Pretty good actually. The storyline has been quite clever I think, and the rules surrounding the spell, along with its apparent intended use were well thought out.
Poor Khaylan. *chuckles*
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Khaylan, frowned, considering his options. He had intended to do just that, though preferably with about six other knights at his back. He muttered under his breath about witches and their odd customs and stranger magic. Still, he couldn't just allow her to run amok and he doubted that offering to provide an armed escort would sound any better to her ears. They may have hated each other, but that doesn't mean he hadn't learned a thing or two about his new... 'partner'?
Perhaps subtlety would prevail where brute force could not.
'You cannot deny that would, perhaps, be the smarter move. After all, I'm not completely unaware of the troubles on the streets these days," he shifted slightly, his old life flashing before his eyes, "but I get the feeling you would likely... disapprove of that course of action, so I would only be placing us both at greater risk for little reason."
"And seeing as how if either of us slept with another person, we would be tied like this for the rest of our lives, my plans for this evening are now shot," he chuckled slightly, a bit of his previous chauvinism rising, "would you turn me down if I offered to buy lunch? Presuming you have no other plans today."
He shifted again, leaning his weight from side to side andwaiting for her response. Perhaps not his most subtle maneuver to this day, but it was the only way he believed he could get her to at least grudgingly remain close by until he could figure out what to do.
Perhaps subtlety would prevail where brute force could not.
'You cannot deny that would, perhaps, be the smarter move. After all, I'm not completely unaware of the troubles on the streets these days," he shifted slightly, his old life flashing before his eyes, "but I get the feeling you would likely... disapprove of that course of action, so I would only be placing us both at greater risk for little reason."
"And seeing as how if either of us slept with another person, we would be tied like this for the rest of our lives, my plans for this evening are now shot," he chuckled slightly, a bit of his previous chauvinism rising, "would you turn me down if I offered to buy lunch? Presuming you have no other plans today."
He shifted again, leaning his weight from side to side andwaiting for her response. Perhaps not his most subtle maneuver to this day, but it was the only way he believed he could get her to at least grudgingly remain close by until he could figure out what to do.
Khaylan was about to speak the same words when Miranda spoke them for him. He wouldn't be caught dead sleeping with-
He arched an eyebrow at Miranda's protest, almost taking offense. What peasant girl wouldn't dream of bedding a knight like him? He had money, power... he shook his head slowly. It didn't matter anyways, she didn't want him and he didn't want her...
The venom in Miranda's voice brought him back to reality. Her words stabbed at a much deeper part of him than he thought possible, and for a moment, he contemplated storming out and getting shot by another crossbow, if only to spite her. He wheeled towards her, the anger building in his body until he thought it would burst. "How dare you!," he began, ready to launch into a rant about how all of this was really her fault. How she should be begging him for forgiveness for... for... for what?
It hit him like a kick from a horse. She was right. For once, this was all his fault. There was no one else to blame, no one else to hide behind, no one else to shoulder the burden of what his actions had wrought. The fury went out of him like a tidal wave, and all he was left with was his guilt.
"No... for once you're right," he muttered, his gaze sinking towards his feet, "I was the one who struck the bargain. I was the one who failed to follow through on my end. I was the one who sought you out earlier... I am the one who put your life at risk."
H paused for a moment, ,looking back up at Miranda, "I know it doesn't cut it, but I am sorry. If I thought for a moment that this is what would happen if I reneged on the deal, I would have completed it in a heartbeat. That won't help us now though."
"We have a month of this curse to deal with," Khaylan said, "and that means a month of avoiding pain, not to mention death."
He turned to look at the healer, " you are certain there is no other way to terminate the curse?"
He arched an eyebrow at Miranda's protest, almost taking offense. What peasant girl wouldn't dream of bedding a knight like him? He had money, power... he shook his head slowly. It didn't matter anyways, she didn't want him and he didn't want her...
The venom in Miranda's voice brought him back to reality. Her words stabbed at a much deeper part of him than he thought possible, and for a moment, he contemplated storming out and getting shot by another crossbow, if only to spite her. He wheeled towards her, the anger building in his body until he thought it would burst. "How dare you!," he began, ready to launch into a rant about how all of this was really her fault. How she should be begging him for forgiveness for... for... for what?
It hit him like a kick from a horse. She was right. For once, this was all his fault. There was no one else to blame, no one else to hide behind, no one else to shoulder the burden of what his actions had wrought. The fury went out of him like a tidal wave, and all he was left with was his guilt.
"No... for once you're right," he muttered, his gaze sinking towards his feet, "I was the one who struck the bargain. I was the one who failed to follow through on my end. I was the one who sought you out earlier... I am the one who put your life at risk."
H paused for a moment, ,looking back up at Miranda, "I know it doesn't cut it, but I am sorry. If I thought for a moment that this is what would happen if I reneged on the deal, I would have completed it in a heartbeat. That won't help us now though."
"We have a month of this curse to deal with," Khaylan said, "and that means a month of avoiding pain, not to mention death."
He turned to look at the healer, " you are certain there is no other way to terminate the curse?"
