Private Tales Scorched Earth

[Fife]

And there it was. Finally, honesty as he showed his hand. Lawrence was no longer asking and his threat was subtle yet clear.

She felt the trap he had set around her. Fife's mind swirled with anger at him and with herself. A dozen remarks and rebuttals rose up and died in her thoughts and Fife watched Lawrence carefully for a moment before glancing back toward the complex. After another moment her gaze lowered in contemplation.

Fife closed her eyes and struggled to pull herself back to somewhere near the center, toward balance. Her head felt heavy, canting slightly into an angry red haze that demanded satisfaction.

The time for being foolish and patient was at an end. It was time for them to go before this trap truly closed and they never escaped.

When her eyes opened again, grief twisted her features. She took back the two wary steps she had retreated and lifted her slate at her belt. Chalk hung from the same tether around her neck as the pin to the crossbow she had left behind. She scrawled her response quickly and, turning it around for Lawrence to read it, raised her defeated gaze to the assassin perched on the rock.

Where is she?

 

[Raigryn Vayd]

So she did respond to threats. Lawrence wished it hadn't come to that. Not because he felt any remorse for doing so, but because it was never quite as effective a motivator. People never did their best work, he found, when they were acting out of fear. Fife had been on edge since the battle with the Empath and since spending more time with Raigryn.

He had to be cautious now. There was no hint of smug victory on his face or in his voice.

"We don't know. I have people asking around. I have other people laying the foundations of a trap. Assuming that she has any penchant for revenge. I don't need you to root her out, but I will look for your help when it comes time to spring that trap."

 

[Fife]

While Lawrence was good at veiling his feelings, she had grown accustomed to reading Idemni before him. She had been biding her time, learning what slipped through that discipline of his. He thought he was winning.

He had been. But not anymore. She had played his game long enough. Her anger unfurled like a sail that had caught a powerful wind. Unfettered it consumed her, overpowering her sense and reason.

Joy and Avarice mingled to form an ugly cloud around Lawrence as he spoke. Fife's mind surged forward and latched onto the emotions suddenly. He didn't have the faculties to stop her as she drew them from him. His ambition. His pride. His smug glory over her guilt and suffering.

In her anger, she drank deeply from his mind. She wanted to take them away from him forever. She wanted him to feel empty and unsatisfied for the rest of his life.

 

[Raigryn Vayd]

Lawrence smiled at her. He hadn't wanted to use the stick, but his options were limited. He needed just a little more time to figure out how to prise her away from Raigryn. He could find a way, he always did.

The smile slowly faded from his face. His gaze slid away from Fife and off to the distance. His eyes suddenly widened. His body went rigid.

"You...fucking..." he growled as he first realised what she was doing and then reeled from the assault.

So this is what it feels like.

"Stop!" he snapped, with as much control as he could muster. The bitch wasn't supposed to bite the hand that fed it. His thoughts were all still there, but he could feel his satisfaction ebbing away. His tone reflected his absolute certainty that she would stop.

 

[Fife]

She didn't heed his order to stop. Hand over fist, Fife pulled deep from the font of his emotions. Angry, livid, she disregarded every warning Raigryn had given her. She was not subtle or gentle. She did not do it carefully, but with malicious intent.

As she drew, she felt something else come with the Aspects. The image of herself was jarring at first. It was not a scene that played out like a play, but rather was recalled like a memory: complete, known, familiar. She knew the sight even though it was impossible because it was a view of herself. Fife as Lawrence had seen her the moment he had levied his careful threat. She saw her grief and defeat through different eyes.

And viewing herself in one of the lowest points of her life, she felt giddy, proud, victorious.

She had not made much of a plan beyond this point, or if she had it was now long forgotten. As she shed Lawrence's memory, her anger picked up the reins once more. His Joy fluttered through her muscles, loosening her arms and legs and slowing down the corporeal world as she took a step forward. Her hand did not reach for the sword at her back, but shot forward. Avarice slung out of her hand toward the assassin's shoulders and neck, not to harm but to stick. Where it struck, the sticky jade green matter multiplied and hardened into jagged crystals.

Shitty Empathy work, but in the heat of her rash decision, she was still aware that a man like Lawrence far outclassed her abilities. Fortunately, she had no qualms about fighting dirty.

 

[Raigryn Vayd]

Lawrence didn't need his emotions to conjure his magic. If anything a clear mind would help him draw on his power.

