Carantathraiel

Wanderers

Ruli kept moving, jogging through the man-made tunnel system beneath the slums, the paths winding and curving. He came across another footman, his back turned as he bent over the crate he was nailing shut. He didn't see the dark-skinned man appear, barely turned when ht felt Ruli grab him. He'd be hammering for the next hour, the same nail, unable to thinking about anything else but how that nail just didn't look secure enough. Unable to help the alerting shouts of his fellow work men as they were infiltrated.

Further he went, coming across a group of men, all piling crates onto thin, hand-pushed wagons. He flew at them, taking advantage of their egos as they saw his empty hands. They drew their blades, Ruli's skin burning from the few pricks and cuts he had to accept to break into their guard. A quick grasp of the wrist, a push to the face, and they knelt, their eyes on their knees, unable to shout.
One got away, Ruli noted. Good. Let him spread word, draw their numbers towards him.

So there was another way out, somewhere. They couldn't get those wagons up those stairs. Ysaryn's recounting had mentioned that her tribe had never seen boats leave the slums. But what if they were emerging further south along the shore? Or through Itallo's mines?
"You." Ruli said as he heard voices call further away. The alarm was being raised. He tapped the nearest man on the top of the head. "Where are all the slaves?" Answer me.

"To the Lord's manor, mostly." His emotionless voice answered as the footman raised his head to gaze at Ruli. "The good ones are being sent along, the rest are disposed of."
Anger swelled through Ruli at the words. Pointless deaths. Hundreds taken. For what?
As the shouts grew louder, Ruli moved away, slipping through the chamber and into the next corridor, the path wider here to allow space for two wagons side-by side.

---

Ysaryn nodded grimly, taking the elf out of the underground and to the entrance foyer of her tribes den. Her appearance was unexpected and welcomed with gasps. A few of the nearest soldiers pushed their way toward her as she handed over the female wrapped in her blanket. "Help her. She's been drugged, just as I was. Bolym and I are likely to bring more. make room."

And in a blink, she was standing in front of Kire again, Bolym steady just beyond the woman's shoulder. It was difficult to look at Kire in this guise. While Ysaryn had never met Akuma, and only heard tales, her very appearance was unnerving. The glint of the red eyes, even to the elf, was unnatural. And not just because it was an enchantment.
Ysaryn wondered how often Ruli had gazed into the real Akuma's eyes to be able to replicate them that accurately.

With a nod, they were off again, Bolym and Ysaryn falling into measured steps behind Kire, their eyes shifting and alert, their ears straining. Bolym, hearing the shouts in the distance that they both knew meant Ruli had been noticed, glanced at Ysaryn in silent dislike. Ysarn only gave a shake of her head. They had orders. They needed to follow them. Leaving Kire to aid Ruli would jeopardize the whole thing.

And, seeing the arena and feeling her knees go weak, this was where they were needed. Even Bolym inhaled silently, angrily. They could hear the cries, a few of the females spoke in their native tongue, praying to Gods and uttering things that made Ysaryn's heart twinge sharply. How long had they been here? What had been done to them? What was still being done?
It was Bolym's turn to catch her eye and remind her of their assignments. As Kire strolled forward casually, each of them lowered their chins. Though their eyes searched hungrily, warily, their expressions held nothing. Blind obedience. Even as the men surveyed them in question, they didn't react. Didn't move. Not even when the older man, the one Ysaryn knew from memory, looked her way suspiciously.
They weren't convinced. Beside her, on Kire's opposite side, she knew Bolym sensed it, too.
Ysaryn glanced to the back of Kire's head, wondering if she did, as well.

They moved forward, into the next chamber. Ysaryn could have sworn Bolym stopped breathing. Or was that her? Ysaryn made herself flex her fingers, flare her nostrils, fill her lungs, just to make sure her body still responded after the shock of this. Of them. She swallowed, eyes moving from elf to elf, having trouble ensuring her expression didn't change and give away anything. Look scared. Ysarn told herself. Don't look angry. Look like you're lucky you escaped this.

