Completed The Cut That Always Bleeds

[Everleigh Ebersol]

[art cred]
“Another horrible thing about cows, they are the dumbest creatures I have ever come across!” Proctor Palahniuk continued on about his rant on cattle as he lead them to the small town known as Arnim. Out in the west, it was quite a trek from the unshakeable walls of Vel Anir, even on horseback. For the last six hours, the proctor and his duo of dreadlord initiates had passed town after town, each one smaller than the last. The proctor seemed to be extra irritable the usual, going off about farm animals and how they smelled, how aggressive chickens were, how pigs would eat anything even their own kind, and how goats had the freakiest eyes. Right now he was talking about cattle, which, ironically was the main export of Armin.

Arnim, despite it’s size, produced a large percentage of all cattle-products. Meat, hides, fat, dairy, and hair were just some of the things this town provided for the entire kingdom of Vel Anir. While cattle tended to be the most profitable livestock, Proctor Palahniuk made sure to remind the initiates five times that they would come across other livestock. One would think he’d be telling them more about the mission at hand, but no, he was more worried about his bad case of allergies. As he should have been for the moment they were inside Arnim they would heading straight to Kesselring Farm that claimed to have the most cattle out of anyone in all of Vel Anir.

Everleigh released a sigh, as her horse sneezed. It seemed to recognize the fact that Proctor Palahniuk just wasn’t an animal person by any means. Perhaps he was being punished for something he did if he was being designated to oversee Everleigh Ebersol and Zael Castomir complete some petty request. Apparently the Kesselring’s had been having some problems protecting their product. At first they thought it may have been wild dogs, or a bear, but when a hired group of hunters went into the nearby wood, only one had barely survived. Only one who could tell the tale of some terrifying creature that devoured everyone with it’s fearsome claws and jaw.

Since when did Dreadlords become monster hunters? Everleigh couldn’t help but feel this mission was going to be underwhelming. She glanced over at Zael, knowing that whatever beast was inside that wood, the two of them together would bring it down easily. Fire and poison, two lethal options to show the small town that they were still important to Vel Anir. Except, if the town was really that important, Everleigh couldn’t help but think they’d send in an actual dreadlord or better yet, hire an actual monster hunter.

“Hey, Zael,” Everleigh called out to her classmate as Proctor Palahniuk blabbered on, so engrossed in his complaints that he wouldn’t notice the two of them not listening to him. “Aren’t you from around here?” His slight drawl suggested as much, and Everleigh had noticed that the further away from Vel Anir, the more common that drawl seemed to be although at the academy it had made Zael rather unique.

 

[Zael Castomir]

Back in the west.

Just couldn't get away from it, could he? First the mission out to Vel'Tyrus, now out to Arnim. Was the third time gonna be the charm? That how it went? Bet a fat gold coin that Zael'd end up getting assigned to the Army of the West upon graduation. Heh, well, it's things like this you gotta let come at you. How were you ever gonna know you got an unconquerable spirit if nothing ever got the chance to conquer it?

He might be back here again, but the west was gone from his heart. Beaten down and cast out by the strength he'd gained in the Academy.

Everleigh spoke as Proctor Palahniuk went on and on off in his own little world.

Ha. Damn. Gone from his heart but not from his voice. Dead giveaway.

"Close enough to it. A little town called Tarrow, near the border with Cortos," Zael said. Then he took on an exaggerated version of his drawl, saying, "Nayow, all you gotta do Ever is go stretchin out yer words, mashin up yer to's, and cuttin off yer g's, and you too can sound lahke yer from the rural west."

Zael grinned as an idea popped into his head.

"I'd pay you money if you talked like that for a week when we get back."

Their horses all trotted along, Arnim lazily approaching.

Everleigh Ebersol

 

[Everleigh Ebersol]

Tarrow. What an interesting name. Like Arnim. Obviously they hadn’t gotten the memo to add “Vel” in front of their names. Of course that thought quickly vanished the moment Zael began messing around, causing her to laugh. It wasn’t so much that the drawl itself was funny, it was different, at least to Everleigh’s ears, but there was just the way that Zael said it so effortlessly in a moment that made it seem a bit surreal.

But the best had yet to come.

“Money? How much we talking about?” Everleigh asked eagerly, looking at Zael with a wolfish grin. He was speaking her language, and she knew that he knew exactly what he was saying. Money didn’t personally mean much to Everleigh, it didn’t give her any sort of content or joy. But it could indirectly give her excitement. Plenty of other students lacked coin, nearly all initiates didn’t come from a noble family or a wealthy household. So how could she make others play her games? Through money, of course. It was usually the best motivator.

“You know I lahke big wagers, if you can’t ‘ford it you might have tew pay with yer body.” Everleigh teased, trying out that drawl despite the flirty suggestion. She paused for a moment, considering how it sounded before shrugging. “Maybe you could give me a few more lessons first, though.” Didn’t quite have the same effect as Zael’s, she was missing something. “So, your is like yer and—“

“Initiate Ebersol!” Proctor Palahniuk shouted. “Are you seriously mocking the locals? Zael is your fellow initiate, and you’re making fun of him? You need to learn how to get along with others, life isn’t all about fun and games. Can’t you be serious for once on a mission?” Everleigh clicked her tongue, glowering at the proctor’s back. Of course she got caught. Rolling her eyes as Proctor Palahniuk began lecturing her, which lasted all the way to them entering the small town. He only paused to ask a townsperson directions to Kesselring Farm, and then he lead them away and promptly continued the lecture.

Everleigh couldn’t be bothered to listen to the proctor repeat the same point over and over. Instead she looked around, noticing how people stopped what they were doing just to stare at them. Whether it was children, women, men; everyone stopped to watch them. She felt self-concious, wondering if it was because of her hair— which often got a lot of stares and whispers. But the more this happened, she began piecing that their expressions were one of awe. And fear.

