Completed Fortune Turned

[Lechies Delrio]

An emerald glimmer lit within the helmet's shadow. Lechies startled, shifting back a step. Then--crunch--the surface of the armor began to chip and fall away, brittle as eggshells against the pan. Lechies backstepped again, unsure what to make of this development.

The armor crumbled completely, and warm arms halted her retreat.

Lechies choked a wordless cry, curling around him in turn. Her mind swirled with a thousand jumbled thoughts, relief and worry and joy and anguish all falling together in a storm of bewildering emotion.

Garrod. Garrod was alive. He was alive, and still human. Still him.

Alive but not fine, though. No, not with his injuries visible and glistening on his chest, nor with one of his arms strangely cold and stiff under her trembling fingers, more like chitin to her touch than familiar flesh.

Lechies gave it a squeeze. A part of her was distantly fascinated by its almost marble hue and stubborn rigidity, as if he had become a statue in part. The rest of her mourned. His transformation had left a mark, then. Or else Belephus had left a mark on him. Either way, a clear price of demonic power.

'To lean on their power time and again is to play with fire.' Lechies's own warning mocked her. Garrod had been burned, and she couldn't help but feel that the hand holding the torch had been hers.

There would be time for self-pity later, though. First-

"Ahh, is the game over already?"

Cracks spread beneath their feet, the seams crawling quickly up the surrounding treasures and into the sky. Stone and glass and metal fragmented apart, unraveling like pulled yarn, reality itself melting into an ocean of formless color. Lechies swallowed a yelp, expecting the vertigo of falling, but in the moment it took to shut her eyes in fear and open them again, she found that she and Garrod were no longer in the ruins of that broken wall.

Instead, they were stood before the gruesome throne of petrified mortals once again. The mirror's mistress looked down at the two, eyes flat with disappointment. She made a show of yawning, serrated teeth flashing in the black abyss of her mouth.

"Four souls on offer, and in the end, not even one was given. A truly pathetic showing. What have you to say in your defense?"

"My lady," Lechies began. Somehow she found the strength not to let her voice shake, even as she continued to cling to Garrod, her shoulder and her heart both aching with exhaustion. "Pardon my impudence, but you said your offer was just that. An offer. Not a demand. Offers can be declined, and-" she glanced at Garrod, lips thin with concern, "with respect, we decline yours. I'm sorry, but none of us have any wish to spend the others' lives."

Lechies reluctantly peeled herself out of Garrod's embrace and stumbled into a kneel before the throne, head bowed, hand pressed to her wound.

"We cannot provide the entertainment you deserve. So, please. I humbly ask that you let us leave."

 

[Garrod Arlette]

Their bodies entwined. Bloody and torn open in the swirl of demon's dust and shards of glassy stone. He could feel her hand squeeze his changed arm. Could taste and smell the feel of her palm, through the strange plate of more-living armor. Could feel a warm rumble work its way trough to his bone.

He winced, thinking he would hear the cruel voice come. But there was no chide. No barb. Only Lechies in his arms, against his face. He held her closer. Tighter as his sorrow traded for the joy her warmth brought his body that felt so cold now that he was out of the armor.

Daranthii's voice came like a spear of ice. The shear lack of amusement just as unforgiving in its cruelty as each of Belephus' sharp cackles and laughs.

Lechies spoke, and Garrod hung against her, his arm, his true arm, still wrapped around her as they stood before the Mirror's Lady. She was brave, spoke true and with noble dignity, even as desperation wrapped all around them, its long cruel fingers cutting off their escape. Lechies pulled herself out from under him, and he stumbled some, caught his weight, and stepped forward to kneel and bow before the demon Lady once more. His own wound's blood drip-drip-dripping down against the floor where star dusted mist swirled about, as if hungry for the still warm offering.

Daranthii's eyes, cold and warm, distant and consuming all the same, stared at the two mortals who bent so low before her now. Her face a mask, unamused and still. Till finally, the corner of her lip cracked. "How polite," she giggled. "How meager and proper!" She cackled louder. A cold sound. Like glass splintering in the dead of winter's freeze as she raised her head high and let her laugh fill the star lit room.

Brighter and brighter all the stars fixed around them burned, with each bounce of her breast and supple frame, so shaken by the laughter. The stars turned blinding white. Their soundless sound filled Garrod with such dread that his ears rang and buzzed and he could not but grit his teeth and keep his head bowed to the Tarnished Mistress. Quick came the quiet.

"Yes," she said with a strange rumble of warmth as she leaned back in her throne, shift her hips and crossed her left leg over her right, toes waving left and right, lazy. "An offer need not be taken," Bored. "Go on then," she shooed them with her hand. "Mortals two, and demons twined, go on and leave me," behind them yawned a gate. A mirror, of black iron frame, and deep blue sapphires. Daranthii looked down at one of the darkened skulls that lay frozen with its fleshless grin. She might have been smiling.

Garrod let his eye come open, and stood. Offered his left hand to Lechies. "Lets go," he said simply, though he seemed to waver under his own weight.

 

[Lechies Delrio]

The woman's laughter echoed with cruel amusement. The black-glass floor grew hot, set afire under the burning gaze of her stars. Lechies remained knelt, heart pounding. For a moment she feared that the mirror's mistress would reject her plea, and make known the reach of her full wrath and power within this place. If it came to that... If she and Garrod would have to try and fight her now-

But the laughter faded away, and the sky cooled back to indifference. Permission was granted. Release. Lechies's head snapped up, following the lazy motion of the woman's hand as she directed them to their exit.

"Thank you, my lady. Your wisdom and mercy will not be forgotten."

She bowed again, only to falter as she tried to stand, hissing as her abused feet made their complaints known. Garrod's hand appeared in her vision; Lechies took it gladly and wrenched herself upright. She tucked herself under Garrod, doing her best to support his weight while keeping it off her throbbing shoulder. Together, they staggered towards the night-colored mirror.

"Wait. Wait a moment."

Just before they crossed the threshold, Lechies bade them stop. She looked up at him, gaze crossing over the stone-white flesh of his arm, over the bloodied ruin of his chest, to settle on his face. On his eye, emerald bright, even despite his mangled state.

"I need to get the words out now. I won't delay them again. Not anymore." She licked dry lips, tasting dust and iron, allowing herself those precious few seconds to gather her resolve. "Garrod... I am so, so sorry for deceiving you. I didn't set out to lie, not intentionally... No, that's a poor excuse." She shook her head, brow pinched with regret. "From the first day we met, I knew of Belephus--could sense him clinging to you. I recognized immediately that our situations were similar. But I never spoke to you of my own circumstances out of fear that you might wield this knowledge against me. It seemed so foolish to allow such a risk. After all, a secret ceases to be a secret once it is known by another."

She pressed her forehead into his chest, uncaring that his blood was getting in her hair. "I don't blame you if you don't believe me, but I did want to tell you the truth at some point. About my own demon. This was not how I planned to bring up the topic."

She croaked a laugh, waving listlessly at their surroundings of stardust and twisted baubles.

