Completed The Cut That Always Bleeds

[Everleigh Ebersol]

Everleigh nodded her head, the dreadlord answer. They always gave that first. Edric, Alistair, Liliana— three people who were entirely different from one another, yet the same answer was given. And now Zael. Everleigh did a quick inspection of her being, figured this was as clean as she could get, as well as she couldn’t handle being in the ice water a second longer, and stood up. She wiped down any sort of crimson residue she could find before hugging herself, her arms wound tightly against her chest.

Teeth chattering, she stepped out of the water and for a moment had to kneel down, standing on her toes and bringing her knees close to her chest. She shivered vehemently but yet focused on Zael’s words regardless.

“It is. But, there’s more.” Everleigh said, looking up at the sky. “You go through the storm, some time is wasted but nevertheless you preserver. However, when you get to the town it’s ruined, as if you were just half a day late. So what would most people think? Something like ‘if I had only tried going another way’ or something similar? Fate suggests that it didn’t matter what choice you made, the outcome would always be the same: the town would be destroyed by the time you got there.” Finally she felt warm enough to stand up, and Everleigh went to grab the clean towel, first rubbing her face clean and dry before using it to dry the rest of her.

“Destiny suggests that you could have prevented the town being destroyed if you made a better decision.” There was a brief pause. “Fate would have it that we all suffered through the academy for nothing but to be uprooted by the revolution. Destiny implies that our future is still our own. We just need to figure a few things out.”

Zael Castomir

 

[Zael Castomir]

"Semantics," Zael said simply. He glanced over at the dividing cloth, the mighty feeling of Damn, if only he could have seen the look on her face when he said that word. Look. He got it. That wasn't a word that was bandied about liberally in a place like Tarrow, and he was from Tarrow, and what the fuck did the bastard son of a miller have any business using a word like semantics? But the Academy taught him to read, and it also through classes and just being around other Initiates from different backgrounds expanded his mental dictionary. Heh, surprise, he didn't take a power nap through all of those Trade Tongue lessons...even if they were perfectly placed right before afternoon sparring sessions.

Then a thought interrupted him.

Wait...was that...a hole...oh shit, there were a bunch of little holes and—oh, shit, sit on my balls, he saw the teeniest, tiniest glimpse of movement through those little perforations in the dividing sheet. And Ever had just gotten out of the tub. Naked. Alright, calm down ya fuckin randy lion, or you're gonna have some explaining to do as to why you're slinging around a bunch of wood.

He cleared his throat. Got back on track.

"Fate. Destiny. However you wanna define em, here's the thing: everything outside of yourself you can't control, not really, and you only get one try at life. No amount of boiling your brain over whether or not you coulda saved the town is gonna bring it back. You made that choice and you gotta live with it."

He got out of the tub, pink water slipping down his body and dripping from his extremities.

"Maybe there really was nothin you could do to save the town. How the fuck would you know? Right? What, you gonna ask Kristen to talk to big daddy Aionus for you to rewind time to try again and see what result you get?"

His hands found the nearby towel and he ruffled it in his hair, drying it off first. Work from the top down, fellas. Don't wanna rub your own balls all over your own face.

"In the end, it ain't really about the town. Not to me, at least. And yeah, we all did suffer through the Academy. Was it for nothin? Heh. Well, Ever, there's the good news: this is the one damn thing we actually have some say in, whether we feel it was all for nothin or not. Same with that made-up town. If you can't say otherwise, maybe the town was always goin to get destroyed and there was nothin you could do about it. So deal, or beat yourself up over makin the best choice at the time. And you know damn well it was the best choice too, else you wouldn't have done it that way to begin with."

There was a short pause. And then he made a joke.

"Alright, maybe Kalix would've made the dumb choice."

Everleigh Ebersol

 

[Everleigh Ebersol]

Everleigh glanced back at the divider, still convinced that Zael was unaware of all the holes and tears throughout, certain that if he knew he would loudly point it out. Wrapping the towel around her once she was dry enough, she braided her long hair as Zael spoke. Nodding her head along here and there even though he couldn’t see her.

“Kalix would purposely make the dumb choice just so he could punch a few extra people.” She responded to his joke with a grin, even though he couldn’t see. It was only natural to do so, and Zael made it incredibly easy to smile. Her hair was braided, not very neat as it usually was due to it being wet and no brush or comb for her to straighten it out. Once she got back to the academy she could give her hair some TLC. For now, she went over to where her soiled clothes were and dumped then into the tub. She rubbed her hands over her towel, preparing herself to scrub as much as she could with her hands in the cold water.

“You’re right, it is semantics, though. Ultimately, it doesn’t matter what happens, what should matter is how you react to it.” Her hands dove in, and the scrubbing commenced. She winced but continued on. “I believe that whenever you think you have no options or no choices, that’s when you lose in life. Because it’s bullshit to give up like that because you’re thinking so narrowly that you limit yourself. Fuck.” A slight curse. It was cold and when she lifted up her hands they were bright red with white knuckles.

“I hated the academy for awhile, you know. All the proctors, I thought about fucking them up the way they kept trying to break me. And the initiates, I hated them, too. Do you remember Anastasia? I think she was in your year or lower. Cute thing with blonde curls and always getting picked on by Calvin because the proctors thought his elemental magic was the shit.” Hands went back in to scrub, and she paused, her eyes darkening for a moment, a stern look on her face.

“I smiled when she snapped and took that dagger and attacked him. But she was seven and she wasn’t strong. Everytime she stabbed Calvin in the chest she’d hardly puncture it. Even when she was stabbing at his throat and he was gurgling bloody screams, that dagger still couldn’t pierce through him. I can still hear those sounds and for the longest time I thought… how fucking pathetic that she couldn’t kill him in one hit. But I can.

“I had a really big ego. I guess I can appreciate the academy for knocking me down a little. Still think I’m smarter than everyone though.”

Zael Castomir

 

[Zael Castomir]

I believe that whenever you think you have no options or no choices, that’s when you lose in life. Because it’s bullshit to give up like that because you’re thinking so narrowly that you limit yourself.

Seconded, for sure. Let the scholars eat their word salads about notions of fate and destiny and all of that. Down in the real world, things were what they were, and what was truly yours was choice. And the thing about choice is, yeah, you could absolutely screw yourself over with despair and misery if you choose to wallow in it. For a time Zael did, in that first year or so in the Academy. Then he found his way out, because he stopped limiting himself in his own head.

