Completed Breaker of Chains

[Ethir]

Ethir wished he would show more emotion. Where was the man from an hour before, leaning into her touch? Or perhaps she was showing too much emotion, or the fact that Quacey was so difficult to read left her uncomfortable.

Ethir didn't get a chance to reply to his statement when she heard a scream from the camp. They had not gone far, just into the trees on the outside of the Market. Ethir stiffened, turning her head in the direction they had came. After the scream followed voices.

"Orion's dead!"

A dog barked, and then more, and Ethir knew they were going to release the blood hounds to hunt her down. It didn't take a genius to put two and two together and realize Ethir had murdered Orion.

She scrambled to her feet, panic clear on her face. "They're going to find me, they're going to see me!" she exclaimed. The thought of everyone seeing her how she truly was scared her like nothing else, even more so than that one time with the iron and Orion. "Please, we need to leave," she went on, softer, looking at Quacey.

 

[Quacey]

Things at the camp began to escalate at last. Quacey had stopped them to catch their breathes and find their centers. But it was time for them to move on. While she was worried about the hounds, he was not. The tactics used to track mortals wouldn't work with him. He had his ways of not being found.

Quacey stood up and scooped Ethir off the ground. He held her up against his chest in much the same way as earlier.

"Keep your eyes closed. This will be disorienting if you don't."

The large fae made sure they were within a deep bit of shadow then began to use his magic once more. This time instead of bending the light he did something else. He began to walk within the shadow. Every step seeming to carry them leagues further than what was natural. Every step he took being from one shadow to the next as they connected with each other seemingly endlessly. Thankfully they were in the forest and not a plain.

After some time of traveling like this, the fae was finally forced to stop. They were at the end of their connected shadows as the forest came to an end with the sun having risen to a point to deny any more. He set her down and then slide to sit again a tree. His breathing heavy and the sweat upon his drenching his clothes. He had the appearance of having just run a marathon without stop, because he just had. Ethir might recognize that they were no where near where they had been and as such there was no chance of the hounds ever being able to follow.

"Ethir.... Mind getting me some water?" He had to speak slowly between breaths. His lungs ached from the effort of trying to supply his heart when his whole body was screaming out with hunger and thirst. He was going to be sore soon and might not be up for further travel for a time.

Ethir

 

[Ethir]

Ethir was grateful he did not seem to judge her on her vanity, but she knew they would have plenty of time for it once they reached his home. He scooped her back into his arms and she wrapped her arms around his neck and shut his eyes like he said.

He took a step forward and Ethir's stomach dropped as the wind blew around them. She squeezed her eyes shut harder, pressing her face into his chest as they moved in that strange way. When they stopped, he set her down, and she stumbled to regain her balance. It seemed Quacey was more exhausted than she was as he slid down against a tree, breathing heavily, sweat dripping down his face.

"Yes, water..." she said, still shocked from what had happened as she spun around aimlessly a couple times. She could hear a creek a little ways off and followed it. She didn't much like wandering these unfamiliar woods alone, but she wasn't too far from Quacey; she could faintly hear his heavy breathing back where she had left him.

It seemed she had lost all her senses because only once she reached the clear, bubbling creek did she realize she had nothing to carry it back to Quacey in. She cursed, and walked back to Quacey. "There's a creek a couple minutes walk away; do you have something I can carry the water in, or do you think you could walk there?"

 

[Quacey]

Quacey closed his eyes and focused on getting control back over his breathing. This magic was useful yet taxing. No more so than if he had walked the same distance without it, but to exhaust one self in such a short period of time could prove deadly. Paying such a toll all at once rather than over time meant he would get no relief and no chance to recover or lighten the burden upon him in the way one might naturally. That was already dangerous enough before the other condition was accounted for as well. One who walked in shadows needs fear the light.

Ethir returned but without the water. She had no container to use. Something he should have realized before asking her to fetch some. He attempted to stand several times but his limbs were too weak to manage it right now. Their tension completely let loose.

