Dazed, he lifted his head and watched as the woman took down the last elf, decapitating him with an anger he knew good and well. The immediate danger gone, he dropped his head back onto the ground beneath him and groaned. Or tried; only half a sound escaped his bruised throat.
When she approached and talked to him, he raised a hand to give her the 'OK' sign, and pushed himself up to sit, propping his arms on his knees. His head pounded something fierce, a deep ache resonating in his chest from the elf's attack. Like his heart had stopped beating and the rest of him had turned to stone.

Safest place to hide. He closed his eyes, thinking. Instinct was to go to the cistern, but he hadn't been down there in months, and couldn't say if it was safe or not. Or if he could get them there in one piece.
Really, there wasn't anywhere safe in the city, not during the night. More could come when the trio didn't return. Especially when she was wanted alive. A kill mission, they wouldn't bother if the foot-soldiers they dispersed were killed on the job. But to want to take a hostage meant something more important. They wouldn't stop.

The only place he could think of, really, was the palace dungeon in which he'd been sleeping.
But to take this intruder to where he'd been living, despite her help in taken down the elves, didn't sit well with him.

He got up, swatting away her arm and standing on his own, pressing a hand to his chest in hopes of alleviating the discomfort. His other hand he reached out, gripping her by her pauldron. He opened his mouth to talk, then thought better of it for now, and tilted his head in a silent 'let's go' before he pulled her into that silent, windy darkness.

They emerged, not in the city, but in an oasis. Judging by the visible horizon, far from the city ruins, but still in the midst of the endless desert. A large pool of blue-green water sat deep in the middle, surrounded by lush greens and palm trees. A large rock jutted upward toward the eastern side, standing easily three times their height. At its base were the eroded remains of an old hearth ring. He wasn't sure how long it had been since he'd wandered through here, but it was nice to see time hadn't eaten the place to nothing.

Releasing her, he strolled toward the water and crouched on the sandy shore to wash his face. His hair was wheat-gold, and fell just past his ears, and was very uneven. Either it had been yanked out, or he'd cut it in a rush and hadn't bothered to put in an effort. He brushed his wet fingers through it, brushing it away from his face before he stood and took his covered back from the woman. He raised it in silent thanks before wandering to sit against the rock.

Kire hadn’t expected an oasis, but then she’d already learned to let go of expectations by now. Still shivering a little from walking through that darkness again. She watched him, making sure he was alright, and also a little bit relieved at the reprieve from hearing him berate her. Kire sighed; for now, it seemed she could rest easy. She unclasped her helmet, ran her fingers through her short, cropped hair, a bit conscious of it now after seeing the uneven blonde mess on top of his head.

She left him to his silence for a while, drinking from her wateskin and refilling it afterward, then likewise washing her face, both to clean it and to refresh her from the dizziness of her portal use. Afterwards, she cleaned her helmet, then sat down to rest under a palm tree, eyes closed. Gods, fresh air. None of the reek of blood magic, or rot and carnage, or the killing aura of the hunters’ magic. Only her own, and her testy companion’s. She rubbed her left eye gingerly, wondering if—no, when—the hunters would send more of their own to look for them.

“You’re free to try to kill me now,” she said after a long silence, leaning back against the tree, glancing at him. She had some hope that this ordeal would get him to loosen his tongue, though she didn’t particularly optimistic. “What are they? What do you call them?”

He leaned against the rock, her forearms braced on his bent knees before him. He watched her curiously as she washed and hydrated, then took her rest. Having slept the entire day, he was wide awake, but he closed his eyes regardless, enjoying the silence, And allowing his body to rest. His chest still felt as though something had cracked and broken inside, the elf's attack cutting deeper than flesh.

In the black behind his eyelids, he could see the sand growing dark with blood, smell flames and burning flesh, hear the screams of children echoing in an underground cavern. Her beautiful face surface within it, tearing his heart in two. One half filled with joy at seeing her smile, the other shattered into pieces knowing the lies and betrayal those perfect lips held. Her face, those blood-red eyes, but for a second, they shifted into that of another, blue-black hair framing an unnaturally pale face, deep amethyst eyes peering at him in shame and distrust as she turned away from him, leaving him in the dark. He could feel his own flesh tearing, burning, taste blood, hear the cracks of whips, wailing cries of infants taking their first breath.