 

[Garrod Arlette]

They shuffled and stepped and near stumbled their way toward the open maw that would be their escape. Their freedom. His muscles felt raw, and all his skin stung, as if he had sat beneath the blazing sun for too long, his strength gone, save for the cold arm that hung on his right.

Hot and cold. This place was full of paradoxes.

Lechies stopped him, at the precipice of the inverse mirror, at the threshold of their release, urgency pulled her voice tight, but he just saw the wetness of her lips, the huff of her breath and how the dust, like finely crushed diamonds, swirled about her as she spilled forth her truth.

She knew. And some part of him knew too. The way his own demon had been drawn to her. Yet repulsed. Like an animal afraid of its equal. Unsure if it could take on the other and come out clean, come out with all of itself still intact.

She pressed into him, and it stung some, but, well, the odd comfort her cool skin brought his own weary fibers and flesh was a reprieve. He drank in the words she shared. Laughed at the nervousness born from the morbid absurdity of their adventure so far. He brought his hand to her cheek, held her gently there in the palm of his flesh-made hand, as his demon hand wrapped about the small of her back and pressed her closer to him. He let his head rest against hers as his body steadied with hers. Felt her breath, rise and swell against him, as he breathed her in in turn.

Sweat and blood stuck between them. "I believe you," he said, his bright green stare looking into hers. Warm and hazel. "And I don't need to know everything, to trust you, Lechies," her name was like a warm salve to his strained mind. The roll of it from his tongue, sent out a ripple of comfort Strange as it all was, pained and torn and tender as he ached. Open and welcome. "I was lying to myself, about, many a thing," his hand slipped back behind her neck, and he leaned down towards her, tasted her breath against his lips. "But I'm trying to be a more honest man," he whispered, and pressed his lips against hers, tender with a want that grew with each breath they shared wrapped together there betwixt the false stars and the powdered glass of the demon's mirror.

 

[Lechies Delrio]

Hands cradled her cheek, curling above her back, and Lechies sank into his hold without hesitation. He was warm. So, so warm. For all that the cold no longer bothered her, Lechies was no less susceptible than any other person to the wiles of a comforting fire.

For that was what Garrod was. The fire of camp after sundown; the fire of the hearth in winter; the fire in the lanterns hung above village gates, promising rest and safety after a long journey through the wilderness. Garrod had always been these things. For so long, Lechies had shied away, wary of being burned. Now though, molded against him so firmly that she felt her bones to be melting, and with nary a complaint on her lips for it, she wondered why she had feared so much.

This... probably meant he wasn't angry with her, then?

Trust. He said as such, and in looking into his eye Lechies had no doubt that he meant it with every fiber of his being.

Lechies shuddered, overwhelming relief mixing strangely with the full-body tingle that washed over her as his lips met with hers. It wasn't even the first time they'd kissed tonight. But, well, unlike that moment in the study upstairs, now she was ready. Ready to welcome it, and ready to reciprocate.

"Then I can only strive to prove myself worthy of your trust," she breathed into his mouth, "and of your honesty."

Where Garrod's touch was gentle and sweet, Lechies dove into him with a fervor that was almost hungry. Seeking the flame. Wanting to melt. Her lips stung--she must have cracked them when she'd tripped on the broken horse--but the pain only urged her to kiss him harder, to bury the ache under the sensation of him instead.

When they finally broke apart, Lechies was gasping. Half because she'd run out of air, and half because the angle at which their faces met was doing her shoulder no favors. Instead she leaned into his chest again. A laugh bubbled from her throat, made weak from unrestrained joy.

"You know," she murmured, "I've wanted to do that for a while now. And I assume the same was true for you." She squeezed, arms wrapped under his shoulders. "My gods. Detlef will never let me hear the end of this when he finds out."

She paused, and leaned back to see his face. "That is... You don't mind my brothers finding out, do you? Or any of my family, for that matter? About this. About us."

 

[Garrod Arlette]

She pressed against him with a fierceness he had seen time and time again. Never quite like this though. Never so close. Never aimed right for him. Least, not so plainly.

Her hunger for action. For feeling. It stoked the fire in his chest all the more, burned a line down his core and to the pit of his stomach, it bloomed as he felt her work into him, more sure, more free as her arms wrapped tight behind his back. Her cool frame, robbed him of his fire, but his flame just climbed higher to meet her desire. His skin prickled with excitement.

He could not help but smile between the presses of their blood tinged lips, and the bump of bones. Parts of them raw and swollen and stingy. The air they took from each other's breaths, the taste on his lips, tangy with iron and savory with salt.

Their lips worked their sweet frustrations in clumsy and honest want. They came apart breathless, she laughed, and he laughed too. Dizzy. From everything. But drunk in the heady swell of joy.

He could hardly make out her words as she went on. His head laid atop of hers, to rest, to take in the feeling they had shared between them. He ahummed his agreement, the rumble of the sound squeezed smaller with her tight embrace. She mentioned her brother .

"I don't think he'd say that much," but what did he know. He was an orphan, with no brothers or sisters of his own.


She put some space between them, and he looked down to see her her, wide eyed, with some nerves. He smiled warmly. Easy and confident. "Us, huh?" he smirked. "I like the sound of us," he said nonchalant, kissed her teasingly, short, nod his head toward the mirror. "We can go find out, if you want," the way he grinned made it hard to tell if he was joking or if he was serious, but the steadiness of his hand, the sureness in his frame, they left little room for doubt.

Slowly, he peeled himself away, and made for the maw. "I'm surprised you didn't scold me more about the arm, to be honest," he said absent mindedly.

 

[Lechies Delrio]

Yes, they would have to go find out, wouldn't they. Lechies could already guess what her mother might say, and she would be lying if part of her didn't quail a little bit at the thought. Her father, being a hopeless romantic, might approve, though maybe not in front of her mother. Her brothers would be ecstatic, of course--our little sister won't die alone, despite her best efforts!--and welcome Garrod as an additional, honorary sibling. Allos would offer Garrod his advice and opinions on any and all topics, despite having not asked for them, and Detlef would surely set a challenge for himself on how quickly he could educate Garrod on the juiciest gossip in Alliria.

It was this daydream, of Garrod being folded into the weave of her family, in all the ways that family frustrated and delighted her, that had Lechies send a silent prayer of gratitude to Metisa or any other god who might be listening. Gratitude for letting them reconcile their differences that night in the Bayou. Gratitude once more for sending them to the same mansion, the same party. And, bizarrely, gratitude for putting them inside this twisted realm and stripping away her self-control, to hand off to her demon instead. For in doing so, the final barrier between Lechies and Garrod was finally shattered. In her (self-destructive) obstinance, who knows how long it might have taken for Lechies to take that step on her own?

The heavens truly were smiling. Lechies was smiling. She was smiling despite her aching feet, her crying shoulder, the stench of Garrod's blood on her hands and in her hair.

"Would a scolding have done anything?" Lechies arched a playful eyebrow. "You caught a man's sword in your bare hand earlier, in case you forgot. By now I'm well aware that you're given to reckless decisions." Her mirth faded somewhat, concern taking its place. "No one who touches demonic power comes away the same. Even I didn't start with my powers over ice; that happened later." She reached out, trailed her fingers down the length of his alabaster limb. "The only important thing is that your arm's not hurting you."

