Fantasy Children of Blood and Shadows - Devil's Walkway

[Ririn]

Her eyes light up at the mention of them fighting against each other again. From all the aggressive, provocative things that had escaped his lips so far, a challenge against her powers was the best one yet. A wide smile of approval curved her lips as she leaned forward, hands still on her lap, yet so close that if he moved now that his chains were loose enough, their faces would touch each other. There were few things in the world she appreciated as much as a worthy opponent, and the demon was surely one of them!

"I'd love to see you try to beat me." She said softly and for a very small, fragile second her eyes moved away from his, moving lower to his mouth and strong jaw before returning to meet with his golden gaze. "My name sounds different in your mouth." She said, like she had just stated something small of no significance yet the tension in the little space between them, she felt, had swifted to something more electric and animalistic than she had ever experienced before and though, at first, it had outraged her when he spoke her name now she had a new feeling inside her.

When he finally offered his name and the name of the people who he worked with, the spark in her eyes grew so much, it was like they had changed their colour, almost becoming an icy grey.

"It sounds good!" She accepted his offer with a slight nod taking a silent moment where she stood leaned towards him before finally returning to the back of her chair.

"It was one of my first missions after I got in the army, no fancy Captain title or anything. My whip, my horse and a group of nine more soldiers like myself with a Captain to lead us." She begun to say thinking the one other time she had told this story and how painful it had been then, wondering if it would leave a faul flavour in her mouth this time too. "It sounded like an easy mission but we all knew it would last long. We traveled north, around the Frozen Isthmus heading to a mountain pick at the Frozen Wilds, near the Devil's walkway actually. It wasn't a mission of war really." She said remembering the never ending cold days and nights and the exhaustion of the horses and soon, their own. "We were supposed to find an old, ex military general there and take from him some kind of weapon. We traveled for months, the days and nights had become to feel the same, there isn't much to guide you in the endless frosts and the sun comes out for only a few hours every day. I was scared I think, of that covered in snow land though excited for the mission. Eventually, we reached the mountain and begun our climb but on the second day, we fell into an ambush. They came at night, killing the horses and two soldiers and we thought it was your people." Ivorel gulped again, licking her lips as she moved around on her chair. "On the third day we were attacked again but this time they didn't come at us with swords. They came with powers only found among elves. We were disoriented, confused and lost. I saw my young companions fall, heard their screams echo around me between those mountaintops." Ivorel shivered, like she could feel the cold around her even now!
"Then my Captain found me. She was bleeding badly, I could feel the heat of her blood as she embraced me, shaking. She told me I had to go on, I had to find what we came looking for and when I told her I had no idea what we were really ment to take from the general she laughed. She just laughed in my face as she was bleeding out, telling me that we were looking for something as strong as me." She shrugged, looking away from the demon, eyes focused somewhere behind him though in her mind, she was back in that clearing, listening to her Captain die.
"They took me prisoner, I don't know when or how, I didn't know why either. I just woke up in a cold cell with stone walls, chained to the ceiling. And the man that appeared before me was an elf, the same ex general I had come looking and he wasn't an old man at all. He was maybe, a few years older than me, a big scar running across his face and his eyes was as icy as the mountains around his home. He... Kept me there, I'm not even sure how long. It didn't took me much to realise that whatever had happened to him had made him lose his mind. He was either extremely kind and caring or he acted like an animal, there was nothing in between! You see, I was taught since childhood that my powers shouldn't be used unless I was in great danger but nobody ever told me what great danger, was. And when I finally broke I didn't even think about it. One day the pain and the fear were just too much and as I screamed... I made a void, like the one you saw but I didn't put myself in it. I drew the whole castle in and I just.. started to suffocate every living thing I could find in it." Ivorel took a deep breath as the pressure she had begun feeling on her chest got heavier, yet she didn't move and she didn't stopped with her story.
"And in there, the man who had held me captured for so long just... Bowed down on my feet, promising to give me the weapon I had come looking for if I speared him. And I did. I did let him live and he did took care of me while I was sick. And I returned with what they had send us to find." She concluded, clearing her throat and blinking the images away.