"My waterskin." He pulled it out and held it up to her. It had some in it but not enough for what he needed right now. Maybe not even enough just for her needs either. Another lack of foresight on his part. He would need to be more cautious going forward or it might cost too many their lives.

Ethir

 

[Ethir]

Ethir moved forward as if to help Quacey stand but then he seemed to think better of it as he pulled a waterskin from his belt. Well, that would have been helpful to give her in the first place. She took it from him and rushed back to the creek, ignoring the shaking of her legs. She was on a pure adrenaline kick right now, and she knew the exhaustion would set in eventually.

She filled up the waterskin and capped it, bringing it back to Quacey, where he still sat, panting and sweating. Ethir squat down by his side, lifting his chin with her fingers gently so she could place the edge of the container to his lips. She would tilt it back slowly and let him drink as much as he wanted.

"Do you need more?" At this point she wasn't even fully thinking through her actions- it was a peek of her domain.

 

[Quacey]

Quacey was thankful when Ethir returned. The cooling liquid taking the uncomfortable heat from his flesh. Odd how such elements seemed to dance with each other seeking balance. It might be why some mortals came up with that concept of the four humors. A theory that was still being practiced in some places.

He shook his head when she asked if he needed more. The truth was he would but not just yet. Too much at once of anything was never good for you. One dying of thirst should not be trusted to judge when enough was enough for them. He was aware that he was in such a position. Better to give himself some time then drink again and see how his body reacted first.

After a few moments of silence he opened up his eyes and looked to Ethir.

"I will need to rest for some time. If you wished to speak now would be a good chance. If you need rest now is also a good chance."

Ethir

 

[Ethir]

Ethir nodded when he shook his head. Only once she had sat down beside him where she had knelt did she realize just how tired she was. She drank the last bit in the water skin and was just about to close her own eyes when Quacey opened his and looked at her.

Speak? About what? Did he think she was going to give him her life story? But rest she could do. She leaned back, forgetting that Quacey was broader than the tree, and instead of her back meeting the tree, it met his shoulder. Heat radiated off of him and she wondered if maybe she should start talking.

"Where is your house?" She asked. She knew the Suntory Market had been near the Falwood for the Autumn season, but she didn't know how close or far away the Fae were.

 

[Quacey]

The large fae felt her weight against him when she laid on his shoulder. Strange. She had been so distant before. Was it because of how unfamiliar their current location was for her? Impossible to say. He could not read minds and was in no state to attempt sorting her out. Better he focus on her question instead.

"Closest location to the Twins. High up in the Spine."

Twinhome was sacred to their kind for that reason. High and open to the light of the moons. Graced by their light so that darkness never could lay a claim.

Quacey began to wonder why she had avoided answering him earlier. Was it a sign of holding back or a sign that she felt she had nothing to share? Both were troubling for very different reasons. One meant she had yet to open up even a little to him and meant helping her would be harder and taking longer than he thought. The other meant she saw nothing of herself and would require the special kind of attention needed to build her back up to a better state of self. Or perhaps both and he would have an easier time redirecting the flow of a mighty river.

"Tell me, what interests you? Any particular skills you have?"

They were simple questions. Easy ones to be answered. Less personal if still not detached. Perhaps those would be acceptable for her. There was little else he could do for now than speak or remain silent.

Ethir

 

[Ethir]

Ethir would have sat up, off of Quacey, if she had had the strength and willpower to do so. But her legs, hips, and lower back were all so sore that it would hurt more to move. So she didn't move.

The Spine? Gods, that was a long way off. Months of travelling. How did Quacey expect to get them to the Spine? Beyond her dread and disbelief, though, was a trickling curiosity. Although she had travelled across the world from the Ixchel Wilds to Amol-Kalit with the Suntory Market, she had never been outside long enough to appreciate it. All she knew was the changes in weather.

Her dreamy fantasies of the mountains disappeared when Quacey spoke once more, still trying to get her to speak about herself. She supposed he had to, if he wanted to help her. But was she so wrong for not liking the way he went about it? Did he think that just because he had fucked her all her secrets were his, and he wouldn't have to work for it? He had too much of a sense of duty about him and not enough real emotion. He saw her as a book and if he could just open her, he could read everything there was to know about her. He only need find the right strategy and then she was his.