Their voices, though. The few who could speak were praying, begging. One recognized Ysaryn, and she the elf, and their eyes met. One straining to be blank, empty, the other almost naturally so. Ysaryn knew she was giving up hope. This elf, many of them, did not expect to survive.

The male voice that rang out sent both hers and Bolym's hands to the hilts at their sides, but they barely turned, their eyes surveying once before returning to Kire. She flew into action, answering Ysaryn's unasked question on if she sensed their suspicion. If she didn't before, she did now. With the sing of metal as their swords left their sheathes, Ysaryn and Bolym flew into action, turning to keep their backs toward Kire as they unleashed their pent up fury.

---

Rab merely blinked slowly at Gavin as he implied that his behavior had been suspicious as of late. There was no proof. The incident yesterday had been shit luck. Rab hadn't known what to do against a man that could move like that. Impossible. Fatal. He had known better. Even if death would be better than this. Better than what he was ordered to do on threat of torture.
But yes, he'd let the one elf go. The one with eyes not too far from his. Hair not too different from his shade. Dozens of elves had been hurt and brutalized here, but for some reason, some push from Gods he had long since given up on praying to, he felt the need to help this one. Wolf smile. That had been what the strange disappearing man had said. Rab could recall the grin on the elf female, and while he had no idea what a wolf was, he had been captured by that smile.

So many of the women here, they were broken. Giving up. But her smile, the way she bared her teeth. Rab knew she'd fight if given the chance.
And as he bound her to that table that night, making sure her bindings were just loose enough for her to pull free if she yanked hard enough, he hoped that she would take that chance.

She had.

Rab missed seeing that grin. Wolf smile.

And the Gemini boy was correct. Soon, people would look his way. He'd let the female slip away, but now heads pointed to him. Another slip up, and he'd be tortured again. He didn't like the thought of that. And when, minutes before, Rab had begun to hear shouts, and swords being unsheathed, he knew the disappearing man had returned.
Followed by this conversation. The Gemini knew something was happening. This was a test.
Don't fail it.

Rab opened his mouth and grunted softly, pointing down the corridor, through which, after a turn and a slope, they'd find Ruli fighting, the sound reaching them seconds later. Convenient, as it made it seem Rab had only heard it seconds before.

---

More of them.

Ruli spun again, hissing that he was unarmed, his hands raised. They made the mistake of reaching for him, his bloody arms. He pushed his commands through their rough touch, and was surrounded by men kneeling, their swords pressed into the dirt between their knees. How many were there?

His arms had been pricked and slashed enough times that his long sleeves were torn and soaked, but not enough that it slowed him down. Adrenalin and determination. Maybe a little bit of his ego. He knew he outmatched them. Even when a dozen more came rushing in, Ruli didn't blink. He took a step, vanishing for a second before he emerged, awashed in their alarmed cries, behind a group of them. He grabbed two by their necks and shoved them together, knocking their skulls against one another. On the ground for an hour. He ordered in the seconds he had his hand against their flesh. Then he vanished again as the others turned and swung their blades.

When he reappeared, more had joined. Ruli let out a colourful swear and yanked a sword out of one of their hands before he was gone, appearing anew before the exit. He needed to get them out of here, bottleneck them so he could more easily manipulate them. Ruli threw the sword, though it was deflected seconds before it would have sunk into a torso, the blade wobbling midair before clattering at their feet.
"Come get me, assholes." Ruli taunted, raising his arms.

Wanderers

Bodyguards. Ruli inhaled as he nodded. She would know better than he, he supposed, what sort of company would be around their enemy. Akuma, while in Ziad, had entertained no bodyguard, but she hadn't needed one. Not then. Not when she was the apex predator and only she knew it. Here, while still dangerous, there were many factors that would remain a threat. Caged or no.
He smothered down the portion of himself that felt the need to protect her, reminding himself that she wasn't real, she was a monster of the worst kind.