The story had so many details she hadn't told him about and she wasn't going to either, no matter what it was he would offer her. She felt empty inside, like she had already told the demon too much, like she had betrayed her own secret.

 

[Roaring_Dragon]

Vox's heart raced as she leaned forward, a smile playing on her lips. The gleam in her eye told him how much his words had excited her and her excitement was contagious. He couldn't help it, he leaned forward in his chains so that their faces were only inches apart. He could feel her hot breath on his face, and the hair on his arms stood on end, as if he had been zapped by an electric shock. How similar they were, he marveled, itching to fight her one more time.

Her cheeks were slightly flushed and lips parted ever so slightly as her gaze wondered lower down to his lips. He all but froze when she made that comment about her name of his mouth and the air suddenly changed to something more erotic. A hungry look entered his eyes very different to the one before, and he was about to make another comment about his mouth when he caught himself. He shook his head, clearing it of any thoughts that fleeted though his mind, trying to remind himself who he was talking to. He sat back on his haunches, the ever present cocky mask back over his face.

Yet the mask crumbled a bit as she spoke, so captivated by her tale. He was along for the ride as he spoke of frozen lands beyond his comprehension. He understood the cold. The nights in the Scorched Wastes dropped to sub-zero temperatures, yet the dark was short and quickly replaced by the unrelenting sun. He had even experienced the winters of the Devil's Walkway, as deep snows set in and made the fighting impossible. But the ice had melted, and spring came quickly. He shivered; he really didn't like the cold. He couldn't imagine ever visiting a place so abhorrent. As she continued to talk, his mind raced at the details. He picked up important bits, a powerful weapon, as powerful as her, a weapon that caused madness. And the most interesting part - her creation of the void. He wanted to know more about it; such a strange power. Yet he had heard what she hadn't said as well. The way people treated her because of it; fearing her, perhaps viewing her as a weapon. Yes, they were not that different at all. But, she also didn't know their full potential as well.

He was silent for a while, contemplating everything she had revealed, mulling it over in his head and trying to fit the pieces of the puzzle that was Ivorel together. The silence stretched between them for a while, as she wallowed in her own memories.

"Vox" He said eventually, his voice coming out raspy. "That's my name. Vox of-" he paused, contemplating whether or not to include his tribe name in his title. He agonized over it for a moment; should he reveal so much of himself? But a deal was a deal; the title needed to be complete. There was no way she could use it to her advantage anyway, as there was no one left to hurt.

"-Of the Bal'Narathu" he completed the sentence, his voice somber. He let that hang in the air for a moment, before he continued. "And the second name, the one of my employer; The Black Hand" His golden eyes were back on her, no remorse at his betrayal of the people who had hired him.

 

[Ririn]

She was deep in her own thoughts now, the memories of that cold chamber so strong even after all those years, they made the scars on her back ache again, like it was just yesterday when the whip had met with her skin. The worst though wasn't that. It had never been about the pain of the whip or the visible net of scars it had left behind. Ivorel shut her eyes tightly, fighting back the tears that she suddenly felt coming.

And as she felt about to lose her temper, he spoke, making her forget everything else, as the only thing that now filled her mind, was his name. Ivorel looked at him smiling and she felt like she was looking at him for the first time, letting her eyes wonder over his face and form, taking in the same details as before but under a new light.

"Vox of Bal'Narathu" she repeated softly, testing his name on her tongue. "Vox..." She said again, swirling the word around, feeling it and matching it to the information she had gathered about him so far and the smile on her lips grew even more. She liked it. It felt... Right, with him and she wondered if it ment something in his native tongue. But she would save that question for later. Now she finally had two pieces of information that could help her figure out what was it that had really happened a few days back in that forest!

"The Black Hand? Is that... A group of radical Demons?" She wondered looking at him very seriously now, crossing her legs as her thoughts were navigating towards business now and not on, whatever it was the two of them had done up to this point. Because, even if she hated to admit it, talking to Vox, didn't feel like talking to a prisoner at all, on the contrary, it felt... Electric and it made her heart react in ways she hadn't felt before. Not to such extent, not with someone like him!

