forum And God knows (closed)

Started March 18, 2023 by @ElderGod-yellowqueen

tune

Alora hadn't been expecting Mya to catch her. In fact, she had fully expected him to move out of the way and watch her fall0. She expected him to tell her what an inconvenience it was to him for her to get injured and slow them down. Reaching out to catch her was not what she expected. And yet, before she hit the ground, he was reaching out and grabbing her by the waist. She was being hauled up against his chest. She almost fought against his hold. Almost told him to fuck off and let her fall next time. But then he summoned his magic and she paused.

Pillars shot up around them. Pillars of stone. A fifth one appeared and Mya grabbed it. It was only then that she realized it was some kind of staff. He was shouting words and any protest in her throat died. She was weirded out by this and as much as she wanted to tell him to let her go, a part of her was afraid he might kill her if she did anything. He wasn't in his right state of mind.

She was still wrapped in his arm and she didn't know how she felt about it. Her hands were on his chest, where she had put them when she had fallen. She peered up at him, thinking of how she could soothe his mind so he would let her go. She wanted to be let go of but not because she wanted to. But because she felt like she was betraying Edric. These arms around her were warm and strong and inviting and she wanted to stay there. She didn't want to let go and she felt an overwhelming amount of guilt for it. It was a betrayal to Edric. She needed to get out of Mya's arms and fast.

Alora reached up tentatively and placed her hand on his collarbone. "Hey, it's alright," she said in a gentle tone that she didn't know she could make. "I'm okay. No one is trying to hurt us."

Myahil continued to search around for potential threats, but none appeared. Who had tripped her then? Or… was the ‘who’ a ‘what’? He wasn’t sure.

To double-check himself, Myahil looked around again. Still nothing. Then, he felt a gentle hand on his collarbone, and heard a tender voice. Her words and touch soothed him, confirming that there truly wasn’t any threats nearby. He lowered his arm, the staff crumbling to dirt as he looked down at her breifly, not registering who Alora actually was, until someone else appeared.

Myahil looked up again, staring at Cecelia as she leaned against one of the disintegrating pillars with a soft smile on her face. The little platform he had made fell apart in seconds, returning to the dirt it had originally been, but she still stood there. But… hadn’t he just caught her? How was she over there if…

“Cecelia? Ho…”Myahil trailed off in confusion as Cecelia faded. He then looked down to see who he actually held, and his eyes widened in shock.

It wasn’t Cecelia in his grasp. She wasn’t Cecelia! He’d just caught and held another woman, a woman that was supposed to be his enemy! Had he lost his mind in a whole new way by holding Alora so close against him?

“Rhinacules help me,”he burst quietly, gently but quickly letting go of Alora.

Myahil then hurriedly turned away and resumed walking toward the town. He raked a hand through his hair as his mind whirled, refusing to look at Alora. Why had he caught her? Why had he held her? They were supposed to be enemies! They’d tried to kill each other earlier that day!

But, for some twisted reason Myahil couldn’t fathom, he already missed holding her. He tried to deny it, to ignore it, push it away, anything, but it had been so, so long since he’d last felt the warmth of another against him. He already ached to hold her again, to fill the void that now existed in his arms. He still felt her hands too, resting against his chest, then delicately touching his collarbone. It didn’t take much for him to imagine her hands moving across his skin, finding every nerve until he melted in her arms…

Myahil quickly shook those thoughts away. He had gone mad! And, he was already crazy! What was wrong with him? What curse had befallen him to crave the touch of a woman he hated? Rhinacules help him indeed if he didn’t find some way to be rid of the thoughts, and quickly.

Alora didn't move an inch. She barely breathed. Her touch was gentle on his body but firm and present. She was there but she wasn't threatening. In his right mind, she wouldn't have worried that he might try to kill them both. But he wasn't in his right mind now and she worried if she made a sudden movement he would kill her instead of whatever imaginary enemy he saw.

She watched the turmoil in his face. She watched as he looked at something she couldn't see. Or rather someone as he spoke his dead lover's name. It was only then that he realized that she was Alora and not whoever he was envisioning. He released her and she took a step back from him. She hesitated a moment before following behind him. And she kept her distance.

She should have felt relief when he let her. There should have been something that lifted off her shoulders. She was no longer being held by her enemy. She was no longer afraid that he was going to kill them both. And yet she didn't feel relieved. She was so touched starved. The last person she had been with was her Edric. And gods that was so many years ago. She hadn't fulfilled any of her needs much less let someone hold her. Her imagination crept up on before she could realize and stop it. She imaged soft lips running across her skin. Hands that touched her, hands that dipped below her waist where he had been touching.

She rubbed at her face, dug her palms into her eyes, ridding herself of these images. It had been so long she was drooling at the first man to put his hands on her. What was wrong with her? She had been propositioned plenty of times and she had never once had an inkling to give in. Never wanted to feel anyone else unless they were her lover. And yet now she was wanting to melt into someone else's arms.

This was sorcery. It must be magic from that witch. She had done something to them, or her at least, that was making her feel this way. She had never once felt lustful towards another person and yet here her body was, reacting to Mya.