She spoke, and he opened his eyes. Blinking, he raised his head, looking around. He'd forgotten where he was, and glanced around the dark oasis. He'd enjoyed coming here often long ago, in another lifetime. It was peaceful. Could be again, if she stopped talking. From across the space between them, he stared at her, mouth pulled down in the corners in a frown.

He could leave her here. Take up the invitation to keep his word, and take himself back to Ziad. Or he could follow the rest. Face them. Beg forgiveness for what he'd done.
Oh, but she could use magic to get back. His nostrils flared as he reminded himself. Leaving her here would do little but give him a head start.
If he really meant to kill her, he'd have left her in the city.
Or let the elves do the job for him.
He grunted and closed his eyes again, letting his head fall back against the stone once more.

After another long silence, he cleared his throat experimentally. "Kartaian." He rasped. He cleared his throat again, trying to clear his voice.

“Kartaian,” she repeated, the word clumsy on her tongue. She lapsed back into silence, letting him rest his throat a little longer as she thought about what had just happened. A formidable enemy, these Kartaians. A million questions. Any other time she would have enjoyed a reprieve like this, basked in the silence and lay down to sleep, but her curiosity wouldn’t let her sit still for too long. “Besides stealth, is there any reason they only attack at night? Why can you do what they do? Are there others who can do that, too? And if it’s so dangerous to stay in the ruins, why haven’t you left like the others?”

She could only stay silent for so long. If he wasn’t going to answer her, she’d keep throwing questions at him, anyway. She stood and paced, arms crossed. “And if my quarry had taken up with these—Kartaians—why would they let him in their confidence? They seem to be more than capable without him already, and I doubt they entertain promises of friendship. What could he have offered them that they’d be willing to work with him, to find me?”

Kire huffed. Times like this she wished her cousins were with her to throw ideas back at her. Daryll, especially. They didn’t want her pursuing him anymore: she could hear Jan’s voice, weary from having lost so much, and Daryll, too, who now, more than ever, had to be a big brother to his little sister. If Ed were still with us he’d be mad at me, too. She stamped down the well of guilt before it could take over.

“And what do I call you?” she asked, turning to the stranger.

He really should have let them kill her. He inhaled deeply, annoyed. He opened his eyes and peered at her without raising his head, without answering, letting her get it all out. Maybe some answers would overlap and he wouldn't have to answer more than once. Gods, she could prattle on. So like a woman to keep demanding answers out of him. He just listened and breathed as she destroyed his peaceful oasis with the wretched sound of her voice.

As far as what her quarry could offer to these monsters to gain their allegiance, reluctant and temporary as it no undoubtedly was, how would he know? He didn't know what the man had to offer anyone. If he had to hazard a guess, it would be power. If this woman, with her strength, anger, and drive, hunted him into an abandoned desert city, he had power of his own, and was a threat in some form or another.

And as to why he hadn't left. He ignored that question. Didn't even consider it, the Kartaian's effect on him too strong, the pull in his chest too tight. Guilt would drown him.

Swallowing again, he cleared his throat and raised his head again. "Can't stand sunlight." He said vaguely. Maybe that would answer more than one of her many questions. "Except once. Almost six months ago."

“Hm.” She ignored the fact that he hadn’t given his name yet, not having volunteered her own, anyway. “Sunlight as weakness.” Already the wheels were turning in her mind. “Until six months ago. It fits.” She brought out the carnelian gem she had taken from the Kartaian corpse, peered at it as if it would reveal its secrets. “He might have found a workaround for that, offered his services to them. But I don’t think it’s all for free.” She grunted. “Blood magic in itself isn’t evil or forbidden, but his use of it is completely inhuman. He takes bodies and twists them into becoming his dolls. When I saw the Kartaian body back in the city, it moved and attacked me. Not in the conscious, deliberate way that its living counterparts did earlier, puppets are still just puppets, but it’s still powerful magic. His earlier attempts were much more crude than the display I had seen earlier. I highly doubt these monsters knew what they were agreeing to when they cast their lot with him.”