Lawrence didn't have a clear mind. His anger wilted as soon as it was summoned. The shock and surprise of her striking back took its place.

As he opened his mouth to cast a spell, dragging himself away from the vortex she had placed in his psyche, she lashed out with her magic. He braced, expecting to feel something slice into his skin or burn the flesh from his bones.

Instead he was thrown from his feet, the weight of something around his neck. From his back his swung a hand forwards. A series of cracks, pops and bright lights filling the air between them. His throat was constricted so he flung the one spell he had prepared. At the least it might draw attention.

 

[Fife]

There was a grim satisfaction in watching him fall. Echoes of his victory, now swirling around in her mind like it had always been her own, broke the angry grimace she wore with a smile. Time moved more slowly as she channeled his Joy. She had enough time to see his anger flicker out and his shock set in -- to feel it on the currents around him. The streak of purple was almost disappointing.

He wasn't laughing at her anymore, but he also wasn't completely incapacitated. Fife put up her off arm to shield herself with a flash of crystalline green that stuck to her forearm. But the defense was moot. The lights kept her at a distance but served a far more important purpose: to raise an alarm.

Her temporary, artificial fun abated. Reaching over her shoulder and drawing her sword with her left hand and shaking the Avarice from her right, Fife was a blur as she closed the short distance between them. Instead of aiming for his prone body, her sword arced toward his arm, still extended in the fading lights of his spell.

Finally drawing from the Fury that clouded her judgment, she gave the swing the force it needed to do what she wanted if it landed.

 

[Raigryn Vayd]

There were two assassins watching the pass from the rocks above. They heard the sparks, saw the light reflecting off the rocks. They were placed to watch the paths approaching the caves, not just outside the entrance itself. One of them darted back into the shadows, the other started to pick a perilous route down the rockface itself.

Lawrence had been hurt before. He'd been burned by magic, had it cut deep into his mind. A geomancer has once flung shards of rock across his face that had taken months to heal. He was no stranger to pain.

It was the sight of it that shocked him. The finality of seeing a whole piece of him removed in one swipe. Lawrence heard the thud of his own hand bit the ground. His lip trembled as he tried to lash out. He should have been using his wit to distract her, confuse her. Instead he just wanted to hurt her.

No matter how deeply she has drained him, in this moment logic lost out.

"You'll never see him again," Lawrence hissed.

 

[Fife]

It worked. A giddy thrill ran through her as she followed through. A piece of Lawrence hit the ground while another, far less tangible part of him tugged her determined, angry grimace into a smile. It felt good to take both. It felt good to see him reduced to this.

Looking as smug as he had just moments ago, Fife raised a choice gesture at him, conveying everything she wanted to say with one hand. She hoped the mental image of her stayed with him the way the sight of him, incapacitated in Avarice and smeared with blood, was going to stay with her.

Still grinning, she began to back away. She didn't turn her back to Lawrence but spared a glance up at the scout hurrying down to them. Fife had run these paths as more than a physical exercise. Never settling, never complacent, she had been watchful of their patterns. They didn't stand guard alone, and yet only one was scaling down.

The second guard was gone. Lawrence had raised an alarm and it was being answered.

You'll never see him again. Fear clambered up against the adamant wall of anger, threatening to tip the scales of her mind. He was wrong, but it was time to go.

Leaving Lawrence to whatever shitty life he deserved, Fife sheathed her sword and turned on the balls of her feet to bolt. Kicking up sand and pebbles, she took off back toward the tower. She had to hurry. She could make it back to Raigryn before… before. She wasn't going to consider any other possibility.

 

[Raigryn Vayd]

Gindras was slow and careful down the last few boulders. The integrity of the slope was poor. He had watched several rocks, some larger than a man, go tumbling down the face during his watch. Even if it had been safe, he would have been careful.

He dropped to one knee beside Lawrence. He didn't dare touch the green material that still clung to him. He had no idea what kind of magic it was, or how dangerous it could be to him.

"She's going...for the cells..." Lawrence managed to hiss. He was cradling the stump, but managed to look up at Gindras with teeth bared. That his superior would gloat over him and remind him that she had been correct was almost as painful as his arm.

Gindras, who felt no sympathy for Lawrence at all, turned back towards the caves. Fife was well out of sight. Many of the Order were back in the city, but there was always one guard around Raigryn's cell.

 

[Fife]

Fife could have escaped on her own with ease, using her lead to get well ahead of any pursuers. But since leaving without Raigryn was never an option in her mind, escape required far more finesse.