It was a sin. It was a sin to betray her man, dead or not. Her heart squeezed and tears threatened to pool in her eyes. She was ashamed and embarrassed and hated herself for feeling this way. She wasn't supposed to. She wasn't supposed to feel anything for another man. She was supposed to enact her revenge and then join him in the afterlife where they could be together for eternity. She wasn't supposed to move on. Her body wasn't supposed to move nor her heart. And yet one of them was beginning to betray her.

It never occurred to Myahil that Alora would be afraid of him, of what he might do to her. It never occurred to him, mostly because she was a fiery, bloodthirsty woman, but also because hurting her was the last thing on his mind, even when he finally regained his senses. Protecting her was what he had been thinking before he recognized her. Getting away from her was more of what he was thinking now, though he was honestly torn between running away or running to her. And, it confused the hell out of him.

He considered if his feelings were a result of that witch of the woods, but he doubted it. Her magic had been a soul bond, an ultimatum of ‘quit fighting or die’. It had nothing to do with love, lust, or anything of that sorts. So… that meant his feelings were his own, not the cause of a witch’s power, or anyone else’s. Which made it more difficult to deal with.

He hadn’t even considered touching a woman in any sort of romantic way in millennia. Why now? Why now was he becoming enthralled by a woman? And, why did it have to be her, Alora? Why couldn’t he have found another priestess, instead of a princess? Why did he have to feel lonely at all?

Myahil let out a quiet, shaky sigh and grabbed his amulet. He thought of Cecelia, of holding her, not Alora. Why couldn’t it have been Cecelia that he’d caught?

Oh, Myahil. Don’t you see? I’ve been telling you all this time…

Myahil shook his head at Cecelia’s voice, silently denying her words, her reminders. He didn’t want another woman!

You need it.

Cecelia’s words cut through him, but Myahil still refused to accept it. He had done well enough on his own. He could continue on his own. He would battle the loneliness like he always had.

But, the feeling of Alora’s hands haunted him. The way she touched him, so delicate, so unlike the forceful woman she was… It intrigued him. Sure, he knew Alora had once been a gentle woman, but he hadn’t expected any of that gentleness to remain, nor for it to be aimed at him, intentional or not.

Alora didn't speak again. She had nothing to say to him. She had nothing she wanted to say. A part of her was worried that if either one of them spoke that she may attach herself to him. And that was the last thing she needed. She was denying it, of course, that she had any attraction at all for him. She refused to believe it and passed it off as her body just having needs and he was the only man present. That must be it. She has had needs before, she just never gave in to them. It was the same thing here. But she was certainly not feeling an attraction on a different level.

Gods, it felt like hours passed by when it was likely only one when the town finally came into view. She seemed to let out a soft sigh of relief, some tension falling out of her body. But it wasn't over yet. They still needed to convince everyone of their little story.

She raised the hood of her cloak over her head to conceal anything the mud might not have covered. Her red hair would be a dead giveaway. She wasn't going to risk being caught. Because if Mya was killed, she would be too. And she wasn't ready to die. Not yet, anyway. She still had revenge to enact. Only when it was complete would she be at peace.

Up until this point, Alora had been several paces behind Mya. She had needed space away from him. As far away as she could get from him without falling behind. It was dangerous in the woods. All sorts of creatures roamed in it. And while they were fortunate enough not to run into one, she wasn't going to test fate any more than she already had done today. So a few paces behind and her fingers poised, ready to strike should anyone jump out at them. But no one did and they were safe. As safe as they could be when they were in the presence of a killer.

It was only then that she spoke. And only out of necessity. "How do you suppose we'll pay for anything?" She asked. She wasn't above stealing. She didn't particularly care if they did. But she wanted to know if that was what they were doing before they did. She just needed a game plan. And once she had it, she was perfectly fine with going back to not talking.

Myahil appreciated the silence, and her distance. Sure, it was a risk for her to be behind him as far as she was, but he couldn’t handle having her any nearer. His mind was a complete mess, and he didn’t know what he’d do if she came closer. Would he actually hurt her, kill her even? Or, would he do something much more pleasing, but far more stupid? He didn’t know, and that terrified him, just a little bit.

Myahil was so distracted by his thoughts that it felt like seconds had passed between the incident earlier and the town coming into view. He wasn’t even able to calculate how long it had actually been, just because he was so flustered.

A visible jolt went through him when she spoke. Fuck! He hadn’t even realized that she’d moved closer. Nor had he been expecting her to talk. Damn it, he needed to get himself under control, before an actual threat came along! Though, when he finally registered her words, he was able to focus on something other than his newfound need to have Alora in his grasp again.

He took a deep breath, repeating her words in his head. Then it hit him. ‘Pay’. Pay. Of course! Myahil remembered when Alora had patted her pockets earlier, and it now made sense why she’d done that. Money, coins, currency, whatever anyone wanted to call it. Alora didn’t have enough on her to cover the costs of their stay in town. But… maybe he could help with that.