As Kire asked about their being ready, he nodded, glancing to Ysaryn. "Just Walk with me." He said, extending his hand.
The elf didn't hesitate in taking it, turning to grab Bolym's in silence. With his other, he grasped Kire, and after another deep breath they were gone.

Into the cold shore. Ruli immediately clamped his jaw as the frigid air wrapped around him. The silver lining, of course, was that the gnawing cold woke him, the burn fading from his eyes and instead filling his cheeks before he pulled his cover over them. He muttered a soft swear before he started for the warehouse.
Behind him, Bolym made repeated questions in their native tongue; why were they not fetching the tribe? Why allow this one [Ruli] to lead? They should include the tribe, this was their fight. Why follow the woman who had continuously failed? -It was then that Ysaryn silenced him with a firm command, earning an appreciative glance from Ruli. He was glad Kire didn't understand. Bolym, for the rest of the trek to the warehouse, only glared.
At least he looked more than ready for a fight.

When they were just beyond the warehouse, Ruli turned to the others, hidden behind one of the slanted shacks that had once served as a home. "Ysaryn. Bolym. Shake your shoulders. Unclench. You're loyal to Kire, who will take the appearance of Akuma. Obey her every word. It is not like being a slave, this time. You're armed. You're her protector. One step behind, flanking. Watch everything that moves, and size everyone up if you are approached and spoken to. Understand?"
They both nodded in sync, then each glanced at Kire; Bolym in barely contained ire, Ysaryn in expressionless preparation.

"They'll flank you." Ruli said, looking back to Kire. "I'll get us to the door and we'll slip inside. Move quickly in case there are men out front or just within. If there are, I'll handle them."
Bolym pointed to him, muttering some salt-soaked observation.
"I don't need a sword, and it'll be more effective if I don't have one." Ruli argued back, forgetting the language barrier, and pausing as Ysaryn translated for her companion. Bolym sneered, but said nothing more. Ruli closed his gritty eyelids and sighed before opening them. "If you feel at all like your life is threatened, get out. This is not a fight or die situation. It is a win or try again another day." Again, Ysaryn translated, her voice steady and low. "I'll drag as much attention as I can my way. I won't be able to help you much." His piercing blue gaze fell onto Kire. Her face was still her own, but the echo of Akuma's lay beneath that scar, behind those blue eyes. Slowly, he reached out for her hand, his thumb brushing over the knuckles. "I'll look for the ring." He said. "If I don't see it, be careful." And he poured in his memory again, refreshing his signature in her head.

His mouth filled with the butter-crisp flakes of the baklava, the taste of the pistachio nuts making his tongue water enough to not require the glass of milk Dara set before him. He looked up and smiled broadly, earning one in return.
"I knew you'd like that." She said sweetly, reaching out to pat his cheek from where she stood across the small, square table, the wood so worn it was shiny.
"Never known a lad who didn't like cakes and sugar." Said a deep, male voice. Ruli turned his head to spot Xavier, Dara's husband, as he squeezed into the kitchen. His face was wrinkled and weathered from years of outdoor work, his skin dark in contrast to his wife and daughters creamy complexion. "But I knew my Dara would find something you'd enjoy."
"I don't back down from a challenge, easily." Dara boasted, lifting her chin. Xavier grinned and flicked his finger beneath her jaw before swiping a kiss.
"Ew, dad! Mom!" Their blonde daughter wrinkled her nose. "Don't be gross!"
"What, like you're never going to kiss a boy?" Zeke asked, sitting beside her with a half-eaten plate of maple cake before him.
Ruli grinned. Subtle, Zeke.
Xavier, catching the hopeful tone in the young man, turned to arch an eyebrow. "No, she will not." He said firmly, and Zeke almost shrank in his chair.
"Don't worry, Zeke." Ruli whispered. "You don't count as a boy."
The sharp pain from the punch to the arm Ruli received was answered with laughter from both Ruli and Zeke's beloved, who in turn sent a punch into Zeke's arm.
"Lree!" Dara gasped, putting her hand over her full bosom. "That is not a very lady like thing to do!"
"But I'm not lady like!" Lree answered defiantly.
"You better start tryin' to be, or no man will want to marry you!"
Zeke only smiled at Lree, looking very much like he'd marry her even if she was the furthest thing from a lady imaginable. Ruli grinned at the family, his family, as he took another bite of the baklava.