"Well said, Ever."

Do you remember Anastasia?

"Little Blondie! Yeah," he said, scrubbing the sweat build-up from his arming garments. His armor was going to be the real piece of work, hand-scrubbing all of that blood off of it.

That was wild when Little Blondie finally attacked Calvin. Zael had run from one end of the Academy grounds to the other to catch the tail end of the fight. But apparently there wasn't much to it, according to Everleigh.

That's the fuckin spirit though. But I can. Quote of the year.

"Shit, I still got a big ego. And you are the smartest of the bunch, Ever, don't let anyone tell you otherwise. Not even me. If I do, fight me." Always nice to set up a potential fight he could cash in at any time. And wasn't that what friends were for? Getting into sporting slugfests?

Zael took his arming garments out of the pail of water and set them on the side of the tub. Back and forth waves of his hand over the top of them sent shimmering heat down to the fabric. And he called over his shoulder, "Hey, you want me to dry your clothes? Or do you like bein wet?"

Zael smirked. Ever wasn't the only one who could casually toss out double entendres.

Everleigh Ebersol

 

[Everleigh Ebersol]

Everleigh pulled out her clothes. They were fairly clean, she did a great job in making sure that everything was mostly out. The blood did spread out in a couple of places, leaving dark brown splotches, but it wouldn’t bother her. Looking like she murdered people for a living was just part of the job description.

She would do her best to wring out the water, starting first with socks then her binding wraps and then shirt and finally her pants. She was meticulous with this and once an article of clothing was wrung out as much as it could be she would shake it out, trying to get the wrinkles to dissipate.

The poison eater smiled as Zael said she was smart. But not just smart, the smartest of the bunch.

“Careful now, you’ll give me a big head. When we’re in a fight you already need to watch out for my kicks, you don’t want to worry about me head butting you as well, right?” He’d have to worry about it regardless. Everleigh was known to be aggressive hand to hand combatant and had a penchant for leading the fight how she wanted before locking her opponents in a spot they couldn’t avoid.

She picked up her clothes, the towel still wrapped around her, and softly stepped over to the other side of the divider, looking at Zael with a grin.

“Being wet doesn’t bother me but… if you’re offering to dry my clothes, how can I say no?” She had her clothes laying over one arm and she held up her hands, the skin white and red, still shaking as if she were incredibly tired. Her shoulders shivered, still cold from the bath and the towel offering little warmth. Not like it covered her much in the first place to even provide heat. “Think you could warm my hands up as well while you’re at it?”

Zael Castomir

 

[Zael Castomir]

"If you didn't try to headbutt me, would it even be worth fightin?"

See, that was the thing about fighting (and fucking, coincidentally): if the other half of the engagement didn't match your intensity, it wasn't fun. Some of Zael's most depressing moments in the Academy had nothing to do with him being tortured, no. It was the spars with Initiates like Chasmine, Graham, or Kristen. They just...didn't seem like they wanted to be there, like they wanted to fight too. Edric, Noel, Ralene, that lot (the old Wooden Plank Brigade, Zael called em), for what they lacked in personality and sense of humor they at least made up for by being goddamn amazing at—and invested in—fighting. The best of the class were the Vances and the Everleighs: serious and engaged in their fighting, cool and fun in everything else. They were, of course, the rarest breed of Initiate.

And shit, Zael couldn't help but think there was gonna be a lot more Chasmines, Grahams, and Kristens now that the Revolution had happened.

Ever came around the divider, just as Zael had gotten his towel wrapped around his waist and fastened. Somehow it was just like his (now ruined and discarded) undershorts, looking as though it were a size too small for him.

Zael peered down at the hands presented to him (one still with that broken finger), and then he took in Everleigh as a whole, seeing her shivering in near entirety. "Hell, Ever, you look like you need more than just your hands worked on. Stand real still."

He circled around, and came to stand directly behind her. He clapped his hands together, rubbed them vigorously, and concentrated. A nice little trick in his arsenal, his Fire Aura, ought to do it, but he needed to keep it tempered—normally in battle, he'd have it going hot enough to spontaneously set grass and damn near everything in a three meter radius around him on fire. Overkill here. He just had to get it up to...hmm...hot springs level, and let it rest there.

A thin, orange circle illuminated the ground as his Aura slowly became active, jagged orange lines tracing back to Zael's feet, and the air within the circle became heated. Was this taxing on him? Yeah, it was taxing as fuck. But this was the best way to get the job done nice and quick and thorough.

"And a little extra attention for your mitts," Zael said, reaching both of his hands from around Everleigh's sides, waving them as he did over his arming garments above her own hands, splashing little winds of additional warmth down onto them. "You let me know when you're toasty enough."

Everleigh Ebersol

 

[Everleigh Ebersol]

“And you look like you need a bigger towel,” Everleigh retorted, thinking for a moment that what Zael had said implied she looked weak. Or worse, that she was weak. She was prepared to say something to essentially save face until she realized what he meant, and what he was doing. Suddenly she felt embarrassed for assuming the worst, blanching although Zael couldn’t tell, and quickly added in a soft, “no-no it’s okay, I’m—“

Heat. But not too hot, a well regulated temperature that enveloped the initiate in a gentle and soothing warmth. It reminded her just of those luxurious hot springs beneath the Crescent Hotel in Alliria. Somehow, it almost even felt better. Everleigh cooed out a sigh of contented relief, shoulders slumping forward slightly as she relaxed, only realizing then how cold she had been.

“Thank you, Zael.” She said slowly, almost hesitantly. It was strange. What Zael was doing was strange and almost foreign. Because he was being nice when there was really no reason to. She felt bad for sneaking peaks at him earlier when he had no idea that she could see him. She watched his hands moved and then took a deep breath, squaring back her shoulders. “I’m good.” She paused for a moment. “I didn’t know you could do something like this.” Perhaps when her cheeks felt hot around him it was because of his magic?

“Is there any way I could help you with this?” She asked, gesturing to his own clothes. They seemed quite dry, and she was certain Zael could place all his armor back on as if it were as seamless as breathing or blinking. “Or just help in general.” Everleigh added, turning around to look at him and then frowning. He looked… tired. Was it from the illusion still? Something else? Surely it wasn’t because of her… right? Right? Everleigh frowned for a moment. Ridiculous. What initiate wasted their magic for another?