She slowed down before reaching the compound proper and her eyes carefully tracked the guards posted in their usual positions. Removing her blood-splattered coat, she carried it over her arm as she walked as casually as she could manage on Joy. Out in the open, she didn't want to attract any unwanted scrutiny. She didn't look back, kept her eyes ahead and made her way to the cells.

The alarm was surely close behind her. She had to keep one step ahead of them if this was going to work. The way to the cells afforded her moments of privacy where she loosed her enhanced speed, zipping up stairs and through corridors.

There was a single guard posted at Raigryn's door. She was flushed and feeling a little breathless, but he allowed her to go in. Her senses were open -- had been since returning to the complex walls -- and she sensed nothing but his idleness.

Once the door closed, however, Fife shed all pretense. She crossed the room and dropped her coat to hurriedly take Raigryn's hands. Her careful, collected facade melted away to furrowed brows and a pinched frown. Too many thoughts and feelings were still swarming around her head, but a few of their edges were blunted. It was chaos and clarity in tandem.

Turning him toward her and tipping his chin up to look at her, Fife had to consciously sign slower than her hasted hands wanted to.

We are going. Now. If the import was not clear from her eyes and mind, the blood on her hands and wrists would be evident enough. She gently tugged him forward to urge him to stand.

 

[Raigryn Vayd]

A moment of hesitation and he looked up at her directly. Raigryn stood up, looking towards the door.

"What happened?" He has to drop his pretence now. Everything was still hazy, but he could reach down and touch those eight pillars. He had even been able to slowly and carefully draw a little more power.

He cast her an apprehensive look as he turned from her to the door and back. It was arrogance to think that he was the only one who could have planned them a way out of this. One of his flaws. His immediate - if accurate - thought was that Fife had done something rash and that this was going to be chaotic.

The guard canted his head to one side at the tone of Raigryn's voice. He had let Fife enter, but he wasn't going to let them leave together.

 

[Fife]

There was a moment of silence before Raigryn looked up at her. He stood and Fife stepped back, watched him look around with something akin to clarity. She could feel the unease in his presence, could see it written on his face and hear it in his voice. She stood there briefly, stricken by sadness and happiness and surprise.

But the urgency of their situation quickly returned. Fife grabbed her bearings and wrangled her feelings back into their corners. Not, however, before she flashed him a teary smile -- too wide, somewhere between a grin and a grimace as she laughed. She wheezed and put a finger to her lips to quiet him, a tear dripping down her cheek and onto her bloodied hand.

Explanation later. No time. Follow me.

She put her coat back on, finally managing to reign in her laughter, and slung her bag over her right shoulder. They had no other effects; she didn't know where they had put the things they had taken from Raigryn. A shame, because he was probably going to miss his red coat when his faculties returned. Everything else was in the stables.

If they could get to the stables. It seemed like such an obvious gambit, but she didn't see a better option. Raigryn hadn't walked more than the length of his cell in days; he was not going to be fit for an escape on foot.

A problem she could manage when she arrived to it. She had the next immediate problem to overcome first.

Grabbing Raigryn's hand, she led him toward the door. The moment her eyes left his, she drew on her Tranquility to steady herself. Cheating, but the only way she could think straight with a full head. The touch of Disgust, however, was not for her. Her eyes were fixed on the door -- on the guard she could sense just on the other side.

You do not see us, she urged him. She felt the Aspect, released from her own mind, billow up against his like a thick cloud of smoke. It is quiet. We are sleeping. You do not see us.

She kept her eyes on the door as she gently opened it, then on the guard when he came into view. Without breaking her focus, she pulled Raigryn out into the hall.

 

[Raigryn Vayd]

Following her hand movements was difficult. Despite being under dosed he was still thinking through treacle. He followed.

Fife called on her Empathy. He was given a view of the blunt way she had wielded the magic before they had met. It was how she had survived on the street.

Brutal, but effective.

The guard's gaze swept over them. He returned to the small wooden stool that gave him just a hint of comfort.

Sword? Raigryn signed.

He didn't use the complex idemni hand signals, but the most simple, effective version they used in the Shadows on the cusp of battle.

Could he even raise one? It would feel reassuring if nothing else.

 

[Fife]

She saw his hand from the corner of her eye and turned to see the sign. While Fife might have thought better of his request another time, the word was already in her mind and she couldn't separate it from the other commands she was already struggling to push into the guard's mind.

