t bound to the Ancient, so he could have been dead permanently!

But, he’s not.

Rizzrack’s thoughts are suddenly interrupted and he lets out a small insulted gasp.

“Of course I c-hrrgn,, -care!” Excitement had got the better of him and he eases back again, reminding himself not to be so dramatic lest his internals rupture out again. He sighs, returning to laying on his back as he thinks. “Why do I care?” He hums, bringing a finger to tap the bottom of his lip in thought. “Is it because we’re… friends?” He glances over at the man awaiting a response, but he’s not patient for one. “Nah, it was just guilt, wasn’t it? Guilt I tried to murder you, guilt I over-reacted to a sarcastic joke about your copulation habits with trees, guilt about your child hood…” He folds his arms lightly across his torso and turns his eyes up to the ceiling. “Or maybe it’s the fact I feel responsible for you. Weird, right?

NortromtheSilencer

Nortrom was left speechless; Those words hit him much harder than they would have any one else. His lips opened yet no words came out, eyes slanting, waiting expectantly for some punchline or joke to show that Rizzrack wasn’t serious. It never came.

Turning with a conflicted huff, the Silencer ran a hand through his hair awkwardly, “You– you’re right; That is weird. If anything I’ve caused your more trouble than not, yet…” With an uncomfortable cough he looked back at the Keen, troubled, “Hm. Forgive me, but these are not words I would expect to hear from you Rizzrack. Why would you feel responsibility for me of all people?”

Oh, right, speaking of being responsible… Nortrom grabbed the cup of tea, still warm but no longer steaming hot, and held it out to the still obviously aching man before him. “Take it from someone who’s been injured numerous times: Pain killers are your friends. Drink.”

Rizzrack

HE thinks he’s the troublemaker? Please, even if Nortrom argued he was responsible for some of the messes they’ve been through, at least it wasn’t the ones because of incredibly dumb reasons by yours truly.

Rizzrack hums admittedly. “I know I know, considering I always had something mean to say about you. But I don’t know the answer to that! What do I look like, my therapist? If that’s the case then oh boy it would explain a lot… Besides, I think I could ask you a similar question.”

The keen cringes. God dammit not the teaaaaa. “Heh I really don’t need… Ugh.” He huffs defeatedly. There is no doubt that one way or another they’ll get him to drink it, so he may as well down it warm than cold. Propping himself back up he takes the cup finally. It sits beneath his nose for a while, Rizzrack still very reluctant to letting it touch his lips. But he must….

Breath held, he takes a large mouthful. The tea is held in his mouth until he gathers enough will power to swallow.

“Blegh. There.”

Bitter. That’s a good sign.

NortromtheSilencer

With a nod, the man smiles. “Thank you. While it might make you less coherent than usual,” If that was even possible, “The medicine will also make it much easier for me to get you back home.”

Bending down, the Silencer opened up the large sack he had brought and began to rummage through it, still speaking to Rizzrack, “As for my own care? I see parallels in us, our obsession, and our utter tunnel vision. No, I won’t explain any further, but I do have a tendency to be protective of allies.” There were many traumas he wasn’t about to tell the Keen, even if some had accidentally been discovered over the course of their misadventures so far. It wasn’t anyone else’s business.

There was a slight hum of approval once he found what he had been looking for, and Nortrom pulled back up with a folded pile of clothing much too small for him. “Your clothing. While stitched back up where you were slashed, the repairs won’t be long lived.” Given that the entire front of Rizzrack’s shirt and overalls were cut in half, there was little that could be done for them besides simple patch work, or so said the seamstress.

Trading the cup for the clothing, Nortrom sets the now empty vessel back down and shrugs, “Couldn’t get all of the blood out either. Lots of staining.”

Rizzrack

Home. Hmm, hopefully the Timbersuit will be in one piece when he gets back. Otherwise the winter maintenance would have been a waste.

Rizzrack listens to Nortrom, not fully understanding what he means but having no desire to prod for questions. It’s likely that similar to himself, Nortrom doesn’t have any straight answers. At least he’s considered an ally, that feels nice.

What’s also nice is being presented with  his clothes.

“Oh!!” Cup is replaced with a handful of clothes he’s so happy to see. It would have been more logical to toss them and get new clothes, but for something that’s been with Rizzrack since his days back in Augury, it means alot to the keen.

Unfolding to inspect, it’s true the blood is stubborn. New stitching and fabric accompanies the old mending, ones Rizzrack sewed himself to keep it fitting and together through so many years.

“It’s.. it’s not bad! I”ll just rub some dirt in it. That always does the trick, heh.”

For the first time, the thought of finally retiring the outfit crosses his mind and for a moment he’s a little downhearted. Maybe someday he’ll have to, but not now. A small smile finally brightens his expression followed by a “Thanks.”

Suddenly he hugs the clothes to his chest and looks to Nortrom excitedly. “Do you think I can put these back on now?” And before the man can answer, Rizzrack already works on slipping the sleeveless shirt over himself.

NortromtheSilencer

Wanting to say something in protest as Rizzrack slips the clothing back on, bending his core in ways that should be avoided due to his injury, Nortrom bites his tongue and knows it wouldn’t matter. Instead he merely shrugs in silence, allowing the Keen to bask in excitement about finally getting dressed.

Another thought crosses his mind, this time more practical, “You can’t, or, shouldn’t, walk in your condition. Opening up your sutures would be a less than pleasant experience.” Nortrom hums, looking down at the bag that also contains his shield, “I could carry you again if you didn’t wish to remain here until healed.” No doubt that Rizzrack would be itching to leave such an unfamiliar place, “I’ve already paid for your treatment, so don’t worry about that.”

Rizzrack

Rizzrack draws out a breath and drops his arms back to his lap. Putting on a simple piece of clothing took a lot more work than he expected. It hurt quite a bit too. What hurt more was attempting to lean forward and get his feet into his trouser legs. Determined, he gets the trousers halfway on and takes a break as Nortrom speaks up.

He follows the man’s eyes down to the bag.

“Ah…eh…No offense but I”d rather not be shoved into a bag, it’s not a fun experience. Wouldn’t be the first time…” He adds with a cringe. “But don’t take it the wrong way, because I would love to get back to my suit as soon as possible. Besides, I’m pretty sure I can wal-”

An attempt to twist his waist to dangle his legs off the bed ends with the keen sucking in a sharp breath of pain.

“OooOOoh…. AaAah…” He freezes, stuck mid-twist.

“I-I take that back, I shouldn’t have done that. Help.”

NortromtheSilencer

Nortrom rolls his eyes when the bag is commented upon, head tilting as he did so, “I wasn’t going to shove you in the bag, I was going to use my shield as a stretcher like I did on–” Broken off by a very pained sound from the Keen, he huffed, getting to his feet, and very carefully holding Rizzrack by his sides to lift and set him back down straight.