“Hand me a coin. And, if you know, tell me what material it’s made from,”Myahil requested, turning slightly and holding out a hand.

He watched her hands, avoiding the instinct to look up at her face, to meet her eyes. He wasn’t ready for that yet. It was too soon for him to face her fully. Hell, he could barely face her like this, but he had an idea that could potentially help them, and it required facing her at least a little bit.

Alora was tentative to approach him. Not because she was afraid of him but because she was afraid of herself. She was afraid of her feelings and thoughts of him. She was afraid that her body might betray her. But she took those few steps towards him and dipped her hand into her pocket. She pulled out a gold coin. She had nothing less on her. She placed it in his hand, careful not to brush up against his skin. She didn't want to risk anything by touching him. She had touched him more than enough and if life went her way, she wouldn't ever again.

"It's gold," she said quietly. She hoped that was enough. She didn't want to talk any more than necessary. She was afraid that she might say something before she was able to stop herself.

She took a step away from him, watching his hand quietly. She didn't look at his face. She knew deep down that it would only further this strange attraction she was feeling. So she kept her gaze trained on his hand. She looked down at the ground, waiting for something to happen. She didn't quite understand his magic just yet. Her's was purely elemental. She could control water. She could pull it out of the earth and the streams. She could even control the water in your bloodstream if she concentrated hard enough. Not that she enjoyed doing that. Not only did it take too much energy, it went against her moral code as well.

(This turned out a bit longer than I thought, lol)

---

Myahil almost took a step away as Alora closed the remaining distance between them. He forced himself to stay still though, forced himself to not look anywhere but her hands as she pulled out a coin. He didn’t know what he would do if he let his gaze move from her hands. Hell, just looking at her hands was almost intolerable, as it only reminded him of where they had been earlier.

Alora set the coin in his hand, her fingers not even grazing him. It was a good thing, for both of them, but some part of him despised her deliberate avoidance of touching him. The same part that was so desperate to just snatch her in his arms and never let her go.

With a grunt of acknowledgment at her words, Myahil retracted his hand and studied the coin. It nagged at him that Alora had backed away from him, but he quickly pushed it away to focus on the task at hand.

After a moment of both eyeing the coin and using his fingers to study the more intricate details of it in the increasing darkness, Myahil started to walk around, searching for a suitable patch of soil to use. Using his feet and his senses, he made random circles around the area where the pair had stopped.

Then, he finally found the spot he was looking for. Loose dirt, soft but refreshingly cool and moist, few leaves on top of it, but stone and precious minerals for days beneath it.

“The sea is fickle, but full of reward when one finds the right key,”Myahil mumbled absently, chuckling.

He knelt down next to the patch of dirt, carefully digging a hole in it, then using his magic to smooth the walls until he had a bowl. A few holes were in the bottom of the bowl, reaching deep like roots, searching, calling for the materials Myahil would need. A few moments later, Myahil closing his eyes as he concentrated, molten gold started to ooze up from the holes and fill the bowl.

Myahil took a deep breath and opened his eyes, a few green tears sliding down his face. He then waited until there was enough gold to make plenty of coins. Then, he twisted his hands in the dirt next to the bowl, as if turning a magic switch that would shut the holes in the bottom.

The gold stopped then, stilling and starting to cool. Myahil watched for a few seconds, then held up the coin Alora had given him, as if inviting the gold to take it. The pool then started to swirl, goaded by Myahil’s magic and concentration, until it surged upward and attached to the coin, formed a long cylinder that only needed to be cut into individual coins.

After another deep breath, Myahil flicked his fingers in the dirt. The cylinder cut itself into coin sized pieces, falling back into the bowl. Then, Myahil grabbed the original coin, wiping away the molten gold from the cylinder, which hadn’t harmed the coin at all. He then rubbed the sides, using the feel of the markings on the coin to guide his magic as it copied them onto the new coins. Even without accurate sight, the new coins came out almost identical to the original.

Myahil then closed his eyes and dropped the original coin with the others. A soft ring echoed from the coins, and the spell finished, the new coins cooling and solidifying. When he opened his eyes, tears started to pour from his eyes, leaving thick streaks on his face. He also swayed, utterly exhausted.

After a moment, Myahil took out all of the coins, thirty one in total, including the original coin, then glanced down in the bowl. There were little pieces of extra gold remaining that had fallen off as the coins had cooled. With a faint, thoughtful chuckle, Myahil filled in the hole, leaving the pieces in there. It was always good to give a little bit back to the earth.

“I can make more tomorrow, if needed. But, I have done as much as I can right now,”Myahil croaked.

It had been too long a day, with too few breaks and not enough meals and rest. He had been lucky to make thirty coins. But, on a good day, he could make fifty coins at a time, several times in a day. After all, he used to spend hours on end building and refining massive pillars to hold up cavern ceilings, making them structurally sound and insanely intricate at the same time. Not many could match his dedication and endurance in such tasks. Though, Myahil couldn’t deny that it had taken a toll over the years.