Her piece said, she cast one final look around at the landscape of jagged silver and stardust. Pain and beauty. The Lady's wisdom.

Lechies breathed out, and drew the mantle of professional adventurer back over herself.

"Alright. Back to work we go."

---​

Exiting through the mirror was not so odd an experience as entering it. From one step to the next, the immaculate glass of the floor beneath her feet morphed into cold and rough stone, and the domain's unnaturally still air was exchanged for the noticeable stuffiness of an underground space.

Lechies lowered the arm that had shielded her eyes from the blinding light of passage. The familiar contents of Damelin's basement returned to her sight: the desk, the workbench, the empty cell-

The two figures waiting for them by the now open door.

Realization struck Lechies in the same instant that magic erupted below her, a pool of scintillating golden light, not unlike that which announced one of her own conjurations. She pushed herself sideways with a shout. A great glowing hand burst from the floor, fingers and palm grasping upwards, narrowly missing the hem of her dress.

Unfortunately, in her haste to dodge, Lechies had chosen her direction poorly, and found her options for further evasion hindered by the workbench's long bulk. The magical hand was successful in snatching her on its second pass, and giant fingers that felt like iron trapped her arms against her sides. Lechies's brief struggle was ended when the hand slammed her into the wall, pinning her there.

Even as her eyes watered from pain, Lechies was aware of a harsh rasping pitch from the other end of the room. A scraping noise, that of steel, married to the smoky crackle of magic. She hoped Garrod had fared better against the ambush than she had.

 

[Garrod Arlette]

Back to work we go.

Like a dream, woken from, they stepped out of the mirror. Their hurts still there. Their pains and exhaustion. The rawness of their feelings shared.

Out from the glass and all the strangeness they had found there in. The uncertainty and hope. And back to the cold stone of the mortal world. Back to the dungeon, where Janik and his company laid in wait.

Weak as he was, the hunter found strength to move. Though all the world about him felt slowed. As if his mind swam through molasses. Limbs heavy, heart slow to pump with the needed speed. Lechies cleared the light, he saw that much, but before he could move further, he felt the wound across his chest pulse. Saw the blood there twist and turn and grow fat.

From his demon hand a bright flame sparked. Red and gold and white, and he pressed it against the wound. His flesh sizzled, the stench of himself burning filled his breath as he caught the bright flash of steel.

A thrust from narrow blade, looked to run him through the chest. It glanced off his arm, scraped and rattled its way up to cut thin slice across the still-flesh part of his shoulder, where joint fit into socket, his clawed hand snatched for the blade, but it slipped back, and his left hand went to draw his steel, but found no purchase in his grip.

Must have fallen off in the mirror. Some part of him recalled.

"Well well," Janik said with confident baritone. "A pair of rats, caught skittering about," he eased back into a relaxed guard as Garrod pant, fresh blood welling over his new cut, as the other wound steamed across the burned plane of his flesh. With his off hand, Janik reached out and plucked an invisible cord, pulled it towards him, like a child might a loose string.

Blood trickled out faster from Garrod's wound. The Hunter grit his teeth, his outstretched hand raised in guar, and his lone eye fixed on Janik.

Release me, Oh Bearer Mine. Belephus whispered sweetly. Release me, and I will handle this up jumped fool.

"Janik, you did not say there would be people down here," The woman that must have been Elouise called out. Holding her spell best she could.

Janik lied. "No, I didn't, did I?" And he cut a thrust at Garrod.

 

[Lechies Delrio]

Lechies struggled, heels slapping the stone behind her. She was pinned such that her feet didn't touch the ground. Her hands were free though, and as she flexed her fingers, testing the weave of Elouise's magic, she found its structure to be a familiar one. The giant hand and her own ropes were variations of the same conjuration spell, one intended for binding and containment. With instability introduced at the right locations, she should, in theory, be able to shatter her restraint.

But Lechies was still without a focus, no tool or weapon to buoy her flagging stamina. Meanwhile, though Elouise carried no staff or wand, mana did glow somewhat brighter around her left hand, pooling in the rings she wore on each finger. Magical artifacts. Disarming her would be difficult. This fight would be difficult.

There was no choice except to try. Lechies clenched her teeth, right hand closing around the wash of purple light that seeped from her palm.

As if sensing Lechies's intent, Elouise frowned and tensed her spell hand. The giant hand gripping Lechies tightened in turn. Fresh pain creaked through her bones. Her counter-spell fell to pieces as her concentration failed.

But Elouise was still moving. With her other hand, she aimed a two-fingered point in Lechies's direction. The room seemed to dim, a dark veil tossed over her sight, outlines and colors blurring like scrubbed ink. Lechies's head grew heavy, eyes wanting to slip shut. Her chin drooped.

Ice chimed a faint note then, as if echoing from a faraway place. Cold pushed through Lechies from within. It flooded her blood, shoving alertness back into place. She gasped, almost growled, and shook off the attempt to force her under enchanted sleep.

Elouise's frown deepened. She moved closer, as if the proximity would increase the effectiveness of her magic.

"Resisting is pointless," she said, stern. "You will spill all you know once we turn you over to the guards."

Lechies glared back, unflinching. "And Damelin holds his captives inside that cell in the mean time, does he?"

Elouise tilted her head towards said alcove without taking her eyes off Lechies, apparently trusting the sounds of battle behind her to verify that Janik still kept Garrod well occupied. "That one?" A scoff. "Of course not. That is for beasts."

"Is that what he's told you?"

Elouise's golden eyes narrowed just a fraction of an inch.

 

[Garrod Arlette]

An overhead cut panged off the white arm. His arm. Sent sparks flying, as if Janik struck flint stone instead of steel. A quick turn of the blade and shift of his step saw the nobelman on line with the Hunter, his blade stabbing straight to run Garrod through the ribs.

With pale white hand the Hunter sparked forth a flickering flame. The small fat tongue licked at the air and Garrod raked his clawed grip down, caught the run of the blade along the side of his arm once more as fire trailed his movement. Janik grinned wide, and swept his off hand back in wide and dramatic arc. Blood gushed out from Garrod's wound in fat globs and splashed onto the floor.

He felt his insides shrink. Ever so. Afraid to loose more. Afraid of the cold that was setting in, and the feeling of sleep that made heavy his eye. He fell to a knee. Janik grinned wide and readied another strike as Lechies cried out.

The fire hissed. Turned green. His arm sprouted spines. Fins. Looked more like the gauntlet as the white opal eye shined green and angry.

No. You don't get to die here, Oh Bearer Mine. Belephus hissed. The arm seemed to breath on its own, as flame and cinder swirled around its freshly sprouted fins.

"Look Elouise!" Janik called as he halted his thrust and doubled back, weary of what the arm might do. "Look at his arm!" but he sounded thrilled. Excited. He laughed. "Don't believe a word that fool says, she's just playing you against me!" Janik flourished his blade, and next he tried to pull Garrod's blood, flames sizzled about the wound. Wicked and green with their greed. Janik clicked his teeth, his voice tight with frustration. "I just wanted to show you the Mirror, Elouise, show you what fortune it would bring us!"