Then I shall attempt to match.
"You must be joking," Khaylan said, the color draining from his face as he looked slowly from the healer to Miranda, "you mean to tell me my life is tied to hers?"
He shook his head slowly. trying to deny what part of him knew to be the pure truth. "I refute this. You are in on it, aren't you? Why wouldn't she just kill me outright? Why tie my lifeforce... to hers? Why involve her at all in this?"
He started to move for the door, suddenly short of breath and with a desperate need to be outside. It was all too much, if the witch wanted him to suffer, why involve Miranda? It would have been so much easier to kill him outright, was this meant to make him suffer? His life in the hands of someone he could barely standing being in the same room with, let alone trust. Khaylan shook his head again, leaning heavily on the door frame. He would go back to the knights... yes... and he would have Miranda arrested and placed in protective custody. That should ensure he didn't die because of her mistakes. He would find this witch and make her undo what she had wrought...
But how?
Khaylan took a deep breath, measuring each of his following breaths in a breathing exercise as he slowly turned from the door to look back at the healer. "What do we have to do to lift the curse?"
He shook his head slowly. trying to deny what part of him knew to be the pure truth. "I refute this. You are in on it, aren't you? Why wouldn't she just kill me outright? Why tie my lifeforce... to hers? Why involve her at all in this?"
He started to move for the door, suddenly short of breath and with a desperate need to be outside. It was all too much, if the witch wanted him to suffer, why involve Miranda? It would have been so much easier to kill him outright, was this meant to make him suffer? His life in the hands of someone he could barely standing being in the same room with, let alone trust. Khaylan shook his head again, leaning heavily on the door frame. He would go back to the knights... yes... and he would have Miranda arrested and placed in protective custody. That should ensure he didn't die because of her mistakes. He would find this witch and make her undo what she had wrought...
But how?
Khaylan took a deep breath, measuring each of his following breaths in a breathing exercise as he slowly turned from the door to look back at the healer. "What do we have to do to lift the curse?"
"Like I got shot but a fragging crossbow bolt...," Khaylan growled, glaring at the book as though he could will it into combusting. When it didn't he grunted in annoyance, making a note to enquire how long the village had been hiding a witch.
Khaylan shifted uncomfortably, suddenly feeling like the healer was scrutinizing him down to his very soul. He forced himself to calm down, focusing his mind elsewhere and trying to see if he could feel anything like what Miranda had described. He frowned slightly feeling a prickling sensation run up and down his neck.
"I feel... I don't know... watched," he said, his eyes snapping open, "though that isnt exactly abnormal for me..."
The healer did not look satisfied by his answer, and so Khaylan attempted to press deeper, lowering his instinctive defenses against anything that could cloud his mind. Only then did he begin to feel it. A presence, like someone looking over his shoulder, pressed so close it was almost suffocating when he realised it. He felt like part of his soul was dragged out behind him, leaving a long line out to... where?
"I feel like there's someone else here," Khaylan said, struggling to find the appropriate words, "someone only I can sense, who's got ahold of part of my soul and the rest of me is just wandering about, stretching it out."
Khaylan shifted uncomfortably, suddenly feeling like the healer was scrutinizing him down to his very soul. He forced himself to calm down, focusing his mind elsewhere and trying to see if he could feel anything like what Miranda had described. He frowned slightly feeling a prickling sensation run up and down his neck.
"I feel... I don't know... watched," he said, his eyes snapping open, "though that isnt exactly abnormal for me..."
The healer did not look satisfied by his answer, and so Khaylan attempted to press deeper, lowering his instinctive defenses against anything that could cloud his mind. Only then did he begin to feel it. A presence, like someone looking over his shoulder, pressed so close it was almost suffocating when he realised it. He felt like part of his soul was dragged out behind him, leaving a long line out to... where?
"I feel like there's someone else here," Khaylan said, struggling to find the appropriate words, "someone only I can sense, who's got ahold of part of my soul and the rest of me is just wandering about, stretching it out."
I hate if when that happens lol. No worries, go ahead and tale your time
Khaylan shifted nervously on his feet, putting a hand on the doorframe to brace himself. He took a deep breath to calm himself as the healer's words hit him. Could it really be related? He glanced towards Miranda, nodding slowly, the beginnings of comprehension forming within his mind. He still didn't understand what the curse did, but he began to believe that it affected them both. Why her though? Why would the witch involve another person in her revenge? And out of all the available options, why Miranda, a woman with whom he'd had little but conflict with in the past?
"The pattern flowed towards me, then over my skin. I'd thought the witch was just trying to kill me, and that perhaps the spell had failed to do so," Khaylan said, his voice growing shaky, "why it involves her is beyond me. I am the one the witch has a vendetta with."
He looked towards the healer, desperate for answers. "Do you know something about this kind of spell?," Khaylan asked, fighting hard to keep the fear out of his voice.
"The pattern flowed towards me, then over my skin. I'd thought the witch was just trying to kill me, and that perhaps the spell had failed to do so," Khaylan said, his voice growing shaky, "why it involves her is beyond me. I am the one the witch has a vendetta with."