Sword. You have your sword, she added to her thoughts. Only those three thoughts. You do not see us. You have your sword. We are sleeping.

Letting go of Raigryn, she stepped toward the seated man. Her hand was steady when it closed on the grip of his sword. She drew it in one smooth, quiet motion and deftly stepped back.

She did not immediately give it to him. Guiding him by the hand once again, she led him down the hall until they were both out of sight and earshot of the guard. Only then did she breathe and release the Aspect. Disgust was not a familiar resident in her moods. Fife wasn't sure what she was feeling, but it curled up with her fear and anger as her Tranquility was burnt away. It worsened her worries. It made her feel more bitter. Her temporary equilibrium was gone and the rest of the noise flitted in to fill the silence.

Fife pressed the sword into Raigryn's hands, closing hers around his and looking up. It was early evening, before the moons had come up. There was very little light in these corridors from the narrow windows. Just enough to see her signs, the sweat on her brow, and her involuntary frown.

Stay behind me. There were a lot more things she wanted to say, but she put her hands over his once more. Against the swirling cloud of darker colors in her mind was vein of gold. It shone amid all the ugly like the promise of sunshine beyond a tempest.

Abruptly, she freed one hand but began to pull him along with the other. There would be enough time for words later. Or they were going to die here after all, in which case it wouldn't matter anyways. She picked a pace she thought he'd be able to match… and took the corridor down toward the stables.

 

[Raigryn Vayd]

It was cold in his hand. Heavier than it looked or perhaps he was weaker than he realised. He didn't dare draw on his remaining Fury. Not yet.

That first dose had been administered directly into his blood through that hateful collar. He could barely even remember walking from the hall where Lawrence had laid out his offer. Raigryn was entirely reliant upon her leading the way.

He expected them to be intercepted at every corner, not being privy to the knowledge that the Order had started moving back into the city. It took most of his willpower to keep the tip of the sword from dragging across the rock. Despite the weight, it was at least well balance.

Footsteps ahead, two sets. Soft and muted, not from heavy boots. Two scouts looking for Fife. Lawrence kept his plans and schemes to himself. In a nest of vipers, each assassin did the same. They didn't understand exactly what was happening.

Fife would have heard that first, Raigryn knew. He slowed and stood tall. He would have sacrificed himself for her without hesitation. Given his condition and the risk she had taken to get him out, he knew it was a decision she wasn't going to let him take.

 

[Fife]

She heard them coming and had all the time she needed to make up her mind. Fife squeezed Raigryn's hand with all the reassurance she could spare him.

Fife didn't stop in the corridor, even when they came into sight. Rather, she merely paused to let go of Raigryn, drop the satchel with him, and feed her Joy before she ran toward them. She drew her sword but dropped to quickly slide between their legs as they fanned out to block her path. She wielded her blade like a warning and they stepped out of her path. Popping up on the other side of them, she took advantage of their surprise.

It was dangerous to indulge her moods, but Fife leaned into her Fury. She knew the cant of this side of her mind well. Her heart raced. Her arms flexed. The steel in her grip grew lighter.

She blocked the sword from the first with her own and thrust herself up into their reach. Pushing their blade away with an angry shove, she drew the knife at her belt with her off hand and made a swipe at their belly, narrowly missing them as they staggered backwards.

Keeping her momentum, she spun around and threw her knife at the second. It landed in his thigh with a dull, wet thud. It would keep both of their eyes on her instead of Raigryn.

 

[Raigryn Vayd]

His eyes barely followed events. She was drawing deep, but kept managed to weave between the assassins and hold her ground. To see her in this state, feral but lashing out with grace and balance, was to see more of her true self than he had for weeks.

Raigryn lifted the sword. It was lighter than the last blade he had used, but it felt far heavier. Fury barely had him holding the weapon up.

Lawrence would receive no respect, but Raigryn had to admit the drug was effective. Instead of leaving him balanced and harmonious, having his feelings stripped away had put his magic out of reach. Instead of a stream, it was a dripping tap.

A flash of Avarice sent a few darts of solid jade into the back of the assassin who did not have a knife in his thigh. They barely cut through his thick jacket, but drew his attention to Raigryn's slow approach.

 

[Fife]

Before the guard could remove the knife from his thigh, Fife stepped into his reach and forced him to guard close to his body. He was not as quick and her blade crossed the knuckles of one of his hands. With a renewed yelp of pain, he reeled back and his sword clattered to the ground.