Myahil sighed, and shakily stood up, stumbling over to a tree and leaning against it for a long moment. He was only barely aware that he was panting, mostly because he was also trying hard not to doze off right there. Good thing they were close to the town. He wouldn’t be walking much more in his current state.

(My response is not gonna be that long haha)

---

Alora watched his feet as he circled around. She didn't dare glance up at his face. She didn't trust herself to. So she watched his feet as he walked around and around. Around her. Around random patches of earth. Until he finally stopped and knelt on the ground.

She was watching carefully. She was confused as he dug but didn't voice her concern. She already knew he was crazy. She had already brought it up and they had fought and nothing was resolved. She knew it wouldn't if she brought it up again and the conversation would be redundant. And right now, she didn't trust her mouth. She was worried she might say something as crazy as Mya was. And that was a lot so it was better to keep quite.

She took a step back as she felt the earth rumbled and gold began to fill the hole. Eyes wide, she took a tentative step forward and then another, until she was standing utterly too close to Mya. But she was entranced by the magic. She had seen her share of wild and wonderful magics, but nothing like this. This was something entirely different.

She watched the gold fill the hole. She watched as it took the coin she had given to Mya. She watched as it engraved itself looking almost identical to her gold coin. No one would notice a thing so long as they stayed away from the bank. And even then, perhaps not.

The gold was cut into coins and then it was done. But Alora saw the effects it had left on Mya. Against her better judgement she had looked at his face and she had seen the tears. He had exhausted himself. He had used too much magic, too much energy. She knew if she didn't get him to a bed soon he was going to crash. And while she didn't doubt her strength, she didn't think she could drag him all the way to the village. And that would be more suspicious than just them showing up as is. She took the coins from him, her fingers brushing against his palm as she grabbed them. She tensed, lips parting, but tried to brush it off with a clear of her throat. She pocketed the coin and stepped back from him.

That didn't last long as Mya stumbled as he stood. She shouldn't of cared. She should have let him fall. She had every reason too. Except he had catch her when she had tripped. There was a debt to be paid. She was at his side faster than she would like to admit, an arm circling around his waist. She knew what it was like to exhaust herself with her magic. She had done more times than she could count when she was a child. She almost died once because she had used too much. She remembered the constant nosebleeds and headaches. It took her a very long time to learn her limits and even longer to understand it. She remembered how vulnerable she had felt and how much she hated it.

"Not much further, Mya," she said with a gentle voice she hadn't used in a very long time. "Walk a little bit further and then you can go to bed."

(Lol! No worries)

---

Myahil was aware of Alora’s gaze, but he ignored it to the best of his abilities. If he didn’t try, her presence would definitely distract him and disrupt his spell.

As he continued with his spell, he was so engrossed in it that he couldn’t keep track of Alora anymore. Hell, he almost forgot about her, except for the nagging memory of her hands on him.

As Myahil set the coins aside, they were instead taken from his hands. He glanced over in weary confusion to see hands, her hands. Her fingers grazed him, igniting that desperation in him again, then she was backing away. He was too tired to act on any of it.

Myahil gasped in surprise as Alora caught him. Hadn’t she just moved away? Why was she helping him? He wished he wasn’t so exhausted, maybe things would make sense. He couldn’t think. Rest. He just wanted to rest.

Her gentle voice, a stark contrast from the way Alora usually spoke to him, woke him from a doze. Just a little bit more walking, yes. But, would he make it? It seemed so far from where he was. Maybe, he… no. They needed to reach the town, for several reasons. If he didn’t move, he would likely doom them both in some way.

Myahil groaned, frustrated by his own exhaustion, then he straightened, wiped his face, and shuffled forward until he was walking steadily. He wasn’t walking in a straight line whatsoever, but he was moving.

Alora couldn't quite figure out why she was being so gentle. She hadn't been a gentle person since her Edric had died. Any kindness or heart she possessed had died with him, leaving her a shell of a person, filled with hatred and anger. And yet her actions were saying the opposite now. She was being kind and gentle and she couldn't distinguish why.

It was simply because she didn't want him to kill them both. Yes, that was it. That was all.

She wrapped her arm around his waist and grabbed his wrist to sling over her shoulder. She hadn't quite come up with a cover story for why he was in this condition but she hoped she could figure out one before they reached the town. She was likely going to be questioned about his state. If she said anything about an injury, he would likely be carted away to a doctor. They really couldn't afford that. Metaphorically. He just needed rest. Perhaps she could say that he was drunk but then why would a monk be drunk and stumbling through the woods?

Perhaps she could tell them that as part of his journey of being a monk, he did not indulge for seven days. No sleep, no water, no food. And that it was over he was exhausted and needed somewhere to rest and get his energy up. That could work. No one questioned it when monks did weird shit like that.

"Lean on me," she said, "I can bare your weight. Use me." She could help support him as long as she did not take on all his weight. One foot in front of the other, they kept walking. She walked their feet, making sure they didn't trip over anything poking out of the ground. She had used her magic to form wolves of water beside them to protect them in case anything attacked them in these moments of vulnerability. She only dropped the magic as they came to close to the village. She didn't want to appear threatening to them.