 

[Roaring_Dragon]

Ivorel had said earlier that the sound of her name on his lips had sounded different to her. Vox now hat the odd experience of his name, meant to be pronounced by the rumbling tones of his mother tongue, on her slender lips. It sounded so foreign yet light and melodious to his untrained ear and he decided, he liked the sound of it. When she repeated it a second time it he rolled it in his mind, over and over, like a unusual object he was examining.

He turned to her after her question. "Is that the next question you want me to answer? Let's see.... " He paused, wondering what he wanted in return for such information. "How about you tell me about where you come from? I have never come across an elf with powers like you before"

 

[Ririn]

She really wanted to keep this serious, her brain screamed at her, reminding her this wasn't a friendly little game between friends and went on pinning red flags on every movement and every word and every look and every heartbeat that didn't feel like it should. Yet as soon as he asked to know more about her keeping the game going, Ivorel shut the door to those thoughts, smiling again as slowly the spark returned to her eyes as it was winning more ground against the darkness her storytelling had brought over them.

"Those are two different questions you are making!" She noticed playfully. "Do you want to know where I come from or where my powers come from?" She asked raising an eyebrow and just as her lips parted again, the voice of a guard alerted her that finally, what she had asked for, was there!

Ivorel stood up, exiting the tent making sure all she had required was there. More food, scrolls, pen and ink, a clean shirt and a large piece of apple pie. She pulled the side of the tent apart, making room for a young servant girl to enter with a tray. Her eyes flew to the demon and grew twice their size in surprise before they pulled away as she rushed to the table, setting the tray down. Word of how the demon had killed the last servant that had gotten into Ivorel's tent had traveled the camp and the girl was rushing to get as far away as possible from him.

"Do you need anything else Captain?" The girl asked, keeping her eyes on the ground.
"No, thank you, that will be all." Ivorel said, still holding the entrance open for the girl that simply nodded and run away, making Ivorel giggle.

"I think you finally given them something to be more afraid than me!" She noticed with a hint of amusement in her tone, as she walked up to the table, setting the things she carried down, before inspecting the tray. Everything looked amazing, as usual. If there was one thing Ghason had right, was it's cooks!

Ivorel picked up one of the empty plates, setting a slice of the same ham he had before in it, adding bread and brown rice. She thought about giving him a fork, but she went with a spoon instead. She prepared another plate for herself using the same things and returned to her chair, offering the plate directly at him instead of leaving it on the floor.

"No chicken yet unfortunately!" She joked but she knew, there was something in the tray that he would probably enjoy just as much or perhaps, more and for some weird reason, she couldn't wait to see Vox try out what she imagined would be, his first apple pie ever!

 

[Roaring_Dragon]

Vox thought about her comment. He hadn't intended them to be two separate questions, he had assumed that her powers and her background would be closely interlinked like his, but perhaps not. A sly smile painted his lips and he wondered how far he could push this little game.

"Well, considering you are asking me to betray some of my race, then I think both of those two questions will equal the information that you want me to reveal" He raised an eyebrow, daring her to challenge his statement.

As the young girl entered the tent, Vox could practically smell the fear on her. The whites of her eyes showed as she scurried around the tent, downcast gaze anywhere but him. She smelled like a frightened rabid caught in a trap. Vox's blood buzzed at the smell and a little voice in his head said, Prey. Vox frowned at it, shifting uncomfortably at the power that flowed though his veins.

Vox shrugged at Ivorel's words. "I did what I had to do. I'm surprised that your whip hasn't found my skin again to make me pay for what I did to your people earlier" his eyes were on hears again, searching for an answer,

He took the offered food his senses alive at the delicious smells. His chains rattled on his wrists, a constant reminder of his imprisonment as he reached out to accept the plate. He dug into the food no less ravenously than last time. Great spoonfuls of food were shoveled into his mouth with the spoon, taking a bite out of the bread and ham, savoring the taste. The food went down without touching the sides. Halfway though his portion, he heard her mention something about chicken. He raised an eyebrow at her. "Give me pork over poultry any day. I have had enough char-grilled birds that I have hunted over makeshift fireplaces to last me a lifetime"

 

[Ririn]

"Does it surprise you that I don't seek vengeance for my people's killings?" She asked as she begun eating, slowly and carefully, afraid her stomach would only react badly to the food again, ignoring his request to get two answers before telling her more about the Black Hand.