Teeth of green fire grinned across half of Garrod's face, below his missing eye. Like part of a shattered mask. The Hunter's mouth move, and the voice that came out was that multichord tone, like metal cracking and flames eating.

"Nah uh uh," the mouth said along with Garrod's lips. It flickered away, and the gauntlet's spines rattled and shook.

RELEASE ME, GARROD.

Garrod's own green eye wide, he looked to Janik, who seemed just as eager to see what came out of the gauntlet.

"Is that what you traded for?" Janik asked, unable to hide his sheer joy at revelation. "Is that what Daranthii gave you?!" he growled, as if angered he had never received such a thing? "What did you give her, I wonder," he smiled wide and curious. He lunged forward, blade seeking flesh.

 

[Lechies Delrio]

Was it strange that in this moment of peril, Lechies's greatest worry was for Garrod? And not just for the wounds Janik pulled from him. While Garrod yet remained in control, Belephus's influence was undeniably gaining strength, spurred on by violent protectiveness. Garrod's strange arm had taken on a most dangerous shape, and his voice came out rich with malice, an almost-glee that was unlike him. Lechies's blood ran cold with a chill that had nothing to do with her demon to behold it.

Even Elouise glanced back, finally concerned about what was happening. "Who is this Daranthii, Janik?" Her demand came out flat and calm, but Lechies could see how her jaw tensed, apprehensive. "What are you talking about?"

Lechies strained to dig into the giant hand's weave once more, while Elouise was distracted. "That mirror is a demon's domain. Why did he want to show you? Ask yourself that."

The golden appendage tightened further. Sharply. A warning.

Dark spots crowned at the edges of her vision. Still, Lechies squeezed out her words to the best of her ability. "We--fell in. The d-demoness offered a trade. A life for... for a boon-"

Elouise sucked in a breath, properly alarmed. Her other hand lifted, tawny light glowing off the backs of her fingers. She rounded on the mirror, Janik, and Garrod in turn, as if unsure which of them was the greater threat. The demon artifact, the blood mage, or the demon warrior?

"Janik." Her gathered magic shone brighter. "Explain. Is this true?"

 

[Garrod Arlette]

Steel clashed against spine and plate. Each cut set a spray of sparks across the length of Garrod's strange arm. Gold and red reflected in the pale jewel that looked on at Janik with such irreverent hunger. The changed arm writhed and twitched, almost moved on its own as it snapped to block and catch the blade with an eels speed.

Janik grew more and more frustrated. Unable to land a clean blow, unable to draw blood with the strange and wicked fire that licked and danced along the open mouths of those wounds that did gape red. How they screamed at him. How they told him to draw from them. Each drained pant this... this unbearable one eyed aberrant took just another reminder that he could not put him away.

And now Elouise was yelling at him. Elouise. "Elouise!" he cried out as he doubled back. "Come now, my dear, sweet, dove," he pant as he tried to pull the blood out from Garrod once more. But again that blasted fire leapt out, and he pulled but its strange and foul energies instead. Felt a sense of revulsion and disgust twist in his gut which he shook away. "Why," he growled. "Would you believe a pair of thieves, hmm?" he flicked his blade to the side. "We caught them red handed!"

Garrod's eyes blurred about the edges. Darkness crept in. It was hard to keep Janik straight. His blood, while shielded by Belephus' flame, still bled with each quickened pump of his heart.

End this Fool Bearer Mine. Less you want to die. Less you want her to die.

Garrod bared his teeth. Clutched at his changed arm with the hand that was still his. "Alright," he growled beneath his breath. "Give me what you got, Belephus,"

The jewel winked.

Janik's eyes were wide with a morbid excitement.

The gauntlet burned in a sheath of green fire. Garrod grit his teeth, his eye wide with agony as spikes punched through the flesh of his palm. Missed all the bone and tendons. And the arm shift and changed with bone breaking snaps and wet pops.

From the green fire, Garrod drew a pale sword, one arm less, the cruel blade curved like a long and hungry tooth. The opal jewel of the demon arm, wide and milky as it looked out from its new form.

Janik laughed. "Amazing," he said cold and breathless. "Utterly amazing!"

Garrod stood with ragged breath, sword clutched firm as green embers danced about him, and green fire licked and danced along the white blade's edge. Hungry, and hungrier.

 

[Lechies Delrio]

Even dizzy from lack of air, and body crying for the mercy of release from its prison, Lechies felt the thrumming pulse of magic from where Garrod stood, a blast of uncomfortable heat like standing too close to a furnace. His silhouette changed again; her stomach dropped, and for an instant she feared that he had embraced the form of that terrible armor a second time. But then the emerald flames wafted apart just so, and she winced through tears at the new blade in Garrod's grip. His only grip, now.

The sword was familiar and yet not--the color and sheen and hungry gaze of Belephus the gauntlet, but forged into a perfected shape for the purpose of killing.

Was that what he meant to do? What they would have to do? Kill Janik, and perhaps even Elouise as well?

Elouise made a sound, a strangled sort of gasp as she stepped back, eyes horrified. Then stoic determination slammed down onto her face, and she turned fully towards Garrod. Threat identified, her arm pulled back like an archeress's. The golden glow around her hand strengthened to a brilliance almost painful to look at, a molten white light at its core.

No!

Desperate, Lechies threw herself wholly against her restraint, not just her body but every bit of will and magic she could call on. Without a focus, already weary from her fight inside the mirror, there was little she could draw from her college-learned spells. But her demon's power-

There was water in the stone basin by the writing desk. She had seen it when they first found this room, and its energy called to her now, cold and clean. She tugged on it, and it obeyed, the water leaping from the basin like a mountain lion. The stream reached Elouise as her arm went straight, snap-freezing in a blink as it splashed against her. The other woman stumbled sideways with a surprised cry, half her body snared in ice.

Her magic missile sailed wide.

It clipped the top of the mirror. The wrought gold frame echoed with a noise like a struck bell, the red gems flashing urgently as the mirror wobbled, precariously balanced on a single clawed foot. It tilted; the room held its breath.

Then gravity seemed to change its mind, and the mirror clattered back down, still upright. Still whole. It wasn't even cracked, though steam did waft faintly from a corner of the frame.

 

[Garrod Arlette]

Pain spiked through the grip of Garrod's left hand. His body angled toward Janik.

The blood mage stared at him ready. Wide eyed and eager.

Garrod had to strain his neck, his missing eye the one presented to the nobleman he lined against. There muscles laxed. It would be a duel decided in a single blow, for that's all the Hunter had left.

A flash, bright, near white. A breath. Janik grinned wide as Garrod's eye flickered and blinked.

But his left hand was strong. The demon held there in, stronger. The sword moved, near on its own, even as Garrod winced away a searing tear that welled about his right eye. How it glittered with the brilliant spell.

Ice cracked, cool breath washed across the room. Belephus sniker snakt across, its hungry vorpal blade snapped Janik's sword clean in twain, a turn and down cut lopped the man's hand clean off, a rising thrust near ran through Janik's heart as fine steel blade clattered against the stone floor, right hand wrapped tight around the hilt as emerald flames sizzled and danced and ate the flesh. It aged as it burned and turned to dust.