Finally, she stepped over the threshold onto the town soil and let out a breath. Hopefully an inn wasn't too far away. She didn't know how much longer she could keep this up.

Myahil didn’t protest to Alora wrapping her arm around him. It steadied him, more than he would’ve ever admitted aloud. For one, he was, quite obviously, too tired to truly walk. Two, no one in the past millennium or more had ever volunteered to help him, unless they had to. Alora didn’t, which was both comforting and confusing.

Though when she grabbed his left wrist, unknowingly touching the veins of divine poison, a loud gasp of pain burst from Myahil. His legs nearly buckled, but he somehow managed to stay standing despite the agony coursing through his body.

“E… easy with that arm. Even a light touch is crippling,”he mumbled.

He knew it was a risk telling Alora that, but it was a risk not telling her. The only difference was whether her actions were deliberate or accidental. Either way, it hurt like a bitch.

Though, the pain woke him up slightly and Myahil was able to stand up a bit straighter, instead of looking like he was about to collapse at any moment. He was still bone tired, but it was going to be a second before the effects of Alora grabbing his arm wore off.

Her words surprised him, but Myahil leaned on her anyway. He didn’t put too much weight on her, but it did help steady him even more. Her actions still nagged at him though.

“You don’t have to do this if you don’t wish to. I won’t hold it against you,”Myahil said quietly. There wasn’t much weight behind his words, but he still meant them. He just secretly hoped that she wouldn’t let him go as a result. He was quite liking her hold on him, even though he was reluctant to admit it to himself.

He watched Alora’s water wolves as they walked, studying them. Maybe he could make a little statuette of a wolf somewhere, in reference to this moment. He really was losing his mind in a whole new way.

When they reached the town threshold, Alora had gotten rid of the wolves, and now paused. Myahil looked around, not sure what to look for. He had never actually been in one of the towns in the kingdom of Avollone. He’d always stayed on the outskirts, always watched from afar, unless he was burning the town down. So, he wasn’t really familiar with what the towns were really like. It was disconcerting.

“I will follow your lead here. I am out of my element. If you need me to act more composed, I can try. It wouldn’t be the first time,”he whispered, so only Alora would hear him.

Alora almost jumped as he protested in pain. She hadn't understood what was causing the hurt until he gave her a very vague explanation. She looked down at his left arm, sliding her hand untim she was touching only his fingers. There, she shouldn't run the risk of hurting him again.

It was good knowledge to have. If they hadn't been soul bound, or even just in this situation, she woukd have likely exploited it. She might still. But for now, she needed him as whole as she could get him. And that also meant not causing intentional pain.

Despite the fact that she had hurt him (accidentally) it seemed to have woken him up just a bit. He stood a little straighter and walked a little better, even if he was still supporting some of his weight on her. It was alright, she coukd handle it. This was why she trained. Well, not this specific reason, but generally why she trained. Strength training, specifically. It was to help her fellow friends in times of need. She knew she woukd never win physically in a fight. She was too small, too light. So she used speed and intellect and a little bit of magic. But that wasn't helpful for a time like this. She needed strength.

Alora heard his words and chose to ignore it. She wasn't letting go even with his permission. She wasn't going to risk him falling behind. She was ready to get to an inn and collapse in a bed and just sleep. "You need it," was all she said. He did need the help. And she wasn't letting go until they were locked in a room.

She made a face as Mya told her to take the lead. She wasn't a friendly person. Not anymore. She wasn't good with people. She usually just ordered them around and demanded things and threatened violence or death. She didn't usually sweet talk them and offer explanations. Not anymore. This was going ti be a challenge for her. Not the act itself but restraining herself not to punch someone when they said dumb shit. And they always said dumb shit.

The inn was in the center of the village. Thankfully, night had fallen far enough that many people weren't on the streets. Men and travelers filled the pub that doubled as the inn. All heads turned to them as she opened the door. So much for a quiet night.

They watched as she neared the bar. She offered the bar keep a pretty smile. "My companion and I are in need of lodgings. See, my companion just finished his seven day deprived meditation. He needs a good bed and a hot meal." She slid over a couple of coins. "We'll take two rooms, please.

The bar keep looked at Mya, not quite buying the story. Then he looked down at the coin. "We've only got one room available darling. I might have a spare cot available to bring in for ya."

It took everything in Alora to keep from stiffening. She looked at the condition that Mya was in and nodded her head. She didn't think he could make it to another inn even if there was one. He needed a bed and fast.

The bar keep took half the coin and Alora pocketed the other half. A key was handed to her and a room number. Of course they were on the third floor. She thanked the man with that pretty smile and guided Mya over to the stairs. "We're almost there," she murmured, "think you can make it?"

Myahil winced, gritting his teeth as Alora slid her hand down his arm. Damn, it hurt! It hurt bad enough that his hands were starting to shake.

He was grateful she didn’t release him, and that she insisted he needed her help. She was right, and her willingness to help him despite his words was something he’d make sure to remember.