Regardless of why he seemed spent, however…

“Please let me help and return the favor.” She settled on that, not cruel enough to point out that Zael seemed to be exhausted but also not meek enough to step back from her previous offers and desires. Hopefully it’ll also make her less guilty about being a peeping Tom.

Zael Castomir

 

[Zael Castomir]

I didn't know you could do something like this.

"It's easy to go all out. Control is hard." Zael hadn't prepared a sage adage to say in response, but what he did say ended up being sage enough by his lights. He considered it after he said it, bottom lip sticking out just a touch, then he nodded. Yeah, he could go with that.

What he didn't say was that control was also draining. But he didn't need to. After he was done and the thin orange ring that signified his Fire Aura faded to obscurity and then nothingness, after Ever confirmed that she was indeed nice and toasty now, she turned to him and there might as well have been a reflection of a tired old man in her eyes (no, stop it, not that tired old man). He could tell by her expression that he looked as tired as he felt.

Arcane fatigue was a bitch. He might've been able to come up with a pretty good joke right here to disarm that little edge of seriousness that'd crept into Ever's tone. Something like one of his classics on a mission with Sieglilly once. So they're at a break in travel and talking. Conversation turns lewd—don't be shocked, little Lilly was a hell of voyeur. She said that while she did go on those decompressing brothel trips of the bygone days, she didn't actually do anything herself, had really just been in a room and watched two people go at it. Perfect opportunity. He asks her if she wants to practice, and that she could start at the advanced beginner level. She's a little taken aback but more intrigued by his wording. Advanced beginner level, the hell? Yeah, he says, you could try out a no-hands handjob.

Sieg gave him a psychic punch to the jaw. Zael reels back and lands in a pile of horse shit. They both have a good laugh.

Maybe he'd have one of those moments later, those moments when you think of the perfect joke or the perfect comeback well after the time has passed for it. A second-place chuckle would have to do.

"Yeah, you could help me put on my armor. It's a pain in the ass sometimes. And now is probably gonna be one of those 'sometimes.'"

He went to his arming garments. Pulled on his undershirt and then his arming jacket. Got his arming pants situated and then dropped the towel.

"I went all out when I first crossed through the fog," Zael said, smiling in a way that both fuckin loved and fuckin hated it. "Isn't there a sayin about the biggest bonfires?"

Everleigh Ebersol

 

[Everleigh Ebersol]

Everleigh turned her head away, now deciding to give Zael the privacy he deserved. She would’ve gotten dressed herself, but no matter how fast she moved— and Everleigh was fast— but when it came to wrapping up her breasts at a comfortable tightness time was needed. She set her clothes aside for now and went to Zael’s side once he was ready, picking up the first pieces he’d most likely be putting on.

Heavy armor, or even the general level of armor most initiates wore, was so unlike her. She liked to call it “light armor” but even that was a bit false. Everything was extremely form fitting, but because of her magic, the most padding she ever wore was a leather vest stuffed with wool and a pair of knee pads. No cape, no shoulder pads, no gloves or gauntlets; nothing could obscure access to her body. Even her sweat was valuable when it came to using her magic to the fullest.

Where to really start with all these pieces? If it weren’t for her eidetic memory then she would be at a complete lost. Thankfully, she had taken time to watch those that did wear heavy armor and could just follow the steps.

Her violet eyes searched for Zael’s green gaze, and Everleigh tilted her head to the side in mild confusion.

“Why did you go all out? Scared that your trusted advisor was gonna die?” A slight upward curve to her lips, and a hand reached out to smooth the blonde hair of Zael’s eyebrows; gently using her thumb to fix the shape of the brows as she pushed them up. A solemn look settled in her eyes, a melancholy smile matching the tone of her voice. She began to drop her hand back down, but her hand remained close to the vicinity of Zael’s cheek.

Only three finger tips trailed down from his cheekbone, to the soft, plumper skin of the cheek before following the harsher yet strong point of his jaw. Only for at the very end for Everleigh to then give a amiable, hard clap onto Zael’s shoulder. Patted it a few times for good measure.

“I’m stronger than you think. You can trust me to have your back.” She paused, looking at her broken finger before looking up with a grin. “And I know that saying, the bigger the bonfire the faster it burns. Good thing you’re a hyperactive knucklehead and you’re not going to burn out for a long, long time. Honestly, if you were ever in a fight with Elias? I’m putting all my money on you, every last copper coin.” She grinned. “Besides, all you need is a hot meal. You think Kelly can cook?”

Zael Castomir

 

[Zael Castomir]

Same old. Put the right pieces on the right body part, lace em to his arming pants or arming jacket or snap the assembly shut. Sabatons, greaves, and cuisses were easy—gauntlets too, you just slip those right on. And then it started to become a bitch without a helping hand around the faulds and plackart and cuirass. And then it really became a bitch if all you had were your own two hands once you got to the vambraces and spaulders. The bevor was nice and easy though to top it all off.

Ever asked him her question and there was that little bit of a sly smile and everything was usual there. Then Ever threw him off. Zael didn't know if it was intentional or not, he just knew he was thrown off. Her fingers touched his brow, his cheek, and all over again he was back at square one with his assumptions and what he thought he knew. Ever's this, Ever's that, she's literally poison, no actually she can control it now, he knew how it went with the rumor mill. Zael's own pendulum had swung back and forth on this. Those first few tentative headlocks he'd put her in when they were younger (and when he was very convinced that her skin was like acid or something and he had to overcome his fear of that), then the hanging out with Tinker and the genesis of that whole "birds of a feather" reasoning, then back when he carried her to a victory in the War Games, then a swing again when he called her bluff aboard the Pasiphae, and here in Arnim a swinging back and forth and back again pretty much all in one day.

Some mysteries were engaging by their slow build-up over time, and more and more you got invested in knowing the answer. And just when you think you've got it—

Ever clapped him on the shoulder, and he would come to match her grin, though his was born of a different reason. Tension dissolved, mystery unsolved.

I'm stronger than you think. You can trust me to have your back.

"Never doubted it for a second."

Zael pinned his cape to his spaulders and gave his arms and his legs a good rustle. Yup, everything nice and snug. The vote of confidence against Elias was nice.