She paused, absently fixing her hair. It really was a shame, the circumstances they had found themselves in: the night sky was lovely, otherwise. “Thanks,” she said after a long while. “Even if you didn’t really want to. Thanks for helping.”

His eyes narrowed. So that had been why she'd hacked apart the elf corpse by the wall. Not just to look for the gem she now carried, but because it had risen from the dead and attacked her. It was definitely her target behind this. How many times had he wandered by that body, wondering why the animals left it untouched, and it hadn't moved?

That this bastard was behind the ransacking of his city, too, burned the embers of anger inside his chest into a raging blaze. Her enemy, the one she chased, had cost him everything. And the woman whose face this woman wore was involved somehow, aligned with him. She was a part of it. Either because she chased them here, or because they wanted to leave her a trail. It was her fault.

He clenched his fists, turning his head to glare off into the distant sands. He ignored her for a while, leering at sand as if it, too, was to blame for something. No one liked sand. Not after living in it for so long. After what seemed like an eon, he rose and wandered the oasis, gathering bits of wood and kindling before he knelt at the weathered hearth and started a fire.
"Not in their line of sight." He answered her without having her ask. His throat still burned, his voice scratchy. "Tell me what he did. Why you chase him." He demanded of her, taking his place back against the stone.

Kire glanced as he worked at building a fire. At his question, she let out a long breath and stared out at the desert. Her scarred eye twitched, and she brushed away a phantom pain. “He had been looking for the one who would inherit this power that I have. It’s—hard to explain, I hardly understand it myself.” She crossed her legs, lacing her fingers together, moved them absently to watch the Ring glint dully in the dim light. “He offered help. Guidance. But he had been working at his own schemes behind my back. Using me, my influence, my connections. And, finally, he sprung his trap and tried to violate me with his blood magic. He became—fixated.” She hadn’t realized she had clenched both fists.

“He’s gone mad. He’s always wanted to remake the world to bend to his whims. Me included. Like I’m both the thing he loves and hates the most, because I have the power he’s been wanting to have, and I don’t answer to him. I tried going after him, but—” I lost my home. My family had been driven out. And now my country is overrun by monsters. “—I was…distracted. Rather, turns out chasing him had been a distraction for an even greater problem. Half a year ago. So, let’s just say I owe him for the deaths he had inflicted and the battles I’ve lost these last six months.”

She found a pebble and threw it across the oasis as far as she could, landing on the opposite side. “He’s been trying to mold my face onto his sick creations. His little…passion project. He’d never been successful—he nearly was.” She remembered her abdomen, spilling blood, even as she tried to fight her way through the dolls, all bearing a misshapen version of her reflection. “I’m trying to tie up the loose ends of my failure, is all.”

He probably didn’t care for her sob story, but Kire didn’t mind. It was almost refreshing, having to tell the story to somebody who had no inkling what in the seven hells she was talking about.

He sat near the fire, the low flames warming his right leg and arm. His feet were buried in the same so his burnt soles weren't agitated by the heat. In silence he listened, putting pieces together when she mentioned the dolls he was making with effort to resemble her. The center of his fixation. To have versions of her that he could control.
Then, he knew who she was. That she hasn't been real. That this one was the true woman, and the woman he himself had been fixated on wasn't a woman at all, and was in fact a doll.
It made sense. How many times had he wondered why her hands were so cold? Why she was so flawless?
She had been the reason the elves got into the city. Well, really, he had. Because she had gotten him to trust her, and she'd destroyed everything with what he'd given her.

Ziad is gone because of you. He inhaled, feeling the weight of sorrow crush his chest again. So many lives lost, so much trust shattered.

"He was successful." He said quietly. She knew the answer already. Had to. He hated her face, imperfect as it was, because it was her face. She'd seen his reaction to her face, knew what to question. He may as well confirm that. He shook his head, lowering his gaze to the fire so he wouldn't have to look at her. Clearing his throat again, he explained a little more. "Not completely. Different colouring. But your face." His throat tightened.