The poison eater looked at Zael once more, and then she faced straight ahead. The town was small, there was a little hub at the center, of course, but everything seemed to have space in between everything. There was a sort of emptiness that was different from the city. It wasn’t a bad emptiness, if anything, Everleigh could appreciate how it didn’t seem like they tried to cram as much as they could into one little spot. Their horses continued along the worn, dirt path that crested up a rather steep hill.

The moment the trio were at the top of the hill was the moment that Kesselring farm could be seen. It was obviously massive, despite them being a third of a mile away from it, Everleigh could see just how much land it took up. Two silos and many other sorts of buildings could be seen, with a large wooden and stone one at the very center which Everleigh could only assume as the family’s home. There was a few copses to one side near a sinuous ribbon of silver that foretold of a steady stream. The sound of cows could be heard in the distance.

As they traveled closer, the smell of manure got stronger and stronger.

Zael Castomir

 

[Zael Castomir]

You know I lahke big wagers, if you can’t ‘ford it you might have tew pay with yer body.

"Can't say I'm a stranger to that," Zael said, making the effort to keep as straight and nonchalant a face as possible. If he laughed that'd probably stir Proctor Palahniuk from his encyclopedic rambling, and pretty much every Initiate knew that Palahniuk was best kept wrapped up in his own little world.

About the money, though? Hard to come by in the Academy, that was for sure. Even with the Revolution, the Proctors weren't going to let Initiates haul back bags of loot they'd "acquired" from their missions. But if you knew what you were doing, and where to hide it, yeah, you could build up a tiny dragon's hoard--and the tinier it was the safer it was. All this made each individual coin worth way more in the Academy than outside it.

And what better use for the stash Zael had than doling out dares? With enough coin and the right approach, he could probably get Henk, Chasmine, or, hell, even Liza to do something wild. Kristen, Liliana, Alistair, the noble types? Harder. But that was the next-level challenge.

He and Ever could've laid out the terms of the wager--could've--when Palahniuk's attention shifted from the sound of his own voice to Ever's attempts at the rural drawl. Zael's lips pressed into a taut line, his cheeks lifting up as he suppressed a more insistent laugh this time. Proctor Palahniuk had taken it all way out of proportion. As he was wont to do, because he was too busy jerking himself off with the audible strokes of his endless diatribes.

Once they crested the hill and the Kesselring farm was in view and, more importantly, Palahniuk as again otherwise occupied, Zael leaned over in his saddle and said in a private tone, "Keep an ear out while we're here, and you'll get more lessons than you bargained for."

Honestly, Arnim couldn't be all that far from Tarrow--Zael hadn't bothered to look at a map and geography lessons were prime time for naps. The highland hill offered a great view over the whole of the town, and to Zael it just looked like Tarrow from an angle previously unseen. He was half-expecting to see the mill his father worked at somewhere among the quaint homes.

"Smells like home," Zael said, a manner of malicious mirth in his voice.

Everleigh Ebersol

 

[Everleigh Ebersol]

Everleigh grinned deviously, her angelic features being marred by the devilish gleam in her eyes, Zael had her intrigued and the moment they were alone they were most definitely picking this conversation up. That idea alone was putting her back into a good mood. Despite getting yelled at, which was nothing compared to what would’ve happened before. Although, the worst punishment Proctor Palahniuk could give was to just continue lecturing. Everleigh was certain that if anyone wanted her to break and spill information, the best way to make her crack would be to have Proctor Palahniuk incessantly talk about the most trivial things.

“My plan is to get so good at it that people will think I’m you.” Everleigh whispered back to Zael. Go hard or go home, doing a half-assed job was never something that Everleigh could wrap her mind around. Besides, it was hard to make her feel shame or humiliation considering how her magic worked. And if she could nail down a western accent there was a high chance it would come in handy if she ever had to play a character.

She didn’t dare say anything else, even as the stink grew. She wrinkled her nose. A lot of toxins had quite an uncomfortable smell to them, white phosphorous for instance was a really pungent mustard. And it wasn’t like she hadn’t been around livestock before, her father was a butcher, but this was on another level.

Proctor Palahniuk grew quiet, and Everleigh couldn’t see his face but it seemed that he was covering his mouth and nose. She raised a dark brow, smirking. Wimp. Despite not enjoying the smell, she made sure she wouldn’t cover her mouth or nose. Zael wasn’t at least, and she wasn’t going to take on the trope of the city-girl-out-in-the-country. Proctor Palahniuk was doing that all on his own and wouldn’t need any help.

Workers were all around, shoveling shit, shoveling hay, shoveling dirt. Leading cows here and there on horses or by foot, herding dogs doing their jobs. It was an impressive sight, seeing wagons being loaded up with boxes that Everleigh could only wonder what was inside, hearing the calls of the workers to another. They had just passed a large gate when one large man on an equally large horse rode up towards them

Proctor Palahniuk steadied his horse and Everleigh stopped behind him as the man approached.

“So yer th’ dreadlords,” he said, eyes somber. He had a dark thick beard, and was wearing a wide brim hat to keep the sun out of his eyes. “Matthias Kesselring.” He said, holding out a large hand that Proctor Palahniuk roughly shook. “Call me, Matt, yea? Sayin’ mah full name steel make me think I’m in trouble with mah Mother.” The workers that had been so busy before were now still, watching the scene with Matthias and the Academy trio. “Kermon, then.” He said, gesturing for them to follow.

As he rode off to the home, Everleigh noticed as they approached, on the porch, a small blonde child was jumping up and down enthusiastically, waving both hands up in the air. Then he opened the door and disappeared. Right as they reached the perimeter of the home, the small boy was back out, seemingly dragging out his mother and a teenager around their age.

“The dreadlords are here! Look! Look!” He was shouting, beaming up at his mother before he turned his excited gaze onto them and pointed. “And lookie mama, they got a elf!” Everleigh sighed. Oh the woes of having violet hair and eyes.

Zael Castomir

 

[Zael Castomir]

That people will think I'm you. Hmm. Interesting way to put it. And like tossing tinder onto a burgeoning flame it sparked up the next bit to get excited about in this developing wager.