Myahil noticed Alora’s change in expression. It didn’t surprise him. Alora was brutal and vicious. Myahil was probably more charming than her, but he was truly out of his element in the town, and he wanted to hide his accent as much as possible. He also wasn’t used to having to ask, or pay, for anything, especially lodging. He had his own home, or he just camped out in the woods.

The amount of people in the pub didn’t bother him that much, but their stares did. He wasn’t used to being stared at anymore. It had been a few years since he’d last been the center of a crowd, and he’d grown fond of the quiet in the woods. Though, he made sure to hide how uncomfortable he was. No need to make himself a target now.

Myahil stayed silent as Alora spoke to the barkeep. He could tell the man didn’t fully believe Alora, but it was a good improvised cover story nonetheless, even if it needed a little refining.

When the barkeep announced there was only one room, Myahil knew Alora wouldn’t be happy. He was waiting for her to flinch, but she actually didn’t. She had excellent control of herself, which was appreciated. Myahil honestly didn’t care if they shared a room or not, just as long as they didn’t have to invade each other’s space. He could deal with sleeping in a crowd of fellow soldiers just fine, but sleeping next to a single potential enemy made him anxious.

He watched the exchange of the coins and the key, then noticed they were heading for stairs. Well, if he couldn’t walk the whole way up, he could climb or crawl.

“Yes,”he mumbled, his voice becoming edged with his stubborn determination. He would make it to the room somehow. He didn’t care how.

Alora did not feel very confident in Mya's response. He looked about ready to drop. While she was a strong woman she didn't think she woukd be able to carry him up these stairs, at least not in the condition she was in now.

She took a deep breath and began to climb the stairs with Mya, taking it one step at a time. Each step, she ended uo bearing more and more kf his weight until she was practically dragging him at the top of the stairs. It was out if pyre spite that she managed to get him to their room, which of rouse, was at the end of the hall.

She let go of his left hand to unlock the door and push it open. She half carried him to the bed and all but let him fall on it. Then she walked back to the door and closed and locked it. Then she took the small chair and placed it under the doorknob to provide extra security. She didn't know how much it would provide seeing as if you even look at it wrong the chair would fall apart. But hopefully the noise would give them some warning.

She looked around the room, noting the one window in the bedroom and the one in the bathroom. She tested each of then, seeing if the opened. The bedroom window did but the one in the bathroom did not. While she didn't particularly want to jump outbif a windo on the third story she coukd. She had done it before and she would do it again.

Thus was certainly not the nicest Inn she had stayed in but she had also been in much worse. At least the sheets look like they had been washed and it didn't smell like mold or a rotting body. That was a plus in her eyes. They needed food and supplies but she knew Mya wasn't going to be awake long enough for that trip and she didn't want to leave him alone. If he died she died and she wasn't ready for that yet.

As they climbed the stairs, Myahil unconsciously leaned more and more on Alora just to keep himself upright. Though, he wasn’t exactly upright when they reached the top of the stairs. He was more dangling from her arms, and he was also starting to laugh like a drunkard that had just heard a joke. The butterflies around them were being hilarious though.

He continued to laugh and snicker as Alora moved to open the door. Instinctively, Myahil grabbed her shoulder with his left hand, holding her with a gentle but firm grip that kept him from crumpling to the floor. She had a nice shoulder, even the butterflies that followed them agreed.

Alora dropped him on the bed, then went to secure the room. He’d be helping her if he could, but right now all he could do was stretch out and laugh. Laugh at the butterflies, laugh at the situation, laugh at everything.

After a few minutes, Myahil finally quieted down. He stared blankly at the ceiling for a long moment, his eyes slowly drooping. He then saw Alora again. A delirious little smile grew on his face.

“The butterflies are beautiful, aren’t they? They like you,”he mumbled, his words almost incoherent. He wasn’t even aware that the butterflies flying around the room weren’t real.

Myahil chuckled breifly, then his eyes drifted closed. Within moments, his breathing settled into a calm rhythm, signaling that he was out cold.

Alora shook her head as he started laughing, gritting her teeth. She was thankful the hallway had been cleared of any people so they wouldn't witness Mya having a psychotic break. She didn't need any of them questioning their presence.

After their room was secured, she turned back to Mya, hands on her hips. She wanted to tear into him about how stupid it was for him to start laughing like that. He could have blown their cover. She pushed her hood down and rolled her eyes as he spoke. She barely made out what his said. It didn't matter, he was asleep not long after that.

Alora didn't feel comfortable leaving Mya alone. Not only was she worried that someone might come and hurt him, she was worried he might blow their cover. That they couldn't afford. She wasn't going to risk either of their lives.

She needed to replenish their supplies but she woukd have to wait until Mya had awoken. She decided to go the bathroom and take a shower to wash the mud off off her hair and the day's events off her skin. She kept one ear towards the door, ready to sping a moments notice.

Myahil remained asleep for a while, long enough for Alora to take a pleasantly long shower. Though, it wasn’t restful. Not long after he’d fallen asleep did he start dreaming, twisted memories of Cecelia’s death playing over and over. Then, it changed to her corpse being revived. She came back to him, promising him the love that he’d so dearly missed, then pushed him down into a deep pool of water until he drowned.