Vox was eating fast, so fast it made her nervous but she recognised the soldiers way in his eating. They usually didn't have the luxury of time to sit down and enjoy a dinner, especially in the Devil's walkway.

"Well, the chicken I'm talking about is not some half burnt bird actually, but suit yourself!" She said with a shrug, taking another bite of her ham, ignoring him and the exchange of information they had left in the middle. Ivorel just sat infront of him, eyes and mind utterly focused on the simple thing that was a plate of warm, good food in the middle of a crisis! That's all she wanted, as she tried to regroup her thoughts and feelings, slowly realising, she was now more than ever, viewing this never-ending war as something that wasn't fair for either side.

When she was done, she licked her lips clean, standing up, taking his plate and hers back to the tray in the same silent manner she had sunk in.

When she returned, she carried a smaller plate with a sort of pie on it.

"It's made from flower, eggs, apples and cinnamon. The crust on top is just the same as the bottom but it's been crumbled." She said, passing him the plate, looking at him with eyes filled with what could only be interpreted as a childish, playful wonder awaiting for his reaction to her gesture.

 

[Roaring_Dragon]

Vox gave her a meaningful look "Come on now, Ivorel. Do you expect me to believe that you don't care about the death of your people? You strike me as a person who values their soldiers lives". The fact that she hadn't responded to his previous suggestion about the information he offered. He dismissed it. Let her ponder it, he thought. When she realized that she needed information, she would agree.

When she returned back to him, she held a small plate with some kind of baked goods. Her eyes twinkled with something he couldn't quite read, given that she was just giving him food. The way she described the dish like she was waiting for something, was baffling to him. he took the offered plate and looked at it suspiciously. He sniffed it first, trying to detect any poisons or trickery, yet all he could smell was cooked apple and pungent cinnamon. He admitted, it smelt quite nice. He then took his fork and took a small bite, trying to taste anything unusual. No poisons again, but the bite had been too small. So he took another one. The sharpness of the apple was complimented by the fragrant cinnamon. He raised his brows in wonderment at the taste.

"What is this?" he asked, and without realizing he was on his second and third bite. Ancestors and Gods alike be damned, this thing was delicious! Awe at the taste filled him as he devoured the delicious morsel of food.
"Whatever it is, I have tasted nothing like it. You have surprised me. I dare say you have won yourself a free question for me to answer!" His eyes were filled with good humor as he made the offer.

 

[Ririn]

Ivorel's eyes were fixated on him as he ate away and she didn't need match to make sure he had never tried it before. The smile that appeared on her lips was a smile of genuine, child-like happiness. She dismissed the question her inner voice was asking as to why was she feeling happy, watching her prisoner enjoy a piece of apple pie allowing herself to just... Feel, this rare emotion deep in the veins of her soul.

"It's an apple pie." She answered holding back a laugh. Such an easy answer to a question aske between bites of what was her favourite desert and now was becoming his as well, judging from the expression of his face. She realised, she couldn't move away from that simple scene, the chair was of no importance right now. No, Ivorel would rather remain knelt infront of Vox that went on, offering her a free question because of how good the apple pie tasted, making her throw her head back and laugh!

She could ask him anything right now, right? She could get away easily and acquire a piece of valuable information yet she didn't repeat her previous question, regarding the Black Hand. She was enjoying their game too much to not be fair to him right now.

"Alright then, answer me this. Why do you keep making questions about me? You could be learning anything you wanted right now but you keep on asking about my powers. Do you think that way it might be easier for you to defeat me in the next round?" She asked with an almost devilish grin, but it was easy to tell the provocation was more friendly than aggressive. Like she was repaying him with the same coin, using a similar technique as he had used earlier in their conversation.

 

[Roaring_Dragon]

An apple pie... Who would have thought to make a pie out of apples? Such a bizarre thought, yet it worked marvelously. Vox was not one with a sweet tooth - Foods in the desert were tough and tasteless. They were cooked and eaten for survival. Deserts were a delicacy he was unfamiliar with and had generally been uninterested in since he left the Wastes.