He withdrew, his expression somber as the memory left him feeling empty and colder still despite the coastal breeze. Dual purposes, that memory had. To offer Kire his signature, and to remind himself of what he was fighting for. What he'd lost. What he hoped for again, sometime in the far future.
If they survived.

When Kire slipped on the ring, her scarred face morphing into that beautiful face that haunted Ruli's dreams, he stared. She looked flawless. That was the word they'd used. That was what Kire was, now.
I hate your face. I hate your face. I hate your face.

Ysaryn cleared her throat gently, and Ruli tore his eyes to look into the elf's deep fuchsia stare. She met it, and he knew she'd read his thoughts and hatred. Ruli looked down, unable to bring himself to look into Kire/Akuma's gaze again. "Don't laugh while you're wearing that face." Ruli warned, pleading, before he held out his hand again for the three of them.

There was no one outside the warehouse, which Ruli both liked and disliked. He Walked them to the door, and Bolym opened it, using his elven hearing to gauge how near danger was. Not near enough, he deduced, as he turned to wave them inside. Once the door was shut behind them, Ruli moved away, slinking through the shadows, letting the three of them work their way on their own.

The warehouse, or what Ruli decided could be considered the uppermost level, was empty. Odors of sweat and piss filled the room, a testament to the amount of bodies that had passed through here, tired, labouring, too busy for a proper toilet break. Or they were just crude men who didn't care what they pissed on. Frankly, neither would surprise Ruli.
He found the way down by following the footsteps that tracked in dirt and dust, hidden inside a small room that could have served as an office were it not filled with wooden crates meant to obscure the winding stairwell down. KNowing Kire and Ysaryn would be able to follow his scent, magical or bodily, he went down.

And down.

The stairwell was poorly made, made to fit the tunnel that had been crudely dug out. It spiraled neatly at first, then sloped to the side as the tunnel curved. The ground evened out after a time, Ruli had lost track of steps down after breaching seventy. The room he'd broken into was full of narrow, iron cages. All the doors were open, the inhabitants removed not too long ago. The stains on the soil inside, urine, blood, or who knew what else, were still fresh. Ruli's nostril's flared, and he followed the path through them all, delving deeper into the underground.

He didn't meet the first unsuspecting footman until clear on the other side. Ruli strolled past a break in the cages only to double take, realizing there was a corridor behind it. A figure moved out of it, thickly built, arms laden with a bundle of blankets. He and Ruli spotted one another, and the footman dropped the blankets with a heavy thud, and the gasp that sounded from within told Ruli there was someone in them.
Without hesitation, Ruli flew at him. The footman went for the blade sheathed at his hip, but Ruli grabbed his face. Sit down. Don't move. You don't remember seeing anyone. He forced the order into the man's mind, feeling the subtle shudder as his conscious fought it before the man went slack and sat himself down. Ruli made sure he listened, ensuring his magic took hold, before he crouched down to pull at the blankets.

Coiled within was a semi-conscious elven female, her dark ebony hair cut at her collarbone. Her throat and forearms, which were held around her face, were covered in tiny pinpricks similar to Ysaryn's. Drugged. Ruli uncovered her face enough to pull at her eyelid, peering at the brilliantly golden irises, the pupils dilated.
Definitely drugged.

He hefted her to the side of the corridor, tucking her against the wall so she wouldn't be trodden on, and he kept going, further underground.

Wanderers

"Please." Ruli said, his voice low. "You are clearly too stubborn to die." When she handed him the ring, her Ziadi appearance melted into her genuine one. The Amrian Chieftess with the doppelganger. He blinked at her, then turned to return to the caves when she spoke. He didn't slow down, only speaking over his shoulder. "Sure. Go punch your own trees."