“I’m hoping that tea will kick in soon so you won’t move so much. It’s bad enough Madinni slashed you open, don’t go making things worse.” Patting the ground before him to pacify Rizzrack, Nortrom forced a half smile, “I’ll get you home. Don’t worry.”

Wait. There was something in the way of that.

“Er… Well, given you tell me where you live.” Nortrom looked a bit sheepish, realizing his mistake of not even knowing where Rizzrack called home, “That is if you want to. I understand if you wish to keep it a secret, and you can stay here as long as you need to.” Hell, he wishes he could hide his own home again, having it take far too little time since moving for others to find and immediately begin to bother him.

Rizzrack

Rizzrack huffs, learning more of the importance of careful movement in his current state. The pain eases up, and along with it, his concentration. Is this why he was so insistent about the tea? To get him to shut up? Hah, that won’t work! Or maybe it will.

The keen tips back slowly, transitioning from hands to elbows, then finally to shoulders as he returns to a laying position with feet still dangling over the bed. There’s a growing desire to settle down again.

“Oh, y-you already know where I live. It’s the Timbersuit.” He sighs, lightly picking at the fabric of his shirt. “I already had to tear down my winter shelter. I didn’t plan to do that for another month. Oh well… Better to keep moving. After all, stones grow on no rolling moss.”

He pauses… “Ah, moss on rolling stones. Doesn’t grow. Right.”

He’s quiet for another brief moment before his expression turns stern and he bites the inside of his lip. Why is he letting himself grow drowsy? He can take a nap once he gets to his suit. Assuring himself he’ll be truly safe soon he begins to slowly work his way to sitting up again.

“I-I appreci-appreciate… phew… thanks for helping to take me back. I wouldn’t be too quick to trust anyone else to help me when I’m… ya know… Like this.”

NortromtheSilencer

The Timbersuit? Did Rizzrack really live in that contraption, always on the move? Nortrom’s expression shifted to a more sympathetic one, most likely unnoticed as he ducked down to fish his shield from the bag.  There was no way that he could pilot the suit in his current condition safely, Nortrom would do better to take him home and drag the suit back himself later.

“It’s a bit nippy outside, so I bought a small throw blanket for your trip.” Should he tell him they weren’t going to the suit after all? Better not to, lest he fight it, “Stay put, I’ll get you settled.”

Setting the shield down on the bed, concave side up, he unfurled the blanket from the bag over it’s surface. Nortrom picked up Rizzrack, scooping him from under the knees and shoulders as not to upset his torso too much, and set him down on the plush surface. He tossed it’s draping sides over the keen, hoping Rizzrack would at least be coherent enough to make himself comfy on the hard surface.

“There. Are you good to go?” Assuming the answer, or even a lack there of due to the medicine, the Silencer grabbed the bag and tied it shut, wrapping the cord around his shoulders so it rest on his back, then picked up the make shift stretcher before him.

Rizzrack

There were small peeps of protest as he was transferred from bed to shield by steady and strong arms. He could have moved himself!

Once settled again, he loosened up some more, finding the shield to be surprisingly comfy! Oh, a blankets. That’s why. What a soft blanket….

Hands fumble about until fingers curl and grip the blanket, pulling rolls of warmth up to his nose as he found himself growing increasingly sluggish in thought.

“Wow I ffffff-“ the f dragged on and for a moment it seems like Rizzrack already dozed off. “…. I feel better already, I think I can… walk….” the keen mumbles as he slowly pulls the blanket more over himself. “Tell Lina thanks for the tea, I’ll visit again soon…Aaaaah that is some gooooood teaaaaaa. Mmhmm.”

NortromtheSilencer

Yup, the tea was kicking in; It was time to leave. Nortorm wrapped up a few loose ends with the apothecary before heading out, make-shift stretcher in in his arms, sack on his back, and the sun above his head. He wondered why Lina of all people would be on the Keen’s mind at this time, innocently owing it up to the woman’s red hair and little else, but remained silent on the topic. There was no sense embarrassing Rizzrack any further over this little incident.

A soft breeze carried with it the scent of early wild flowers just starting to come into bloom from their winter rest, heads crowning above the still browned grass blades and bushes waiting for leaves to regrow. While the Keen was surprisingly light, every once and a while Nortrom had to shift his grip on the shield given the awkward angle he had to keep his arms at, and the length of their journey. On the occasion a traveler would pass them by, odd looks directed towards the wrapped bundle: Some most likely assumed it a child, while others caught sight of the obvious keen features and went off confused. Neither bothered the man, content to enjoy the walk without a word besides the occasional hum in response to some random tidbit brought up by the drugged up Rizzrack.

Rizzrack

Every once in a while Rizzrack twitched and muttered, mind faltering about in a hypnagogic state. He refused to fall asleep so easily, instead filled with a sudden desire to talk with Nortrom. Sentences came out spliced and mumbled, some words here about the tea, others about delicious mangoes. There was maybe even a sentence or two about Nortrom’s strength. His tired mumbling grows infrequent until finally ending on a topic about using the shield as a sled in the winter.

Beneath the blanket there is no longer silly nonsense words, just the occasional sniffle until the sound of slow and soft steady breathing is heard.

NortromtheSilencer

Asleep. Good. Nortrom takes this time to enjoy the walk, mindful of his surroundings, musing internally on various topics or nothing at all in random intervals. It was surprisingly pleasant given the circumstances leading up to this moment, but he enjoyed it none the less.

Eventually the pair reached Nortrom’s lodge. He had to do some balancing in order to get the door open without waking Rizzrack, but once inside it was an easy matter of sliding him, blanket and all, on to his own bed. It was comical how large the bed was in comparison to the keen, and Nortrom had to stifle a small snicker at the image.

He got changed into clothing better suited for heavy labor before readying a few items: Chain, a wood sled, rope, and water. Pulling the bundle behind him, the Silencer made his way towards where the Timbersuit was last left. This would be one hell of a work out.

Rizzrack

His fingers caressed the green grass of that old familiar field. Every stroke and every tug brought the blades higher as if he compelled them to grow. Along with it came specks of blue that blossomed into beautiful flowers, kinds of which he’s never seen. The little keen observed in awe, but it’s short lived as the land inclines. He looks up to the green hill, following the path of blue to the top, and it beckons him.

He crawls. He crawls onward, expecting the familiar, and as he nears and glances over the earth he freezes in horror. There is the fence he and his father sat upon many years ago. On that fence sits Nortrom. Every inch of his armor is drenched in blood. His unexpressive face is smeared with it. Nearly every part of him is red save for the vibrant blue glow of his eyes.