"Then I guess I need to copy your accent too, and throw everyone through a loop with an old fashioned switcheroo."

Maybe Ever didn't think she had an accent. But to Zael, everyone outside of the west had one. He could hear it even though his own western manner of speaking had faded over the years in the Academy and he inevitably adopted more of a central Vel Anir accent. Right now he reckoned he was halfway between accents, but hell, imagine if he came back sounding like Everleigh? Even Chasmine would be double-checking her pick-me-ups and take-me-downs to see if she got a bad batch. Fucking hell. If he came back sounding like Kristen, Chasmine would go clean faster than Edric could kiss a copy of himself. There's a dare.

This was all something to spice up this mission. Monster hunting was pretty long, drawn out, boring work. And monsters, the mindless or animalistic ones at any rate, were awful opponents. Dangerous, of course, but they just didn't provide the same high of a thrill that fighting a thinking, calculating opponent did. At least if Zael and Everleigh were sellswords or proper monster hunters, they'd be getting paid for this drag, but they weren't, so they were getting squat other than whatever marks Proctor Palahniuk saddled them with at the end.

Zael sized up Matthias once the large man rode up to them. Well hot damn, would Zael love to arm wrestle this barrel-chested, grain-fed, country bear. His accent was thick enough to give Ever some pointers straight away too.

They approached Matthias's home, and the enthusiastic boy came out and pointed.

Zael couldn't help but to grin, shooting Ever a cheeky look. And he already knew what he was going to do.

"Yeah, and her name is Kaladriel of Fal'Addas. Come touch her pointy ears."

Everleigh Ebersol

 

[Everleigh Ebersol]

Everleigh playfully smirked at her fellow initiate. Oh, he was onto something fun. She could picture it now really, switching their accents, keeping it up for a whole week. Sure, it would be fun with their classmates, but in front of the proctors as well? Proctor Palahniuk would have a field day with it of course, might try and restrict Evie’s free time by placing her on kitchen duty or adding extra drills. So be it, she’ll be on kitchen duty and still talk with that western drawl.

“I don’t think you could do it for a whole week,” Everleigh pressed. “C’mon, dares are fun and all, but let’s make this a bet, one that neither of us would want to lose.” Nothing got her more excited than a good bet. A really good one. Money was important yes, but money was just the key to getting something more valuable. The rumors were true, about Evie goading other classmates into gambling with her.

She would meticulously build up their courage with each round, seemingly to be on the losing end, and then midway through, the tables would start to turn. It would be sudden, and she’d end up making them unable to afford the price. But they could give her something better, a piece of them for her to keep. More importantly, it would be a constant reminder of their defeat.

Evie would never be that extreme with Zael. She liked him too much to try and humiliate him. The feeling was something akin to how she felt about Tinker who didn’t fear her magic one bit. Perhaps it was that fearlessness that made Everleigh see him as an equal. He wasn’t lame like everyone else.

But boy, oh boy, sometimes she felt the word fearless was an understatement for Zael.

“Yep, sure do, and my ‘pointy ears’ are bigger than his di—“ Proctor Palahniuk’s not-so-subtle coughing was enough to get the poison eater to pause. To be fair, using profanity in front of a child probably wasn’t the best. Besides, now was the time for business. That demure, stoic look came back onto her face as she gracefully dismounted her horse after Proctor Palahniuk had done so. The more candid, genuine Everleigh from before had put on an acceptable mask.

The family was before them now. Everleigh regarded them coolly, picking out a few things. Like for one, the mother seemed a bit frazzled, although she did a good job in hiding it in front of her younger son. The teenager with them looked awestruck, obviously enraptured by their weapons and armor. The man was the most calm and collected, and he patted the blonde hair on his excited son.

The little boy was the most unique of them all though. Everyone had dark hair and dark eyes, but the little boy? His hair was so blonde it was practically white, and upon a closer look, his eyes weren’t brown, but blue? Green? Everleigh couldn’t really discern what color it was, but it wasn’t brown.

“Shall we talk inside?” Proctor Palahniuk prompted, and Matt nodded before looking at his wife who had drawn close to him. He kissed her cheek, whispering something in her ear that Everleigh couldn’t discern.

“Yea, c’mon in, nayow, pro’lly not as nice as yer use tew, mind yew.” Matt said with a slight shrug. And then everyone followed him inside.

Zael Castomir

 

[Zael Castomir]

Bets. Now this was familiar territory. More for Everleigh than Zael--hey, some rumors weren't horseshit--but nonetheless, familiar enough. There were plenty of ways to get a thrill. Jumping off of a cliff, fighting with Vance, brothel trips, combining all three. Oh, yeah, and gambling was also one of them. Something good on the side once he got all tuckered out from partaking in the other categories.

This wager was thus far an ongoing development. One that was going to take a more definite shape once some downtime came around.

In the meantime, Proctor Palahniuk could be a prude and cut off Ever's joke. He just had to be that way, formal and proper. In Zael's opinion, the sooner that kid heard some rough words, the better--the world sure as hell didn't wait on anybody.

Zael hopped down from his horse. Stood with his chin slightly inclined, regarding the family. Fine, Palahniuk wanted them to clean up their act? No problem. Zael could play that part. He could be as plain as freshly milled grain. Put on a disciplined, professional face and shield the Kesselrings from knowing what kind of man the Academy produced. Heh, they better not ask him about it though. He wasn't gonna lie, no matter how ornery Proctor Palahniuk might become.

When Matthias kissed his wife though, Zael's brow quivered ever so slightly. Just the observation of simple family affection caused a quiet transformation: instead of seeing the Kesselrings as "these annoying clients whose problem dragged me all the way out to Arnim," the possibility opened up for Zael to have a higher consideration of them. They weren't just a facet of a tedious mission--they were actually people.

All of them together like that. It was just...to Zael, it was just so rare to see. Like a thing of myth. He was struck by it.

All this he kept hidden as he stepped inside the Kesselring's home. Hidden behind that disciplined, professional face expected of him.