The bastard. He finally did it. Kire had suspected as much, but to hear the confirmation still weighed heavily on her chest. She sunk her head back against the tree, face twisted in a silent snarl. She had felt that, had the two of them never met, Ikegai would have found some other obsession. Besides, if there was one thing the past half year had finally hammered into her skull, it was that the universe didn’t revolve around her, that there was no such thing as destiny. But still. How could Kire not feel that it had been all her responsibility? The one failure that had defined the rest of her failures since?

She let out a rueful laugh. “Of course he tried to change the color. Different hair. Different eyes. Right? Attitude adjustment too, if his power’s become that much more sophisticated.” Kire frowned again. “He wants control. He’ll have it, down to the last detail, I suppose.” She rubbed her face, frowning. “He’d probably have put a lot of glamour onto her, too. That’s another specialty of his. I don’t think it would’ve been powerful enough for large groups, like these Kartaians, but he’s good at conjuring that seductive allure. Bastard. Only consolation is that it takes up a lot of resources, a lot of energy, to make the kind of magic he does. Probably another reason why he’d find a perfect alliance with indiscriminate killers.”

He only nodded at her question about the appearance. However, he couldn't be the judge on the adjustment to her attitude. This woman he hardly knew, but somehow sensed they were similar in more ways than she hoped. Stubborn. Confident. Powerful. Knew what they were worth and knew what they needed. Wanted.
And their faces. Gods, that bothered him the most. Having to see her face in this woman, and feel boy joy and pure hatred. Knowing for certain that they were different didn't put an end to the urge to wrap his fingers around her throat and torture her for what she'd done.
No, for what you did. You let happen.

Again, in silence, he listened to her, not sure about what to say. She had asked questions, he had answered a few. He had his own questions, she had answered the one he had voiced. So he drowned himself in silence, filtering her out as he stared down at the firelight nearby.

"What will do you next, then?" He asked, pausing to clear his throat once more. "You know now that he was in Ziad. Or, if not him, then ... his influence."

Kire wondered what was going on in his mind. What kind of woman was the one who wore her face, and what horrors did she commit? Clearly, he had seen this double of hers take part in the carnage. A different kind of guilt welled up inside her. It was easy to picture what she would look like, killing and pillaging. She had done it before. She regretted it every day, and reaped its consequences when her own beloved Capital had been overrun. Really, if he did try to kill her tonight, she couldn’t entirely blame him.

“I feel like I’m walking into a trap. But that might be paranoia talking,” she said, frowning at the sky as if asking it to just strike down her enemy with fire from the heavens. “This can’t be the only place he’s sullied. Him and his copy of me. My next step is to find their hiding place. They can’t be too far from the city, if you’re worried about them spotting fires, and even if they sensed my presence, if the city had been too far from his current location he wouldn’t have known. But now that I know a little more about his allies, I’m thinking of preparing for that. Unless you can point me to the direction of some sorcerers or alchemists, I might go back home first.” She chewed her lip. “I run the risk of losing the trail again though, if I do.”

She looked at him; he was avoiding her gaze, she could tell as much. “What will you do?”

Once more he listened, though his eyes were trained on the little flame as he tried to understand what it all meant. He had no idea where this man, this monster, took refuge. While he may have allied with the Kartaians, he doubted they would feel comfortable allowing such a man into their den. Even if he did offer them the chance to hunt under the sun, or promised them more power, more distance, more blood. Kartaians hated humans. But that didn't mean he wasn't close to them.

His thoughts spiraled until she asked him what he'd do. Blinking, he raised his gaze to her face, that horrible, face, still so pretty despite the scars.
He clenched his teeth, the muscles in the corners of his jaws shifting as he looked away from her again.

Sorcerers and alchemist. Well. Yeah, he knew of one. Two, really, but he couldn't face him.

"I don't have anything." He answered after a time. No plans. No family. No purpose. "What sort of sorcerer? Alchemist? I've been learning. If its something beyond my ability I ─" He inhaled, then cleared his throat again. "I can take you to someone." The heavy weight on his chest shifted at the thought of seeing him again, but if it got revenge, ended this monsters life, maybe he could bare if for a short time.

