Completed The Cut That Always Bleeds

[Zael Castomir]

For the second time, Zael awoke with a start. This time, Ever awoke at the same time, and also her hair, her eyes, were both back to those shades of purple which had so thoroughly supplanted the black and gray of old. The Kesselring ranch was behind them, the rural ambience enough to give it away.

Plated fingers immediately plunged into the narrow gap between his chin and his neckguard. No wound. No wound for his fingers to slip into. Though that was probably a given. He'd no trouble breathing, no gurgling, no nothing, pain, none of that. But...

Zael glanced over.

"Did you cut my throat?" he asked in an incredulous manner, as if he could've sworn it happened yet all evidence around him pointed to the contrary.

Everleigh Ebersol

 

[Everleigh Ebersol]

“I didn’t want to,” Everleigh’s voice came out in a whisper, and contrary to her usual confidence, she looked down and away, unable to meet Zael’s green gaze. She stared at her hands, as if she could feel his hot blood run over her fingers. Pieces of him between pieces of her. Pieces of him where they shouldn’t be.

She could have been wrong. She could have actually killed him. And herself. But more importantly, she could have killed him.

Three things that Everleigh refused to kill: Liliana. Tinker. Zael.

Everleigh turned away from Zael and retched, heaving heavily although nothing came out. Only bitter, sour bile would come up and she would spit it out into the grass, her chest convulsing from the strain. Moments later, the waves of sickness would pass and she would take deep, slow yet shaky breaths, regaining her composure before speaking again— although she continued to stare down at the grass.

“To break the illusion, something so shocking had to happen that our minds would break out of it, but it had to be something we hadn’t witnessed exactly. Like a dream when you fall and when you hit the ground you wake up.” She shivered, her thighs and biceps still quivering. “I tried telling you, but they shut me up. They were using our memories, the old sensations we’ve felt but had long forgotten. Except, my mind is good at remembering almost everything.” A slight shake of her head, before Everleigh leaned back, kneeling over and hugging herself, trying to calm her nerves.

“They morphed the memories though... or, yours.” Everleigh didn’t say anything else, letting that hang in the air. Finally, after the silence grew long enough, she turned her face over to look at Zael. “You’re nothing like that. You could never be anything like that.”

Zael Castomir

 

[Zael Castomir]

Zael watched as Everleigh had her rough moment, staying quiet, mind clear of judgment (the old Academy would've been brutal about the display, yes it would have), and let her work through it.

Then she had a lot to say.

Good thing Ever was as sharp as she was. Zael...fuck, he'd been sucked right into that trap, hadn't he? He was gonna have to be better than that. Even if the Fog had been aiming for him, needling its way into the darkest reaches of his mind and memories, targeting him with pastiches of his past crafted to stoke old painful embers to life, fuck, he had to be better than that.

Ever said it, and he should've known it. You're nothing like that. You could never be anything like that. Next time, he had to act like it.

He was quiet for a little bit, letting the heat of the moment disperse. No Tarrow, his dad wasn't here, and there wasn't some vision of his false future self. In one huff of an exhale he seemed to expel a whole bundle of clutching negativity.

"So you did cut my throat," Zael said, circling back around on his original question. Then he favored her with a cheeky smile, "I always knew you were gonna graduate."

That was one way to move past it. Get back on track with his way of being. Crack a joke. Think about how this "bad" situation was only going to make him stronger. But dear Kress don't get mired in the past at the expense of the present and, ultimately, the sacrifice of the future.

Zael took a couple curious glances at his arms. Surveyed the blood all over his armor. Outstanding, ammunition for another smart remark.

"Looks like the job's done. Easy. We can tell Proctor P we did it in our sleep."

Everleigh Ebersol

 

[Everleigh Ebersol]

Something about Zael’s smile was infectious. No matter what, looking at his grin, whether it was genuine or full of that playful snark, always made Everleigh’s lips curve up in response. Even now, with her mind racing, with being sure that Zael would have said or done something brusque and cruel to her, her body acted without her thinking. The small smile quivered before it bloomed, but it was there, more akin to the twinkling of a star rather than the full blaze of a summer sun like Zael’s.

Still crouched on her knees, Everleigh made her way close to Zael, and took hold of one of his hands, clasping it in both of hers. That was when she noticed her index finger was still broken, she was unable to bend it. Her mind was quick to think of the possibilities but for now she pushed that aside.

“Proctor P can wait. I want you to say it. To speak it out loud,” her voice was soft, a gentle murmur but her violet eyes held unmistakable, electric intensity. “We’ll graduate together. We’ll join the guard together.” Everleigh didn’t know if Zael would join the guard or if he would head into the reserves. Banishment definitely couldn’t be what he wanted, right? But the sentiment was the same. Zael wouldn’t be left behind to soak in mediocracy.

Everleigh stood up, her hands tugging up Zael to stand up with her. Both of them covered in blood and other little bits of gristle and viscera must have been quite a sight to behold but she didn’t let go of Zael’s hand, even then.

“Say it. Say you’re Zael Castomir and you’re in charge of your future. Say that you have no limits, that you’ll only stop when you want to.”