"Hell yeah, Kelly can cook. Rural girls can fuckin cook. My mom mighta been a bitch, but I wasn't starved, I'll tell you that."

He glanced to the towel which made up Ever's sole garment of attire, and then gestured to the dividing cloth. He started around it.

"And you're right, I ain't Elias. I'm all for trainin and improvin and gettin stronger, but that fuckin knucklehead is so bent on makin a name for himself that ain't 'Sirl' that he's gonna blow himself up. Or your clothes, fuck, can you imagine if he was here instead?" Zael put on his best impression of the deeper, more serious tone typical of Elias. "'I'll dry your clothes. Watch.'"

And Zael mimed a streak of energy coming down from above and making a huge explosion on the ground, making sound effects for it and all. "'Look. They're dry. Kress, I love the taste of my own definitely-not-Sirl dick.'"

Everleigh Ebersol

 

[Everleigh Ebersol]

With Zael around the divider, Everleigh began to dress. Pulling up her underwear until they were snug on her widest part of her hips, she dropped the towel unceremoniously. There wasn’t a discreet way to bind her breasts, but just in case she did have her back to the divider. She looked up and over, seeing a flicker of movement from one of the windows in the Kesselring’s home. She knelt down and in swift motions began to wrap the long stretch of fabric around her chest, much like a boxer wrapped their fists.

It wasn’t long until she was putting on all the rest of her clothes, thinking over what Zael had said. There were a few things she’d like to address, certain things that stood out to her. And if she could only ask one thing, she knew exactly what she’d want to know the most. Of course, that particular question would be the touchiest of them all.

So Everleigh figured she’d get Zael comfortable and hopefully unaware.

“First, if Elias was here, he wouldn’t even dry my clothes. If anything he’d disintegrate them and then use that as an excuse to ogle at my body. Speaking of which, there’s holes in the divider. I bet he would have had a field day with that.” Everleigh came around the divider and poked her finger through some of the holes before glancing at Zael. “See?” She then came over to the bin of water and dumped it out— making sure she did this just right so it wouldn’t wash over to Zael.

There was a moment of quiet before Everleigh spoke again.

“Second,” her eyes stayed focus on the tainted water washing over the short, green grass. Little rivulets of watery-red gliding along the verdant blades to then spread out. It reminded Everleigh of claw marks. “Your mom was a bitch?” Slowly she brought her mauve gaze to Zael’s and stood up. “With your personality I figured… I don’t know, maybe you liked your parents. At least before today.” She added, thinking back to when he seemed shocked that her mother had made her a toy.

She then began dismantling the divider, giving Zael a moment of privacy if he needed it. She couldn’t imagine it. Thinking about it, Everleigh could understand how it could be possibly, but that didn’t mean she could imagine it happening to Zael. The bit with his father, the mill. Trauma. She recognized it. The comments about his mother. Yet it contradicted how he was with Miklan. Still. In her mind, she couldn’t imagine Zael’s parents not being in love with him.

His outward appearance was so charming. Didn’t parents love cute kids? And Everleigh remembered, Zael had always been easy on the eyes, even in his awkward puberty stages. Plus, what parent wouldn’t be excited that their kid was going to be a initiate. And despite the odds, Zael was still alive compared to the many that had bit the dust long ago. She frowned, it didn’t make sense. How could his parents, if they were incapable of love, at least not enjoy their son?

Folding up the wet towels, the sheet, making sure the buckets and bins were empty. It wouldn’t be long until they were walking back to the house.

Zael Castomir

 

[Zael Castomir]

"You're damn right he would."

And then she pointed out the holes in the dividing sheet. Zael turned his head to pop a little crick in his neck. Nice and casual.

"Yeah, I saw." Zael sauntered over and smacked the sheet with the back of his hand. "Fuckin rats sometimes chewed through my bedsheets too."

He'd only known about the holes in the divider right before he'd gotten into the tub, which was a while after the sheet had been put up. And if he'd noticed it then, how much sooner had Ever noticed them? Or, the more interesting question...had she looked through them? Zael's lips squirmed as he contained a grin. Well damn, did Ever have a little Sieglilly in her maybe? Tell you what, he'd love that. Playin this game of talking around it, of knowing and not knowing and keepin those quiet parts quiet, there was a thrill to it. Zael had caught Little Lilly slipping him a covert, gawking eye a few times on that selfsame mission with the classic joke. He'd pretended not to know, but you know what, how many other times had she looked and he didn't know? That was the exciting part.

Then.

She seemed a bit surprised about his mother. Probably his father too. Well, like pretty much every other Initiate, he didn't go around volunteering all those tales of a life before the Academy, so it was fair.

He took it in stride. Grinning and lifting his chin. "I'm as bastard as they come, Ever. My mom and dad were fuckin around when they shouldn't have, ruined both their marriages because they got found out, and just my bein alive reminds them of everything they once had and then lost."

Zael shrugged and twisted his head off to the side, as if it were all no big deal. "Can't make em love me. So fuck it, you know? They're that way, but I don't have to be." He speared his chest with a proud thumb. "One day, I'll take everything they never gave me and give it to someone else."

The game of talking around it. Of knowing and not knowing. Zael didn't know he was playing it right now, that his subconscious knew what his waking mind didn't. That he already had a clear picture of who that someone else happened to be. The only potential person who could complete the circle of betterment.

A son. For Zael to be for him everything his own father never was.

In this present moment, unladen by realization, Zael continued to speak nonchalantly (if with that slight boastful air). "That's what I do, Ever. Like a good reversal in a spar, I flip the bad around and slam it on its head and—TA DA!—there's the good, it was in there all along, you just had to know how to find it."

Everleigh Ebersol

 

[Everleigh Ebersol]

Everleigh didn’t hold back the grin as Zael casually mentioned the holes in the sheet. She didn’t say anything further on the subject, didn’t think about faking innocence or faking shock. Instead, she kept a coy silence about the subject and listened to Zael speak. She picked up on his words quickly, reading between the lines.

The last two sentences uplifted her spirits, more than she ever thought could be possible. A morale boost of sorts, but this feeling was much warmer, bringing a smile to her face and causing her eyes to glitter in admiration. Yes, that was what this feeling was, admiration. Nothing more, nothing less. But it did cement Zael in that comparison to the sun. Always bright and shining, and even if it rained or was cloudy, the sun would be back no matter what.