Rizzrack’s mouth moved to speak, but there was no sound. There was no sound at all, even as the rain began to fall heavily down upon them. It poured and poured, washing away the crimson and leaving behind an unmoving pink hued figure. This made the sight no less terrifying as now Nortrom only looked unsettlingly brittle.

The silence broke by the rustling of leaves. There behind Nortrom is the old tree he took refuge beneath from the midday sun. It looks nothing like it used to. Its leaves are completely black. Dead. The grass is black and dead. The fence is rotting and black. Dead, dead… all dead. The leaves move in the absence of wind. No, they are not leaves, they are the feathers of crows. Countless crows which fly from their perch and swarm Nortrom like vultures. His expression is grim, but never shocked about the outcome.

He then breaks apart like a dandelion in the wind. Fragments of his being transformed into pink blossoms that spread about, covering all that is black. The fence, the grass. He looks to his small childish hands, expecting them too to be covered in pink. They were covered in blood.

His chest and core aches. His eyes burn, and the skin around his eyes cools as the tears begin to dry. It is dark. It takes him a moment to grasp everything. Where is he? He lays frozen, peering through the dark and his own recollections. Was he still at the apothecary’s? Was he ever there? His hands feel about him, finding the blanket. It’s familiar, yes, and he remembers that Nortrom did visit him.

“Nortrom?” His cry is frail. “Nortrom?”

The soft glow of light behind curtains beckons the keen to open them. He didn’t want to be in the dark another minute. With some careful movement he makes his way across the bed (dragging the blanket along with him) until finally he brushes aside the fabric. The sight of Nortrom’s familiar yard brings some comfort, but the man’s absence is still worrying. Were they not going to his suit? Was he lied to? Should he be angry about that? Probably, but he wasn’t.

Rizzrack turns his face into the curtains, trying to find enjoyment in the warmth of sunlight, but instead he finds himself suddenly dizzy. Perhaps he got up too fast, or perhaps he still hasn't quite recovered from that strange dream. Whatever the case, he turns back towards the bed to rest his weight on it. Maybe it would be best to get back in the bed, calm down, and wait for Nortrom to return without getting into trouble. Right. Both arms on the mattress, he prepares to hoist himself up when his eyes suddenly catches something staring at him from the shadows of the room. He freezes, his eyes meeting the empty sockets of…

A skull.

Thoughts of something terrible befalling Nortrom flood his mind, and it’s hard to shake. He continues staring at the skull, realizing it to be of wood. It doesn’t make him feel any less uncomfortable and he begins to curse it under his breath.

It must think it knows something, doesn’t it? Looking down on him, silently laughing, mocking him for his worry. He’ll fix that. He’ll fix that right now.

Making his way over, Rizzrack approaches the pedestal the object is placed upon. It is just out of his reach, but although  he may not be able to grab and stuff it somewhere, he can still hide it from his sights.

Rizzrack braces himself and tosses the blanket above him. He expected it to drape over the skull, not yank it off and send it thunking to the floor. He cringes and curses some more, using the blanket to pick up the carving like paper used to pick up something dirty and wraps it up before stuffing it under the bed.

Good, now nothing bad will happen.

NortromtheSilencer

It took a good amount of leverage and a lot of rope, but some how Nortrom managed to get the damned Timbersuit tipped backwards onto the wood hauling sled. He reclined back against the nearest tree with a sigh, head leaning upwards as he mentally steeled himself for what was going to be an exhausting journey back.

Looking back down at the idle suit, a reflected glint of red caught his eye. Nortrom knelt down, the colour reflecting off an object he had seen many times before in battle yet never had the inclination to ever use himself: The Bloodstone. Or, was it ‘A’ Bloodstone? (He never was sure if the artifacts were singular with forgeries, or legit facsimiles, and the mystery behind their acquisition at the Secret Shop was always confusing…) Remembering what had transpired when Rizzrack held this strange arrangement of stones in his hands a day ago brought a frown to his lips. Fueled by blood, granted in blood, was it really a surprise that such a thing would bring about a bloodlust as well?

He plopped down fully to sit on the ground, still contemplating if it was a good idea to touch the damned thing or not. The Silencer held no illusions that he was ‘mentally stable’ when it came to the heat of battle and the sadism that followed, yet at the same time he assumed his will power to be well above that of a normal individual’s. Curiosity eventually got the better of him, and soon Nortrom was reaching for the Bloodstone.

It’s surface was slightly textured, not at all the smooth facets of gem he expected from it. Inside the stone glew with a soft red light, radiating in rhythmic pulses much like a heart beating. Strange… There was nothing out of the ordinary in mental feeling or emotion: was it that the item only responded to the one it was bound to? Carefully he looked the stone over before placing it back under the seat of the Timbersuit, still unsure what to think about the artifact.

Again the realization that he was about to haul the whole damned suit back home dawned on him, distraction now put aside, and Nortrom groaned. Well, might as well get this over with. Hoisting both sides of the rope across either of his shoulders and chest, Nortrom dug his heels into the ground and started the arduous journey back.

Rizzrack

The keen’s hand stayed clutched to his chest. A sudden tightness nearly sent him in a mode of panic. Breathe. Calm down. What’s going on? Is it that skull? Did moving it anger it? Or maybe it’s the room. After all the only other memory he has of the setting is of a young Nortrom writhing about in agony. Oh, why did he have to remember that now? Where is Nortrom?

“He’s safe.. he’s safe… he’s safe…” He paces slowly about at the foot of the bed, both hands upon the mattress for balance as he continues to worry. “He’s safe…” He sighs deeply and closes his eyes. “He’s safe…” But where did he go? He can’t rest like this. Rizzrack exits the room, hand trailing against the wall as he makes his way towards the stairs.

It’s a slow trip down, but he makes it to the bottom and soon finds himself in the much more familiar front room. Upon the arm of the couch he steadies his shaky posture before calling out again. “Nortrom?” No answer still. Fear, frustration and worry build up, and now the small-keen begins to tear up. “Nortrom!” His aches are the last thing on his mind as he moves from the couch across the room and back again, continuing to call out between sobs. No where inside. Then he must be outside. That’s the worst possible place he could be.

He opens the door and stumbles out into the world. There is more calling, more crying, more gasps and sobs as he looks out to the green, to the far off trees that line the horizon beneath the blue spring sky. Their branches are bare save for specks of white and pink blossoms.

He drops to his knees and groans out in despair. It’s too late. Nose presses to the stone pathway as he lowers his head down to the earth. The time has come now and there’s nothing he can do about it. Nothing he can-

Scraping, grunting, something approaches. He lifts his head and looks up. It’s Nortrom. The sobs return. “I thought you DIED! I thought I LOST you!” Every other word is emphasized with a flat hand slapping the stone. “Don’t go out again! Please! Please…”

NortromtheSilencer

Heaving the wood sled up the pathway proved to be much harder than he expected (and damn did he expect it to be hard), and by the time Nortrom reached the outer perimeter of his property he was drenched in sweat and heavily panting. He didn’t hear the echoing sobs from Rizzrack, his own breathing much too loud, and was utterly stupefied by the reaction upon his return.