Zael Castomir

 

[Zael Castomir]

Zael was disarmed of his cavalier mirth when Ever, despite the little smile he'd managed to elicit from her, came forward with a sort of urgency and took hold of his hand. Her voice was quiet but her eyes were deafening.

He stood when prompted, still a bit taken aback by the sudden intensity from Ever. Fair to say that he'd not really seen her like this before. Also fair to say that she'd not really seen him like he'd been back in the Fog either. This mission had from the outset seemed to be so boring and routine that they concocted a bet to refine and shape to spice things up. Now it was clear that there was more to Arnim and the tribulation here than a simple monster preying on some unfortunate cows.

Something that had already forced the rare and unseen out of both of them.

Zael's surprise at last gave way to easy nonchalance. "Are you kidding? Of course we're gonna graduate. And I am joining the Guard, not some pussy-ass 'reserve.'" Reserve. That was the real joke. "These motherfuckers can't get rid of me that easily. They're gonna get what they paid for, twelve years in the makin. I'm gonna make myself everybody's problem."

He needed someone to be a recalcitrant asshole to, and some stuffy Guardsmen officers with their sharp uniforms and polished boots were going to fit that bill nicely when he didn't have Proctors anymore.

"And I'll tell you this right now, Ever," he said. "I'm never goin back to Tarrow. I'm never gonna see that mill again in my life, and I sure as hell ain't gonna work there." He stabbed at his chest with the thumb of his free hand. "I'm gonna be a fuckin Lord one day. Mark my words."

Everleigh Ebersol

 

[Everleigh Ebersol]

Her hands tightened around Zael’s as he spoke, looking up at him. That silent intensity was still there, fervent violet irises that saw nothing else but Zael as he spoke. When he finished, her eyes had turned into crescent moons, crinkling up to hide the sparkle of joy, and she nodded her head once before it tilted ever so gently to the side.

“Of course. I believe in you.” Everleigh said softly, her mouth curving up as she flashed Zael a genuine smile when she spoke those words. Four words that she had never heard, at least, not since she entered the gates of the academy. It was something her mother had told her when she said at the prime age of four that she was going to be a butcher just like her father.

Well, she was close to that childhood dream, sort of.

She looked down at Zael’s large armored hand, her fingers far more slender than his, her hands smaller than his. Their hands covered in blood. The life of a dreadlord. She felt the blood suited Zael more than the dust of flour. It suited her as well. It’s what they have been raised for. Finally, she let go of his hand.

“You think the Kesselring’s have a bath?” She said, motioning for Zael to follow her towards the house. “Although I bet Miklan is going to love to see you covered in blood.” She looked back over at her shoulder, at the wood. For now, she wouldn’t speak of it. Not yet. But she made the gestures to Zael as she spoke, that behind them, in the small copse, their enemies were still there. They may have broken out of the illusion cast upon them, but until Everleigh saw the light drain from their eyes, they were there, waiting.

And she had just the plan to get them to come out from their hiding place.

Zael Castomir

 

[Zael Castomir]

There was a part of Zael that wanted to slap the shit out of Everleigh for even saying that, I believe in you. It was ugly, but it was there, small and quiet and inextinguishable. The Academy's talons sank deep into every Initiate, every last one, and if you wanted to survive you had to set up room in your heart for a certain darkness to make residence. You had to be willing to kill everyone necessary and depend on no one. Only a year ago, Zael and Ever and all their peers (who'd lived this long) had to reckon with the prospect of killing their way out of the Academy through graduation.

But there was a bigger part, the part that housed the way Zael had adopted after he, too, broke on that fateful night in the "Ice Cellar." This was the part that changed his outlook on life. This was the part that adored what Everleigh had just said to him. And with this is heart wasn't cold, but made warm.

Everleigh started to walk, and Zael, behind her for a moment, had that very moment to smile in much the same way as he had with Miklan: out of genuine affection. Zael was a weapon, Ever was too, but damn did it feel good to be human every once in a while.

He hid that particular smile by the time he was walking beside her.

"I hope they do," Zael said of the bath. Fuckin Tarrow was so fucked that they only had a tiny communal bathhouse for the whole village with, like, three whole tubs, one of which was perpetually broken and leaky. "Hey, maybe with enough blood in my hair I can do a good impersonation of Liza. Strawberry blond, right?"

Ever flashed some of the Dreadlord sign language to him. Zael saw it, didn't break his stride, and signed a response in front of his chest to conceal it from view from behind:

We will get revenge.

Everleigh Ebersol

 

[Everleigh Ebersol]

“Yeah, strawberry blonde,” Everleigh said, her gaze still ahead of her until she caught movement in her peripheral vision. She slightly glanced over to Zael, seeing his fingers move, and she couldn’t agree more with what he had said. She grinned at him, impish and full of mischief and mirth. “But I prefer real blondes a lot more.” She swiveled her head back, the Kesselring home approaching ever closer.

“If you want me to wash your hair for you then you only need to ask.” Was the last thing she could say because running out the front door was Miklan. He stood on the porch, looking around until his eyes caught sight of the initiates. Even with Everleigh’s good eyesight, she couldn’t quite make out his expression, but she was positive that it was one of surprise for shortly after he had ran back into the house.