And there she felt it -- the surge of pride and satisfaction. It was sharper, more malicious than her own native thoughts. Fife saw the guard but also saw a phantom of herself. He stood in a dry, dark corridor, but she quite plainly saw Fife standing in the rain. A memory that wasn't her own superimposed over reality.

The thrum of Empathy yanked her out of the feeling and back into her own thoughts. Mostly. Fife blinked, a grin fading from her expression, and quickly glanced over her shoulder. The other guard was turning toward Raigryn. She expected the feeling of her heart dropping into her stomach, but it didn't come. She didn't feel afraid. She only felt excited, amused.

She'd taken her eyes off of her opponent. She knew that was trouble even before she turned back, before she saw his bloody fist coming toward her face. Fife let go of her sword with one hand to catch it, narrowly blocking a blow to the jaw. She might have felt better about that narrow success had the knife she'd thrown at him not followed. Still, she wasn't afraid as she dropped her sword completely and grabbed his wrist. There wasn't enough time to deflect it and she couldn't reach her Avarice to block it. Fife sucked in a sharp breath to brace herself.

Fife had been lucky to escape any great injuries over the years. She had broken an arm once, suffered all manner of scrapes and bruises, and had been hit enough times to be well acquainted with the feeling.

None of them compared to the pain of a very sharp knife hitting a rib. It failed to pass between them and into vital organs, but scraped against the bone and sliced her chest and left side. The breath she held rushed out in a voiceless wheeze. Superficial or not, it hurt enough to make her vision blur and her legs feel weak.

She held him in close quarters and brought a swift, hard kick up between his legs. His eyes crossed and he groaned miserably, and Fife clocked him before his knees hit the ground. He crumpled like a wet towel at her feet.

 

[Raigryn Vayd]

Raigryn was not in fighting form. He knew that before he even reached the guard. Movements that had become as natural as breathing felt forced. He had to devote too much mental effort just to placing his feet correctly and far too much on just keeping his sword held high.

The first collision of blades sent a shock through his arms. It shouldn't have, not with the mild force of the parried blow. Raigryn was almost immediately on defensive footing.

Keeping an awareness of Fife and her own struggle was necessary, but another tax on his fractured concentration.

When he had been left with enough of his faculties to draw some power, he had found this place a dearth of positive feelings. He had precious little Joy to keep light on his feet. He couldn't help but think that if he fell within moments of leaving his cell that it would be unfair on Fife given her daring attempt at a rescue.

Raigryn still had some tricks. He drew the guard forwards, exagerrated his exhaustion. It was a dangerous game.

In the corner of his eye, he caught the glint of steel as the blade plunged towards Fife's heart. At least, it looked that way from his angle.

"Fife!"

The drug, in the end, saved him. Had he felt the full horror at that sight his empathy would have been beyond him. Dampened down, it stayed just within reach. Close enough to draw on raw Fury as his opponent looked victorious. Raigryn swivelled and the guard's blade caught nothing but air.

The single, vicious strike came down onto the assassin's shoulder. Raigryn lacked the strength to even pull the blade free, stuck somewhere in a shattered collarbone.

He turned towards Fife, the last of the colour running from his face when he saw the blood spreading across her chest.

 

[Fife]

A bloom of wet warmth was growing along her side. Opponent dispatched, she looked down, saw the stripe of black darkening her dark clothes. Fife was aware of the pain, but her worry didn't rise to meet it properly. She didn't feel concerned at all when she knew damn well that she should have. But her hands were shaking.

She curled her right arm across her body, pressed her hand firmly against the wound, and bent to pick up her sword before turning to Raigryn. Any sense of urgency she felt to help him was instantly assuaged by the sight of the other guard on the ground.

But Raigryn was worried. She didn't want him to worry. Fife offered him a smile, reassurance. She walked back to him and dropped her sword with a sharp clatter.

I'm okay. He missed. Her hand trembled through each sign. It was a lie. Inside her head, she knew that she was very far from okay.

Putting aside her thoughts of herself, she reached up to touch his chest while looking over him. The blood on him didn't worry her at all, even before she knew that it wasn't his. Fife still sighed and her smile widened, a bliss that was out of place, when she determined he was unscathed. Raigryn was still in one piece. It wasn't for nothing.