Ysaryn nodded along to the plan, looking grim. Beside her, Bolym glared, the expression only deepening as Ysaryn translated for him in her lilting language. He broke into an argument. Or criticism, really, but Ysaryn didn't bother to translate. Nor did she feel the need to placate him. She let him vent his toughts, giving a nod to Kire.
"Pretending once more will not kill us." She said, still ignoring Bolym. "Do not allow fingers to be laid, or I cannot promise his pretend." Ysaryn pointed a thumb at the warrior male beside her, teeth bared and eyes narrowed.
"We should rest." Ysaaryn said, finally turning and barking the translated order at Bolym, who went quiet instantly. "You should, too." She added to Kire before she slinked away.

Ruli found Kire in the early hours of dawn, long before the sun would rise. He reeked heavily of coffee, and his eyes still heavy lidded as he handed Kire the silver band. "Don't wear it here." He said pointlessly, knowing full well she knew better, but deciding he needed to say it, anyway. "Try not to punch anything while wearing it, its flimsier. The erasing the old enchantment wore out the metal." He rubbed at his eyes. "Coffee is by the fire. Whole pot. Are the other two aware and ready?"
Almost as if summoned, the other two appeared. Each was armed, wrapped in their silent, fighting leathers. Ysaryn's hair was plaited against her head, her pointed ears tucked beneath the thick cords of her hair. Why, Ruli wasn't sure, it wasn't as if it made her look like less of an elf.
He gave her a patient grin. "The weapons may not work, if you're going to pretend to be dolls."
Ysaryn bent her chin to her chest, looking down. "Body guard?" She asked, looking to Kire.

Wanderers

Well, fuck.
As the idea struck her and she considered it, Ruli immediately wanted to devour the words. He'd realized too late that, if he made Kire look like Akuma, the very obvious side effect would literally be staring him in the face. Walking beside him.
The string of sweats that paraded his thoughts were much more colorful than his initial.

As she went on to ask about the time they had, or he had, rather, and if he was actually willing, Ruli stared at her and considered. No sleep wouldn't kill him. He functioned on no sleep often. But to look over and see her looking back...
Just to kill the real one.
Or the fake one, however that was technically true.

Sighing, he held out his open hand, demanding her ring. "Fill Ysaryn in. Tell her I'll make her one, too, but it may not be by tomorrow."

Wanderers

"We're not strolling through town with her." Ruli pointed out, defending his decision. "We're jumping into the heart of their slave den. It won't make a difference what she looks like, they see either of you walking around, they're going to attack. It would be safer to give you Akuma's face, because then, Ysaryn would be invisible. Or would just play the part of docile doll."

He hated the sound of her name, now. Hated speaking it. He rubbed at his eyes, feeling the grit of sleepiness under his lids. While he would get zero rest if he agreed, he wondered if he should oblige and make the enchantment anyway.

"If she was taken early morning, then that would be our best bet. They might be too busy to notice us. I can make my magic known easily." Ruli said, lowering his arms again. Then he sighed, thinking. "I can use the Touch magic to get in. Lower the men's awareness that I, or we, shouldn't be there. It would get us inside. From there, we could split. You and them. And me drawing attention. Once I have it, you three get to work."

Wanderers

Her answer, likewise, made sense. Like being able to suss out the scent of a particular food in a festival laden street crowded with food vendors. It made him wonder what sort of signature he had, and what she sensed when she was trying to single his trace out. Probably mud, he thought inwardly with some amusement.

"She asked for me to make her look like you." Ruli answered. "Not, you, you. But, human." He glanced to Kire, noticing the trail of questions that swept across her face. He sighed.
"She said that, since I had hidden your face, I needed to do the same so she could join more easily. I pointed out that the whole city is going to know your face, we now know. Whether or not she looks like an elf won't make a difference." Not to mention he sort of liked Ysaryn's face the way it was. But he couldn't say that to Kire, as it would only emphasize the fact that he genuinely did not like her face.

"Although. If I made you look like her, I wonder how much power that would give you."

