Carantathraiel

Wanderers

He kept his opinion on the matter of the male's bloodless to himself. Really, he wasn't sure it would slow him down. He'd seen the monsters fight, unhindered, with severed limbs. But, even if it didn't slow him down, it would stop him more quickly.

As she asked about his ability and if he could repeat it, he gaped at her. "You want me to throw you at him?" He repeated, hoping he had heard wrong. "You are mad. We want to survive, and you aren't going to if I hurl you right into his reach."
With a shake of his head, he dismissed the idea. It was foolish and suicidal. Cocking his head again, he listened, straining to hear beyond the walls. "If I distract the female, lure her away again, it will keep angering her. She might slip up." 'Might' being the part that could get him killed.
"Or, with him injured anyway, we go after her. Both of us. If we both appeared on either s-"

He cut himself off, raising his hand as he went still. Their voices carried as they called out, taunting and catcalling. He inhaled, holding his breath. They were close. "Her, or him?" He asked, his voice barely audible.

Wanderers

He ignored her question about the disappearing trick. Not important for the moment. He could answer that later. He bent sideways, peering around the altar to peer toward the hole in the wall near the other end, listening. "Yes, I found it." He answered, turning back around in time to see her show off the little reddish gem. He narrowed his eyes at it, then at her. Would explain why she decided to dismember a corpse. "So your mage was involved." He said, neither question nor answer. He looked up at the mosaic spread above them on the wall, thinking about what that meant. What changed.

“What happens when they touch you?” He grunted, looking back around the altar toward the hole before he looked back around, whispering. "Put simply, touch-based telepathy. And they aren't nice about it. I don't recommend testing it." He exhaled, puffing out his cheeks.
"While I commend your ability to take down the one, the others won't be as easily caught off guard now that they've gotten a better understanding of what you can do." He turned his head to peer at her, his pale eyes peering into her mismatching ones. "I would suggest taking on the male. They're female-led, it will piss her off to be ignored."

Wanderers

As Kire faced the male head one, the dark-skinned stranger retreated, luring the female elf away from her partner. He moved his feet quick, making sure to avoid the blade the female held, as well as her grasp. He had no armour. He wore only weak fabric, his second hand sword nothing compared to the elf's, or the foreigner's. One bad move, and he would lose his life, and spend the rest of his days haunting to stupid woman for bringing them here.

"Ignore him." The male barked at the female in their guttural tongue. "She's the one."
The female hissed loudly. "You don't give me orders." She snarled, not backing away from the dark-skinned man in cloth.
"Kill him and be done with it." The male ordered anyway, earning another hiss.
He swallowed, looking between the two elven giants. "You don't take prisoners."
The female laughed again, the sound cold. "We do when it suits us."
"They want you alive." The man said as he ducked, bowing beneath a swing of that lethal sword, then he vanished, narrowly avoiding the out-swung arm of his opponent. He reappeared further away, luring her, still. "That's not like them."
"What does he say?" The male asked as he paused in his attacks, wiping his arm across the gash in his side. It bled heavily, but he didn't react to it more than one would react to a paper cut.
"He is warning her."

They both growled, then, looking from Kire to the cloth-wrapped man. Then, without warning, they disappeared at the same time, without a trace, just as he could. He exhaled, eyes wide. "Run!" He shouted at the woman before he tore down the road toward her.

They reappeared, positioning themselves on either side of where he had stood seconds before. Strategically, they swung their blades; even with the male's broken weapon, it would have cut deep into his torso. When they saw he wasn't there, they whirled around, snarling. But he threw himself against the armoured woman and vanished, taking her with him.

The world went black, pressure and a noiseless wind pressing on them, like they walked through a waterfall. He kept his feet moving, dragging the intruder with him, emerging seconds later inside the chapel. Hooking his hand into a crevice of her armour, he crouched, taking her down with him to squat behind the altar. "If we survive this I'm going to kill you." He swore at her, pulling his mask down to allow himself to breath. He sweat, his skin glistening. Along the left side of his cheek, from his cheekbone down, were long, thin, scarred gouges. Four of them, disappearing down his jaw and into the folds of his keffiyeh.