Moments later, Proctor Palahniuk had come outside, stomping onto the porch and then craning his neck over to give the initiates a withering glare. Everleigh jogged the rest of the way over, and the moment she got close enough she could see Proctor P reel back from the smell from the gore.

“Well did you at least kill the thing if you two look like that?” Proctor P said exasperated, gesturing with one hand at the two initiates and their unsuitable presentation. Everleigh shook her head no, lifting up a foot. She was about to take a step onto the porch but the proctor vehemently shook his head. “No, no, NOOO; Gods, Initiate Ebersol did we raise you to act like an animal? You can’t get blood all over the Kesselring’s home! Stay on the grass! Both of you on the grass!” He held a hand up to plug his nose and shook his head.

Miklan focused completely on Zael, eyes wide with the sense of glory and heroism. He moved past Proctor Palahniuk to come and stand close to the male initiate, not minding the smell whatsoever.

“Did yew get ‘em?” He asked.

Everleigh wished she could have watched the scene unfold, but kept her attention on her proctor.

“We’ll bathe. Just point us where.” She said, seeing the unsure look on the proctor’s face. With a melodramatic roll of his eyes he stomped back inside.

Zael Castomir

 

[Zael Castomir]

"Now that's an offer I can't refuse," Zael said. He would've added in something nice and cheeky too, something like Hey, gotta test out your skills, ya know, for when I win the bet and you're washing my hair for seven days straight, yeah, something like that, but there was Miklan up ahead on the porch of the farmhouse.

Normally Zael wouldn't think much of approaching people (normal people, folks who weren't broken and remolded by the Academy) covered in blood. Shit, better to let them know that this was all part of the job. They weren't called Dreadlords for nothing. But, in Miklan's case, Zael actually harbored a little worry that the boy might think that he and Ever were bleeding, that they'd been hurt, and take fright. He didn't want to scare the boy, no, far from that. Zael felt like a...like a...fuck, was this what it felt like to be a brother? A big brother, watching out his little bro?

He didn't have any chance to assuage any of Miklan's possible fears. In he went, and out came (goddamn it) Proctor Palahniuk. Hey, at least while Proctor P was raving about the vulnerable cleanliness of the Kesselring's abode, Miklan, to the contrary of Zael's initial worry, didn't have a shred of fright about him.

"We got some work done, but it ain't over yet," Zael said.

Proctor P, helpful as ever, went back inside without answering Everleigh. Damn man, make up your mind. Demand us to get clean and then get salty when we ask for a little pointing to. Come on.

But there was still Miklan. "Hey, any place we can wash up around here, Miklan?"

Everleigh Ebersol

 

[Everleigh Ebersol]

Miklan had an excited look about him when Zael spoke, and then because he had decided minutes ago that he was going to act like a big kid from now on, took one a serious, thoughtful look. Brought a hand up to his chin as if he were to stroke a beard in thought, mimicking his father. The issue was, baths? Not Miklan’s thing. Never had been and never would be, after all it just ate up more of his valuable playtime. Adding in the fact that the initiates couldn’t come into the house…

“Sometimes we wash the animals when we wanna show ‘em off.” Miklan suggested, looking at Zael to see if that was the correct answer. Luckily for the both of them, Kelly came out, wiping her hands on her apron. Seeing the two initiates she gasped, a hand coming up to cover her mouth.

“Are either of you hurt?” She asked, her shock quickly fading. Everleigh shook her head, not mentioning her broken index finger as she had planned to heal it later. Kelly looked skeptical, her mouth turning into a thin line as she looked at both of them sternly. Everleigh didn’t know why but for some reason… she felt almost guilty for something. Luckily, Kelly ended up sighing. “Dimitri!” She shouted into the house, “get one of the old blankets— not the new ones, the old gray ones— and help me out.”

“I’m going to help too!” Miklan said, raising up a hand so he could be seen. Kelly gave him a small smile and nodded her head. She then gestured at the initiates to follow her.

The Kesselrings worked fast, although Zael and Everleigh were tasked with carrying buckets of water from the nearby stream. Each were given two large pails, and Everleigh had to admit, such a benign task felt nice. The Kesselrings worked on another aspect of the bath. They had pulled out two decently sized tin-tubs, but Kelly had insisted that both initiates could get some privacy, so in between the tubs were two parallel posts, wire connecting them at the top and the bottom, with a old brown and gray sheet pinned along the wire. A suitable wall.

When the tubs were filled up with the cold water from the stream, each initiate was given a small handful of soft soap made of olive oil, lime and wood ash, decently smelling but Everleigh wished she had her own concoction. They would set one of their pair of buckets upside down, a towel being laid on it. They were instructed to place their dirty clothing in the other bucket, and clean it to the best of their abilities in the water once they had soaked enough.

“And then we all gonna have dinner, okay?” Miklan finished, breathless. Everleigh was already beginning to take her clothing off, or at least, the series of vests and belts and other things full of weapons. She took off her boots, the squelch making her grimace. His older brother, Dimitri, called for Miklan, and off he dashed.