“The biggest thing they lost was you.” She said after a moment. “You’re going to be one hell of a dreadlord in spite of them. I think they’re missing out.” Everleigh then looked over at Zael. “At least that’s one good thing about the revolution, I suppose. You’d make a good dad— no, a great dad.” She began to walk back to the house, the conversation being so heavy. She had to lighten it with a joke, especially considering they were about to deal with Proctor Palahniuk.

“‘Sides,” she chimed, looking over her shoulder to give Zael a wink, a devious smile showing off her white teeth while she held up three fingers. “I’d be down to give you three kids.” Everleigh turned her head back around, hands going back down to her sides.

Everleigh didn’t waste time getting to the house, quickly stepping up to the door and opening it— almost smacking Proctor P right in the face. Thank goodness for Dreadlord reflexes or else Everleigh may have received a punishment right there, right in front of Miklan and Dimitri.

“Can’t you knock, Initiate Ebersol?!” Proctor Palahniuk scolded, his face turning red although most of the color was hidden behind his brown beard. Everleigh tilted her head down, casting her purple gaze to the floor, trying to look sorry. “You both took your sweet time.” He sniffed, loudly breathing in air through widened nostrils. “At least you smell better. You two, hurry up, you’re wasting time.” He said, leading them to the dining table.

The table was set for seven, Mathias and Proctor P sitting at the ends of the table. Kelly was setting the plates around the table meticulously as if she had the King of Vel Anir there instead of a proctor and two initiates. Miklan came up to Zael’s side, and grabbed his hand, leading him over to where the boys would be sitting.

“Yew gotta sit in the middle cuz Dimitri said he wanna sit by yew tew!” Miklan said loudly, causing Dimitri to harshly whisper a “shut up, loudmouth.”

Everleigh raised a brow, seeing that Mathias pulled out Kelly’s chair, letting her sit before pushing it in. Interesting. The purple initiate herself sat down, Kelly on her left, Proctor P on her right. Looking up, she was across from the three boys. Dimitri didn’t make eye contact with her, blushing a bit and staring hard at his plate. Miklan was of course engrossed with Zael, beaming like it was the best day ever.

“What’s wrong with your finger?” Proctor P said, causing Everleigh to stiffen. She held it up, swollen and red and purple.

“Broken.” The proctor sighed.

“Excuse us for a moment. Follow me initiate, I’ll heal it.” Everleigh frowned but got up anyways, following the proctor to a more secluded area. He wasn’t the best healer, and without her specially made elixirs, it was going to hurt. Of course, she wouldn’t have used them in the first place for one broken finger.

“Can I say the prayer tonight?” Miklan asked, wiggling in his chair and clasping his hands together. “I wanna pray for the monster’s death!”

Zael Castomir

 

[Zael Castomir]

I'd be down to give you three kids.

If Zael had been taking a drink of water at that exact moment, he would've spit it out. Instead, it was just a few globs of saliva, rushing out in the roar of wind and the belly laughter that followed.

"Holy fuckin shit, you got me. I did not see that comin." When all of mirthful shock had faded, he let out a tired phew!, held his side, and said, "Three. Yeah. Perfect number."

It was the first time the thought (you'd make a great dad) even entered into his mind. And as quickly as it had come, it went, shuffling along swiftly from the sunlight of the conscious and into the shadows of the subconscious. There was maturing yet to be done.

So it ended on that. A joke.

One that helped against the brusque greeting of Proctor P. Ever got the brunt of it, as she always seemed to. Every Proctor had their favorites to torment, it seemed.

Miklan came up and grabbed Zael's hand and damn, after what happened in the fog, was he glad to see the boy again. Him and the rest of the Kesselrings, all doing well. Again, he was struck by how they weren't like other locals in other missions. People.

"Thanks, buddy. Saved the throne for the king," Zael said, taking his seat next to the boys. Then he jerked a thumb to Dimitri and said to Miklan, "Hey, you keepin him outta trouble?" And a cheeky grin to Dimitri, of course.

Proctor P noticed Ever's broken finger, and hell, wouldn't you know it, he actually decided to do something.

Then Miklan wanted to say a prayer. Huh. That was weird. That was some Kristen shit. Though Zael did have some spotty memories of a few folks from Tarrow practicing some religion or another—he couldn't remember any specifics. But, point being, out on the edges of Anirian territory, out in the small villages, there were some people who didn't care all too much about what the law of the big city said.

Zael didn't let it degrade his opinion of the Kesselrings though. And especially not Miklan.

He looked to Kelly and Matthias. Smiled. Said, "I'd feel a whole lot stronger with the power of Miklan's prayer backin me up. What do you say?"

Everleigh Ebersol

 

[Everleigh Ebersol]

Miklan was beaming, sitting up straighter and staring right at his father. Mathias was smiling warmly at the eager boy, most likely going to say yes whether or not Zael had spoken up. However at Zael’s words, a flicker of seriousness did settle into Mathias’ brown eyes.

“Say the prayer, Miklan, this time slow down when speaking.” Mathias said, and in unison, the family all took each other’s hands, Miklan easily grabbing onto Zael’s and Dimitri being far more shy when it came to taking the armored hand, not even looking at Zael. Miklan cleared his throat, important-like. Everyone closed their eyes.

“Dear Risin’ Amleth,” Miklan began, which produced a slight shake of the head from Dimitri. “Thank yew fer bringin’ the sun out to shine again and thank yew for bringin’ the dreadlords tew us tew kill the monster. Thank yew fer this dinner and mom’s hands because they made it. Thank yew fer all the cows bein’ healthy. Um, thanks for Dimitri tew, I guess. Uh…” Miklan peaked out, one blue eye looking back. His mother gestured to him. “Oh yea! And I pray that the less fortunate have somethin’ tew eat as well and that no one goes tew bed hungry. Please protect Zael and give him yer amazin’ might.” Miklan took a deep breath. The last of the prayer was to be said, and the Kesselring’s joined in.

“Amleth be with me, Amleth within me. / Amleth behind me, Amleth before me. / Amleth beside me, Amleth to win me. / Amleth to comfort and restore me. / Amleth beneath me, Amleth above me. / Amleth in quiet, Amleth in danger. / Amleth in hearts of all that love me. / Amleth in mouth of friend and stranger. / I bind unto myself the Name, the strong Name of the Rising; by invocation of the same. Amen.”