A sorcerer? Kire raised a scarred eyebrow at him. He is full of surprises. Magic didn’t seem to be in short supply in this world, but even more surprising was him volunteering himself to the task. “Someone proficient in tracking spells. Or scrying, if you have that sort of thing here. And I don’t know how—inconvenient it would be to walk around with my own face at the moment. Also, I know an alchemist back home who’s been tinkering around with more, uh, explosive stuff. Seems like a good idea. For when I find where the rat’s been hiding.” She stood, wincing, her body sore, and stretched for a bit. She could still go back to Amria, ask for Daryll’s help. He had been reluctant, like Jan, to aid her in her quest to put herself in more danger, but they’re still family. Still, there were things that worked perfectly in Amria that didn’t work completely in another world. She was lucky the armor protections were in place.

“We can try your way, then find this sorcerer friend of yours. Who are they? Did they also live in the city before?” She paused, then smirked at him. “You might as well give me something to call you by. I can live with just ‘Hey, you’, but that might get confusing later.”

He could see the reaction in her face. Honestly, he wasn't sure if it was because he offered, or because she had infinite doubts that she could trust him. Not that he blamed her. But, so far, he'd threatened to kill her at least once and hadn't actually tried. Maybe that gave him some redemption. Maybe that would help her not laugh in his face.

As she listed what she wanted, his expression fell. Scrying was not his best skill. Tracking was, depending on the how, but he doubted it would be useful here. Which left the other option. Taking her to him. He swallowed, the pain in his throat from more than his bruise. He knew where they'd all fled to. It had always been part of a contingency plan, in case the worst happened and they needed to get out. he knew how to get there, but he wasn't sure how welcomed he would be. What taking her there would cost him. Even if they didn't mind his return, seeing their dwindled numbers, the sorrow and loss he'd caused...

Her questions didn't help him from his mind slipping into guilt. He clenched his jaw again, staring at the fire. "Rulitus." He said quietly. "And yeah. He did." Ask her for hers. He cleared his throat and tore his eyes from the fire to look into that terrible face. "And you?"

Kire wasn’t sure why he looked dejected. Was it because of lack of skill, or something else? Was she asking for too much? Or was this other sorcerer hard to find? Either way, she should be lucky he even offered either option. “Rulitus. Well-met.” A habit, really, especially given the circumstances of their meeting. She’d have clasped his hand, otherwise. And she still wasn’t sure if the disappearing ability was the only weapon he had in his arsenal. “Akire. Just Kire.” She almost asked if the doll that had her face used her name as well.

She walked over to the water to wash her face some more. “Let me get presentable first.” There was still dried blood all over her cuirass, so as quickly and efficiently as she could, Kire took it off to wash. The desert air was even chillier with just her tunic underneath. “Wouldn’t do to show up at their doorstep looking like murder, hm?” she muttered aloud, more to herself than him. “So. I’m still wondering. Does everybody around here know how to do the—I don’t know what you call it, that thing you do, disappearing into the darkness. Is this sorcerer adept at that?”

Once she was ready, she put on the armor again, and walked over to the fire. “Are we going to look for that sorcerer friend then?”

Akire. Of course that was her name. Similar, but with slight differences that said clearly that they were alike but not the same. He pursed his lips, deciding he didnt like her name, either. But Kire. That was ... different. While still being the same.
Ruli inhaled, tilting his head as she got up and went to wash.

Now? She wanted to go now? After having just having been nearly killed by monstrous elves?
Suppose she had no other reason to linger. There was no food here, unless they foraged some in the trees. Chances were she could punch a tree in half for find some poor starving bird in a nest.
There wasn't much here. And he certainly didn't feel like sleeping after having done so all day.

"No, not everyone." He answered. "But yes, He is."

She approached him, and Ruli just stared at her. She really meant to go now. No hesitation. All determination and purpose.
She and her false twin were similar in more ways than he liked.

"Fine." Ruli said, standing. He ignored the discomfort of his burnt feet. He held out his hand, deciding maybe he should stop grabbing her and dragging her along. She looked hesitant, which hardly offended him. Hard to care when, well, you didn't care.

They were in the dark for longer than before, the harsh wind whipping at their legs and faces angrily before they emerged again at what appeared to be the very edge of the desert. Far east, judging by the stars and the bit of lichen then grew on the left side of the trees that faced them.