Knowing he was well, Fife finally allowed herself to step back to shrug off her jacked and peel up her shirt. It was bleeding a lot, quickly reaching the waistband of her trousers. Both her shirt and undershirt were cut cleanly, and the shock of ruby on the white undershirt almost made her feel worried. Almost.

She had a single, determined cut from just below her breast that curved under her arm. It stung in the cold air and her shaking hands came away slick with blood. She was lucky. A clean cut that would heal fine and tender ribs that were going to bear ugly bruises for a while. She had escaped almost certain death by the width of a rib.

She pressed the heel of her palm firmly against the bridge of her nose. Squeezing her eyes shut, she bent forward slightly. It wasn't funny, but it was hysterical. Her eyes burned with tears and her shoulders shook with laughter. Fife tried and failed to lean back toward the center of her Aspects. Her failure was as hilarious as her victory.

Gasping for a breath, Fife tried to straighten up. She needed to bandage her side. They needed to keep moving. They had already lost a good portion of their head start. She needed to reassure Raigryn she was okay. She to be okay, needed to keep herself together for a little while longer.

 

[Raigryn Vayd]

It would have been so easy to fall into panic. When the concoction had started to wear off he had been gifted some of his faculties back. In return, he had been cursed with too much time and his imagination. He had not been apart from Fife for this long since they had met. Certainly not with her in such peril.

She was not okay. She wasn't going to bleed to death in minutes, but he had seen people die of similar injuries. Never quickly.

On top of that she had drawn too deeply, or unleashed her abilities too quickly, or perhaps both. Another thing he recognised not through presence of mind, but simple experience.

"Sit," he said rather firmly, but his voice immediately softened. "Close your eyes and imagine standing on a rock in the middle of a lake."

His hands shook, but that was from simple physical exertion. Rather than tearing her clothes, he turned to the dead. To bind this whilst letting her breathe meant wrapping over the opposite shoulder.

" Turn slowly, think of the serene surface of the lake. It doesn't move, even in the breeze. Hold your balance."

Raigryn had precious little Charity. Harder to reach when his mind was dulled and there was so very little. It wasn't going to do any good to a mortal wound so he used up what he could. At the least, she would feel a faint warmth as it started her body's natural processes along. Blood started to coagulate quickly.

"Touch your aspects one at..."

He tightened the bandage rather sharply. That was going to hurt.

"...at a time. Although I mostly said that to distract you," he admitted. Raigryn sighed. He was exhausted and talking itself was difficult.

"So...what...is the plan?"

 

[Fife]

Fife sat, relieved that he was feeling like himself enough to tell her what to do. She winced, a grimace finally dragging the smile off of her lips. She closed her eyes and tried to do as she was instructed.

It was harder than similar lessons. At other times she had been upset or overwhelmed. Now, however, she was teetering on the precipice of something very dangerous and all of the faculties she would have normally employed to right herself were unbalanced and irregular. She wasn't practiced enough to carry this many Aspects this full.

She imagined a lake, and an image of perfectly pristine waters formed, but it was difficult to make it feel real for the exercise. She tried to expand it to include herself, to feel like she was truly there with that pretty lake. Even knowing it was coming, she flinched and her eyes opened the moment he touched her. It sent a shiver along her shoulders. Fife laughed a little as she lifted her arm to make it easier for him, bit her lip, and closed her eyes to start over.

A lake. A big, quiet lake. And her in the middle, her mind as still and peaceful as that lake. Fife took steady, deep breaths and she only barely managed to keep still and her eyes closed when she felt the warmth of his Charity. It was like lying in the sun, but also a feeling that echoed the carefulness of his hands.

And was immediately very sorry. Fife felt borrowed grief tip the scales suddenly toward Misery. She held on before it could send her falling that way, but the rapid shift in her mood was undeniable with their craft. Her eyes burned and she chewed her lip to keep it from quivering.

Although she did suck in a hiss between her teeth when he tightened the binding at the end. She looked back over her shoulder at him.

No plan. Surprise. Explanation later. She didn't attach signs for tone to anything. Signing at all still felt strange. But she smiled, an attempt to reassure him that it was alright.

Moving slowly, she got to her feet but motioned for him to remain sitting. Fife looked both ways down the corridor, listening as she retrieved her jacket and gingerly put her arms into it. She was breathing considerably harder after having to lift her left arm. Not great. She still picked up her sword -- and the knife the guard had nearly killed her with. She shot him a dark look as she wiped it clean.