Hands were released and Miklan looked over to Zael, grinning.

“Now Amleth will protect yew! He don’t protect the cows but I think he likes people better or somethin’.” Miklan said with a shrug which caused Dimitri to roll his eyes. Kelly stood up then, taking her husband’s plate and beginning to serve him. Miklan had every right to thank his mother’s hands for making the meal because it was quite indeed a feat to prepare.

Roasted beef on top a hearty layer of bright green peas, Essene bread— dark bread with an array of seeds on top that stuck to the dark wheat due to a light layer of honey; turnip and leak stew (which was so thick it was more like a hearty gravy that enhanced the roasted beef), but probably most importantly was salty and aged cheese. The Kesselring’s were doing quite well as neither cabbage or potato or bean could be found in the dishes, a true declaration of their wealth and that their ranch granted them access to food that was liken much to nobility.

After serving her husband, Kelly then proceeded to serve Zael— heaping a lot of the roasted beef on his plate that nearly rivaled Mathias’ plate— then Dimitri and then Miklan. Miklan began eating immediately once he had set his plate back down.

“Zael.” Mathias spoke, looking at the blonde initiate. “How’s it lookin’ out there? Boys said yew came back covered in blood. Yew look fine tew me, so what blood were yew covered in?”

Zael Castomir

 

[Zael Castomir]

Amleth. Zael couldn't say he'd happened across that god before, not even in his travels whilst on missions abroad. If anybody would've known about that god it would've been those woodenly studious (and incredibly Alistair-like) Students from the College of Elbion he'd rubbed shoulders with on a couple of occasions. But nope. No Amleth. Quaint little god local to Arnim, so far as Zael was concerned.

Though he did feel pretty goddamn awkward just sitting there at the table while the Kesselrings all knew the words and the protocol and all. Talk about being on the outside looking in, shit. But it wasn't no big bother. Prayer was started, prayer was over, quick as that.

And to Miklan he said, "Amleth's got my back covered, and anything in front in me," Zael flexed an arm, curling it inward with a fist, his armor rattling softly as he did, "is gonna catch all of this to the face."

And now he could feast with his eyes on the food before he feasted with his mouth. The Kesselrings really knew how to make an Initiate feel welcome, huh? He and Ever were gonna pig out—gotta get that energy back for the fight they both knew was coming. Also, Kress on a stick, what was taking Proctor P so long? It was a little broken finger. What was he doing, braiding the entirety of Ever's voluminous hair in there?

Zael had helped himself to the roasted beef and peas on his plate like a man on the edge of starvation, clearing a healthy portion of it before Mathias asked his question.

"Boh. Byeah." Zael swallowed. Washed it down with a drink. Let out a satisfied aaahhhh. "Don't go near the woods at the edge of your ranch. Me and Ever got into a scuffle out there, and I got a feelin we're gonna be cleanin up the rest of that shit tonight."

A "scuffle." Seemed way easier to just say that than to try to explain the Fog and all that happened inside. Woulda been nice if there was more than blood they could've brought back as some kind of proof, the heads of some perpetrating monsters or men, but it was what it was.

Everleigh Ebersol

 

[Everleigh Ebersol]

When Zael began to eat a curious thing would happen. Miklan would watch him for a second and then proceed to copy him. Zael had a bite of meat? Miklan would have a bite of meat. Zael scooped up some peas? Miklan would scoop up some peas. The only ones who seemed to notice this was Kelly and Dimitri who gave each other a knowing look. Miklan thought he was being totally slick by copying Zael, even when he took a swing of his own drink and sputtered out a “aaahhhh.”

“So, tonight… it’ll be over tonight?” Mathias pressed, just as Everleigh and Proctor Palahniuk’s footsteps could be heard before they entered the dining room. Everleigh’s eyes were red-rimmed, her finger healed but her face pale. Proctor P had a extra annoyed look, but that soon dissipated the moment Kelly rose up from her seat to make him a plate.

“Is it going to be an issue if it’s not over tonight?” Everleigh asked, taking a seat. Her eyes widened in surprise when Kelly took her plate, beginning to serve her as well. “Oh. No, you don’t need— um… thank you.” She said, taking the plate and setting it down before her, looking at it. Her stomach growled.

“The butcher is arrivin’ earlier than expected.”

“You don’t butcher your own meat here?” Everleigh continued, still have yet to take a bite of food.

“Fer some of the cattle, yes, we do.” Mathias explained. “‘Course, I got some finer things that need tew be handled with a finer hand. The Boar has been comin’ here fer years and there’s no one with a finer hand than him.” Everleigh couldn’t hide the sparkle in her eyes, couldn’t help but lean forward.

“The Boar? Part of the Butchers Pact?”

“Eight. Think one of them… retired a few years back.” There was a slight pause and then Mathias gave Everleigh a hard look. “Didn’t think someone from the city would know much about butchers.”

“I don’t. Not really.” Everleigh looked down at her plate. “I just like eating things with four legs and two eyes, is all.” She said before finally beginning to eat. Proctor Palahniuk sighed, exasperated.

“Is he gonna bring his son again?” Dimitri asked his father, causing Everleigh to look up while she was still chewing, her eyes wide with hope. Mathias shrugged.

“Prolly.” Mathias said between a mouthful. The table was silent, the conversation not having been a welcoming subject to begin with. Everleigh wasn’t sure if it was because she had pressed it or had asked the wrong sort of questions, but there was one last question she needed to ask.

“So.” The poison eater began. “I need ten Chianina that you’re willing to let go of.” The entire table grew still and silent, albeit Miklan who was steadfast in copying Zael however possible. Mathias looked at Everleigh, and then at the proctor. It was then that Everleigh realized why it felt as if Mathias didn’t like talking to her. He didn’t trust her. Or the proctor. That same look he gave to her and then Proctor Palahniuk said it all.

“That’s a lot of money yer asking me to give up.” Mathias said slowly.

Zael Castomir

 

[Zael Castomir]

"You've already given up a lot of money," said Zael with a cool and level tone. Did he know what kind of plan his Trusted Advisor was playing at? Nope. But he didn't need to. See, that's where the Trusted part of Trusted Advisor came in. And there wasn't anybody at the Academy who could short Everleigh her cleverness without looking like a fool—she was a clever as they came.