Garrod's eye wide. Green. And hungry.

The demon mirror rang out. Clanged its haunting sound.

Janik, hand missing, at the point of Garrod's sword, cried out. "No! No!" he fell back onto the ground as the mirror set back with harsh clang. "No no, please, please," he clutched at his amputated limb. Necrosis spreading further than where the green flames ate at the wound. Flesh and bone crumbled away, a little more with each strange stride of his crawl.

"If I stand here, will you just keep burning?" Garrod voiced as he held the sword in his hand, blade upturned, its curved fang point lined to purchase, like a great cat's claw hungry to hook into prey.

"I surrender! I..." he growled. "Damn it, Daranthii! Do something! I've given you more than enough!" he shouted wide eyed and mad and wracked with vein shearing anxiety.

The sword's single jeweled eye gleamed.

Janik began to weep, half caught between trying to put the green fire out, and afraid if he touched it more, it would spread all the more.

Garrod kicked the dueling saber away, and it skated toward Elouise with cold harsh ring. He turned to follow it, and stepped to the sorcerous, his sword still raised in long pointed guard. Yet he lowered the weapon, and drove its point into the shell of his upper arm.

Wide eyed, something clicked, like teeth clamping down, a spark of green cinders, near yellow and mad. The blade caught light, and Garrod let it go. Hilt turned to porcelain hand, blade bent and split to bone and the green fire swelled with each harsh crack and strike. A cocoon of silken flame spit around it and spun. Wove together and burned away.

He reached back, pulled something from the small of his back, and tossed a small leather bound book before Elouise. "Read it for yourself," he spat. "Bastard wasn't even clever about it," he growled. "Human sacrifices, to the mirror," he fixed his eye on the noblewoman, and fell to his knee. Spent, his head bowed. He showed her the back of his neck. "Says what he needed next,"

"No! No... Dar- Elouise, Elouise!" the fires at the end of his withered arm went out. "He's lying!" he groveled toward her. "Can't you see? He can't hurt you now, we've won! It's," he laughed. "It's his last gambit!"

 

[Lechies Delrio]

"Quiet, Janik."

The order came out frigid, as frigid as the ice that trapped her. Elouise flexed her free hand. The rings sparked, and lines of shining gold raced across her frozen prison, carving freedom in their wake. With a silvery-sounding chime the ice crumbled apart. She shook her limbs to put feeling back into them and adjusted the collar of her capelet, glaring down at Garrod.

A beat of silence.

Satisfied he was done with demonstrating his demon tricks, Elouise waved in Lechies's direction. The great hand detached from the wall and uncurled its fingers, laying Lechies on the ground. She coughed, moving slowly, awkwardly, too weak to rise. The hand remained hovering above her, relaxed but an unspoken reminder.

Elouise picked up the leather-bound journal. She thumbed it open, eyes darting like birds as she scanned its contents. She said nothing as she read, though to the room's magic-sensitive occupants, the air seemed to take on a prickly, static-like quality, the brief moments of calm before the arrival of a storm.

"Darling... Elouise," Janik begged one more time.

The journal shut with a snap. Elouise rounded on Janik, threw out her arm, fingers stiff and trembling with power, fury etched into the lines of her face. The hand wheeled around and snatched him up, lifting him into the air, constricting until something popped. Janik screamed, feet kicking.

"A proposition. That is what you told me." Her voice was cold steel. "A renewed contract to honor our partnership over these last few years. But in reading the damning words penned by your own hand--do not even try to deny it," she snarled as Janik croaked a 'no', and the hand shook him like a dog with a toy in its mouth, "by your own words, the proposition was to offer me to your mirror. A life for a boon, as this woman said."

Elouise paused to gulp down a breath, panting in her rage. A mournful note leaked into her next words.

"What happened to you, Janik? Restoring your family's glory is all you have ever wanted, yes, but I never thought it would veer into this kind of obsession. Do you realize what you have done? How many lives you have sacrificed?" Her eyes widened, horrified, as she repeated, "How many lives have you sacrificed?"

"Upstairs..." Lechies murmured from her place on the ground, "in the study. A marked map... Notes, I think. For... for his conquests."

Elouise made a noise like a wounded animal. She flung her arm down, and the hand in turn flung Janik. He slammed into the wall and slid down the stone. Unconscious, but still breathing.

 

[Garrod Arlette]

As Janik's form crumpled against the wall and slumped to the floor, Garrod raised his head weakly. Saw Elouise, found Lechies. Knew this woman could kill them both if she wanted.

Not you. Belephus reminded him. Not yet.

Garrod grit his teeth, his hand clenched into a fist. He was powerless. "I am not your enemy," he stated with a ragged and spent heat. "I was simply hired to find this... Mirror," he recalled Daranthii, and her throne of thralls. The wicked glee and mournful sorrow that danced in the light of her red eyes. "What you do next is up to you, Lady Elouise," he stated, bowed his head once more. "I am going to stand, take Lady Delrio to receive medical attention, and be gone from this place," he let the words hang in the air.

He felt cold. His skin looked pale, even in the low light of the dungeon. His black chamise soaked with his blood, stuck to his flesh. His open wound red and angry from his panicked sealing. He let out his breath, rose, and stepped clumsily toward Lechies.

Bent low at her side, knelt and worked himself under her best he could to help her up. He strained, shook, but they managed to rise. He didn't look back to Elouise. Stood a moment, glad to hold her again, to have her against him. A comforting weight, even through all the pain. He helped hold her up with his newly demonic hand.

He would make for the door, and put this all behind them.

 

[Lechies Delrio]

Lechies hung onto Garrod as he helped her rise, wobbly-legged as a drunkard. Shame burned in her chest to have to put so much of her weight on him when his injuries were worse, but she doubted her legs would hold her up under their own strength. She ached all over, deeply and terribly, but she was only glad that Elouise hadn't saw fit to crush or throw her as she had done Janik. A far corner of her mind mused that it would be only practical to study Elouise's golden hand and adopt its weave for herself.

The pair staggered for the exit, their shuffled steps and labored breathing the only noise to fill the room. Lechies chanced a glance in Elouise's direction. The other woman had her back to them, standing before the mirror and staring into the expanse of deceptively ordinary-looking glass. The journal was still clutched in her hand. From here, Lechies couldn't see what sort of expression was on Elouise's face.

They were nearly to the door. Rather than stairs, Lechies could see it was a tunnel that ran behind it, though it ended quickly in darkness. They would need a light to navigate. She struggled to lift her hand, ready to call up a werelight.

"Wait."

The golden hand soared down, soundless, to block the exit. The way it rested its fingers on the floor gave it the vague likeness of a spider, glowing and enormous. To look upon it from this angle, Lechies was again thankful that Elouise hadn't snapped her in half. She held onto Garrod even more tightly as she turned, with reluctance, to meet Elouise's gaze.