Wanderers

It wasn't bad work. Ruli crouched beneath a tree, first, his back toward Kire, until she had to walk around it to declare she'd found him. Without a word, he rose and vanished again, keeping his eyes on her as he moved away on foot, the terrain too abnormal for him to comfortably Walk repeatedly, but enough to put distance between them she couldn't trace by footprints.

The second time, he'd been sitting in a grove in the rocks, the third, he'd climbed a tree. The fourth, he'd picked another bend in the rocks, hidden from view until she all but squeezed in to find him.
So it worked. That was good news.

"No." he said quietly. "Not unless I make it so. The mind is a tricky thing, though. If by 'other images', you're asking about something I haven't shared? No. I showed you a street across from a bakery. Your mind, after I sever the connection, may pull up your own images of a bakery. Or friends you spent time with. Your own memories. Is that what you saw?" Ruli asked, gazing steadily at her. "I didn't root around, if that is what you're trying to ask. I only shared."

He rubbed the back of his neck, finding an insect bite. Mosquito. Damn blood-suckers. "Do you think to wards and magic of the warehouse will intercept with this at all?"

Wanderers

Ruli arched an eyebrow at her when he heard her swear, but he made no remark in response. It seemed she felt the same way Envy often did about waking or being woken. He studied her in silence as she sat upright and coaxed herself into waking further, then demanded he follow her outside.
Chieftesses. He grumbled, but followed anyway.

"She did." Ruli answered her shortly, feeling cold as Kire explained to him what she'd been told by the pink-haired elf. So much detail to take in, so much to remember. The half-Kartaian may very well have helped her get out. Why Ysaryn? Why not the many others?
"Oh." Her follow-up question about his practice brought him back to the present. He frowned, though, when she said she wanted practice.
"You ... want to..." Of course she did. Practice made sense. Was logical in the face of what they needed it for.
Didn't make him any less reluctant.

"A strong memory, then." Ruli said, rolling his shoulders and neck, as if he were about to climb a wall. He inhaled, held it, then breathed out before he slowly held out his hand for Kire's.

Her skin was warm. Ruli blinked at the soft, soft-tanned skin that coated her real, paler palm. So similar, yet so different. The sun to the dark moon.
He had considered carefully what memory he would share. For it should be a memory, something he held dear, in order to make the magic stronger, carry his signature. Showing her some false image, or making a telepathic order that took over her mind, rather than connecting to it, wouldn't be the same.

So Ruli inhaled, squeezed her hand gently, and reached out to her, pouring his memory in.

It was warm. The sun shone brightly, baking the traffic-worn path that made up Ziad's street. The city stretched upward, tall and sun-bleached. The off-white and tan structures were neatly arranged along the edge of the street which curved like a snake in either direction. The figure, Ruli, stood in the shadows between two of them, the air filled with the smell of spices, tart wine, and baking bread.

"Ruli!"

A girl's voice called, and Ruli's head turned to see a woman rushing down the side of the street. She was young, perhaps no older than thirteen, her bright gold hair cut short. She wore a sun dress of soft green, the sleeve of one side hanging off her gangly shoulders. She'd grow into her body one day, Ruli's thought recalled like an echo. And with hair like a crown and those beautiful, soft hazel eyes, she'd turn heads.

Lucky Zeke.

"You found him!"
Speak of the minion, Ruli's amusement raised its head as a second figure approached. He was barely older than the girl beside them, his dark black hair a wild mess atop his head, curls that refused to be tamed and grew like wild ivy. His silvery-grey eyes were bright with more than sunlight.
The girl turned her head as Zeke stopped beside her, her gentle gaze taking in the sweat that covered Zeke's brow, and she gently swiped a finger across his forehead to pull the unruly hair from his sharp face.
Even when they'd been young, Zeke was good looking, already striking as a young teen. But he only had eyes for the blonde girl beside him, and she for him.