Myahil burst awake with a horrified gasp, soaked in sweat, his entire body shaking and his arm aching badly. He rolled onto his side, curling and pulling at his hair, green tears oozing from his eyes.

“Cecelia. Oh, Cecelia, tell me it’s not real. Please, please, please… It… It can’t be real. Cecelia?”he whimpered.

His eyes searched for her, his vision blurred by tears. He just wanted to know that his dream wasn’t reality, that Cecelia hadn’t actually tried to kill him. But, Cecelia was taking her time to appear. It wasn’t helping him at all.

Alora paused in her shower as she heard something in the other room. She shut off the water to the shower. She had thankfully washed all the suds out of her hair and off her body. She grabbed towel and wrapped it around herself. She had a ball of water hovering over her palm as she creaked the door open and poked her head out, looking for a threat. When she found none, she walked into the room and looked at Mya.

He was crying and shaking. She sighed. As she heard him say his dead wife's name, her shoulders dropped and sent the water away. She remembered the days when she did nothing but cry and scream for her dead lover.

She slowly walked to the bed, leaving a trail of water droplets on the floor. She gently placed her hand on his cheek. She told herself it was only because she wanted him to stop crying. She didn't do very well with emotional people. "Mya," she murmured, brushing away a tear. "it's alright, you're alright."

She sat down on the bed next to him, glancing at the door before down at him. "Everything is going to be alright."

Myahil heard approaching footsteps and he reflexively quieted, his mind whirling through scenarios of taking care of intruders in an instant. Then, he warily rolled over, all thoughts of intruders vanishing. Cecelia, Alora, and the Priestess he’d loved were all walking toward him in various states of concern. The dream was just a dream.

Then, Cecelia and the Priestess, who were flanking Alora, moved toward her, and into her. His still teary eyes, one of which had turned white, made it hard to see, but it seemed like Alora’s face was now strangely blurred. He couldn’t tell which of the three women was approaching him, or if it was all three somehow.

He leaned on his elbow as she closed on him. Then, her hand was on his cheek, her thumb wiping away his tears. By Rhinacules himself, he missed this. How he’d missed it.

After a moment of listening to her soothing words, Myahil reached up and grabbed her hand, holding it tenderly in his own.

“I must ask, even though it will sound strange… who are you? I cannot tell… I…”he trailed off, looking away. He wanted to say how confusing, no, unnerving, it was, to be unsure of who he was talking to, but he just couldn’t. He had only ever shared his true feelings with his closest advisor, Fwynal, but he wasn’t here. So, what could he do?

The first thing he thought of, was to squeeze her hand. He needed the solidity, the comfort. And, it might convey his unease without him having to actually admit it.

Alora had to refrain from rolling her eyes or snarking at him. They hadn't even been together for a full day and she was already tired of his batshit crazy. Why couldn't she have been saddled with a normal person, one who didn't hallucinate and say crazy things? And one who didn't see his dead wife. Alora may be grieving her own lover but she didn't see his ghost or talk to it.

She bit her lips for a moment, holding back her comeback. Her fingers itched to slap him and try to get him out of this but she didn't want to risk him going haywire and killing them both.

"Alora, it's Alora. There's no one else here. It's just me." She summoned back that calm woman she had been just an hour ago in the woods. She could be gentle with him so long as it kept them alive. She could say soft words and give him soothing touches as long as it kept him from having a total panic attack.

"What did you dream about?" Maybe if she kept him talking it would keep her from having to. She didn't like being nice and sweet. Her fingers were itching to kill someone. it would be Mya if she didn't depend on his survival for her own.

She didn't like how he held her hand, or at least, that's what she told herself. It had been so long since someone had just touched her without intent to harm or kill. It felt nice, different. His hand was warm which was so vastly different from the cold touch of death she always had.

Myahil could tell she was annoyed. She seemed a bit too tense, and was quiet for a bit too long. She was holding something back. Then, she said her name, and Myahil couldn’t help a resigned sigh.

He didn’t know why his mind was associating Alora with his two previous loves, but he wished it didn’t. Alora wouldn’t comfort him, wouldn’t know how either. She’d be more likely to make a rude comment, hit him, kill him, or leave, than to offer comfort. And yet, she was still by his side. Why? Why was she bothering to stay by his side when she clearly didn’t want to be? Or was it just an excuse, a ploy, to get close, so she could learn of his misdeeds before putting a blade to his throat?

Her face cleared up by the time she spoke again, and Myahil’s vision was returning to normal as his tears dried. His white eye also went back to its regular amber hue, signaling his return to lucidity. He no longer saw any trace of his former beloveds. Unfortunately, that just saddened him. He missed them dearly.

“Memories. Twisted memories. Of Cecelia. It’s likely obvious by now, that she was my wife, long ago. I watched her die, and I couldn’t help her,”he mumbled, turning away from her.

Myahil noticed the droplets of water that had trailed after Alora from the bathroom. He stared absently at them, remembering Cecelia again.