Ethir stared straight ahead, thinking of the best way to reply. If she was anything, she was stubborn.

"Well, I'm particularly good at fucking," she said conversationally. "But you already know that." She turned her head slightly to give him a false little smile. "Before the Market took me I could also sew and embroider quite well." She went on.

 

[Quacey]

"Sewing and embroidering? Useful skills. Never took to the craft well. Fingers are nimble but not that sort of nimble."

Quacey was glad she had something else other than her previous work. Not that there was anything wrong with such talents nor profession. Mainly it was the mental wear such a career held over time. Too little respect. Too much abuse from all sides. The jealousy. The possessiveness. For such a natural and beautiful experience it was tainted to corruption by such negative emotions and actions.

"My fingers are use to a quill not a needle. Writing and fighting is what I know.... What sort of sewing and embroidery did you enjoy? Are you interested in pursuing it once again? Can grab supplies for it when we get you new clothes and sundries."

Idle conversation was more important than others give it credit. It established connections. Grew bonds. For him it helped distract him from his weakness. The pain of pushing his flesh too hard all at once.

Ethir

 

[Ethir]

Ethir didn't know how useful sewing and embroidering were, but she knew Quacey was just trying to be nice and act like she wasn't totally useless.

"It wasn't that useful, I just made useless pretty things." Only once Ethir had said the words aloud did she realize what she had said and how it reflected on her. Useless and pretty, until the accident, and then she was just useless.

"I would do it again, I suppose. Something to distract me and take up my time," she replied. As she thought about it, it occurred to her that she wouldn't even know what to sew.

She tried to remember what she had done before, but all she could think of was sitting in her mother's room as the older Fae stood over her, counting the stitches. Lot of good that did her.

 

[Quacey]

Quacey frowned a bit. Sewing was a very useful skill. One of the most useful he could think of. There was a reason those with authority were so territorial over their tailors. He had heard rumors of wars that were partly started over one claiming the tailor of another. A rather fae way of life if he was honest. They had started up wars themselves over less.

"Sewing is useful. Clothing would not be possible without it. Repairs to padding that save lives unable to be made if it did not exist. The ability to create clothing is wonderful. To take a vision and see it a reality that is then shown off to others. An art akin to all others."

A bit played up, but he was a bit of an artist himself. His was in words. Ones he rarely shared. Ones he knew would hold less interest than any art she would make with sewing. A pretty dress at a gala or ball was more immediately impactful than any poem. A power all its own.

"Perhaps you could make yourself some clothing?"

Ethir

 

[Ethir]

She supposed he was right. "But I never made anything like that. I didn't even make my own clothes, I had a servant who did that for me. I only really made what my mother wanted me to, to prove that I was a proper lady," She did not realize that as she spoke she was inadvertently sharing her past.

"I suppose I'm also good at killing." How many throats had she slit, how many times had she washed thick red blood of her hands and out of her blankets? She looked down at her hands, still covered with Orion's blood and it occurred to her that his blood was likely still splattered across her face and chest.

Despite everything that had happened, she felt a sense of calm and assuredness when she thought of killing Orion. No longer would he make her do things she didn't want. Now she just had to figure out what exactly it was that she wanted.

 

[Quacey]

Quacey opened up his eyes and watched Ethir looking at the blood upon her body. They would need to clean that off her at some point. Better with warm water than the cold stream their water had come from. He placed a hand on her leg idly and squeezed softly.

"You can practice your sewing at my home. Or if there is anything else that interests you to try or do as well. Has anything ever caught your interest to try?"

He closed his eyes again. His hand remained where it lay. His body was still too sore and fatigued to summon the effort. She was already leaning against him anyways so she could suffer his hand. He wondered when he would fall asleep. Energy was something he required and wouldn't come without food or sleep.

