Carantathraiel

Wanderers

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."

Wanderers

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?"

Wanderers

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.

Wanderers

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."

Wanderers

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.

Wanderers

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.

Wanderers

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."

Wanderers

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.

Wanderers

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.

Wanderers

Keep him distracted, the woman said. Easy enough. The moment the blue flash enveloped her and she disappeared, he followed suit, shifting his weight to roll as he disappeared. When he reemerged outside the chapel, he was upright, a feral grin on his face as he stood within the line of sight of the two of them. They both turned toward him, matching grins blossoming on their faces like terrible nightmares. But a second later the armoured woman tossed herself at the female. Right at her.

The female screeched loudly, teeth bared, sword swinging as Kire abducted her and launched her into the air. As soon as she knew what was happening, she grappled at Kire, hand slapping the armour, looking for a crack or opening to get at her skin. Finding none, and falling from the air, she twisted violently, swinging her blade through the air as she fell in a last, possibly vain attempt in hitting her target.

He caught his breath, fearing for a moment as the two disappeared. She was so covered in armour, maybe she'd be fine. The male, too, looked around for where his kin had been standing a second earlier, before he rounded on the dark-skinned male. No female around to order him. He grinned and darted forward with speed that should not have been possible on a figure that large.

He braced himself, waiting for the elf to get close enough, to get within range. The elf's sword was broken, shorter, he would need to allow him to get closer than he felt comfortable doing. Wait. Wait. He inhaled, and just as the elf bent his arm, ready to attack, he disappeared.
And reappeared in place that would have put him just behind the elf. Only the elf apperently had the same idea, and was gone. Just as the man turned his head to try to get an idea of where he would emerge, there was a sickening crunch as a body hit the earth, blood spattering. Droplets sprayed across his face as he turned, trying to locate the body. It took only a second to notice it was not wrapped in armour, but just as he turned his focus back on his task, a too-large hand gripped him around the throat. Not against his skin. Thank the Gods, he was wearing his keffiyeh. But still, the elf squeeze, eliciting a wheeze as his windpipe was crushed.

The elf, who had appeared just behind where he had originally been standing, grinned viciously. They'd had the same idea. Swap sides, wanting to get at the others back, only to wind up facing one another again. The man swung his sword, feeling it sink into the elf's other side, protruding out in a matching injury to the one the woman had given him. The elf didn't appear fazed. "I remember your face." The elf purred in a way that made the man's blood run cold, and lifted him off his feet.
Stuck. His sword was stuck inside the bastard's side. All too aware of the consequences, the man reached up and wrapped his hands around the elf's forearms, and immediately roared in pain. It was this or be strangled. He raised his legs, and kicked hard, ripping himself out of the elf's grasp. Keffiyeh ripped from his head, he toppled onto the ground and went still. The male took a step backward, tossed the fabric in his hand aside, and pulled the sword from his torso and tossed it, too.