“Her death is one of the reasons I am… well, insane. Alongside the pact I made as she died in my arms,”he added, shifting so he could lift his left arm.

The candlelight hit his arm at just the right angle, allowing the spiderweb of evil green veins on his lower arm to be easily seen.

“The price of the pact. Being cursed to slowly die from divine poison. A small price for what was gained.”

He lowered his arm, staring absently ahead. He had forgotten that he still held Alora’s hand.

Alora seemed to relax some as Mya became a little bit more coherent. He wasn't looking at her like she had three heads anymore so that was a plus. Then a gain, it was a better chance for him to aim and hit her now if he only saw one. But his following words had those thoughts leaving her head. He wouldn't hurt a woman he thought was his wife.

She shouldn't ask. She shouldn't care. But curiosity piqued her interest as he spoke of his wife. All she knew was that the woman was dead. She didn't know how or when. And she wanted to. She was nosy.

"What happened to your wife? If you don't mind me asking." The only reason she added in that last part was because he was unstable and she didn't want to risk him flipping out and attacking her or causing so much noise that someone came to check on them. She was not in the mood to deal with anyone today. Not after the shitty day they've had and having to deal with Mya all day. He was enough work as it was.

Alora looked at the veins in his arm as he lifted it. A curse, interesting. She looked down at Mya, wondering who the hell she had gotten saddled with.

"What was the curse for? What did you gain?" And how long until the curse killed you? She kept that last part to herself. She didn't want to overwhelm him with questions in his state. One thing at a time.

Myahil winced and sighed at her question. He knew that he probably shouldn’t have mentioned Cecelia, but if he didn’t talk, he would brood. And, that likely wouldn’t go well with Alora around. She’d likely pester him until he spoke, or otherwise get pissy because he wasn’t listening to her demands to talk. He wasn’t in the mood to deal with either outcome.

“It was your father’s second conquest of Clan Mya’s land. We were still rebuilding from the first conquest, and there was too few of us to properly fight back. We were quickly forced to retreat and hide, but we were found. Only a couple dozen of us survived, and several later died from wounds. When your father’s troops left, the survivors came out to survey the damage, and I found Cecelia, mortally wounded and near death. We had no healers left, and basic medicine wouldn’t have helped, so I held her, talked to her… Like she had always done for me,”he explained quietly. A couple tears oozed from his eyes and his voice cracked as he spoke the last bit.

He didn’t speak for a long moment, a couple more tears drifting down his face. He longed for Cecelia’s presence again, but it was just him and Alora. He didn’t know if that was a good thing or not. After his moment, he wiped the tears off and took a deep breath, reminding himself that Alora was waiting on him.

“It was a pact I made with Rhinacules, our god and namesake. He gave us the strength and time we needed to rebuild once more. And, I would serve Rhinacules as he saw fit, and carry the pain of generations,”he said.

Myahil knew his words sounded slightly off, but he wasn’t ready to share the whole truth with her, for both emotional and practical reasons. He wasn’t ready to explain that Rhinacules had essentially revived the Clan as a new race, one that was stronger and hardier, in exchange for Myahil’s service as the race’s leader. The longevity and curse were more to limit Myahil’s time as a mortal servant, so he could have plenty of time to lead the Rhinacules race into greatness before becoming the god’s Herald in the afterlife.

And, speaking of afterlife, Alora was probably thinking about that. It was poison in his arm, so, logically, the thought of ‘how long will he survive’ would come to mind. Particularly in Alora’s mind, since they were soul-bonded at the moment, and she was still unaware of his involvement in her beloved’s death.

“Also, if you’re wondering if I’m going to die soon, I’m not. It’ll be centuries or millennia yet before the poison kills me,”Myahil commented.

Alora raised her eyebrow as she waited. As suspected, she likely would have picked at him until he finally gave in or snapped. She didn't like the quiet. Silence irritated her. It had her on the edge of her seat, waiting for something to happen. She remembered how quiet it had been before her own lover had died. It had just been the calm before the storm. Unless she was following someone, she didn't want the quiet.

Her eyes looked away as she listened to him talk. They found a spot on the wall, zoning in on the terrible painting hung lopsided. She hadn't been born then. She hadn't even been a thought. Her entire life has been surrounded by war. The truth had been muddied and twisted over the hundreds of years. She couldn't recall the exact reason they were fighting. Just the version she had been told.

They were trying to take her kingdom's land. They had overpopulated and needed more space. When her father refused to give some to them, they attacked. And thus the two kingdom had been thrown into war for a millennia.

"You're a good man to your people, to take on such a burden. Especially when it was not yours to take. Your king should have been the one to do such a thing." And she said that because she was ignorant to who her companion truly was. "You are better than I would have been." She would have never done such a thing. At least not now. Perhaps if her fiance still lived, that would be a different story.

"Hmm," she hummed, "good, I'm not quite ready to die. Not until I've finished my revenge. And I can't very well do that with you stuck to me. You'll try to stop me." She was ready to be separated from him and then kill him. And then she coukd finish her crusade and be done with all of this.