He inhaled, unease settling into his core. This wouldn't hide them. With the hole in the wall, the air had cleared, and the reek of the blood within wouldn't cover their scent. Not the two of them against two hunters. "Why are they after you? What the fuck did you do?"

Wanderers

He watched in panic, not sure of what to do. In all fairness he should leave her to her own devices. She'd brought them here, afterall. He'd warned her, and she had ignored him. Now he would watch her die.
Gritting his teeth, he glared, feeling another ache in the pit of his stomach. This one wasn't anger, though. Guilt. He closed his eyes and sighed. Damn it. He couldn't let them slaughter someone. Again. Not when he could help. He could find her and take her somewh─

The flash of blue light in the distance made him freeze. That idiot. He scrambled to his feet. That idiot was taking them on. Walking into a death trap. He turned and vanished, moving quickly.

The elf that had blocked her swing smiled, displaying his jagged fangs. The final elf, a female, was slightly taller than the males, and when she grinned, her teeth were uneven, crooked, but thinner. She said something in their natural tongue, and the male chuckled darkly in response before he raised his hand to beckon Kire towards him. Neither seemed bothered by their fallen brethren, stepping over his decapitated head like it was nothing more than a stone.

"Take on." The male invited in broken words, his grasp of the language limited. He bent his fingers again, beckoning, while the female moved outward, looking to flank Kire as she face her counterpart.

He appeared quickly, feet hitting the ground at a run as he tore down the road. The female elf hissed loudly, straightening as he approached. Then, inhaling, catching a whiff of his scent, she grinned a cruel, crooked smile. He stopped out of reach of any of them, a few paces behind Kire, and a few more paces to her left. Aligning himself with the female as the male teasingly swung at Kire.

"Don't let them touch your skin." He hissed at the armoured woman.

The female elf tilted her head and crooned something at him, and he sniffed. While he was well-covered, the tension in his body was obvious. The female laughed, and the two elves rushed their prey together, the male leaping at Kire, while the female shot after the dark-skinned man with the far-too small sword.

Wanderers

He woke naturally. A relief, to him, that she wasn't up to much else. Maybe she had died. The thought roused a grunt from him as he sat up and rubbed his face. No, something told him she was too stubborn to die. His stomach twinged in hunger, so he dug into his bag, withdrawing a bit to eat. Grabbing his gear, which included a small, second hand sword of his own, he resurfaced.

It was dusk, the air cooling enough to elicit a shiver. His keffiyeh was wrapped around his head, but pulled loose so he could eat his stale bread and dried fruit. It wasn't much, but it was enough to curve the hunger.
Slowly, he wandered through the remnants of the streets, trying to find traces of what the bitch had been up to.

It was not long after he finished his meal, he stood before the headless, mutilated corpse of the enemy. Strange. His eyes wandered the rubble of the city wall. He could have sworn that thing had been buried beneath all that. Why go through the trouble of digging it out just to hack it into pieces? Curiosity? Science? Madness, perhaps. The heat did things to people. If she never bothered to take off the armour she wore, she was basically trying herself.
Certainly a few strings loose in that one's brain.

He turned back away from the elf corpse, trying to follow her path through the city while ignoring the painful burn on his feet. She left markings on buildings, which made it a lot easier than he expected. Though he could answer the 'where', he couldn't answer the 'why'. What was she looking for? How could she hope to find clues of a man who had likely never been here? Who had likely vanished months ago with everyone else?

The city fell in genuine darkness when he finally caught up to her. She was still moving. Still searching for whatever it was. The ache in the side of his skull told him it wasn't an ex-lover, but it was certainly someone who had scorned her. Why else would she be here, in the middle of a desert, looking for his trail?

He kept hidden, watching her with half-interest, until he grew bored and wandered off again. Back to the temple roof, or what was left of it. He could see the whole city, watch as the animals picked it clean and the intruder sniffed around pointlessly.

But the Gods had a sense of humour. He had hardly settled on the edge of the roof, legs dangling over the edge, when he felt it. Again. Something was here. He narrowed his eyes, peering through the dark toward the city entrance. He went cold, heart skipping a beat before it battered against his chest.

Elves. Holy Gods, three of them.
Why now, why tonight? Why when there was some stupid woman sniffing about?
An easy thing to answer. Somehow, they knew she was here. He watched in a cold sweat as the three giants, as each one easily cleared eight feet tall, wandered slowly and silently through the city. They knew she was here. And they were hunting.