Nortrom sagged his shoulders, letting the chains fall from his torso and into the dirt below. Stumbling forward now that there was no weight to hold him back, he made it to the stone fence and fell forward, draping himself over it’s short frame with an exhausted sigh.

“Calm— down… I– was– just– getting– your– suit– for– you–” Each word was followed by a heavy pause and a breath. With one hand he took the base of his shirt and used it wipe the sweat away from his brow and push back the wet hair stuck to his forehead. The Silencer waited there for a moment to allow his breathing to stabilize before looking back up towards Rizzrack, this time with less confusion and more annoyance, “Wait, why aren’t you in bed sleeping?” He huffed, pushing himself back up to his feet, “You need to rest.”

Rizzrack

The sight of the suit only did so much to calm the distressed keen. Past sniffles and gasps the small-keen attempted to explain himself.

“I can’t, I can’t, you don’t understand there’s no time, there’s no time now to rest. I can’t sleep I have to stop the blooming or everyone will die-you’ll die. You’re going to die.” It was practically a statement. “The skull I saw, I can’t look at it, I hate it! It knows you’re going to die, it knows, it knows!” Back onto his knees, he crawls over to Nortrom and clings to his legs, repeating the words to get his desperation across.

NortromtheSilencer

A small, awkward, sound pushed from Nortrom’s lips as he flinched, angling slightly away from the leg where Rizzrack clung for deal life. He wanted to be touched by this caring display, but could only muster discomfort and anxiety due to the close proximity and physical contact of the Keen.

“L-look,” Nortrom took a breath and tried to make sense of what was said, figuring it some sort of nightmare brought about by the pain killers and the fact Nortrom did just sort of return from death without explanation, “It was just a bad dream, Rizzrack. I’m right here; I’m not going to die. You had a nightmare- Hell, I know how real those can feel and how they bring about an eminent sense of foreboding dread, but you can’t let them get the better of you.” Oh boy did he know all to well…

With the Keen still latched on, Nortrom started to walk towards the door. It was more of a waddle, wide strides taking the crying Rizzrack along for each step, hoping not to upset his injuries any further in the process.

“Let’s just go inside for now, alright? Even if this ‘blooming’ was happening, you’re in no condition to do anything at the moment. How can you expect to help while badly injured? Come on, in we go.”

Rizzrack

Rizzrack shook his head wildly. “Noooo it wasn’t, it wasn’t JUST some ni-ightmare you don’t underSTAND!” After the fourth drag across the ground did Rizzrack finally let go, losing the strength to hold on as well as a refusal to go back inside. “Don’t, don’t go in there the-the skull it’s-” The keen continues to rant about the skull between gasps of breath as he pushes himself up onto hands and knees, a pitiful attempt to crawl towards his suit unaware of its inoperable state. If Nortrom won’t listen, then he’ll just have to take matters into his own hands.

NortromtheSilencer

“Skull?” What was this skull he kept going on about? The only thing close to that would be… Nortrom’s face drooped, eyes widening. He scooped Rizzrack up in one arm, dangling the keen between it and his side as he marched indoors and up the stairs, frantic. Nearly kicking his bedroom door to open it, the Silencer stopped and looked at the pedestal with a sudden, dawning, horror. The carved wooden skull was no longer there, and the sash that had been draped around it’s form now hung messily across one side of the stand.

Dropping the Keen rather carelessly, Nortrom ran to the stand and looked about in a panic. With brows furrowed and fear quivering his voice he turned with a jerk towards Rizzrack, arms bent, hands flexed, on edge, “W-Where is it?!? What did you do with him?!?” Before receiving an answer, the Silencer was in full search mode, looking around the shelves and behind his wardrobe for the lost carving, muttering distressed words under his breath just quiet enough that no other would be able to make them out.

If Rizzrack destroyed his memorial– No, don’t think about that. Just find it.

Rizzrack

Rizzrack tensed up and fought for control and balance as he was hauled inside against his will. His struggles were weak, the pressure against his sutures enough to incapacitate him until he was dropped unceremoniously to the floor. He rolled onto his back, watching the world flip upside down (literally) to poor Nortrom as he tore through his room. “It’s…” He fought through the hurt and gasps for a deeper breath of air. “it’s bad, it’s bad, it’s bad.” he echoed through clenched teeth. Although the keen did not tell of its location with his words, his eyes did which glared at the bundled blanket that barely poked out from beneath the bed. “It’s all bad, it’s all bad and you’re going to die…”

He began to tire out. His warnings continued although a lack of breath began to impede. “Hide… stay inside…” His eyes turned towards the ceiling. His attention left Nortrom in his panic and instead focused on himself. “I have to stop it. I can’t let it happen. I can’t let that happen again. Not again. It won’t happen again…” Pitiful reassurance.

NortromtheSilencer

For one fleeting moment his eyes followed that of Rizzracks, under the bed, to the pile of sheets. Breath held the man nearly dove under, pulling the sheets out from under and on to his lap and ripping them off like some crazed child opening a gift. It was there. It was in one piece. The Silencer exhaled with great relief, his lungs full in anticipation of seeing the carving destroyed.

“R-rizzrack…” Turning to the zoned out keen on the floor, the man was nearly in tears. His eyes flickered from behind a glaze of salty water, arms clutching the skull protectively. The lump in his throat had grown uncomfortable and Nortrom swallowed it down, breaths heavy. He closed his eyes, knowing full well just how ridiculous his reaction was.

One hand still wrapped about the skull, Nortrom crawled forward to the keen and sighed. Disheveled, his panic had worn down into a somber anxiety.

“Don’t… don’t ever touch this again. You could have damaged it, broken it, or— Don’t lay a hand on it, you hear me?!?” The raised voice in his last command echoed in the room, fading off into nothing. Another sigh, and looking down at the carving he noticed a single wet spot fallen from his cheeks on to the wood. This wouldn’t be the first time; This wouldn’t be the last.

Now both on the ground, pitiful beings of fear and regret, Nortrom remained silent in fear of not knowing what to say and no wish to make things worse.