He looked towards the healer, desperate for answers. "Do you know something about this kind of spell?," Khaylan asked, fighting hard to keep the fear out of his voice.
Khaylan nodded along with the healer's words. One with the same injuries as him? He discarded the idea as pure coincidence... or perhaps the healer was generalizing. Surely their couldn't be two people in the same village, who happened to take a crossbow bolt to the shoulder... within hours of each other. Still, he had this nagging feeling that crept along the back of his neck that there was more going on here than he truly understood.
Despite the healer's instructions he tried to rise twice more, almost making it to his feet each time before a wave of nausea and had him reaching for the edge of the bed to turn his fall into a more controlled lowering of his body. His mind felt fuzzy, an almost warm swimming sensation buzzing at the base of his brain. He wondered if perhaps the healer had drugged him because of the pain. He looked over at the clay pot, wondering if it was more drugs, or if perhaps it would help dispel the fog that seemed to lay over his mind like a heavy blanket. Hesitantly, he took the drink in hand, sniffing at it cautiously.
The concoction smelled awful, but it didn't smell anything like what Khaylan expected a poison to smell like. Besides, why fix up his shoulder just to kill him with poison? He took a sip of the drink, choking back bile as the horrid tasting substance slid down his throat. "Dirt... with more than a hint of sour beer. At least the woman knows her tastes," Khaylan muttered, keeping his tongue flat against the bottom of his mouth as he swallowed more, trying to get the substance down his throat without touching his tongue. When he finished the drink, he took a few deep breaths... and tried to stand once more.
He made it to his feet this time, although his balance was about the same as a man who had drunk a gallon of alcohol in only a few minutes. He reached out one hand and braced himself against the wall of the hut, half-feeling his way along to the door that led into the adjoining room. He could hear voices on the other side... perhaps his brother knights? The only way to know for certain was to emerge, and hopefully they could leave this whole event behind them.
His free hand seized the door, opening it slowly and carefully as he stumbled through. "I need a hor-," he began, but interrupted himself when he noted the occupants of the other room. He blinked several times in surprise, as though not sure what he was seeing was real. Why would Miranda be here?
Despite the healer's instructions he tried to rise twice more, almost making it to his feet each time before a wave of nausea and had him reaching for the edge of the bed to turn his fall into a more controlled lowering of his body. His mind felt fuzzy, an almost warm swimming sensation buzzing at the base of his brain. He wondered if perhaps the healer had drugged him because of the pain. He looked over at the clay pot, wondering if it was more drugs, or if perhaps it would help dispel the fog that seemed to lay over his mind like a heavy blanket. Hesitantly, he took the drink in hand, sniffing at it cautiously.
The concoction smelled awful, but it didn't smell anything like what Khaylan expected a poison to smell like. Besides, why fix up his shoulder just to kill him with poison? He took a sip of the drink, choking back bile as the horrid tasting substance slid down his throat. "Dirt... with more than a hint of sour beer. At least the woman knows her tastes," Khaylan muttered, keeping his tongue flat against the bottom of his mouth as he swallowed more, trying to get the substance down his throat without touching his tongue. When he finished the drink, he took a few deep breaths... and tried to stand once more.
He made it to his feet this time, although his balance was about the same as a man who had drunk a gallon of alcohol in only a few minutes. He reached out one hand and braced himself against the wall of the hut, half-feeling his way along to the door that led into the adjoining room. He could hear voices on the other side... perhaps his brother knights? The only way to know for certain was to emerge, and hopefully they could leave this whole event behind them.
His free hand seized the door, opening it slowly and carefully as he stumbled through. "I need a hor-," he began, but interrupted himself when he noted the occupants of the other room. He blinked several times in surprise, as though not sure what he was seeing was real. Why would Miranda be here?
Khaylan attempted to wave away the healer, but whether from his own exhaustion or some such tale magic, the pressure of her hand on his chest felt as unmoveable as a mountain, and he was half pushed and half lowered back onto the bed. After a few moments, he felt a damp cloth being g pressed to his forehead, a shiver passing through his body. "I'm fine...," he protested, trying in vain to sound commanding.
He wondered of the gods were punishing him somehow. What a strange coincidence that the witch just happened to find him, and then not twenty minutes later he was attacked by a gang of theives and very nearly killed. And to think, this was supposed to be such a good day for him.
He muttered curses under his breath, giving up on trying to rise for now as the healer tended to his wounds. His shoulder ached, but he found that he could move it, even though the effort caused him great pain. If he could only find his sword...
He heard more voices coming from elsewhere in the house. "Who else is here?," he asked, "and how did I get here?
He wondered of the gods were punishing him somehow. What a strange coincidence that the witch just happened to find him, and then not twenty minutes later he was attacked by a gang of theives and very nearly killed. And to think, this was supposed to be such a good day for him.
He muttered curses under his breath, giving up on trying to rise for now as the healer tended to his wounds. His shoulder ached, but he found that he could move it, even though the effort caused him great pain. If he could only find his sword...
He heard more voices coming from elsewhere in the house. "Who else is here?," he asked, "and how did I get here?
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