As he let his mind drift onto the topic so too did his body begin to drift off towards dreams. She would find he had fallen asleep leaning against the tree. Completely vulnerable. Completely at her mercy.

Ethir

 

[Ethir]

Ethir dropped her hands into her lap as he placed a hand on her leg and gave it a gentle squeeze. She looked at his hand on her leg as he spoke again.

Before she could even think of answering him, she realized he had fallen asleep, his hand still on her leg. She looked between him and his hand, thinking on what to do. He was really and truly asleep, she could easily kill him where he sat. But then what? She would die out here, alone. She had no idea how to survive in the wilderness, or where to go. She needed him, she realized.

She lifted his hand from her leg by the wrist, instead draping it around her shoulders as she curled into the side of his body. Her sore muscles screamed in protest at the movement but she was much more comfortable when she had settled against him.

Her own eyes would flutter closed, as she thought about how nice sleep would be. She had no thoughts about what the wild might do with two Fae sleeping underneath a tree, neither of them alert or ready to fight should the need arise. It wasn't long before Ethir would join Quacey in the land of dreams.

 

[Quacey]

Sleep, a gift filled with dreams. Visions of the past, the future, and one's desires. Restoration of the heart and mind. Rebuilding of one's form. A chance to walk when reality would not allow. A chance to fly when reality didn't grant one wings. A place for peace. A place for terror. Endless. Timeless. A place without lies nor truth. A place where one could simply be.

Quacey did not enter a dream. He just floated within that void that embraced one when pushed to fatigue. No worries. No desires. Just nothingness that filled in the cracks and sturdied his foundation.

His body had been pushed hard already. It would need to be pushed hard once more. So he remained sleeping. No creature of nature bothering them. The mother beneath would wake him if there was need. He touch gentle yet firm. Always there to cradle him as she had on his birth. When the Twins awoke they would watch over him as they always had. They would witness his life as they witnessed his birth and guide him with their light through the darkest of days.

Ethir

 

[Ethir]

Ethir woke up, a dream slipping away around the corner of her mind. She recalled vague senses of warmth and love and life. She longed to return, to finish her dream.

She blinked and it took her a moment to remember everything and take in her surroundings. She was still on the edge of the forest, curled up by Quacey's side, but now night had fallen and the Twins shone their soft silver light through the branches of the trees. She rubbed her face and scratched at her hands, dried blood coming off her skin in flakes.

What had awakened her? The forest was still, and Quacey was still asleep. She stared hard into the darkness, cursing her faulty vision. She told herself that it was nothing, that Quacey had likely just stirred and the movement had woken her up, but as she curled back against Quacey, she could not soothe her mind enough to go back to sleep.

 

[Quacey]

Enough time eventually past. Quacey finally began to stir. The Twins were high and watching over them. He return to reality from the void's embrace was slow then all at once. Eyes hazy then suddenly clear. He looked down at Ethir with his arm around her shoulder. When had that come to be? She was curled up against him. It was no doubt cold for her. Himself use to it due to where he lived.

"Are you awake?" His voice soft and low in case she was not.

His eyes began to take in where they had stopped. Did he know this place? He was in no state of mind before sleeping to figure it out. Vaguely but familiar. He did know. Slightly he shifted. Stiffness in his flesh. A result of where he rest and the tasks he had put himself through before. He would work it out later. For now he formed a plan for the next step. Proper sleep. Resetting them back to the day rather than the night when they could more easily interact with mortals for their supplies.

Ethir

 

[Ethir]

Ethir froze when Quacey stirred. Her stiff muscles would give her away when he asked if she was awake so she straightened, letting his arm fall from her shoulders. She pretended as if she hadn't known how that had happened, but Quacey was likely too smart for that.

Even though she was no longer touching him, she could still sense him tense, as if he saw something or recognized something. "What is it?" she asked, her own voice soft and low in case there was something hiding in the trees that she couldn't see. She hated the night time.

She could still feel an ache in her muscles but it had faded somewhat while she had slept. She knew they could not travel very far in the dark and would need to wait until the sun rose, but while her body was tired, Ethir found that her mind was very much awake.