Rizzrack

All through the scene Rizzrack kept his eyes to the sky. Far too deep in discussion with himself about the future it takes Nortrom getting level with him to pull him back into the present again. Being scolded by the man was nothing new, but this was different. Lips cease quietly muttering and Rizzrack’s own thoughts fell silent. He remains on his back, head towards Nortrom and his eyes slowly turn up to meet with the man’s. Although visibly unmoved, his inner being has been shook. This is not a side of Nortrom he’s seen. Even as a child, as meek as Nortrom seemed he displayed courage. But now? Now the Silencer sits trembling. Rizzrack didn’t know the meaning nor history of the skull, but there was no need to pry for answers. He already knew what he needed to know.

Rizzrack pondered a moment on the feeling of empathy.

His eyes finally broke away and he sighed. Worry and panic got the best of him, and what he thought was helpful at the time only caused unwanted pain to the both of them.

“I’m sorry.”

Its spoken simply. In voice there is no feeling, but in his eyes there’s regret. His reply felt years late. Even if he said it sooner, does it give it any meaning? Even to himself it felt worn, over-used. It was weak the first time he said it, more reluctantly than remorsefully. It grew weaker when he nearly killed the man, and now? Is there anything left to it now that he’s driven a stake through his heart?

A shuddering sigh breaks the silence again. “It’s going to be okay now.” The words left his mouth instinctively, leaving Rizzrack wondering if he was trying to reassure himself again or the Silencer.

NortromtheSilencer

His breathing gradually calmed, and the man tried to hide a small sniffle as he wiped his nose with his sleeve. One deep breath later, and Nortrom was back on his feet setting the carved skull where it belonged and righting the sash around it’s base. He took a longer than intended look at it, staring, thinking, before nodding his head once and stepping away.

“It’s fine. You’re right.” It didn’t take long to recompose himself. The Silencer was more embarrassed now for his outburst than anything, internally chastising himself for being so emotionally weak. Again he kneeled by the Keen, this time more occupied in seeing if he had inadvertently opened his stitches.

“Lets… Let’s get you back into bed. It’s been a long day, for both of us. We can sleep now, and speak of things in the morning.” Did he feel tired? In a sense, yes, both physically and emotionally the man was exhausted. Did he want to sleep? No. Nortrom knew full well that sleeping now, after thoughts of a certain somebody, would lead only to tumultuous dreams. Still, he knew it was better to lead by example.

Offering both of his hands out towards Rizzrack, he forced a small smile. This time he wasn’t going to pick him up like a rag doll, taking his free will and self agency. “Here, let me help you up.”

Rizzrack

There is worry in Rizzrack’s eyes. He didn’t want to sleep, there is no time t-

No. No. It’s going to be okay.

He sighs, looking to the man’s hands held out to him. The corner of his mouth twitches up in an attempt to smile back. Ominous thoughts try to keep their place surfaced in his mind, but a more reasonable concern for Nortrom makes it easier to keep his bearings. “Thank you.”

The assistance was appreciated.

He braces to hoist himself up onto the bed but then stops. “O-oh, you need to sleep too don’t you? I-I don’t wanna take up your space I’ll just uh…” the first thought to cross his mind was one of curling up in his suit to sleep. He needs to get that suit out of his mind for just ONE day…

NortromtheSilencer

“I have a couch. You need to rest more than I do, I’m not the injured one.” He knew the keen would fit better on the couch than he would, but his morals wouldn’t allow him to force an injured Rizzrack onto the couch instead.

Yet, it would seem that Rizzrack wasn’t going to be sleeping alone, as during all of this commotion Stig had set himself up a comfy spot between two of the pillows. He yawned when the bed was jostled, looking up for only a moment before setting himself back down to sleep, giving no shits about anything.

“Do you need anything else before I go downstairs?” He couldn’t help but look over to the carving once more, paranoid that it would be moved again. unconsciously he shook his head to deter the thought.

Rizzrack

Rizzrack’s eyes follow Nortrom’s back over to the skull. It didn’t have the same effect as it did earlier, but the keen was apprehensive regardless. What if?

No. Ignore it. Nortrom will be nearby, even if it’s on the couch and not in the bed. He actually wished Nortrom would stay in the bed with him as well but he did not argue for it. Not because Nortrom would be uncomfortable about it (Rizzrack finds the sharing of a bed far from odd and doesn’t know of Nortrom’s feelings on it) but because he knew the man would be stubborn about his choice to go on the couch.  

Everything will be safe.

He sighs and grabs the blanket that has been his comfort item since the trip from the Apothecary’s. “No, I’m good.” With some effort he hoists himself up onto the bed. “Actually just one thing. Do try to get some rest too.”

NortromtheSilencer

The man nodded, but said nothing as he closed the curtains. Night had already began to creep up on the pair, with the sun slowly fading behind red clouds and amber hues, bringing in it’s absence a chill wind from the mountain top. Nortrom had stopped to look out one last time before closing the final curtain, observing where he had left the suit and noticing the faint glow from the bloodstone within. That would be a conversation for another time.

As he left the room, the Silencer deliberately kept himself from closing the door, knowing that placing another obstacle between Rizzrack and himself would only serve to make the keen more anxious. He stopped by the linen closet for a blanket before heading down stairs, wrapping himself up in the warm material before sitting on the couch. He sat. He thought. Sleep would be hard fought for, mind intruded upon by thoughts of his brother and events past. Nortrom was tired, yes, but it would be some time before he finally closed his eyes and rested.

Rizzrack

Rizzrack can’t feel himself falling asleep again any time soon. It’s going to be a long night isn’t it?

Curling up atop the bed’s covers, he pulls his gifted blanket over him and lays his head upon a pillow. Beside him is a loaf of orange fur watching him in the dim light. Rizzrack almost forgot Nortrom has a cat. Gently and lightly, the keen reaches a finger out and lightly strokes the fur, trailing the digit to the side of Stig’s face. The feline turns, pushing and brushing whiskers against the back of the hand before adjusting front paws and purring contently. How grateful he is that this cat won’t catch him off guard and kill him. Hah. Good kitty.

After some time of light petting, the room has grown dark so that only the vague form of Stig can be made out by dusk. His arm is not the only thing that’s grown tired. Pulling his elbows and knees to his chest, he dips his head forward into the fluffy chest. The deep rumbling is soothing, resembling a familiar comfort, and unexpected to himself, the keen falls asleep.

He awakes again, but this time he cannot will himself back to sleep. Faint light peeks through the curtains once more and Rizzrack is now alone in the room. As far as he knows.

Before worrying thoughts can manifest, he turns his attention to his core. Laying on his back, he presses around the bandages to check his progress. While there is still some sensitivity in the area, it’s much more bearable, enough that Rizzrack wonders if he can remove the wrappings now. Despite finding magical solutions to be finicky, they sure did act fast when they worked. Maybe that’s where he should have brought Nortrom.

Nortrom… is he still sleeping? Is he okay?