Everleigh looked at the blanket. Small tears with a few frayed holes were scattered throughout it, as well as a myriad of stains. She blinked, realizing she could catch a glimpse of Zael through the gaps of cloth. The poison eater looked away, finally pulling her sticky shirt over her head.

Zael Castomir

 

[Zael Castomir]

Hey, sometimes you wanna be scrubbed down like a prize-winning horse.

But, as good of a suggestion as that was from little Miklan, his mother came out and had a far more normal and practical one. Ah well. That's how it goes. At least Proctor P wasn't the one to come up with some get-clean-quick scheme for them to follow. Fuck, there were a few of the older Proctors (some of the ones that "disappeared" after the Revolution) who would've just scoffed at them, told them to piss on each other to spray off whatever blood they could, and whatever was left on them, eh, fuck it, should've drank more water if you wanted to be more "clean," huh.

Carrying the pails of water was easy enough. Zael even enjoyed it—somewhat along the same lines as Everleigh, though he didn't know it. A benign task, sure, but more to Zael's enjoyment it was some light exercise. He was able to get four pails of water joining by sliding the handles up onto his forearms, and, fuck, if he could've gotten six going without spilling the damn water everyone he would've done it. Four was fine, and the weight left a little of that sweet burn of exertion by the end of it. Funny enough, that burn was the best way to cool down after the conflagration of emotion he'd gone through in the Fog.

Tubs, got 'em. Hey, don't anybody go tellin Kelly about the way Initiates used to wash up in the old Academy, she might toss her hands up in frustration hearin it, her attempt at decency ruined years before she even tried it.

Zael had his back to the frayed divided blanket; it hadn't yet occurred to him as it had to Everleigh, despite his recent thoughts, that the blanket with its collection of ragged holes wasn't the best for the privacy Kelly wanted for the Initiates.

Clanks and thuds sounded as Zael was stripping off his armor. Fuck, his arming garments underneath were a fucking mess. He stripped those off too and dunked them into the buckets to soak.

"How do you think we even got covered in blood, anyway?" Zael said. It was a bit odd, wasn't it? If it was their blood, you know, from where Ever had sliced his neck and her own to wake them, they'd both be feeling anemic for one, and there wouldn't be that much blood all over them for two.

"If you guess right, I'll promote you to captain."

You could almost hear the smirk in his tone.

Everleigh Ebersol

 

[Everleigh Ebersol]

The purple initiate was focused, so it seemed, on removing her layers, although the moment she was in nothing more than her cloth wrapping to bind her breasts and a pair of thin shorts for underwear, Everleigh began working on her braid completed matted in blood. It was a habit that before she ever got completely naked— whether she was by others or by herself— to undo her hair and let the long tresses cover her body as much as possible.

She tsked as she started to undo the braid, ripping pieces apart and thinking about how this was going to cause a series of split ends. Despite this, she was very aware of Zael removing his armor, playing a bit of a mental game of what item he was discarding. Of course, as he spoke, she stiffened.

There was a part of Everleigh that she liked to call being wary, although a few times a proctors had pointed it out to be paranoia. As someone who was as fragile as she was, she had to be high-alert, gaze always cataloging items in a space, muscles always taunt and ready to fight or flee. So while Zael had a very good question, one that even she had debated about, she shivered, the translucent hair on the back of her neck and arms rising up, gooseflesh appearing not long after.

She turned around, looking back at the sheet, feeling as if eyes were on her. A feeling she got often, one that always could disrupt her focus. Everleigh knew Zael wasn’t looking at her, whether because he had yet to realize he could sneak a peek or because he focusing on something else. She wondered if anyone actually was looking at her, or if it was that paranoia due to the topic Zael wanted to discuss.

“Oh, I’d forgotten you were in charge, since yanno, I should be the leader.” Everleigh said slowly, letting her words hang in the air as she paused, collecting her thoughts. “I have a few ideas actually. Kesselrings have been losing livestock for awhile, right? Holsteins have about ten gallons of blood, usually more, and some of the stock are Chianina, I believe, although I’ll need to double check that with Mathias.” Her fingers began to weaving her braid free. “Chianina are for beef if I remember correctly,” she did, of course, her father’s lectures clear as crystal, “so I’d say thirteen gallons. Add in animals, humans, you get a lot of blood.” Everleigh’s hair was finally free.

“You still decent? This part I want to whisper.” Everleigh said, already coming to the edge of the makeshift wall and peeking her head over regardless of Zael’s answer. The gooseflesh was still evident, her hairs still pricked. Whether rightly or wrongly, Everleigh still felt like she was being watched. She had no reason to, after all, she could make a plethora of excuses for why she felt how she did. Yet she chose to follow the small voice that told her to be careful.

Zael Castomir

 

[Zael Castomir]

Oh, I’d forgotten you were in charge, since yanno, I should be the leader.

Zael let out a good-natured laugh, filling in that little gap as she paused to interject a quick zinger. "But you ain't. You're my trusted advisor." He hit the tr sound in trusted and the i sound in advisor hard with his Tarrow accent, as he sometimes did when delivering a punchline.