So what was his role, then, as Captain? Hell, even if he hadn't been appointed captain by the local Proctor, it'd still be the same thing: to back her up. Because that's what he did. Zael didn't leave any of his buddies hanging. Sometimes they needed to be set straight if they were on some dumb shit, because that's what friends were for after all, but he never left them hanging.

And Ever? Sound idea, from what Zael could at least guess at. Probably something involving those cows as bait. Mathias had this look in his eye, that sort of Proctor P look actually: doubting all the way. Yeah, sure, he wasn't wrong, because it was a lot of money for him and for his family. But he lost a bunch of livestock already. Sacrificing ten more to stop the bleeding was a better deal than letting the rampage continue unchecked.

"It's like this, Mathias. Give up the ten cows, or risk them all. If there was a better option, we'd give it to ya," Zael said, glancing Everleigh's way. He noticed her eyes then, the red-rimming of them, and the surprised twitch of his brow surely gave away that he had noticed. He didn't linger on it though.

Back to Mathias.

"We can put this whole nightmare down for you. I know it ain't easy, but you gotta make the call."

He was doing this the polite way, because he liked the Kesselrings. If this were a few years ago, and if he didn't give a damn about the Kesselrings? He and Ever would already be out there yanking those cows along while Mathias would be laid out with a broken jaw, most like. He hoped to Kress it didn't come to that now.

Everleigh Ebersol

 

[Everleigh Ebersol]

Mathias listened to Zael. He didn’t nod his head or look away, his brown eyes on Zael like a hyper-fixated herd dog. There was silence. Even Miklan had stopped eating, fidgeting about in his seat as if he were about to get a stern talking to. Dimitri had placed his silverware down completely and Kelly was looking from Zael to Mathias.

“I don’t think yew understand that—“

“No, you don’t understand, Mr. Kesselring.” Proctor Palahniuk interjected Mathias, his voice, often grating to Everleigh’s ears, now was stern and firm. No, not just that. It wasn’t just a proctor speaking. A second-level dreadlord commanding attention, someone who knew he deserved respect. Perhaps as a proctor he wasn’t the best, and that was hardly because he was not capable— he was lazy, and there was a difference.

“The initiates here are being generous. Initiate Ebersol is asking you to choose whatever cow you care for the least, and Initiate Castomir is doing you a favor by not just razing the entire ranch to the ground. They’re not going against a bear, they’re not going against a griffin. What these initiates are doing are going against a blood-thirsty beast and they have the kindness— and Kress knows why either of them are behaving this way— but they have the kindness to try and mitigate any possible casualties to your ranch.” Proctor Palahniuk went back to eat, cutting off a large chunk of meat. He was about to place the chunk into his mouth but paused.

“I hope I don’t need to remind you that your ranch belongs to Vel Anir. That you, your smelly livestock and your family are on ANIRIAN SOIL. For the Republic, eh? Do your duty and give the dreadlord initiates the damned cows or else we’ll take over this ranch.” Proctor Palahniuk finally placed the massive piece of meat into his mouth, chewing loudly.

“Fine.” Mathias said in a low voice. He stood up from the dinner table, scooting the wooden chair back with unbridled anger. He looked at Everleigh. “Since yew think yew know so damn much about cattle yew can choose them.” And without a further word he stalked off, stomping the entire way until he stepped outside, slamming the door behind him hard enough to echo throughout the house.

Zael Castomir

 

[Zael Castomir]

Mark it down somewhere, lads. Proctor P actually being useful? It was pretty well known that if you were a Proctor and your name started with a "P" and didn't end with an "X," you were about as useful as a shoe with no sole. Whatever else happened on this mission, Zael thought that this was going to be the one part that their Initiates would call bullshit on.

Well. Parse this out. It was good that Proctor P helped persuade Mathias into going along with Ever's plan, but...damn, sucks that it had to happen in front of Miklan. Even Zael, treated like dogshit by his own father, still felt a crushing despondence when he once saw his Dad get chewed out and embarrassed by another Tarrower. Dimitri was old enough to get that his old man wasn't invincible (kind of like that point in the Academy when Initiates all quietly learned that the Proctors weren't gods, but were instead very, very human), but Miklan might well feel awfully deflated after tonight.

Zael tried his best. Giving Miklan's shoulder a small nudge, he said, "Your dad's just lookin out for you, but we gotta do this. He'll come around."

A glance to Ever. He hoped to Kress her plan worked out as perfectly as she doubtless had it in her head, or else...fuck, he didn't even want to imagine the awkwardness of facing Mathias and Miklan if it all fell through.

Zael started to polish off his plate. Might as well finish putting this meal away.

Everleigh Ebersol

 

[Everleigh Ebersol]

Miklan was conflicted, or as conflicted as any five year old could get. He looked longingly after his father, and didn’t look away until Zael had brought him to attention. The boy looked up at Zael with big, confused eyes.

“Why do you need ten?” He asked. A simple question, but one that caused Everleigh to frown. The boy was upset not just because his father was upset but because to him it would feel like losing ten pets. Everleigh could imagine him naming every cow, being upset whenever a slaughter took place. Of course, she could also figure out that Miklan would be like Zael, seeing horrors and making the best out of them.

She wish she could be optimistic, too. But if she was then she would overestimate her abilities.

The plan was obvious. Blood was a conduit for the magic. Chianina were the largest cows and therefore would give the most blood. The creature most likely knew that Zael and Everleigh were here to stay until one side failed. So of course, low on time and low on resources, the most bang for their efforts would be the largest animal on the ranch. And everleigh planned on making it a sweet deal: ten Chianina up close and easy to grab.

Too good to be true. But Everleigh had a question that needed to be answered. Or rather two, and this test would answer both of them while also heaping a few other benefits.

“I need ten to make sure that the monster comes.” Everleigh’s plate was empty and she stood up. “No one go into the woods. No matter what you hear, keep away. Zael and I will be at the fence that’s closet to the tree-line. We’ll try and bring the fight into the woods to minimize any damages on the ranch.” Everleigh looked at Proctor P, who seemed bored and indifferent, nodding his head along with her words. Normal sound plan. Proctor P approved.

“Thanks for dinner.” Everleigh said before heading out of the dining room.