Annoyed by his own constant worry, the keen huffs and berates himself. He needs to put a little more faith in things and trust they’ll be alright. Even IF it’s that certain season. Even IF he’s let his guard down before and something disastrous happened. Even IF he’s-

“Oh dammit.”

Finally he rolls out of the bed, stepping lightly across the floor and to the stairs. He’ll just check on him, that’s all. Nothing wrong with that. Leaning slightly forward, he attempts to listen for any signs that Nortrom was okay. Unable to pick up anything, he begins a slow and careful descent down the stairs.

NortromtheSilencer

On the couch, there was a man. Sort of. In reality, Nortrom was only half on the couch, his right side half off, arm sprawled straight out into the air and leg dangling over the edge. Around him a blanket was tangled, not doing much to cover the thankfully clothed Silencer. He was on his back, giving the occasional twitch and murmur from whatever dreams may be visiting him at the time, as the sun starts to rise over the horizon.

Normally Nortrom would be awake by now. Normally he wouldn’t have pulled a giant mechanical contraction up a mountain trail or stayed up late ruminating about the past either.

One object stands out in the otherwise clean and clutter free living room: a single hard cover book on the ground by the couch, most likely toppling from Nortrom’s grip once he fell asleep and landing pages open, face down. “Botanical Oddities of the World” was embossed into the cover. It seems that the Silencer did not go to sleep immediately as suggested.

Rizzrack

The sight of the man eases the keen, but it fills him with an strange feeling. That’s all he ever gets out of this man, doesn’t he? There’s a soft huff from him as the corners of his mouth twitch into a slight smile as this strange feeling continues to flutter around. He would have just left him there as is, but he didn’t. At the bottom of the stairs he stays, thoughts drifting from the present back into the past mingling the strands of time until nearly indiscernible to Rizzrack.

He quietly steps over. A dormant tradition reemerges from nights long past of his elders slumbering upon their work and projects, pressed by time to be completed. The apprentice would approach, and as did his father to he when he was a young child, he would adjust a blanket upon his old man. He pauses as he reaches Nortrom, and as he leans to grasp the blanket he stops. Why? He remembers where he is now and who he is now.  He imagines the man waking, confused and maybe even offended that someone snuck up on him while he slept. His hand recedes and he softly shakes his head at his own silly actions.

It would be best to head back up and get some more rest unti-

The book’s title caught the keen’s attention. His brows furrow. Reading a book on plants? What for? Carefully he picks it up so as to not disturb Nortom and quietly flips through the pages.It wouldn’t be so odd if it were some typical bible on common herbs and their usage. But it wasn’t. The pages were filled with studies and diagrams of flora unheard of to him. Eyes skimmed over words, picking up every “poisonous” and “carnivorous” term, arousing discomfort in Rizzrack and a worrying reminder that it’s not only trees he must worry about.

NortromtheSilencer

Somewhere subconsciously Nortrom could hear that there was another in the room. Be it the light sounds of breathing, or the steps taken creaking the floor, the Silencer’s mind just somehow knew he wasn’t alone. Was it enough to wake him, however? No. The reaction was instead to readjust, dream shifting with this new thought of intrusion, subconscious playing tricks on the man in sleep.

Nortrom lightly groaned, rolling in place on to his side, one hand tucking in  under him and the other flopping out before him and, unfortunately, right in to Rizzrack’s head with a heavy thunk. The sudden obstruction and force jolted the Silencer awake, legs kicking what was left of the blanket off him, other hand flying out reflexively to grab at whomever was there.

Bolting into a sitting position with Rizzrack’s collar clentched between his fingers and a surprising gasp of air on his lips, Nortrom took a second to fully awaken and realize what had just happened. He put the keen down, gingerly, and huffed.

“Shit, don’t scare me like that,” With a sigh he relaxed and rubbed his eyes before reaching his arms up into the air, a loud stretching groan following, then a yawn, “Sorry. I’m not used to being awoken by others.”

Rizzrack

Head knocked forward, Rizzrack let out a small pip of confusion. One moment he turns his head to see a hand flying towards him, and the next he’s got his hands flailing for balance as he’s yanked forward to face a very surprised Nortrom. “It’s me! Yeeze!” Free from his grip, Rizzrack stands up and brushes himself free of the indignity of nearly getting man-handled (again) before picking up the book he dropped. “Eh, no need to apologize. After all I’d be easily spooked if I fell asleep after reading this.” He remarked, lightly tossing the book onto the couch beside the man. “Did I wake you now? I suppose I’m not as sneaky as I thought. But don’t mind me, I was just checking up on you.”

With that, he picks up the blanket and tosses that too as best as he can back onto Nortrom. Hmm, did that sound weird? “Not that uh, not that I don’t have confidence in your ability to take care of yourself I er…” His sentence trails off in a mumble before ending with a more comprehensible yet sheepish “-just never mind.”

The keen stands there. It’s quite. A long, quite moment.

A little TOO long and quiet. Should he just leave? Yes, that would be the smart thing to do before he says anything else dumb.

“Sorry about yesterday I don’t know what got into me I just-look it’s just that time of the year and I don’t handle some things very well-you’re not angry with me right because you got REALLY upset and-”

NortromtheSilencer

Nortrom was quick to back off, reclining on the couch once more with a sigh. He watched as the Keen fidgeted for words, struggling to make his thoughts known, and couldn’t help but quirk his lips up in a lopsided grin. “You’ve been mentioning being worried about me a lot lately, Rizzrack. Should I be worried?” There was a tinge of sarcasm to his words, and a shrug.

A loud yawn interrupted and broke Rizzrack’s apology, and the Silencer covered his mouth sheepishly. He huffed, looking away, grin quickly gone. “I– I need to apologize for that as well; I reacted impulsively. There are very few possessions of mine that hold any value to me, but that carving and sash happened to be one of the more important. There was no damage done, thankfully, so there was no foul. I just ask that you never touch it again, please.”

How late was it? The sun was already up, but from this angle it was impossible to see just how high in the sky it rest. Nortrom kicked at the blankets on him in an effort to push them off. It ended up causing his legs to become tangled, and with an irritated huff he pulled the whole mass free and tossed it on the armchair across from them. Once on his feet, he stretched to the sky, the ground, and back and forth a few times with a deep breath.

“The fact you’re walking around shows me that you’re already feeling much better than last night. Are you hungry? I’m sure I could scrounge up some food.” Even if Rizzrack wasn’t hungry, Nortrom sure as hell was. He was also sore from the efforts of yesterday, even if he didn’t show it in movement, “As for the book, I also recall you mentioning pollen and being afraid of the current season coming. Look, I may find you… er… eccentric? Yes, that works, but I also believe that if something causes you such great distress that there must be something to it. Anyways, I was looking to see if there were any plants that gave off toxic pollen or spores that could be deadly to any surrounding inhabitants, or carry any wind-borne pathogens. I wanted to know just what the hell you were talking about.”