Everleigh Ebersol

 

[Everleigh Ebersol]

Everleigh wondered what Matthias thought the city must have been like, because inside his room, it was nice. Very nice. Everything was clean and tidy, and maybe there weren’t gold accents or velvet drapery or vases worth ten thousand gold coins, but it felt lived in. Everleigh never thought she would ever use the word homey but that’s exactly what this place felt like. They were lead to the dinning room table, which Everleigh noticed must have been their “nice dinining area” as when they passed by the kitchen she saw a round table with four chairs.

Proctor Palahniuk, once again, gave an unsubtle cough and Everleigh figured that she’d give Zael a break. She spoke up then, ready to be the professional voice. The family sat down, with the young boy jumping onto his father’s lap and bouncing excitedly like a little ball of boundless energy.

“We were briefed on what has been happening recently to the farm, Proctor Palahniuk will be overseeing the mission but Initiate Castomir and I, Initiate Ebersol, will be the ones to completing it. If I may, I’d like to reconfirm the details.” Matt nodded, leaning a bit forward. “Three weeks ago, you started missing livestock. Every night a bull would go missing, there would be no blood or tracks, any damages to fencing, correct?” A nod, so she continued. “At first it was assumed that they were being stolen and so you thought to stay up and watch out for anything. That night you saw a shadowy form come near the west perimeter and when you went to investigate, it had vanished. So it was assumed to be a bear. When the hunters were enlisted, they went to the forest on the west, and weren’t seen again until three days later with one lone survivor.” Everleigh took another pause. So far, no obnoxious coughing from Palahniuk and the man hadn’t shook his head.

“Is the hunter still in town? We’d like to interview him.” Matt glanced at his wife, and his wife frowned, looking down at her hands.

“Funny yew ask,” Matt said and sighed. “We’ve been takin’ care of him with his injuries and all. Kelly spent some time workin’ in an infirmary, so we thought it’d be better for him tew stay here. Yesterday though he started… well, I dunno…” he looked at his wife, Kelly, and she took a deep breath before glancing at the initiates.

“He wouldn’t wake up.” She had a soft, gentle voice. “And his fever had returned. Sometimes that’s normal. But then when I changed his bandages, he just started bleeding all over. His ears, nose, even his eyes.” She shook her head. “We haven’t buried him yet.” She added, eyes getting watery.

Everleigh nodded her head, face still neutral. She had originally thought it to be a voracious griffin, but perhaps it was something else?

“I’ll check things out, see if maybe there was a case of poisoning. Today we’ll be going around the farm, perhaps ask a few questions around time, might even head into the forest. At night, we’ll be back and keep watch to see if we spot any sort of suspicious activity.” Everleigh then glanced back at Proctor Palahniuk. He nodded, she had said the proper course of action. Thank goodness.

“We’ve prepared rooms for yew,” Kelly spoke up again, “there’s no inn at Arnim, but, I’ll make sure everything is well taken care of, like your meals. Actually, I need to get on dinner, boys.” She gestured at her two sons and then dipped her head in the dreadlord’s direction before leaving the room. “We eat at five sharp.” She called from the hall, and shortly after Everleigh could hear complaints of the youngest son asking why he couldn’t be with the elf and dreadlord and help them out on their mission.

It wasn’t long until he was shushed.

Zael Castomir

 

[Zael Castomir]

Yeah, it was for the best that Everleigh led the charge on this one. With Proctor Palahniuk around, the two of them were expected to be all formal and disciplined and to carry a certain air. She nailed it. Zael, on the other hand? He would have condensed everything she had said down to five words: Missin a few cows, huh? Got straight to the point but it didn't have the professionalism and air of authority Proctor Palahniuk gave out high marks for.

During the talk between Ever, Matthias, and Kelly, Zael's eyes drifted once over to the son in Matthias's lap--the kid who looked for all the world like he didn't fit in with the rest of his family. And yet he did. What else could Zael say about him that was readily apparent? That he was an orphan, abandoned, or, hell, even a bastard? He couldn't say any of that with certainty. But Zael knew that one thing well: he was part of the Kesselring family.

Family. That was a word which lay dead on his tongue before Zael had even entered the Academy.

After Kelly left to start preparing supper, Zael looked back toward Matthias. His turn at scoring up those high marks from Palahniuk. "You're gonna want to bring all of your livestock in close tonight. Just in case, and it's less ground for us to cover with a night watch."

Everleigh Ebersol

 

[Everleigh Ebersol]

Everleigh blinked twice after Zael had spoken. Oh, she hadn’t even thought of telling them to put the cows together in one area. She tapped the back of his hand with hers, giving him a quick look of approval. Everleigh was all about working smarter, not harder, and it was nice to see that Zael was on the same page.

“Yea, I’ll get on that.” Matthias stood up now. He had been calm and collected the entire time, and even know, Everleigh couldn’t really pick up what he was thinking. He didn’t act worried like wife or excited like his sons. There was an air of assurance to him that was hard not to respect.

“Could you lead us to the hunter’s room first? I’d like to check the corpse now,” Everleigh didn’t add in her thoughts of wanting to see it now in hopes the smell wouldn’t be too bad. The sickly-sweet smell of rotting flesh was never a pleasant one, it made the cow smell around the farm seem like a florist shop. The giant of a man nodded his head, and headed out of the formal dining room, leading them to a hallway and opening the first door.

“Everyone knows yer all here, if yew can’t find me, anyone of mah men can help yew out.” Matthias concluded. “Oh. And uh…. Make yerselves at home.” He then glanced at the proctor who had been more of a shadow at this point. “Arnim ‘pprectiates yer service.” He added, and then left the initiates by themselves with their proctor.

“It stinks,” Palahniuk muttered, most likely referring to the smell coming in from the room. In Everleigh’s opinion it wasn’t even that bad yet.