As Trusted Advisor, Ever went on to give a rundown of cattle. Damn, it was...accurate, so far as Zael could tell. He didn't know it all so well, neither his father nor his mother had been farmers, but from what he'd gleaned from the actual farmers about Tarrow everything she said checked out, even the foggy lenses of memories from long ago. Like pretty much every other Initiate, Zael didn't know where exactly Everleigh hailed from, what her family was like. She didn't have a western accent, but that didn't mean she couldn't have been the daughter of a small town farmer or rancher elsewhere.

You still decent?

Well fuck, if he'd been faster he could've had his undershorts off and been buck naked before she asked. Would've been hilarious. He even had a wisecrack for it once his morning glory was discovered to whatever degree of shock it inspired: Decent? That's right. Decently built, look at these buns, aaaahhhh.

Instead, all he could go with was a, "Yeah, sure," and then, catching her peeking around the divider, saunter over and hunch over so they could huddle together in a conspiratorial manner. Wanted to whisper this part, eh? What was the big deal? There was a monster and they were here to fucking kill it.

"Go ahead and whisper. I'm just gonna repeat everything you say with my loud ass voice."

He smirked. Made light of the whole thing. But he couldn't help but notice the fine little hairs on the back of her neck, anxious in their standing unison.

Everleigh Ebersol

 

[Everleigh Ebersol]

Trusted Advisor? Where did that land her? King’s had trusted advisors, didn’t they? Perhaps this was part of the “becoming a lord” bit Zael had said earlier— although Everleigh had no idea where he had gotten such an idea from. But trusted advisor was essentially the real person in charge, weren’t they? And Everleigh had enjoyed the times where she had manipulated things behind the scenes and not gotten caught. Whether Zael realized it or not, she took this as a compliment.

Everleigh matched Zael’s smirk with a wry smirk of her own, and while her face hid her paranoia, there were telltale signs that she felt anything but jovial. She glanced down at his throat, still half expecting to see a scar or for a gaping wound of crimson to appear. She could feel the wet warmth along her fingers before she had slit her own.

Everleigh bit her lower lip, stabbing a canine into the soft flesh to rip at a layer of skin, there was no blood but there was an evident redness where she had attacked her lip.

“What do you remember when you were pulled into the fog?” She assumed Zael had been taken the way she had, after all they had arrived mentally at the same place. “Because I feel like I saw a glimpse of two bipedal figures, heard two voices before I blacked out. They sounded like… well one sounded like a young girl, the other sounded like a woman. Did you catch anything like that? Or more perhaps?” Everleigh whispered all of this, leaning up so her mouth was close to his ear.

Despite his tease on bellowing out everything she told him, she was discreet. Her voice a soft, mellifluous lull that could have been drowned out by the fluttering of butterfly wings or the slow descent of flower petals on the ground. The softness entirely contrary to her broken finger, her fair skin and violet hair matted in drying blood, gooseflesh prickling along her bare skin as if she were standing naked on a chilly day. A image that contradicted the dulcet voice that shouldn’t belong to a weapon.

Zael Castomir

 

[Zael Castomir]

Zael just shrugged.

"Yeah? Sure I did. What about it? I saw my buttfuckin dad too but that didn't mean much."

So far as Zael was concerned, whatever it was that lurked in those woods just off the Kesselring property seemed content to kick their feet up over there and stay put. At least until night fell, when all of a sudden it had a pretty good hankering for some beef and, like a lot of other monsters, went ranging out under the cold gazes of Lessat and Pneria. But they knew something about their enemy. They knew it was one of those damn tricksy types, the ones that were sly and liked to play with your mind. Maybe Proctor P could actually be useful and help them out with some high-level wards. Footmen put on armor to shield them from blows; wards were just the armor they needed here. Zael had a grasp of some basic wards, but he was no Sable.

Anyway.

"Alright, why so quiet?" Zael said, not having bothered to lower his voice at all during the exchange. He reached over and ran a rough hand down the back of her neck, getting a feel for the goosebumps (also forgetting in that moment the reputation, true or not, Everleigh had about being poisonous to the touch). "And what the hell is all this, huh? Chilly?"

Because he knew Ever wasn't scared. Hell no, not Ever.

Everleigh Ebersol

 

[Everleigh Ebersol]

Everleigh’s eyes widened in shock, a flurry of thoughts and emotions washing over her and for once her mind couldn’t logically siphon them. His touch was warm along the back of her neck, a comfort despite the fact that Zael’s hand belonged to a warrior and would never be soft. It’s not that Everleigh didn’t want Zael to touch her, rather she was nervous about him seeing it. Her symbol of shame.

Lightning-quick, her hand shot up and held his hand in place at the base of her neck where the shoulders meet. She stilled his fingers onto one of the knobs of her spine, hoping the marking didn’t peak through his fingers. Her instinct was to snap at him, to scare him away because of what she was: poison. And perhaps she would have it weren’t for their teamwork in War Games, or for the time he had laid his head in her lap on board the pirate ship.