 

[Quacey]

"We need to find an inn for the night. Proper rest then purchase what we need in the morning."

Quacey said as he shifted a bit. Very stiff movements. Perhaps his age was finally beginning to get to him. The fae might be comparable by mortals to a fine vintage, but for him it just was telling how much drier and more in need of "breathing" first was required.

The fae took her into his arms and got himself stood up. His joints popping and a grunt leaving him on the way up. Definitely needed to work out the stiffness later. A certain activity would help with that, but he had no time for his training routine. Instead he just began to walk. His eyes working better in the moonlight than they ever could in the light of the sun.

Quacey just needed to trust his feet and let his mothers above and below guide him.

"How are you feeling Ethir? In heart and form."

Ethir

 

[Ethir]

He completely ignored her question and Ethir wondered if he had even heard it or if he was avoiding it. He sat up and pulled her into his arms before standing up. It was obvious he was stiff and sore and she wondered why he thought it necessary to carry her everywhere, especially when he himself was at a disadvantage. Not that she didn't want to be carried.

He began to walk and she wondered how long it would take for them to reach a nearby inn at this rate. "I'm still sore, but I feel better now. You don't have to carry me if it strains you too much,"

It was perhaps the most charitable thing she had done in a while, but it also allowed her a sort of escape from answering how she felt inside.

Quacey

 

[Quacey]

Quacey just made a "hmmm?" sound in response to Ethir's statement about feeling better. He didn't put her down and didn't stop. He simply continued to march on while holding her like a Princess.

"No strain. Light in weight. No more than a beam of moonlight upon a falling leaf."

The big fae noted how she had dodged the question from him earlier. Seems she wasn't wanting to open up to him right now. After the flash of metal and flowing of red following an untold amount of time bound and abused, she would find sanctuary in words. But hiding within silence was a more natural outcome. Becoming small and unseen eventually seeing it disappear a beautiful delusion. One that would see it grow with the swiftness of mold within a dark, damp cellar.

"Have you read much Ethir? Poetry? Histories? Tales?"

A change of subject that perhaps would get her more relaxed. She was tense but didn't seem to all be physical. It would be good for her and he could learn more about her. Perhaps. It was up to her how much he ultimately would learn.

Ethir

 

[Ethir]

Ethir looked up at Quacey as he continued on, not putting her down, saying she was light. She kept her gaze on him for a moment longer before looking straight ahead, at the dark landscape passing them. Eventually she shut her eyes, her one good eye not serving her much use.

"I used to love to read," she said, her voice soft and almost wistful. "My mother would get my books, and I would read them faster than she could go out to get more." She wished for her old books back, to lose herself in another world, another time. It was like a dream but more... real.

"You said you write; what sort of stuff do you write?" she asked. If she was going to have to talk, so was he. It wasn't like she was curious or anything.

 

[Quacey]

Ah good. She enjoyed books. Quacey wasn't sure what he would ask about next if she didn't. Perhaps about music and dancing? What did other fae even do with themselves? He was uncertain as despite returning to fae society recently he still found himself away from it for periods of time. Hard to keep up with trends and activities with such a life style.

"Poetry. I do record the stories and tales of mortals from time to time as well. As short as their lives and the lives of their cultures are if I do not record them when I can they will be lost and we will lose the value of their existence."

Such as the name and deeds of his father. Mortals had forgotten all about him. He had not purely thanks to his mother telling him his tales.

"I have a library. You are welcome to read anything there. I just ask you keep the books at my home or ask first if you wish to bring them out with you."

Ethir

 

[Ethir]

A library? Ethir's attention was snagged. A whole library; and if she knew Quacey even a little bit, it was likely to be full of books. So perhaps her future didn't look so bleak after all.

"What kind of poetry?" she asked, pulling herself back to the present. She had read various sorts but her favorite had always been the dreamy romantic kind. Quacey didn't strike her as a romantic though.

"Could I read some of your poetry?" she asked, only afterwards realizing maybe that was too private. She was unwilling to share her personal information, so why should Quacey?