Rizzrack

He ceases his ramblings, deep down thankful for being interrupted, as it seems his message got across anyways. He nods understandingly, however this doesn’t change the fact he greatly dislikes the morbid looking set up. He’ll just keep his distance and that way they can both be happy.

Now on to the topic of food. IS he hungry?  He doesn’t feel hungry, but when was the last time he properly ate something? Rizzrack nods in agreement, thoughts quickly focusing on this horrid season and his nodding becoming quite vigorous. “Yes! Spring! The absolute WORST time of the year-” he stutters, stopping himself from interrupting Nortrom until he finishes. “Yes I’ve seen it with my own eyes Nortrom. I’ve seen nearly a whole city massacred from…”

The small keen falters once again, and there is a sudden sense of doubt about him. Beautiful pink petals upon the waters of the Bay. How could anyone have known what it meant? How can anyone else believe such a beautiful sight would be so deadly? “I-it was…It was from trees, all of it. Horrid disgusting… they pollute the air.” Doubt turns to assured disgust as he continues, voice beginning to waver in anger. “This comes from ALL trees! Every year they bloom and expel their disgusting FILTH into the air, there’s a high and dangerous chance it is deadly. That’s why their numbers can’t be left unchecked. THAT’S what you need to know.”

NortromtheSilencer

Making his way to the kitchen, Nortrom was nodding as the Keen spoke (or ranted), and began to pull out the necessary tools to cook some food. Well, perhaps calling it cooking would be an overstatement, as in the Silencer’s case it was more like heating up some things and cutting a few others with hopes of nothing burning. Some meat, some chopped fruit, and a handful of vegetables would suffice for a filling meal.

“The issue I have is not with believing you; Your town vanished, records along with it. Something had to have happened, and that something was covered up. Given the proximity to the Vale of Augury, perhaps the druids and natural elements felt encroached on and became defensive… It’s not so far fetched to think that yes, the plant-life came alive and attacked.”

Nortrom lifted the knife and ‘tapped’ the air in thought, humming, returning to his cutting with more words, “But that would mean the attack would have been based on some form on arcane or magical component. Normal trees can’t just uproot and come to life unless there are other forces controlling them… or they were hybrids, like treants.”

The food was plated and brought over, both placed on the coffee table. Still lost in his own thoughts, the Silencer didn’t immediately sit down but stand above, hand held up to his face, “To destroy every tree would be as deadly as the magical trees themselves killing your town. Perhaps if there was a way to read the arcane signatures on the fauna itself and find ones more susceptible, or already under the influence, of magical mutation and control…”

Rizzrack

Rizzrack listened as much as he could. At mention of nature becoming defensive, that his kind were invasive and at fault, he stammers and tries to hush the man, not wanting to hear it. His attempts are weakened by the doubt that makes its way into his thoughts. What if he’s right?

He’d very much rather he not be. Maybe it’d be better to talk about this later. Rizzrack fidgets, wondering what more Nortrom could say that would complicate things even more. Introducting all of these factors he never cared to think of before. Trees are just horrid, destructive and need to be cut down can’t it just stay at that?? That’s much more simpler to deal with than cut these trees but not that or stay off the grass and nobody dies. Rizzrack sighs and takes a seat on the couch as Nortrom finishes.

No, he’s not finished. Is he still going on about it!?

“Look, there were never any signs showing anyone was pissed off.” Except maybe… “Everything looked normal. Nature was seemingly harmless. One day the town is alive celebrating a festival and the next it’s a graveyard. Maybe you’re right in that not every tree will come to life, but do you think I want to risk that? Besides, even if those trees are not alive, they listen.”  He hisses as leans forward, finger pointed out the window. “Whenever you go out there about your business. Whenever you THINK you’re alone, think again. There is something alive that’s been following me for YEARS. I’ve never seen it myself but…” He pauses. That’s right, he’s never seen it. It could just be his paranoia getting the best of him. Perhaps just hearing things but-

“Nevermind. If you ever find a way to scan trees or something let me know. Until then I’ll be scanning all of them with my saws.” He huffs, deciding now would be a good moment to grab a bite or two before he begins to upset himself.

NortromtheSilencer

Nortrom let out a long, drawn out sigh. With one cheek pulled in, he gave the Keen a sympathetic, apologetic look before taking a bite of his own meal. Silence lingered between them for a while before Nortrom spoke again, “I’m sorry. I’m not trying to instigate you, but make sense of it all.” More silence, more eating.

Rizzrack’s paranoia, as much as Nortrom wanted to judge, was far too familiar for his liking. In the same vein of not trusting any tree, the Silencer himself never trusted the intentions of others or their actions around him. Why should he? Why should Rizzrack trust the trees? Being hurt like that cuts far deeper than any flesh bound wound. So then why, even after seeing his chaotic nature, was Nortrom willing to give Rizzrack the benefit of the doubt? Was he being naive again?

“So…” Trying to formulate words without sounding offended was hard, and even harder given who he was speaking with, “About what happened after I killed Madini…” Another lingering pause. Nortrom took a sip of water to calm his nerves, his awkwardness showing through despite all that had transpired, “You went slightly insane there after. More so than usual.”

Rizzrack

Rizzrack sat, posture hunched as usual as he thoroughly chewed his mouthful of food in silence. He’s been trying to make sense of it all for years. There’ll never be an answer to it all. Humph. What’s the point?

Madini. Right. That felt like it was quite some time ago. When one’s usual schedule consists of just cutting and wandering, any small cluster of events can make it seem like a month’s worth of time, doesn’t it? He listens on to Nortrom, wondering where this will be leading to when he brings up the typical topic.

“Slightly insane might be an understatement. You can call me crazy, it’s okay. I’m used to it.” Finishing his mouthful, he turns his attention down towards his hand at what’s left in it. Cubes of fruit. What kind, he wasn’t sure, as he’s never tasted something exactly like it before. He brings up a piece to his mouth but stops, realizing the question isn’t aimed at what is generally perceived.

“Oh.” A response of realization followed by a more uneasy “Oh.” The piece goes back in hand and he looks off quietly to the side. Is it okay to share this information? Where would he even start about it? Could he trust Nortrom? Not so much trust that Nortrom won’t turn this against him, but instead somehow be harmed by….

“Right…Guh, where do I start with this… Okay.” One hand pats the air as he prepares himself. “I’ve got this rock, a Bloodstone if you will. I probably shouldn’t have one in my possession but it’s… quite crucial to my survival and.. and overall goals.” Maybe he could have left that last part out. “It has quite the affect on me and I COULD tell you that’s not REALLY me, but…” Well that sounds bad doesn’t it? “Look, out of sight, out of mind. As long as you don’t touch it everything will be fine. I keep it hidden for a reason, ya know. After all, it was made with my own blood. You don’t want to be touching THAT now do you?”