And really, she was so touch-deprived for so long that when Liliana had grabbed her hand to inspect her wound months ago, it opened a gaping hole of desire within the poison eater. And Everleigh was ravenous, a voracious eater through and through.

Peeping up at Zael, her hand still on his, keeping it in place, Everleigh barely cared if her cheeks were flushed with a mixture of embarrassment and jubilance. As she lifted her head up, she would take hold of Zael’s hand resting on her, and expertly slide it off in a slow yet meticulous fashion. In a brief fit of curiosity, she held onto his hand so she could turn it over and stare down into his palm. Mauve eyes memorizing the series of crisscrossing creases.

“I don’t think we’re going against a monster, Zael,” Everleigh said softly, expertly side-stepping his question about the gooseflesh— which he had made worse by touching her. “I think we’re going against people. People with strong magical tendencies.” For once there wasn’t a bite in her tone as she had to explain what she thought was entirely obvious. Some people like Liliana picked things up quickly, without Everleigh ever needing to explain much. Others needed everything to be explained bit by bit. Everleigh didn’t consider Zael to be like that though. He was just distracted.

Time to fulfill her duty as Trusted Advisor.

“The bit with your past? They knew it would make you upset, distract you from what they really are and what they’re trying to do.” Finally, she let go of his hand and then looked up at him, a wide grin on her face. “But I have a plan. I just can’t tell you very much right now. I feel…” Everleigh paused. “I feel as if there are a set of eyes on me.” She had gotten quiet again, feeling more vulnerable now than when she had retched in front of Zael.

Zael Castomir

 

[Zael Castomir]

Fucking Kress, that hand came up and slapped onto his with the quickness of a snake's bite. Zael was actually more impressed than taken aback, damn, because that's the kind of speed you could use to whip someone's ass. Maybe all of that hearsay had some truth to it: Ever really didn't like being touched. Made sense. She hung out with Tinker Smithe, so, yeah, birds of a feather. There was some sparse evidence to the contrary of course (it was taking her forever to let go of his hand after she pried it off of her neck, for instance), but what rare exception didn't make a rule?

If anything, Zael was just surprised that the venomous rumor mill at the Academy actually churned out something that was approximating truth. Heh. Venomous rumor mill. That was...were poison and venom the same thing?...ah, forget it.

I don't think we're going against a monster, Zael.

He perked a curious, if vaguely doubtful, eyebrow. But he listened all the way through. A set of eyes, huh?

"Lookin at you and not me? Pfft. They're missin out. Hold on."

Zael started to "stretch." And by stretch what he was really doing was flexing. He curled up his arms this way and that, turned at the waist, puffed out his broad chest, pulled out all the moves he'd invented. There was the old female Proctor, one of the ones who disappeared after the Revolution, who'd gotten angry as fuck at him one day when he showed off like this a little too much. Zael chalked it up to a very specific kind of "frustration."

"There. Now they're definitely looking at me." And they were probably as frustrated as that former Proctor too.

Alright. Well. Fun and games were over. Monster or man, whatever or whoever was responsible for dragging Zael through the mud of his past was going to burn. He kind of hoped it was people. Then he'd be able to break one of their fingers. Revenge for Ever, and revenge was best served poetic.

"So. Pretend we're none the wiser," Zael said. "Bait these motherfuckers into thinkin we're daft."

He paused. Heh. Daft. Not in his usual vocabulary.

"I picked that word up from Alistair. Got some of his fancy talk on loan, you might say."

Everleigh Ebersol

 

[Everleigh Ebersol]

Everleigh wasn’t sure if Zael was trying to make her feel… better? Secure? Comfortable? She didn’t think he was dense, but in all her time at the academy, she couldn’t quite say someone had specifically gone out of their way to put her at ease. Perhaps a phrase along the lines of “get over it” or “enjoy the attention” on the few occasions that she had mentioned such a strange feeling. It was strange, she once enjoyed all eyes on her. She had taken much pleasure from the fact that she was attractive, a lovely face with charming features, the allure of gray eyes causing many to coo in awe.

Then her hair and eye color changed. As if the tattooed rune wasn’t enough, or all the shiny surprises stabbed into her skin. Those could be hidden, at least. Features that she once thought to be her best, her eyes and hair, taken from her.

Sure, it was silly to care about looks at the academy, Everleigh understood that exorbitantly well at a very young age, which put her ahead of the others and kept her in the lead. Two years ago was when she started feeling a constant gauging gaze from her peers and the surrounding susurrous sound of words being spoken that were somehow about her.

This was quickly pushed behind her as Zael flexed because there was only one thing that Everleigh could focus on:

MMMMMMMM… MUSCLES.​

Everleigh always thought she loved beef because of her father’s profession, as it was often enjoyed when he came back from his travels. But there was another reason: beefy. It was used to describe muscle mass, as it not? Perhaps Zael wasn’t a giant like Sable, a mass of pure brawny glory that Everleigh thought to be unappealing— aesthetically at least. Zael on the other hand?

Beefy in all the right places. She could feel herself beginning to drool.