In those moments while Lechies and Garrod had been busy with getting to the door, Elouise seemed to have gotten her emotions under control. If she was still angry--and surely she was--there was no trace of it on her face, for her countenance was smooth and hard like stone. She observed them both, eyes tracing over their hurts and scrapes, before her attention settled onto Garrod.

"You may have been right about Janik's... activities, but I am far from being grateful to you trespassers. As it stands, I still have questions, and you will give me answers." She pointed, palm up, at his bone-colored hand. "Surely you do not expect me to ignore that power of yours? That demonic power?"

Elouise finally smiled, but Lechies wished she hadn't. It cut across her mouth like a scythe, and its light didn't reach the rest of her face. "A simple hireling? I would be a fool to believe that, moreso after Janik nearly made me out to be a fool anyway. So tell me true. And I should not have to stress why you should not lie to me." Her smile folded back into her mouth, and her tone was icy enough to rival Lechies's demon. "Did you bargain with that mirror for your power? Did you trade a life for a boon?"

Lechies wobbled forward, in front of Garrod, an attempt to shield him behind her smaller bulk. "Lady Forster, please... It's as he says. He was hired to find the mirror, find its location. Only that. Trespassing, as you said, but nothing more nefarious." Perhaps he would be upset with her for sharing what wasn't hers to share, but she truly feared they wouldn't leave this basement alive if concessions weren't made.

"Oh?" Elouise arched an eyebrow. "And why do you vouch for him, Miss Delrio? I have heard the stories about you, and I must say that even this seems beyond your usual recklessness."

"We're friends. I offered to help him of my own volition."

Elouise was silent, searching Lechies's expression for falsehoods. "... And of his connection to the mirror?"

"We were... sucked into the demon's domain. She forced us to fight; I don't know what mercy made her let us go, nor do I know what corrupting magicks may have touched us while we were inside." All of them truths; Lechies fervently hoped Elouise would not detect the minor adjusting of details. "But I swear on my name, we struck no bargains with the demon within."

Elouise snorted. Clearly unsatisfied. Lechies's pulse raced.

Then the lines of tension in Elouise's posture eased just so, and with a wave she bade the golden hand open the way for them.

"Then know that the reputation of your name rests on what the guards uncover. Call them down for me. I will see to Janik. And do not leave the estate. You will share with them what you have told me." She looked from Lechies to Garrod and back again. Something like amusement glittered darkly in her eyes. "Both you and your... friend."

 

[Garrod Arlette]

To be so utterly helpless.

You are never helpless, Oh Bearer Mine. Belephus tried to comfort. But the voice did little more than disturb the cold waters of Garrod's mind all the more.

But the great and powerful hand of Lady Elouise lifted into the air. Like a boulder ready to drop at sign of first miss-step, it hung above the doorway. Golden and glowing with its menace.

Afraid. Near broken, Garrod stepped to Lechies side, and gave a slight bow to Elouise. "We will do as you request, Lady Elouise," he rose, and took Lechies hand. "Lets go," he said softly to her, and she felt warm to his cold touch.

With each others help, they made it out of the caves. Garrod felt near drained out. On the verge of collapse as they climbed a staircase. He grew too tired. Slumped and stumbled and braced against cold stone wall. His breath was heavy. Still he wore a smile. "Think I can fit in some of Janik's clothes?" he asked, near breathless. "Might help avoid so much attention if," he pant. Wanted to stand, but thought better to rest a moment longer. "If I go and get us some help?"

It wasn't his first brush with such a feeling. With being so close to the end. The old scar across his neck ached. His demon's hand went up and rubbed the old thin silver scar.

Our first tryst. Belephus cooed. Your first pledge.

The gauntlet seemed to feed him some fire.

A gift, for you, Oh Bearer Mine.

He felt some strength return to him. His breath steadied. His head stopped swimming. And he kept from thinking as to where the gift came from. Though he knew. Saw the green fires dance up Janik's arm. Slow to sate their hunger. With his left hand, he grabbed the wrist of his bone-pale-white, the thing that felt like cold yet living stone, and pulled it down. Stared at the opal jewel.

"Might find a glove to cover up this," he did not know what to call it.

Part of you, Oh Bearer Mine. Belephus purred sweetly.

Garrod wore a strange grin. Like acceptance.

 

[Lechies Delrio]

"Huh. If you ask me, I think we're both past the point of hope by now," came Lechies's reply, "when it comes to avoiding attention."

She gestured vaguely at the state of herself and Garrod. 'A right fucking mess', as Detlef would say. Rips in their once-fine clothes; smudges of dust and dirt everywhere; blood both drying and new on their various wounds. Lechies was still missing her shoes. It was a wonder she hadn't also lost her earrings somewhere during all of tonight's excitement.

But she was still alive, and so was Garrod. It was the one stroke of fortune that the gods had allowed them to keep.

So despite how her joints and muscles wept for rest, despite how her mind begged for the night to be over, she found reason to smile softly as Garrod rubbed and wiggled his pale hand, deliberating aloud what to do about its appearance, as if he was talking about a particularly ugly blemish instead of the eerie, gem-like cyst in his flesh.

"Might be a good idea." She sidled close to him, bumped her shoulder--the uninjured one-- against his, affectionate and encouraging. "Let's see where this leads, then."

This second exit, as it turned out, was hidden behind a secret painting rather than a secret bookcase. As they clambered over the threshold, and the painting swung shut behind them on cleverly-hidden hinges, Lechies and Garrod would find themselves in someone's bedroom, the space still illuminated by the glow of recent candles. Likely Janik's bedroom; by the size and opulence, she guessed this to belong to the estate's master. Dark curtains of rich velvet were draped everywhere, the largest of them hiding a set of doors leading onto a personal balcony. At the center of the room, spread across the floor, the pelt of an enormous white-furred creature drew the eye.

Above the unlit fireplace hung a portrait of an older gentleman who bore a startling resemblance to Janik himself, perhaps a revered ancestor. Lechies glanced behind them and saw that the painting-door depicted this same ancestor, perched atop castle ramparts with his staff raised, radiating a heroic light while hordes of shadowy, yellow-clawed monsters cowered below.

How sad, truly, for this once-powerful mage clan to have fallen to such deplorable depths.

Lechies neared the door and prodded for signs of life, signs of a servant or guard making rounds. Sensing none, she went to magically lock the door, but already found it so. She turned back to Garrod with a shrug.

"Have you found anything that fits?"

 

[Garrod Arlette]

In the room, Garrod skulked about, careful and as quiet as he could. Once in a while, a stray glint of something would catch his eye. A fine knife, held up in display. A proud pendant, hung across the neck of some familiar looking bust. The clasp of a finely bound tome.

The Deamondinomicon

Garrod picked it up with his porcelain-white hand. Felt Belephus shudder with excitement. He blinked and put it back down. Maybe he would push his luck another time. He moved on, found an armoire and pulled the doors open. Jackpot.

Have you found anything that fits?

He held up a fine doublet. Too many buttons. A surcoat. Too stuffy. A fine cotton shirt, the like he probably just wore about.