Wanderers

He stirred again beneath the city, the nape of his neck tingling in that Gods-be-Damned sensation that meant ... something. Without opening his eyes, he rolled over, burying his face beneath his pillow. Something had either entered, or something magic was being done. It was faint. An echo. But it still bothered him. All the same, he told her she was on her own. Hidden underground where the air was still cool, nothing would find him. He grumbled against the thin sheet, pushing the desire to see what she was up to out of his head. Let sleep claim him. He'd either find her corpse when the sun fell, or be able to ask if she'd learned her lesson.

---

The corpse zeroed in on her, like a hound who had at last caught the scent of its prey. Almost mechanically, it swiped its blade at her, its bodily control off center, the momentum of the swing forcing its body to twist slightly. The threat of a topple. It caught itself on a shaking leg, the skin that had rotted away displaying the quaking muscle as it took on the mass of its weight. With a terrible expression, it opened its mouth and gave a silent snarl, its mouth full of pointed teeth. All of them were sharpened fangs, promising a lethal bite if she managed to get near.
Its lips moved, speaking inaudible words, the throat too damaged to allow sound. But the message was clear in its clouded red eyes and upturned, snarling lips.

Wanderers

Back in his underground refuge, he raised his bound arms against the metal iron that was once the cell bars, and flexed, pulling the ropes against the edges until they frayed and, finally, fell loose. He undressed, pulling free his keffiyeh and tossing it aside before he lowered himself with care onto the piss poor bed. His head hurt. Stupid woman. He rubbed his palm against his temple where the skin was bruised and his skull tender. The force she could have put behind her punch, he supposed he needed to be grateful she didn't cave in his skull.

But how does she have that power? She wasn't large, had no reason, at least not that he could explain, why she would have that power. Nor her ability to transport herself. That sort of magic wasn't new to him, not considering he could do it, but what was the blue flash of light that appeared whenever she did it? And why did it drain her so?

His thoughts circled, plummeting down until he was staring at the cracked wall of the cell, and seeing her face stare back. Not the scarred one, but the flawless one. The one that smiled and whispered in that voice that reached his core. Her beautiful raven hair, her blood red eyes, the soft lips. The smooth, ivory skin that never sweat, never warmed. The cool darkness to his burning monstrosity.
Why did she have her face? He sighed, wondering through the reasons. Siblings. Twins, even. But... "Have you seen this face before?" She demanded to know. That wasn't a question someone asked if they knew someone else was walking around with the same face.

Unable to sleep after having done so all day, he heaved a sigh and got up again, covering his face before he went back to the surface. His stomach growled, twinging painfully, but he didn't feel like hunting down a coyote or a scavenger fowl to eat. No, instead he tailed the woman, keeping himself a distance away, making sure he moved slowly, and silently, ensuring she wouldn't hear him or round a ruin corner and surprise him. She did nothing odd. Unless he counted scouting the ruins odd. She weaved through the broken alleys, the rubble remains of the homes, appearing to do exactly as she mentioned to him. She was looking for something. Looking for clues as to what happened. In silence, he shook his head. She'd find little. But why bother with her. Let her search. Let her lose hope. Let her leave.

After a while, she took refuge in the remains of ... He inhaled. His brother's home. It was sturdy, only because of the way the house was shaped, and the materials with which it was built no doubt helped prevent its collapse. He stood on the street above, hidden between a broken wall and a fallen support beam, and watched her walk through and enter the house he'd known well. And, turning his head to the right, his home. The home he'd loved. The home that connected him to his family, his friends, the few good memories he had. With its blue paint and horrible decor that he never bothered to replace.
The home he hadn't been able to step into, despite it being relatively upright; at least the lower floor. Instead of taking refuge on the couch he knew to be whole, he'd gone underground to the ruined palace dungeons. For a long time, he remained outside, watching to see if she made her way out again. Wondering if she would wander in to his home, too, and if she'd find the entrance to the cistern that coiled beneath the city.
He hadn't been down there, since the attack, either. He didn't know what was left.

Exhaling, he turned and left. Back in the cell, he lay himself down, sprawling on his back and staring at the ceiling. Maybe tonight it would collapse at last and take him with it.