NortromtheSilencer

Well, it was time for Nortrom to admit something as well… “I did touch it. Nothing happened.” He shrugged, acting as though the information was unimportant, and didn’t continue until he finished some more food, “When I was hauling your mech, I found the stone. It appeared inert, or, not interested in me as an individual. Most likely because it was made from your blood and not mine.” Magical artifacts and Nortrom never did get along much, nor did he use them often outside of the Ancient’s battle. That was probably for the better.

“My bigger concern is how can I be sure you won’t fly into a frenzy again and try to disembowel me? I’m actually quite amazed you calmed down there, but assume your lack of blood and injuries made you more malleable to my words. No offense Rizzrack, but I’m already short on trust these days.” The man sighed, took one last drink of water, and stood up with his plate. Back turned to Rizzrack as he went to put his dishes in the basin, the Silencer shook his head, “Then again, aren’t we both? Heh…”

Rizzrack

Rizzrack nearly chokes on his food. “Gnk. Y-you-” He sputters, taking the moment to catch his breath and clear his throat as Nortrom assures him that nothing happened. He should be lucky! A cough interrupts the keen every now and then, forcing him to fully listen to Nortrom and refrain from blabbering on more as he usually does.

As the irritant subsides, Rizzrack nods. Although somewhat offended and hurt at the thought of being untrustworthy, he can agree Nortrom has a good reason not to. He sighs and responds with a guilt-laden chuckle to that last statement. “Yeah. Kinda…”

Rizzrack sits briefly in quiet thought. “I can’t tell ya how many years I’ve gone relying on only myself for survival.” He finally speaks. “I’ve kept myself distant. never wanting to know anyone else beyond a simple greeting.” Now even those were a rare occurrence when they didn’t involve any immediate accusations about the obstruction of tree-cutting justice. “But now I don’t know why I, I mean it was one of my own rules to keep me safe but…” He pauses again, thinking back on old memories obscured by layers of dust from the back of his mind. Long before, any time a helping hand was offered, those memories surfaced leaving a dull twisting pain in his guts. It hurt. Never again shall he be used, and he’ll never let that chance come again.  That’s how it was supposed to be.

“I’m supposed to hate you.” He spoke it how a late soldier’s officer would give the news to his widow. It was the way things were, the truth, but still hard to say. “I wanted to. There was no way you genuinely took me seriously. I still find it hard to believe…” His stoic facade fades and he begins to sink in his own doubt. “…hard to believe that you care.” His vision begins to blur. Keeping his composure becomes much more difficult, and he settles with hiding his tears by looking away. “A-at least I think you do. I want to trust you. I really do.” A sniffle, a sigh. “But I’m scared to.”

His words trailed off into a near whisper as he buries his face into the bend of his elbow to hide himself. Weren’t they just talking about trees moment ago? He mutters an embarrassed “Sorry” before trying to clear his messy face before it gets any more shameful.

NortromtheSilencer

Nortrom remained stoic while hearing Rizzrack’s heartfelt words, back facing the Keen as he cleaned up his dishes. They really were alike in so many ways, keeping distance, avoiding betrayal, denying trust. It was both endearing and rather pathetic.

He tossed a clean cloth behind himself at Rizzrack so that he could wipe his tears and nose, still not wanting to look at the Keen for fear of furthering his embarrassment or emotions. “Don’t be sorry,” With a soft sigh, his posture dipped, “The sentiment is similar here.”

Now, what exactly did he mean with that? By now, the dishes were clean, but he continued to circle the cloth over his plate, an excuse to remain where he was and not turn around, not face the conversation. Just the slow pacing of his hand, round and round, in deep thought.

“Rizzrack, I don’t like getting close to others because I have learnt there are only three reasons people come to me: To use me, to betray me, or to harm me. Save one or two exceptions, this has always been the case, and as such I found myself… no– still find myself resistant to just how often we have been interacting as of late.” Slowly he sets the plate down, both hands on the counter to support his sunken frame. Dropping his head and hiding beneath his own fallen hair, Nortrom again sighs, “I know how you feel. I know that fear.”

But did he have any solutions? No. Too weak to avoid all contact, too paranoid to accept help, and too scared to believe sincerity. There were never any solutions.

Rizzrack

The rag fell within reach of the keen who hesitated for a moment before picking it up and proceeding to wipe his shame away.

How similar they are.

How he wants to have someone to rely on.

But it is naive and weak, isn’t it? Nortrom has every reason to not trust the keen (and plenty of evidence based on past actions) but what about Rizzrack? Should he not trust Nortrom in return?

He thinks some more on this as the silent seconds stretch between them.

Nortrom has never really done him wrong.

Guilt knots his insides. Even if there is no reason to not trust Nortrom, this reliance upon each other can only lead to worse things. He knows that even if he himself is sure to do no intentional harm to Nortrom, something ill will befall the man that will hurt himself in the end. It can only lead to pain for the both of them.

He’s still unsure of what his feelings are about Nortrom. But whatever that feeling is, it fills him with hurt as he realizes the only solution to this is for the best. He’s known it all along, he’s even tried it before and he reprimands himself for not following through. How funny, especially considering how much he cuts things down, that it’s difficult to cut things out of his life as well.

With one last pat of the cloth on his face and a deep sigh, the keen stands without another word. Autonomously he strides towards the door and opens it.

The mid-morning air is sweet with spring. Dew that condensed upon the grass over night now glistens in the rising sun. Trees beyond the fence rustle in their new pink coat of blossoms. How it makes him anxious and sick, but not as anxious as staying inside. For once it’s not his own well being and survival that dominates his thoughts. He steps out without any further acknowledgement of the Silencer and heads towards his suit with controls still crusted with blood. It might not have any fuel currently, but that won’t stop him.

NortromtheSilencer

Nortrom doesn’t stop Rizzrack nor even turn around. He hears the Keen leave, and yet again sighs: deeper, more resigned to accept what happened. His interpretation of the Keen leaving was quite far from the mark, but he was no mind reader.

It was too much effort to stay, and too much effort to attempt to be my ally. Rizzrack doesn’t trust me. Rizzrack wanted nothing more to do with me or the added frustration that follows me; He has his own issues to deal with. No one in their right mind would risk themselves or their well being just to attempt alliance.

Dipping even lower to now be on his elbows, head pressed against the counter top, the Silencer slowly rocks his head back and forth. Did he blame the Keen? No, not at all. There was no benefit to staying or attempting to befriend Nortrom, and he knew it. It was more trouble than it was worth, and in the end, this was probably for the better.

The Silencer stepped away from the counter, and quietly closes the front door.