“Zael and I can handle the basics, Proctor Palahniuk.” Everleigh said, walking into the room, giving Zael a quick glance. “There’s no need to follow us around the farm, unless you want to check out the barns with us. Zael, you think they have stalls like horses and muck them out every day? Probably takes them hours with all the cows they have. I’m sure their manure is top tier fertilizer though…” Everleigh trailed off, stepping closer to the body on the bed covered by a sheet.

“It sounds like you’re trying to get rid of me, Initiate Ebersol.”

“What? No, why would I want to do that?” While her back was turned, she rolled her eyes before turning around and giving her best, brightest, honey-sweet look to the proctor. “Zael and I will be graduating soon, we’d really like to prove ourselves to you.”

Zael Castomir

 

[Zael Castomir]

It'd be a lie to say he didn't share Proctor Palahniuk revulsion at the smell. This was why people didn't like necromancy. All it did was add extra steps to everything (anything a necromancer could do, another form of magic could do better, fight him about it) and stink up the local environs. Wasn't much necromancy involved with the hunter's death, yeah, but these were the sorts of fragrances they dabbled in.

Also, another point in fire's favor. Ashes didn't leave behind this kind of pungent aroma. Ahh, if only Vance had been born with fire-magic instead of lightning--Zael would hump his leg so hard he'd invert his kneecap.

Jokes aside, Ever was taking care of business. Namely, trying to purchase them some breathing room. Not from the smell of rotting death, but by assuring their Proctor he didn't need to supervise them for their entire stay in Arnim.

Zael turned from the sheet-covered body and faced Palahniuk along with Everleigh.

"We gotta spread our wings and fly, Proctor," Zael said. "And we're soarin for the highest marks you can give us on this mission."

Everleigh Ebersol

 

[Everleigh Ebersol]

Everleigh held her breath, glancing at Zael and then at Proctor Palahniuk who was quiet for a few seconds.

“Initiate Zael, you’re in charge.” Proctor Palahniuk said before giving Everleigh quite the look as if sensing her outraged thoughts. “If I hear you were insubordinate in any sort of way…” He shook his head as his voiced trailed off. Covering up his nose, he then quickly left the room, shutting the door behind him. Everleigh turned around, listening intently as the proctor’s steps became fainter and fainter.

“So do you eat his ass or does he eat yours?” Everleigh asked, lightly nudging Zael’s side with her elbow before getting to work and removing the sheet off of the body. She raised a brow in surprise. The corpse looked completely shriveled up like some embalmed body from centuries ago. The skin was the color of coal and wrinkles wove themselves every which way over the body. The eyes and mouth were two gaping black holes into an abyss. She didn’t sense any sort of toxins coming from the body and was about to cover it back up until an idea came to her. She looked at Zael, grinning.

“Yanno, we both know that despite what Palahniuk says, I’m the one who’s actually in charge here.” Everleigh was always in charge on missions, but it seemed Proctor Palahniuk was bitter towards her about something. “But… if you kiss this dead guy’s forehead then I’ll let you be in charge for once. I may even oblige your every whim.”

Zael Castomir

 

[Zael Castomir]

Zael held it in until Proctor Palahniuk couldn't bear the smell anymore and left the room, door closed and all.

Then he grinned--quite satisfied with that turn of events. Hell yeah. Won that coin toss without even knowing there'd been a coin in the air. Ever could be salty about it all she wanted, but hey, you win some you lose some, she oughta know that. In the meantime, Zael had been waiting to try on these Ein-sized shoes. All he would need to do afterward is dye his hair red, raid the girls' dormitories for things to pretty boy his face, and toss on a bulky fur-lined coat and he'd be the spittin' image of that supremely fuckable man.

Yanno, we both know...

"Fuck you, Ever, you ain't 'lettin' me do nothin. And I'll make you eat my ass if you keep that up." He crossed his arms, lifted his chin, closed his eyes and basked in the bliss of being the head Initiate in charge for a moment, smirking all the while. "Ahhh. Feels good. Even Proctor Palahniuk knows you always bet on Fire."

Zael drew his sword and walked up beside the bed. His face twisted in a grimace at the godawful odor that had only become worse after the sheet had been lifted, but his jovial tone didn't match his expression.

"Tell you what, though. Usually I'm the one havin charges of bein an insubordinate dick leveled at him. It was a little weird to hear it directed at someone else."

Zael poked and prodded at the body with the sword, casually observing the grotesque nature of it.

Everleigh Ebersol

 

[Everleigh Ebersol]

Did Zael just tell her no? Everleigh regarded him quietly for a moment, noticing his big grin, the way he smirked and just how he seemed to stand taller by the second. She noted his broad shoulders, how big his biceps looked crossed over his chest. Her dull violet gaze slowly skimmed him up and down.

“Ha, cute. First, don’t to talk to me that way,” Everleigh said, her expression still cool and calm. The next second it completely changed into a beaming smile that even reached her eyes. “Second, that’s exactly how you should talk to anyone who tries to tell you what to do. I think… maybe this time I won’t mind if someone else is in charge.” It was genuine, and not only because she did find it cute whenever someone thought they could tell her no. The poison eater watched the pyrosexual’s sword prodding, raising a brow as she thought over his statement.

“Zael, there’s only two things you really need to know about me. One of them is I always know what I want. The other is I always know what I like. And trouble? Danger? Having the odds against me?That’s two birds with one stone. And Proctor P is the biggest cockblock I’ve met.” Everleigh was nearly about to start salivating at the mouth, thinking about the sorts of thrills she had experienced just because things had gone slightly wrong— maybe due to her setting a few things in motion. But she only had one life to live and she wanted to live it to the fullest. Which meant getting that intoxicating, blazing white-hot, euphoric rush as much as possible. The initiate shook her head, getting back to boring business.

“It’s like something completely sucked the life out of him.” She murmured, looking over the body, pulling the sheet back further. She frowned. The stomach seemed extended instead of shrunken like everything else. Evie looked at Zael. “So… do we cut this open?” She gestured at the rounded abdomen.