---

The sun rose high and took the temperature with it. The majority of the animals that scavenged from dusk til dawn vanished now, finding shade, shelter, or, if they were lucky, water.
Ziad had once been a thriving oasis city in the center of the desert, rising out of the sand like a mirage. Build of stone and wood on top of a impossible supply of water that provided life. The stone walls wrapped around the city, protecting it from the desert storms and the dizzying, endless nothing beyond. Now in pieces, the city looked haunted, the broken buildings, the shattered wall, allowing the wind to howl through it when it bothered to make its way across the ruins.

The corpses of the Ziadi were gone. Eaten. No one had lingered to look for their missing loved ones, let alone bury them. The only one to be found in the city, beside the insufferable prick with the habit of throwing stones, was a blue-grey corpse buried beneath what had once been part of the city's wall. Ikegai's magic grew stronger around the corpse, its thick arm dried and withered with decay as it lay partially exposed, turning its flesh a sickly ash colour. Clutched in its hand even in death was a blade that easily boasted six feet in length, the edge of the blade more than honed iron. Lethally sharp teeth were molded into the edge, stained in between with the blood and innards of whatever poor civilian it had the displeasure of meeting. While the birds had carefully picked out the larger chunks, the arm of the corpse itself was entirely untouched. Avoided. The animals that devoured decaying and rotted flesh knew better than to touch this.

Wanderers

He growled and went back to work on the ropes, trying desperately to find the end rope, to loosen them on his own in case she refused. She was smart about it. Knew where to tie the knot so he couldn't reach. This wasn't her first hostage situation.
When she agreed to cut his ankles free on the condition he not move, he flopped backward, his head hitting the ground, his arms folded over his face in a silent promise not to move.

The moment he felt them loosen, he shifted his arms, peering at her to see that she'd move away, and he swung himself forward. Tucking his feet, swinging his arms, he rose, standing upright. He was tall, though not overbearing as he leered at her. She demanded answers of him with her voice, looked at him with her face.
"You can go fuck yourself." He spat quietly. "And get the hell out of my city."
He turned, but hesitated, turning to glance at her from over his shoulder. "Find cover for warmth. Save your fires for daylight. If you bring them back you're on your own."

And he vanished.

Wanderers

He ignored her, shaking his head as he pulled at the ropes. From the angle she'd tied them, and his hands, he couldn't grasp the ends well enough to loosen them. It was futile. All he was doing was tightening whatever coil he grasped. He heard her draw her sword, but still didn't stop. Still didn't care. Let her hack him in to pieces. He would expect little more from her. He had to get away from her. What were the chances he could use his magic, bound as he was, to make his way back into the dungeon cell, to jagged iron bars.
He didn't trust it. Couldn't make it that far. Not without risking his body.

"Get away!" He snarled as she bent closer, whipping his head around to her face. Her face. He met her gaze. Her eyes were a different colour. This woman's was a natural colour, like his. For some reason, it was a disappointment. He clenched his jaw.
On second thought. If he could grab her. Reach her. He could get her to untie him. Maybe she would, without being coerced.
"Untie me." He demanded, still holding her disappointingly normal gaze. "Cut the ropes."

Wanderers

He rolled back as she pulled him, his legs flexing in vain to keep smothering the fire, only to have her finish the job. He went slack for a moment, breathing, before he lurched himself upright, bending to work at the ropes around his ankles with his hands. "There is nothing left." He snapped angrily. "And yes, I am afraid they'll come back, because they h─"

He froze, having turned his head to leer at her, his eyes landing not on the scarred helmet but a scarred face. Her face. Or at least it once was. This one was no where near as flawless, but beneath the scars and the wear, there she was. Nothing she said met his ears, her voice muffled and garbled as if they were underwater. He swallowed thickly, afraid, his chest aching fiercely.
He could remember the way her lips felt against his own, the ashy smell of her hair, the way her fingers were always cold against his skin, even in the desert heat.

He wasn't sure how long he stared before he shook his head, forgetting everything else, the sound of her laughter echoing in his head, drowning out the screams. "Stay away from me." He said viciously, going back to work at the ropes around his feet. "I don't care what you do or where you go, but stay away from me."