Ruli let her go at once, staring forward with s grim expression. The earth jutted upward, the sand ebbing into rocky, uneven hills dotted with trees that looked like they had expected a better life. They were small and dry compared to the larger and healthier trees that grew behind them and beyond. There was no path to follow. No sign that anyone else was around.

"Up the hill." Ruli raised an arm to point. "Walk along the foot of the north mountain, where the trees don't grow, and someone will find you." He cleared his raspy throat. "I, uh. I'll stay here." He stared ahead, his expression unreadable, but shifting. "We're not on good terms."

Kire braced herself against the cold. Without the immediate threat of the Kartaians at their heels, she felt more nervous about the journey. Why did it take longer? The moment they emerged, she stepped away from him, relieved to find herself on safe ground. Blinking as she readjusted once more to the terrain, she noted how the terrain looked to be where the desert ended. She was about to ask Rulitus about the place when she noticed the way his body sagged. She didn’t understand the look on his face, but the rest of him had tells. Not on good terms?

Already she narrowed her eyes at the hill he had been pointing at. “That’s—mighty convenient,” she muttered under her breath. The suspicious part of her wondered if he had led her to a trap, which would make his efforts to save her earlier rather redundant. She kept her hand on her sword hilt. “As you wish.” She had already taken a couple of steps forward before turning suddenly. “Have they seen her—the doll? What are they going to think seeing me just waltz up to their home or hiding place, wearing this face while carrying around a big sword? You weren’t exactly jumping up and down with glee back there.” Kire rubbed the bridge of her nose, frowning. “Nevermind. Hopefully this friend of yours has a friendlier attitude than you.”

With a huff she continued on before he changed his mind and dragged her away from here. The hill was rather steep, and the rough, jagged rocks proved a challenge to climb, but soon enough Kire found the treeless path he had described. Someone will find you. “Ominous,” she muttered, looking at every dark crevice with suspicion.

Convenient. No, not really. "You wanted a better sorcerer. And alchemist." He rasped at her, not taking his eyes off the hill. He wanted to go, yearned to go, but couldn't bring himself to take a step. He watched her walk forward with a twisted envy in his gut, when she turned sharply and asked about the doll.

Oh. Ruli paused. "Yeah." He admitted. "So, I suppose, try not to look like you're going to kill them." He wasn't jumping for glee, no, but he wasn't a nice person. Never had been, as it turned out. "I'm an ass." Ruli rasped. "They're not."

And she left, disappearing up the hill, leaving him standing alone and isolated on the very edge of the desert in which he'd always lived; so close to a lush terrain but unable to take the steps.

The path was hard to see, but easy enough to follow. There was no time-worn path that indicated where to step, but the ground was barren, the trees struggling and short. The only sign that anyone had been here were cleared spots on the ground where weeds, stone, and shrubs had been pulled away. A fairy ring, it looked like, a large circle that Kire passed over; forcing her magic to tingle much in the way it had in Ziad when magic called to her. Not dark and lethal, but curious.

The night didn’t offer much by way of guiding light, but Kire soon was able to pick her way through it. Once she knew the general direction of it, she kept her eyes on her surroundings, tense with concentration for any errant feeling to disturb her senses. Nothing yet, until—there it is! A tingle, making her whole body shiver, similar to the magic she sensed in the earth in Ziad but stronger, fresher. Her nose and mouth filled with the signature of its caster: a sweet smell and taste, like the nectar of flowers. Incense smoke? It wasn’t unpleasant, but Kire knew to be wary of anything that had to do with magic.

She risked a backward glance. No Rulitus. She hissed out a sigh. If she were to summon a portal now, it wouldn’t take her very far, and that would deplete the reserves of dragon-strength she could call upon. Best to proceed, for now. “Try not to look like a murderous wench,” she reminded herself. How did one do that? She didn’t exactly have the gentlest of countenances at the moment. But she let go of her sword hilt, tried to walk with a more relaxed gait, and hoped this sorcerer didn’t have any marksmen trained on her every step.

The sweet-smoky scent was everywhere. This was strong magic. Rulitus was right about the level of skill his "friend" had. Why were they not on good terms? Besides that rosy attitude, she wondered. "Now what?" she asked aloud. Clearing her throat, she raised both hands. "Rulitus sent me," she said, louder this time.