"Yeah," he called back, grabbed up the piece of clothes from the drawer inside the armoire. He moved to the bed, and laid the shirt down across the plush and inviting piece of furniture. A nap would be nice. Doubtful they'd get back up after it though. He grabbed up a washbasin he saw laying beside the bed, set it down on the floor "Come here," he said with warmth in his voice, and a flick of his head. A small smile curled his lips.

As she neared, he pat the bed with his left hand, and moved to let her pass him. "Sit down a moment," he invited, as he took her hand in his, and guide her down gently. When she was seated, he knelt before her, her hand still in his, he pressed his lips to her knuckle with a kiss, and let go. His eye looked down at her raw and blistered feet. Bloodied and swollen from all the madness they had survived.

And he knew much of her hurts today were his fault.

Quietly, he rinsed the rag inside the wash basin, and gently, worked the rag against the tender flesh of her bare feet. Washed the blood and dirt away with firm care. The cold, clean water, slowly turned more and more ruddy and dark with the grime and the blood. And his steady hands kept on with their work.

"Surprised you went so long with your feet all busted up, college mage," he smirked, and teased gently, his eye on where his hands moved. His eye full of knowing. "Always surprising me, you know," he said, and smiled softer. "How strong you are," he dipped the rag back in the water, and wrung out all the mess inside. Both hands worked smoothly.

 

[Lechies Delrio]

Lechies joined him, at first thinking that he wanted help with cleaning up, before she drew near enough to notice the playful edges of his smile. He bade her sit on the bed; she did just that, one eyebrow raised curiously.

"Garrod, what?..." she began, only to trail off, distracted by the tender kiss he laid upon the back of her hand.

Then he took hold of her feet, and she found herself further distracted.

This man whom she had come to adore so much, and whom she likely would never have bared her heart to if events hadn't pushed her into full disclosure--to look upon him here, candlelight tugging at his pale hair, hands moving over her body as if he cradled a rare treasure instead of something bloodied and cracked, filled her with an emotion so terribly greedy that it scared her a little. The scene seemed like something out of a dream, being attended to as if a servant towards a master, or... one caring lover to another.

Lechies pressed a hand to her neck to feel her fluttering pulse.

Despite her upbringing, years of living the adventurer's life had long trained any prudishness out of her. Out in the wilderness, there was no time or space to be concerned about who was sharing a tent with who, or what flashes of naked skin might be glimpsed in the course of morning ablutions or tending to wounds. Still, it was a delighted shiver that crept up her spine to feel his attentions, the contrast between cool water, soft cloth, and his warm, callused hands. His hands, sliding over soles, ankles, toes.

She was glad for his remarks, because they made her laugh.

"You're still going on about the 'college mage'! And what about the 'adventuring mage' part? These feet have been through more and worse than this, believe you me."

A hum echoed in her throat, half amused, half fond.

"I could say the same for you. It surprises me how soft you are beneath that guise of a mighty, hardened warrior and hunter of monsters. How you can find the strength to still be so sweet and kind, despite all your trials."

She put her hands on his face, thumbs stroking at his temples along his hairline, before she slid her hands down to cup his cheeks. Lechies leaned in close, savoring him from above. All of him. Every crease and scar, the wrinkles at the edge of his eye, even the smell of blood and smoke. Perfection within imperfection.

"I quite like it," she said, voice low, welling with warmth. She pressed a kiss to his forehead.

They enjoyed the moment for a few minutes more, a hard-earned calm in the eye of the storm before the inevitable struggle of coming through the other side. Once her feet were clean, Lechies went to rub them dry on the unfortunate animal rug.

"Thank you for that, truly. But let's not linger for much longer. I shouldn't like to test Lady Forster's patience again." She gestured at the borrowed clothes laid out on the bed. "Do you need a hand?"

 

[Garrod Arlette]

The adventuring mage part?

He gave a small nod in agreement. "I'm getting to know her pretty well, I think," he added in the space of the warm pause that fell between them. His hands worked across the fleshy pads of her feet. Careful as he padded at the cuts. His hands glided across her smooth skin. Felt the delicate bone just beneath the cloth. The bundles of nerves and muscle. Soft and easy.

The way she talked about him made him blush. Spread warmth up his neck, and flushed across his cheeks as he smiled. His eye focused on his task. It wasn't till she held him, gently in her own firm fingered caress, that his breath hitched, and he felt a deep and calming cool pulse through him, out from the delicate press of her thumbs against his temples.

His head felt like it was afloat. Buoyed by her tender presses. He felt himself craning his neck toward the touch of her hand, felt her palms slide against his cheek, and he found himself working the side of his face there against her cupped caress.

Eye closed as his own hands still held her delicate foot in their grasp, and all the strange smells between them swirled. Blood. Sweat. Perfumes, and charred scent of smoke and burns.

I quite like it, she said, voice low and warm and dark like the setting sun that promised so much rest to come.

"Lechies," he said with a pleasant rumble and shake in his voice. His hands let slip her foot, slid up her well muscled legs, and wrapped around her waist and pulled her close with a flex of his arms.

He rest the left side of his head on her lap, and enjoyed the feeling of her fingers as they played with his hair and traced lines along his face, and he smiled as his head tilt and moved to follow.

"Got me feeling like a puddle of sweet goo," he said with bright spark in his chest, and a greedy joy deep down in his gut. "Adventuring mage," a warm laugh shook his chest, and he looked up at her with mischievous grin. He squeezed her tight. Let out a a cool sigh, and unwound himself from her. Moved the wash basin out of her way, and got up.

The room felt a whole lot warmer.

Do you need a hand?

"That a joke?" he smirked, and worked his shirt out from his trousers' waistband. "Think I'll be alright," he said, already pealing off his tattered finery. The fabrics stuck to his wounds some, where cloth and flesh had burned and blood began to congeal. It hurt enough for him to suck breath in through gritted teeth.

But the shirt came off, and he tossed the bloody rag aside, his strong and battered frame left exposed. Grimy with sweat and smeared with his blood from where his wounds did weep. Idly, he poked at the angry gash that Belephus had left across his chest. The angry lines all the angrier from the raw burn he'd inflicted on himself.

"Mm, that'll leave a mark," he said, as he traced the edges with his bone white fingertips. Some part of his mind sensed the smell of iron all the more as the newly changed digits pressed along the scars that marred the old inkwork of his adventurer's crest.

Down by his hips, a black rose bloomed across the line of his core. Stem and head proudly followed the curve of his form

 

[Lechies Delrio]

"I didn't mean it as a joke. Did you want a hand?" she replied, voice lowering a half-octave. Mischief gleamed briefly in her eyes, but once he began to disrobe, Lechies turned away to grant him some privacy, instead finding interest in another one of Janik's boastful paintings. If Garrod was anything like Dakota or the other more headstrong members of the Greendawn, he wouldn't like to be watched while wounded, so closely studied in his state of vulnerability. Warriors could be a rather prideful bunch.

Besides, there would be time to appreciate him later. They had time now.

The thought warmed her heart, as surely as his embrace had warmed her body.

Still, though Lechies had intended not to peek, when Garrod made his remark she couldn't help but turn her head, wondering if he'd found one of his injuries more severe than assumed. In doing so, she caught sight of the dark pattern that blossomed over his hip, rippling layers like flower petals sprouting from a thorny stem.