"What are you doing out here?" Zeke asked Ruli, his voice higher in tone than what Ruli knew now. The cusp of manhood, his voice still changing.
"Dara's going to open soon." Ruli said, his voice sounding the same in his head as it did years after. He turned his gaze on the shop across the street, to the bakery that had yet to open its doors. He could smell the baked goods inside, and waited impatiently.
"You don't even like sweets." Zeke argued, furrowing his soft brow.
"He likes the baklava!" The girl argued for Ruli, she turned from the dark haired boy to the blond, her bright eyes glinting. "She had the ingredients for pistachio baklava, you know. I may have asked her to make some for you." Her voice was teasing, playful, and Ruli chuckled.

"Are you sure you're not hiding up here from her?" Zeke asked instead with a wicked grin.
"No." Ruli said too fast, his grin fading.
The blonde clicked her tongue. "Is she picking on you again?" Her thin, bony arms folded over her chest. Ruli noticed, from the corner of his eye, that Zeke eyed her chest, the subtle curves pressed against her arms hinting that her body was also changing. Zeke's stare amused Ruli all over again. "I swear, I'm going to shove her into some mud. Who does she think she is?"
"If I toss her into any more mud puddles, Envy is going to make me do laundry for the next month." Ruli's voice answered, disappointment coating it.
"Doesn't mean I can't do it." She responded, sniffing.
Ruli smiled, ever grateful for his friend. She'd taken Ruli and Zeke to her side like siblings, and even if she and Zeke had progressed to the promise of something more than that, Ruli never had a doubt that would ever stop her from being his best friend. Never stop taking his side if she decided Zeke was in the wrong.
She caught his grin and smiled back, the emotion so bright on her beautiful face. She unfolded her arms and extended her hand to him. "Come on. Just because my mom hasn't opened the bakery yet doesn't mean you need to wait out here. I'll take you in through the house, and she'll give you first pick of the baklava!"
Excitement boiling in him, Ruli grabbed her hand without hesitation as she pulled him into the warm sunlight and across the street to the bakery.

Ruli blinked, dropping the memory. Kire's hand was pressed against his palm, just as hers had been. Warm. Friendly. Ruli furrowed his brow, chest aching some as he pulled his hand free. "I'll start with a few yards. Every time you find me, I'll move further away." Was all he said before he vanished, Walking away to test how well she could track him.

Wanderers

Envy chuckled softly. "They're rare to find, nowadays, but they're large, flat-footed horses. Hardy beasts that hunt for desert shrews and cacti alike."
As she repeated his observation, he nodded slowly. "Relentless." he repeated. It was strange, Envy noted as she rose and declared she'd rest. So few days they'd been around one another, but Envy had this feeling, this shadow in his head that said they knew one another. Perhaps, in another lifetime, she had been one of his many adopted daughters. She felt like family.
"I shall." Envy promised, remaining where he sat.

It was nearly two hours later that Ruli prodded Kire on the leg with his foot. "Hey." he grunted down at her. He looked sleepy, but clear-eyed. "Envy said you wanted me to find you." Not that it was hard, considering he'd been sleeping beside, a few bedrolls away, her not half an hour ago.

Wanderers

Envy chuckled. "Risa does not have a throne to sit on, either, and has not softened her edges one bit." Envy shook his head, listening as Kire explained about the strongholds and her cousins. "They all sound like they would have excellent stories to tell." Envy complimented, admittedly curious about the smoking cousin. And, if he were being completely honest, the giantess friend.

"Ruli would have gotten himself mixed in sooner or later." Envy answered forgiving. "You met him in Ziad. My bet is that he was waiting for an enemy to return so he could follow them, pick a fight, and get himself killed. With you intercepting, he at least stands a chance." Envy pointed out. "He's always been the type to bite first, listen later. So, really, I should be thanking you. We've lost enough. Losing one of my closest and oldest friends would have been the straw that broke the sand-horse's back."

He turned his face toward Kire again. "You won't fail. I have known you for only a short time, if I can even claim to know you at all, but I know you are relentless. Just as he is. Together, you'll succeed, or you'll take everything else down with you."