Zael Castomir

 

[Zael Castomir]

Good thing Ever spoke up, because Zael would've had to make up some bullshit on the spot if she hadn't. He was pretty good at it, bullshitin', but the last thing he wanted to do was end up looking like a jackass if the reason he gave crumpled in on itself before the night was done. Even more awkwardness to imagine.

Ever was keen on heading out and putting the plan into motion—which was probably for the best, to stave off any second thoughts from Mathias or even Proctor P. Zael cleaned up the last bits from his plate, a few spoonfuls of peas, and stood as well, wiping his mouth on his gauntlet. To Kelly he said, "That was a tasty roast beef, Mrs. Kesselring. Delicious."

To Miklan, a confident smirk and a wink, and then he followed after Everleigh, his red cloak fluttering out behind him as he caught up.

Outside, Zael said as he walked beside her, "You come up with that on the spot, or was this plan marinatin in the tub?"

Heh. Knowing Ever, she probably came up with it last week. Call her the scheming sage of the Academy, folks, and good luck if you get roped into a game of cards with her.

Everleigh Ebersol

 

[Everleigh Ebersol]

Miklan continued to beam after Zael, if he seemed confident then the boy would be confident in the plan— even if the entire family seemed taken aback by Everleigh’s demands. Dimitri and Kelly had grown rather quiet after Mathias’ outburst, and neither proctor p nor Everleigh were trying to do anything to cheer them up.

For Everleigh, fresh air was needed.

Dinner was uncomfortable for her, and while she couldn’t exactly place why, it had started with Proctor P healing her finger. Then the talk about her—

“It’s one of the plans I have.” Everleigh admitted to Zael, glancing over at him. “Of course, the base of the plan is to figure out whether or not the enemy has half a brain. A savage beast would jump at ten cows near it’s home and not think it strange, human or other would think it’s a trap. If they go for the cows it doesn’t necessarily cross them out for being human, but if they didn’t then I can figure out exactly what I’m— I mean, we’re— dealing with.” There was a pause as they came across to the cows.

The cows were massive and pure white. The bulls were laden with rippling muscle underneath their short, coarse pelts. Ironically, despite being the largest domestic cow on Arethil, they had some of the smallest horns— comically so in the purple initiate’s opinion. Despite the length of their head being as long as Everleigh from the tip of her head down to the small of her waist, their horns were no more than a foot that curved up or horizontally at the sixth inch mark.

The closer Everleigh got to the group of white cattle, the more she realized why so many butchers and ranchers tended to be large. These things were huge! Perfect. The perfect trap.

“Although, I’m hoping they’ll go for it.” She said, pulling out ten needles, carrying three between each finger, eyes glowing gold as she deftly laced them with poison. “Whether beast or something else, because it’ll make our job a lot easier. Besides, no matter what they throw at us I am sure I’ve already thought up a suitable counter.” Everleigh admitted before looking over at Zael.

“That being said... How are you feeling? Still drained?” She asked right as she pricked the first cow with a needle.

Zael Castomir

 

[Zael Castomir]

"There's half a brain somewhere in that mess," Zael said, thinking of those female voices Ever had mentioned and that he'd heard (but at the time had been far too enraged to really take stock of). Not missing that funny little slip, Zael slanted his eyes and sucked his teeth whilst giving her a facetious look. "Yeah, you better say 'we,' or I'll go be an armchair captain playin catch with Miklan while I'm waitin for your report."

Nah. He'd never miss a chance to get into a good, clean fight. Especially when it was on behalf of a family he actually liked. Not to mention with a toasty side of vengeance for Ever's finger and his own mental torment. Yeah. He said it. Vengeance wasn't best served cold, to Zael it was best served flaming hot.

And those were some big fuckin cows.

"Those are some big fuckin cows," he said, his very thoughts spilling right out of his mouth. "Damn it's been a while since I've been to the good ol countryside." Just passin through small villages on the way to this mission or that hardly counted.

Zael crossed his arms and leaned them onto the wooden fence of the cows' enclosure, watching Ever do her thing with the needles. And you know what? Fuck. Needles were way scarier than swords. There wasn't a sword on Arethil that could've made Zael pause and reflect for a second, but needles were something else. That cow probably wasn't enjoying it.

The question. Still feeling drained? Zael flipped one of his palms up and looked at it. "Yeah. Physically I'm fine, but I spent a lotta magic raisin hell back there. I can't pull an Edric again and lose my shit. What I got left, I got to spend soundly."

He looked to her. The evening was dim and night was within the hour, so it was difficult to see if her eyes were still red-rimmed or not. He thought about asking her. Calling attention to it. Asking her, Hey, so what happened in there with Proctor P?

Uncharacteristically, instead of being direct he went more general, "And you? How are you feelin, Ever?"

Everleigh Ebersol

 

[Everleigh Ebersol]

“They’re the largest in Liadin.” Everleigh answered, about the cows. “Maybe in Arethil. I don’t think I’ve heard of anything bigger.” She made quick work of pricking the cows, the most reaction she got from it being a flick of their ears or a swish from their tail. “Good hides, too.” She said, patting one down on the rump before she turned to look at Zael. Her face was neutral as he admitted that he didn’t have much juice left.

But unlike Edric, at least in Everleigh’s very biased opinion, it was through innovation and having restrictions that one really could shine. After all, one always became far more creative when there are limitations to move past— and Zael was a perfect example of this.

She was ready to move on, to bring her and Zael to a decent vantage point, not that there really was any sort of high ground, everything here was incredibly flat, but then he asked his question. She raised a dark violet brow quizzically, tilting her head a bit to the side as she regarded his expression. The setting sun made it hard to really piece why he was asking such a thing. Maybe because she had asked? So was he asking because it was just something one did?

Perhaps. Or maybe it was something else?

“Feeling good. My finger is all better.” Everleigh said cooly and then pointed to where she wanted them to go. “I think we should draw some dark vision runes,” back to the plan, dismissing Zael’s question completely. She then looked around, finding rope that was tied in such a way it could only be used for leading the cows around. Not like they had a Shepard dog to help them lead the cows. She picked it up, tied it around the horn (which made her reach up high on the tips of her toes) and then went to the corral’s exit.

“Maybe something to lessen our presence, too. Just in case.” She added, a bit absently as if she were just going through a list.

Zael Castomir