Zael Castomir

 

[Zael Castomir]

Heh. Ever. Flop and flail until the cows literally come home, but Zael was gonna be the tip of this spear. What was she gonna do? Fight him for it? Shit, how dare you give me exactly what I want? This was the cheeky motto of the mindset that had gotten him through the Academy with a satisfied smile, while plenty of others fuckin moped and bemoaned their misery. Everleigh wasn't one of them--she had her own ways of dealing with it--but there had been enough of their peers who needed big brother Zael to give them a clap on the back and encouragement to be the best version of themselves. Not tough love, but rough love, because it involved a lot of fighting, wins and loses for him and them.

Zael, there's only two things you really need to know about me...

And that right there. THAT RIGHT THERE! Those were two of her ways of dealing with it.

Zael paused in his poking. He looked sidelong to Everleigh, his face ablaze with a devilish excitement for being in the presence of a kindred spirit. "Ever, you are speakin my fuckin language."

Well, hot damn, here's to hoping this mission lived up to their expectations. Supposed that all depended on the monster, or whatever the hell it was, that was going about tormenting the Kesselring's livestock. That thing had best not disappoint, or else he and Ever were gonna have to get their kicks another way. And prissy Proctor P wouldn't like it. Guess that's where the old calculation came in: high marks or good times?

Back to the dead hunter. Yeah, he got sucked alright. Zael personally hadn't the seen the work of vampires, not yet, but he imagined it might look something like this: just a dried up husk left. Whether this was a vampiric monster or not remained to be seen though. The most peculiar thing, revealed when Ever pulled down the sheet a little more, was his stomach.

"Damn. He looks pregnant," Zael said flatly, his thoughts flying out unfiltered from his mind.

He hovered his sword above the man's distended stomach.

"As~~~ team captain for our lovely stay here in scenic Arnim," Zael said, taking on a mock official tone that was shed of his western accent and all the while giving Everleigh a sly look, "I'd advise you ready your magic, or one of your many, many blades, in the case of something alive in there popping out and saying 'hello.'"

A wreath of fire wrapped around Zael's offhand, swirling and eager.

Everleigh Ebersol

 

[Everleigh Ebersol]

Everleigh agreed with Zael’s statement— it did look pregnant. Gross. She wondered how something like this could have been missed in Kelly’s retelling of the situation, she was obviously distraught from all the blood that seemed to come from this man. If it wasn’t poison… was it something else inside, festering within the man and growing from sucking all the life out of him? Did the world really need two Edrics?

“Yessir.” Everleigh said with a grin, and since Zael had dropped his accent, she made sure to add a bit of that western drawl into her words. Only fair. A hand went behind her back, the other hand went to her thigh, slipping in a pouch to pull out throwing spikes while a large flat blade was procured from seemingly nowhere. Eyes glowed violet and the poison eater deftly licked her four blades. Her eyes didn’t stop glowing. Just in case she’d need to gas the entire room she was ready to do so. When the sword plunged into the corpse, Evie wasn’t prepared to hear that hard crack as if Zael had plunged it through a plank of wood.

She was prepared for some sort of deformity to pop out and maybe lunge at them but instead an oily feeling in the pit of her stomach could be felt. A hunger so deep, so innate and primordial within herself that Everleigh had always wondered if it existed before her conception. The poison eater knew exactly what that meant. She opened her mouth to warn Zael but the moment she did, the feeling that made her too hungry to even eat, had disappeared.

A wheeze could be heard. Something was gasping for breath. Everleigh peered over and blanched.

“It’s one of those cloth dolls.” Everleigh had had one as a child. She could faintly remember it, even now. But unlike the doll she had had as a little girl, this one was soaked, the cloth bloodied. Another wheeze, the doll’s final breath, and then somehow the blood that was soaking it seem to dry up. No, not dry up, Everleigh realized, but like some form of osmosis, it seemed to move rapidly into the center of the doll and was then sucked up— but where? Where did it go?

Zael Castomir

 

[Zael Castomir]

You know what Zael loved about Everleigh? Her enthusiasm. Look at that. Look. At that. Shit. He'd thought it before and always beared mentioning again: the amount of weapons she brought with her everywhere was perfection. Who was gonna have the gall to say she wasn't ready for a fight? If some dipshit did say that, she had a blade for each ball plus the balls of his best friend--and those were just the ones in her hand. Now, if something was squirming around in the hunter's pot belly, it was going to a hell of a welcome party.

Zael drove the sword into the stomach and cut it open.

The initial resistance caught him way off-guard. Like stabbing a tree for a second there, not the sort of give he was used to when thrusting a sword into soft flesh. What the charcoal flesh revealed when it peeled away was something Zael was even less prepared for.

His nostrils flared and his lips parted in both disgust and confusion.

"The hell is that? Has Tinker been around here?" he said, sounding angry for the sole fact that he even had to look at the thing.

Zael had to keep himself on a tight leash. He had his offhand forward now, ready to shoot a Fireblast into that doll after he saw the blood oozing into it. Swear to Kress, if he felt so much as a tug of magic anywhere on his body, he was going to incinerate that doll. Necromancy bothered him because of the rancid smells, and blood magic because it just weirded him out. Not to an excessive degree. He didn't hate Jax or Liza because of it. But creepy little things like this? Get burnt.

Zael turned his head a bit toward Everleigh, but didn't for a second take his eyes off of the doll. The way she'd said that, it's one of those cloth dolls, seemed almost...nostalgic? Reminiscing?

"You recognize this thing?"

Everleigh Ebersol

 

[Everleigh Ebersol]

“I mean, yeah, I guess,” Everleigh said slowly. “My mother wouldn’t give me a wooden sword or slingshot like your mother probably gave you, and we couldn’t waste money on toys. She made me a doll out of my father’s torn shirt. It’s just long strands of cloth. Ball some up for the head then sew the strands around it to make a dress. Cheap toy for a little girl.” Everleigh frowned, wondering why she had even volunteered so much information.