Their break was over. Fife held out her hands to help him stand, quite literally grabbing him and making him accept her assistance. Gently. She stepped over to the dead guard and didn't hesitate to put a boot against his shoulder and dislodge Raigryn's sword. She cleaned it off on his clothes before she handed the blade to Raigryn and picked up their bag.

Stables, she told him. Get horses, go west. To the portal stone. They are looking for us. Be quiet.

Fife paused and looked him over, surveying him warily. She was standing outside of his reach, feeling small and introspective and very, very sad. It was an improvement from hysterical laughter, but barely; the shifts in her moods were not sustainable or safe.

You are you? Her dark gray gaze lifted, a shimmer of tears catching the low light.

 

[Raigryn Vayd]

I am myself, he signed. I am fine.

The second statement was a lie. It was followed up by a smile. It looked as if Raigryn had just seen a smile for the very first time and was attempting to copy it. Nothing felt natural or easy. Not calling on his abilities, not feeling things in the way he should have done, not expressing himself.

Raigryn could barely recall the journey up, but he did remember the caves being busier than this. His little shaft of light had told him that it wasn't the dead of night. If someone had done them all a favour and attacked the hideout then he would have been able to hear it.

She was off-balance. He might not have felt the pang of worry as he should have done, but he understood the danger. He also knew that if they didn't get out of here then it wouldn't matter. It was a kbown problem, but not one he could quantify. She had drawn too deep and fast, or perhaps thrown down her ability beyond her limits. The damage could be temporary or permanent. It could last minutes or years.

Most of the real assassins were back plying their trade. The trainees were still present. The youngest stayed in their quarters, but many of Fife's fellow - expendable - trainees had been scattered through the caves to try and find them.

 

[Fife]

His answer satisfied her. Both of them were lying to each other, at least a little. Neither of them were fine at the moment. Fife nodded and broke eye contact first. She took his hand in hers, her slim palm more calloused but her grip stronger as she tugged him forward. As soon as her back was turned, she scrubbed the tears out of her eyes.

The way was quieter, and the first pair of trainees they encountered Fife sensed far off. Whether more excited or anxious, she couldn't tell. But it was simple to press against a wall, around a curve in the shadows, and wait a few moments for them to pass. They were neither experienced nor thorough. She had time to ponder why they had sent the teens in after them and couldn't make much sense of it. Nevertheless, she was grateful that it spared her another fight.

A feeling that would be short-lived. Coming down a long, singular corridor, Fife could sense another about the time she spotted their light. It was darker here, and the only communication she could offer Raigryn was a resolute squeeze of her hand. As before, she lowered their satchel with him. This time, however, she only drew her knife from her belt as she stalked slowly, calmly forward.

It was one of the older trainees, not much younger than Fife herself in all honesty. He was taller but just as scrappy, and they both had the same dark, world-weary look in their eyes. The real difference, however, was that he didn't have someone standing behind him worth fighting for.

She walked until the light began to illuminate her silhouette before she sprinted forward. Fife was ruthless and made a warning swipe at his shoulder, and began goading him into making a mistake. She knew she had the upper hand; she had, after all, been training with them for months now.

He did exactly as she wanted, his brashness showing in not just the swirl of color he wore like a crown, but in the open arm he thrust forward with no guard. Fife effortlessly stepped aside, grabbed his wrist, and yanked him forward. He staggered with a flash of fear that was near blinding. She didn't wield her knife against him, instead thrusting her elbow into the back of his. There was a loud pop as the kid dropped his weapon and yelped, but that was quickly muffled by the same elbow jabbing him in the mouth. He fell to his knees, cradling his dislocated arm.

Grabbing a fistful of tunic, she brought his face close to hers. Disgust was in easy reach from where she hung in her lopsided balance. Fife planted the lie that they were moving upward through the caves toward the exits near the plateau and upper progress. They weren't going down. They were going up. The thought dug in like a burr.

Without letting go of his shirt, Fife picked up his torch and escorted him past Raigryn. She let him go there to continue on his way toward where they had already come. A swift boot to the bum encouraged him to pick up the light and stumble down the corridor, snotty and bloody and very lucky she was not the same as him. She took no pleasure in besting someone so far below her abilities. While he would have gladly killed her to prove his worth, she didn't need to.

Still, Disgust clung to her, eager to take up residence after being summoned. She was breathing carefully, battling a very real nausea that came with the dark swirl of loathing and repulsion. Her hands were shaking again as she took up the satchel once more and found Raigryn's hand in the dark.