Curiosity wanted her to ask, but propriety held her tongue. For too long, their exchange of secrets had been terribly one-sided. She hadn't even explained her own situation properly to him; how could she ask Garrod to share more of himself when she had yet to pay what he was due?

Besides, there would be time later. The mantra repeated in her mind, a balm.

She turned back to her observation of the walls with a smile.

And so, Lechies would patiently wait. Once Garrod was dressed and ready, she allowed herself to fully appraise him. Being broader at the shoulders and arms and... well, just about everywhere that mattered, compared to the more slender Janik, the shirt was a little tight on him. Personally, Lechies didn't mind. It would do.

For her part, she'd noticed a pretty pink ribbon left on top of a table, likely left by one of Janik's visitors. Lechies used it to tie her hair back into a messy but somewhat-tamed ponytail.

"Alright. Let's find those guards Lady Forster wanted."

---​

They wouldn't have to look very far. Down the hall from Janik's bedroom, a pair of guards stood at the top of the stairs, presumably to prevent any sneakery towards their master's private quarters. Their bored looks morphed into surprise to see Lechies and Garrod coming from the other direction, a surprise that multiplied when Lechies launched into a hurried explanation of what had happened and what was now needed. One of the guards rushed away to inform their superior, while the other escorted the pair to another room--another study, even bigger than the first! Janik appeared quite fond of studies--to wait.

For some minutes they would sit in awkward silence, Lechies slowly scanning the spines of Janik's overflowing shelves while occasionally exchanging a raised eyebrow with Garrod. The poor guard seemed unsure of how to treat them, and Lechies didn't blame her. Lady Forster had not seen fit to detain them, so they weren't prisoners, but also clearly weren't meant to continue about as they wished. At the same time, they were honored guests of the Damelin household, so some measure of decorum and respect was mandatory.

Lechies finally took pity on her.

"Excuse me, might I trouble you to bring someone here?"

"No trouble, Lady Delrio." The guard straightened, relief crossing her face at the prospect of a clear-cut objective. "Who should I fetch?"

"My brother, Detlef. We were wounded in the fight, and he's a skilled hand with healing, so..." Lechies gave her a brief description and added that chances were extremely high he would still be in the ballroom. "Could we also have some water, please?"

"I'll see it done." The guard bowed, one hand on her pommel. She turned towards the door, then seemed to hesitate.

Lechies smiled kindly. "We won't escape, I promise." To Garrod, she added, "Was there anything else you wanted? Or anyone?"

 

[Garrod Arlette]

It was a weird night. Well, weird was putting it feather light.

Guards and he, well, they didn't always get along. Not that he had anything personal against them, but, he didn't exactly fit into most of proper societies means. Monster hunter. Demon bearer. Spellsword with a weird temper.

Even if it was a plush study, a large one at that, Garrod knew a cell when he was in one, and whatever good humor was left in him was only because he had Lechies by him. A little cleaner after their stint in the bedroom, her hair tied back to show off her noble neck. His eye trailed up to look to her mouth as she spoke. All proper and cute like.

He smiled, small and to himself. Some of his foul mood cooling off. When she turned her hazel eyes onto him, he blinked. Cleared his throat. "No, not that I can think of," he blurted-half-mumbled. Smiled in the end. "Oh," he said, suddenly feeling his lightheadedness. Feeling the tired in his limbs as he rest upon the surface of a desk. "Got any more of them little sandwiches?" he asked.

The guardswoman cleared her throat, and gave him a curt bow of the head. "I'll be sure to bring you some vittles, ser," she rose, and made away from the room. The door shut with a hard click behind her. Muffled voices came through.

"Think they are still down there?" his stomach grumbled, and Garrod frowned. "Investigating?" He rest his chin on the palm of his white right hand, propped up against a knee he kept folded over the other. The shirt was too tight. Caught against his arms, and hugged his chest in the wrong areas. He grumbled some. He hated how the buttons looked like they might pop. "This damn shirt," he muttered, popped the top two buttons to relieve some pressure.

The door came open, Detlef there, his eyes wide with worry, and the guard, with a small plate of food, and a flagon of wine. Garrod smirked, happy to see some nourishment. As soon as the food was put on the desk, he snatched up the little pieces of bread and cheese and started eating.

Detlef cleared his throat.

Garrod blinked. Chewed his food, and swallowed the last bite. "Sorry," he added. "Was a bit, well, famished." he said with a smile.

The lady guard looked at him funny.

 

[Lechies Delrio]

"Likely, yes. There's much to investigate. You saw the notes he kept around." Lechies's face darkened. "Gods know what else Master Damelin might've been up to..."

She trailed off, eyes drawn to the movements of Garrod's fingers as he opened the first two buttons of his shirt, revealing skin. The promise of muscle and warmth. She smiled, an amused hum in her throat. If she didn't know better, she'd wonder if he was doing that on purpose.

Then the guard returned. "Thank you very much," Lechies said, taking a cup of water. The woman bowed before returning to her post by the door.

Detlef's smile was tight as he approached them both, taking note of their disheveled appearances in shocked silence. That, and their complete lack of guilt. The furrow in his brow reminded Lechies an awful lot of the looks Allos usually got, and though she knew she was in for an earful tonight, and for several nights to come, she allowed herself to bask in pride this moment, knowing she'd rendered her brother speechless.

"Thanks for coming," she said. "I hope I didn't interrupt anything having you brought here?"

Detlef twitched. Oh, she'd definitely interrupted something. How unfortunate.

But in true Detlef fashion, he recovered quickly. "Nothing so important as to keep me from seeing to you, sister. I hear the both of you are injured?" He closed in, taking Lechies by the shoulders as he inspected her for wounds. He sucked in a breath when he found the claw marks in the high of her back. "Gods be good, Lechies! What happened? Did you tousle with a wild beast?"

"Well, you see..."

So, yet again, Lechies gave an abbreviated version of what had gone on. The discovery of the secret passage into Janik's basement. The empty cell. The mirror, holding a demon. Being dragged into mortal contest with Garrod, then released by the demoness, only to be confronted by a violent Master Damelin and Lady Forster.

Detlef listened carefully, nodding at the appropriate parts of the story as he worked on Lechies's shoulder. By the green healing light that washed against his face, Lechies could see how his jaw went tight when she mentioned Daranthii, and knew what he must be thinking. Had anything happened with her own demon? Had anything happened to expose her demon to Garrod? Or expose it to Janik and Elouise?

It was probably for the best that the guard still watched them like a hawk, because this part of the conversation wasn't one she wanted to have more than once. Once she was back home, she could explain to all her family at once, and... and determine next steps.

Detlef's worry was skillfully concealed as he pulled back and patted her on the shoulder, the claw marks now pink fading to white. "You've had quite the exciting night, then! You do go to such lengths to out-shine me in the gossip department."

"Only because I love you, dear brother."

He laughed. Then Detlef turned to Garrod, one hand held out, the verdant light of restorative magic still gleaming in his palm.

"And you, sir? May I see to your hurts as well?"