She wasn’t going to tell him about the holes in the sheet. No, not all. Definitely not now. It was naughty, Everleigh knew that much, a good person would inform the other for privacy and all of that. Besides. Who knew how long it would take for her to win that bet? Just a preview of her reward: Zael, for one week, in a collar, and possibly… mostly naked.

A small shake of her head, followed by a smile of appreciation made it seem as if she had been focusing on Zael’s words and not his broad chest. Her head cleared of her lecherous thoughts.

“Daft is a neat word,” Everleigh agreed, “but I think I prefer ‘buttfuckin.’ You get to hear your drawl better.” She turned around, going over to her side for a bath. “Let’s bathe. I’m sure you’re hungry and we shouldn’t keep Miklan waiting.” Quickly, she finished undressing the last of her entire in the bucket and then went into the tub.

The water was frigid, causing Everleigh to hunker down and stick her hands inbetween the thickest swell of her thighs for a moment. Her body adjusted, and she grabbed the soap. With speed and proficiency, which could only come from years and years of practice, she cleaned herself. The cold water quickly turning red.

Zael Castomir

 

[Zael Castomir]

Soon as Ever said it, Zael's I am absolutely going to be a bad boy grin came out. She went around to her side of the dividing sheet and Zael managed to stifle a few laughs before a giggle (or two) made their way out.

"'I think I prefer buttfuckin,'" he repeated. "Don't worry, I won't quote you outta context on that, Ever. And I'm as honest as they come."

Time to get to it. They did have to wash up and they did have to eat, and after that it time to get back to work. Zael hated chasing after the slippery roguish types of enemies, be they man or monster, but oh man did it feel good once you actually cornered them into a straightforward fight. And it felt even better to finally have the chance to ring their actual necks. Where's your illusions and nightmares now, bitch?

Thinking violent thoughts as he was, Zael didn't just strip off his undershorts. He ripped them off, the curt sound of fabric tearing clearly evident. Casually done, this, as if it wasn't his first time. Once he realized what he'd done, holding his ruined pair of undershorts in his hand and looking at them, he had but one thing to say:

"Fuck."

He tossed the undershorts aside. What's done is done. And no audience for efforts this time around, just a freeballin' problem to deal with in the immediate future.

Then Zael lifted a leg and put one foot into the water—

—and immediately retracted it, hissing his displeasure. DAMN, that was cold!

"Oh hell no," he said.

He'd exhausted a lot of his magic going on that rampage in the Fog, but he'd have enough left for this at least. He began to shadowbox, his punches flying out just over the surface of the bathwater, little wreathes of flame swirling about each hook and jab. He directed them down to the water, and it started to heat up.

"How're you enjoying that ice bath over there?" Zael said. He'd heard the disturbance of the water on Ever's side before he'd tried his own. Kress, how'd she do it? "Proctors used to toss me in water like this. With actual ice in it too. Fuckin pricks used to call it Serving a Zael on the rocks."

Everleigh Ebersol

 

[Everleigh Ebersol]

Everleigh could hear that boyish giggle come from Zael’s side and she smiled freely. Zael could be so simple at times, in all the best ways. She understood what she had said— and really, there was a reason why she had chosen that word out of the other ‘fuckin’ words Zael liked to use to decorate his sentences with— and there was something hilarious about it.

“Oh, you’re an honest man, alright.” Everleigh answered him back because she most definitely was not being honest whatsoever as she looked over at the sheet when hearing a rip of fabric. A brief flash of a image of a certain someone ripping another certain someone’s shirt. She had to investigate, and looked at the divider. Now, what Everleigh could see wasn’t much. She had to angle her neck this way and that to utilize the holes to her advantage, and even then she wasn’t granted a full picture. But what she could see was better than her imagination.

Despite the cold, deep within her lower abdomen was a small ball of fire, nestled in a area that despite Everleigh’s curiosity, she had yet to ever really explore. It did remind her though that she had something to do.

Piercings first. She had to keep those clean the most. Her broken finger was swelling up but that was fine, she would heal it soon with one of her special elixirs. Infected piercings, however, required more than just a elixir. It often meant something far more horrific and it only took her one time to learn her lesson.

“Hate it! But mind over body, right? Plus, isn’t cold water good for muscle recovery?” Everleigh called to him playfully, and glancing back, could see the pump of Zael’s arm, taut sinews and popping veins outlined by his strong back or shoulders or chest or torso or— the small ball of fire became hotter, spreading out further. It almost made Everleigh feel less cold.

Then Zael continued on. She frowned. Punishments were necessary, Everleigh knew all too well about something such as that, and really, there was something about it that she felt grateful towards; because it did give her an edge in battle. She was ruthless, vicious, and it would take the world’s largest and strongest army to stop her. At the same time, some of the punishments she endured made her feel as if she were going insane, and perhaps she had. Not because of the punishment but because of a certain proctor.

“Not a fan of the cold?” Everleigh asked, rubbing away at her face now that piercings were clean and accounted for. “I can warm you up later.” A light tease, but as she thought about the situation, the frown remained. “Proctor P ever freeze the blood in your veins? Had it happen once, it was so cold it actually… sort of burned.” A slight pause. “I’m not a fan of the cold that much, either.” She admitted, although her reasoning was entirely different.