Until she looked back at the head. Hadn’t the blood been sucked up into there? It had seemed so, at least. She took a deep breath. What had just happened was strange. There was that tease of poison or maybe a toxin, but then it had disappeared. Just right when the sword had plunged through. Coincidence? Perhaps she was over thinking it, but one thing was for certain, she had felt it, and that oily-feeling deep within wasn’t something from her imagination.

“I sensed poison earlier. For half a second.” Evie admitted, glancing at Zael. “But then it was gone.” She paused, and then took a step forward. “I’m going to cut open the head. You should stand back. Cover your mouth and nose, just in case.” Her eyes were glowing gold now. Sometimes she could control poison that wasn’t her own, keep it from spreading into the air or even moving the liquid about like a sinuous snake up in the air. Keyword: sometimes. Everleigh hadn’t spoken of this to a single classmate, and she wouldn’t now. Because the chances of her failing were quite high, which was why Zael needed to be prepared.

Everleigh took a deep breath, her flat blade poised to slice open the head as she used her throwing spikes to pin the doll were it was at. Cloth was torn and Everleigh poked around inside the head of the doll with the tip of head blade. A soft clink could be heard. She slowly began wedging it out from the folds.

Zael Castomir

 

[Zael Castomir]

More than it being a revelation into Everleigh's brief life outside of the Academy, or the sharing of relevant information to their present conundrum, ultimately to Zael what she'd said was...confusing.

He cocked his head as if the perk of his one eyebrow weighed down just slightly the one side of his face. His voice, matching his expression, was one of quiet bewilderment. "...your mother did stuff like that for you?"

Nobody fuckin talked about their family prior to the Academy. If you tried, a Proctor punched you in the mouth. Zael, with nothing but his imagination to fill in all of the gaps concerning the past of his peers, just assumed everyone had come from nice families--families like the Kesselrings. Or he thought he assumed that. If that really had been his tacit assumption, why the hell was he so...shocked?

No time for it. Shelf it for later.

"Poison," he said, giving a little amused scoff. Man, as if Vel'Tyrus wasn't enough. "Every little thing has got to be fuckin poison." At least he got to meet Second Level fire-magic Dreadlord there on that mission. Not even warding off Trix's and Jax's bullshit for the duration could sour that.

I'm going to cut open the head.

"Alright. Your specialty. Go for it."

Zael gave her some space to approach the body and the doll. With an act of will, swirling flame encased Zael's head in a helm of incinerating fire--one of his unorthodox tricks with fire magic. He could see through it and breathe through it, and it was damn good at protecting him from the pollen in Vel'Tyrus. The flames were purifying even the smell of decay from the air filtering in (damn, was it nice to breathe in some fresh air). But would it hold up against all kinds of vapors and gases? Zael didn't know. And if you didn't know, you had to find out the hard way sometimes.

Zael watched Everleigh work, his face concealed behind his Fire Helm. Still, his readied stance and outstretched flame-wreathed hand told well enough what was foremost on his mind.

Everleigh Ebersol

 

[Everleigh Ebersol]

Everleigh noticed Zael’s shock. But what really unnerved her about it wasn’t that Zael was surprised, but it was the fact that Zael had a quietness about him. He was best buds with people like Vance and Kalix, and that little trio was never quiet. It unnerved the poison eater just enough to where she wouldn’t comment on it. Not yet. Not when they were dealing with some creepy voodoo shit. Everleigh didn’t even know what to call this doll or the husk of a body.

Necromancy? Some sort of witchcraft? Blood bending? Dark magic?

Hopefully whatever was inside the doll’s head would reveal a clue. The whole thing seemed to drag out longer than it needed to, at least in Everleigh’s mind. She was hyper aware of everything, of the heat from from Zael’s hand combined with his fire helm, the rotten, vinegar-sweet smell of decay, and how whatever was inside the head did not want to come out. Everleigh may have been a fearless and aggressive fighter, but she wasn’t impulsive and was not about to stick her fingers into the bundle of cloth to pull out whatever it was.

Luckily, soon enough, her flat blade seemed to find a place of purchase to tug the item out. She was ready to duck and cover if need be for Zael to incinerate whatever foul thing could be lying in wait. But that wasn’t needed as a glint of gold peeked through. Everleigh frowned, maneuvering it out of the cloth. That’s it? She dug her flat blade back into the head, hoping to find something else inside, hoping that something more exciting than this could be found.

“What. A. Freaking. Tease.” The initiate grumbled. The feeling of thrill and fear had now ebbed away, unable to find climax. “It’s a coin. Not Anirian currency.” Everleigh clarified, looking at the golden flat disc. There was a square hole. Was it even currency or some sort of decoration? With a shrug she picked the coin up, inspecting it closer to find a single droplet of dried blood.

She looked back at Zael, showing him the coin.

“Any ideas, captain?”

Zael Castomir

 

[Zael Castomir]

Boy, was he ready to set half of Matthias's house on fire to incinerate that doll if it suddenly jumped up with a life of its own and tried something spooky. The Kesselrings could always build a new house, but Arethil couldn't replace the loss of a face as beautiful as Zael's if that doll got to skittering and slicing. And who was gonna run all the fun under-the-table games at the Academy if Ever had a similarly bad conclusion?

The hell? Speaking of under-the-table games, what Everleigh uncovered wasn't some slithering or crawling or pulsating creature like Zael was expecting, no. It was a coin. His Fire Helm hid the look of bewilderment.

Still, Zael kept his magic up. That doll, of which the coin was somehow a part, had been sucking up blood from the hunter's corpse only a moment ago. He wasn't so ready to extend any level of trust to the coin yet.

"Not any currency I've ever seen." Between the two of them, that was saying something; Ever had to fund her games, and Zael was a hell of a tipper on those decompression brothel visits, at least until the Republic and its moral grandstanding ruined them. It was an easy proclamation to make that they were the two foremost experts on currency among the current crop of Initiates.

He idly voiced what both of them already knew. "That square hollow in the center don't fly." Then, with a mocking derision for the fact of the matter, "Where are they gonna put the faces of those who rule over us?"

Speculation time.