Hunger. A constant state of starvation meant a constant state of being chilled to the bone, no matter the season. Even the sun couldn’t warm her most days.

She looked down at her body. One good thing about the revolution— it finally allowed her to fill out.

Zael Castomir

 

[Zael Castomir]

Cold water good for muscle recovery? It better not be! Or else that was some bullshit. Warm water was the way—why else did Ever want to enlist his services if (and that was a big ol' if) he lost their bet?

"You're throwin all these awfully temptin offers at me," he said of Ever's tease.

Looks like the water was nice and steamy now. Zael again lifted his leg and swung it over the edge of the tub and...ahhhh, now that was much better. He sank into the water with his arms hanging out over the sides and audibly voiced his pleasure with a prolonged sigh. This was just the thing to get him juiced up again and ready to fight whatever the fuck was out in those woods. This and that supper the Kesselrings were cooking up.

Proctor P ever freeze the blood in your veins?

"Yeah. He did. It was his go-to."

He sank a little further into the tub, the water now gradually turning crimson touching his chin.

"Not a fan of the cold. Good. Keep it that way. Summer's my favorite season. Everybody else bitches about the heat and meanwhile it's all nice to me. No sweat off my back."

Everleigh Ebersol

 

[Everleigh Ebersol]

“I like to make sure my partners in crime are nice and toasty,” Everleigh said with a sly grin, looking over and seeing Zael in his steaming tub. She was jealous, really. However, now that she was starting to feel numb from the cold, it wasn’t as nearly as bad as it was moments before. She barely noticed her teeth chattering.

“And I know the perfect way to get your blood pumping and have your heart racing.” She continued, her voice gaining an alluring huskiness the more she spoke. “You’ll be panting and sweating plenty once we’re done. Maybe a little tired afterward with shaky thighs but you would have a nice high afterward, I’d imagine… even with you finishing faster than you’d probably want to.” A long pause. “Because if you’re cold then I’ll race you back to the Kesselrings. Nothing like a competitive sprint to warm up, right?”

She took a deep breath, steeling herself, and dunked her entire head into her water. Quickly she did her best at scrubbing her scalp and cleaning her hair, before shooting back up and gasping for breath. It was so cold that her face was a bright red.

“I like summer,” Everleigh would say. Autumn, winter and spring was when her father traveled, summer was when he was home. Three months out of the year. Thinking of her dad reminded her of what she had experienced with Zael. “Zael? Do you believe in fate or destiny?” She asked, a question she had asked countless other dreadkids, but there was a slight edge in her voice because really she was worried Zael would give a answer like all the others.

Zael Castomir

 

[Zael Castomir]

That was a hell of a build-up. Exercise was the foreplay to fighting, generally speaking. But damn, now he had to sprint with blueballs? Awfully unfair, Ever...and right up your alley.

And, goddamn it, now that the thought had been implanted in his head and his mind's eye was focused with keen clarity, if he didn't stop thinking about a naked Ever over there he actually was going to get a bad case of blueballs. This was the sort of thing that he, gradually, had become more aware of (brought into stark relief as well during his misadventure in Elbion with Delaney and that particular dress she'd worn). Academy girls, which was to say girls of his age and girls of his world, contrasted with the working women of the brothels, had entered more and more into his notice in recent times.

Zael? Do you believe in fate or destiny?

His brow flattened into a line, questioning lips pressed into much the same. He glanced sidelong over at the divider between them.

"What? Those are the same thing." And then he did an impression of two bombastic hero voices, "'We were fated to meet again!' or 'It's my destiny to become King!' Somethin you can't change, right? That's the idea?"

Everleigh Ebersol

 

[Everleigh Ebersol]

Everleigh grinned, at Zael’s words, rather excited for this. Because she knew Zael wasn’t apt to be book smart. Not to say he was stupid by any means, but Everleigh couldn’t picture Zael deeply considering philosophy and wanting to spend time on it. At least not as much as herself.

“Mm, here, let me ask you a question. You have to get to this town because they need help, right? You’re on the fastest path to get there. However, as you’re on that path you see there is a really bad storm up ahead. You have three choices: to go through the storm, to take another path, or to go back and wait out the storm. What choice do you make?”

Zael Castomir

 

[Zael Castomir]

Zael couldn't help the cool heh which slipped out his lips. A hand cradled his chin, the point of it nestled in the nook of his thumb and forefinger. He already knew what he was gonna say. Ever probably already knew what he was gonna say.

"That even a question? I'm going right through that storm. First 'cause I ain't a bitch and second 'cause the world is chock-full of things you can't control. You just deal. Make the best of it."

He might have had the notion to elaborate further, to confide in Everleigh that this was how he had coped with the Academy and had survived...but he couldn't. Ingrained in him and perhaps in every Initiate was that deep-seated inability to willingly show vulnerability. The Academy was their collective father, stern and abusive, who kept them all in line whether they knew it or not, and even a year after that oppressive shadow shifted away still it was difficult.

So he left it at that.

"What? This some sort of analogy for fate and destiny?"

Everleigh Ebersol