"Could be ceremonial, for somethin mundane or magical, who knows. Or some kind of special purpose token, for...entry or...identification."

Jumping off of that last word, another thought introduced itself into his mind. One that came with a slight chill.

"Or it could be someone's signature. A callin card."

Everleigh Ebersol

 

[Everleigh Ebersol]

Everleigh listened to Zael as he spoke, nodding her head along with what he was saying. The empty square shape in the middle was unusual. He had good suggestions, surprising Everleigh with how quickly he could consider multiple possibilities as if he had read her mind. Idly, she flipped the coin like it were any other, catching it and placing it onto the back of her hand.

“It’s light.” She said absently, looking down at it and tracing over that missing piece with her finger. She then looked back at the doll, splayed out like a forgotton bride and then looked back at the deceased hunter’s face.

“We should probably take that body and doll outside and burn it.” Everleigh said, finally looking back at Zael. “Something is at play here, and blood is a factor.” She placed the coin in her pouch, the special one that had the trick coins that would either always land on heads or tails. She wondered if she’d feel that trickle of toxicity again. “Cows have a lot of blood.” Evie added, remembering the first time she had seen her father butcher a massive white bull. It was the prettiest creature Everleigh had laid eyes on, even when the blood stained it’s white pelt.

The initiate took the sheet, covering the body back up. With the sheet covering mostly everything, she felt comfortable in positioning the mummified body so that the sheet could wrap around it completely. She looked back at Zael, lifting up the side that the head was on.

“C’mon, muscles, wanna show off and help a lady out? Then we can decide in peace whether we want to go around the ranch or check out the town or forest.” Everleigh’s tone was lighter and more genial than it had been moments before. She could sense a hint of apprehension from her fellow initiate, and while she wasn’t sure whether it was because the way the body smelled, the doll, or something else altogether, she figured it was best to bring some relief to both of their minds.

When they would lift the corpse off the bed and begin to head out to the front of the house to head outside, Everleigh’s violet gaze would harden. A part of her was rather suspicious that Kelly hadn’t mentioned the state the body was in, and when they passed the kitchen, she would glance over. Proctor Palahniuk seemed to be chatting Matthias’ wife up, which Everleigh didn’t register as anything more than the proctor wanting to run his mouth and hear his own voice. Kelly seemed to catch sight of them bringing that body out, for a moment her face was a mixture of emotion, and then it was gone as she turned her full attention to the proctor and agreed with whatever he had just said.

Zael Castomir

 

[Zael Castomir]

"Light? Shit, I have half a mind to bite that thing and see if its actually gold, or if this cow-killin monster is some measure of cheapskate." The other half of his mind, of course, just wanted to melt that coin down into liquid metal. Could still see if it was plated that way, and if there truly was some lick of poison somewhere on it it'd be incinerated something good.

C'mon, muscles...

With everything looking more or less to be no immediate threat, Zael let his Fire Helm swirl away into nothingness and let the wreath of flame dissipate from his hand. He sheathed his sword.

He rotated each of his shoulders. Excellent, his other specialty, besides whipping up fires to, say, toast a desiccated body: hauling said body outside with the ease of a physical prodigy. He wasn't as tall as some of the other guys at the Academy, but he made up for it--as he liked to say, all those meals went to bulking up his chest and arms rather than stretching out his legs.

"I got the heavy side," Zael said with an enthusiastic smile. He would've just thrown the whole body over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes, but that wouldn't've been fair to Ever. He didn't want to shortchange nobody on some delicious physical exertion.

They passed Proctor Palahniuk speaking with Matthias's wife on the way out. Well damn, Proctor P might have a second hobby: wife-stealing. Funny a thought as that was, he probably just wanted a new audience to unleash his ramblings upon after having traveled with Zael and Everleigh the past several days.

There was a nice shallow pit out back, its insides ringed with ashes of old. Other things had been burned in there, but Zael couldn't reckon what. It'd suit just fine for their purposes.

With the corpse in the burn pit, Zael clapped both of his hands together. The air around him began to shimmer lightly with the heat mirages one might see in the distance on a hot summer's day. Then he arced his arm back and swiped it forward as if he were throwing a wide right hook. A crescent of flame shot forth in the wake of his strike, down into the pit and smothering the body in a bright orange fire.

Everleigh Ebersol

 

[Everleigh Ebersol]

Everleigh watched Zael as he used his magic, standing behind him once the body was in the pit. A part of her was impressed while also being a bit jealous. It was no secret that anything that was extra destructive, like fire, always got attention. All initiates ended up being deadly, at least those who survived the academy, but some kids just got all the praise early on. It pissed the poison eater off.

There weren’t many things that actually made Everleigh livid. So far it was being compared to Trix or being in a dick swinging contest with those that thought their personal magic beat hers. She placed her hands on her hips, her lips turning downwards ever so slightly.

“I brought my sword instead of my lance,” she said, watching Zael’s flames devour the corpse. She felt the heat, the power, and yet appreciated the warmth. A thought passed through, one she had about every initiate, even Liza and Tinker: could I kill them? “It’s on my horse. I’ll go grab it and then do you want to walk around the ranch first? I’d like a good feel of it before our night watch.” She looked up at the sky. It’s not like they had a bunch of time anyways before the sun would set.

“Besides, don’t think just because our mission is getting more serious I’m just gonna forget our bet.” The poison eater said with cheerful mischievousness. “Even with the creepy voodoo I—“

“YEW CAN CONTROL FIRE?!” Everleigh slowly turned around towards the voice of the youngest son who was staring at Zael as if he were some god. “That’s frickin’ awesome.” His blue eyes were sparkling and the ginormous grin on his face was utterly genuine. He then looked at his hands and clapped, much like Zael had, and nearly copied him completely in his form as if he were going to create a wave of flame as well. Nothing happened, of course, but the boy was still grinning wildly.

“Can I touch your sword?” He asked, causing Everleigh to stifle back a snicker, a hand going up to covering her smirk.

Zael Castomir