Vox's eyes were intent on the crumbs on his plate as he practically licked it clean. Despite the fact that he had offered to answer any question, she had asked something so simple. She knew how to play this game. "I will point out that the question you asked was in fact; two questions. But alright, I'll bite." His golden gaze fell on her again, still kneeling close to him, still within reach.

"But before I answer, I'll ask you back; why did you give me water and food, and even a piece of apple pie? Why do you sit there, and laugh alongside me, even though I killed your men, even though you know what I have done in the past? Why do you still sit within reach, when I could easily reach out and snap your neck?" At that last sentence, he reached out, hand closing the distance between them. Is fingers trailed her neck, tenderly as they moved up the side. Yet instead of his hand encircling her neck, it hovered over the bite that was covered in gauze, as if he could feel the wound that would forever mark her skin.

"I think you're as curious about me as I am about you. You crave to know about this creature in front of you that is so similar, yet so different. And yes, a lot of it has to do with me pitting myself against your powers, but I also think that in this tent, where nobody else can see you but me, you can be yourself. A stranger, who doesn't fear your powers, an adversary who you would like to fight, a demon, who is so alien to you and doesn't understand your race's rules.. The propriety of your people doesn't affect me, and I do not perceive you like your kind does."

 

[Ririn]

The world around her froze with her. His fingers were tracing the skin of her neck slowly and she could feel the same electric air rise around them. Ivorel felt her eyes close under his touch, she felt the goosebumps on her skin, rise under his fingers. When she should have been alerted she was peaceful. When she should have pulled away, she was motionless, lips half open, eyes moving though still shut, as in her mind, she was tracing the route he had followed on her neck before he ended up at the wound on the other side of her neck, the wound he had made with his own teeth. Even then, she didn't flinch. Not even a line of doubt or worry appeared on her pale face. She felt the heat raising but there was no pain because there was no pressure. There was only his hand, carefully reaching for his own marking and Ivorel wished, the wound would be uncovered under his touch.

Why do you still sit within reach, when I could easily reach out and snap your neck?

"Because you wouldn't do it..." She answered almost without realising she had done so a few seconds before he pulled his hand away, pulling her out of the mesmerising moment.

He is the enemy! the little voice in her head scritched trying to get her to finally move away, but Ivorel just stayed there, slowly opening her eyes, looking to meet Vox's, as he went on speaking, hitting every nail on the head as he did.

HE IS THE ENEMY! the little inner voice now screamed.
Is he though? The enemy? she wondered.

What would he see if he looked in her eyes? Ivorel didn't know the answer, she wasn't even certain of what she was feeling let alone know what she looked like to an outsider.

"You think I care for my people but you have already figure out what they think of me. And you have figure out why I'm giving you water and food too. That was what originally made you ask me who was the one who whiped me. You knew I understood what it is to be chained up." Ivorel said and with every sentence, with every realisation, her voice was becoming a hint more broken and at the same time, a bit more harsh.
"Oh, you were so right yesterday, about you and me being the products of the same war but I hadn't realised how... Alike, we are. Now I know you like apple pie so hey! We've got that in common too!" She laughed bitterly, shaking her head. "How do you really perceive me Vox? I bet you don't have an answer for that question. So don't tell me how I can be my real self in this tent, where there is nobody but you to judge me and that's why you are asking me all those questions, like you suddenly decided to hear to my story as a favour."

Ivorel stood up grabbing the plate as she went, slamming it down on the tray so hard, a small piece of it broke. She took a deep breath and turned to look at Vox from a distance, like somehow that would make her feel differently. No matter how hard she tried, she couldn't shake off the feeling that he wasn't an enemy. Not really!

 

[Roaring_Dragon]

The silence stretched between them as Ivorel moved away. She was shaken, that much was obvious. He knew he had uttered truths that she was uncomfortable with, truths that he was slowly coming to grips with. He was very much aware that he no longer viewed her like another elf to enact his vengeance on, another death to drown his pain that tore him up inside. He still yearned to fight her, to test his skills, but he felt that with any worthy opponent, friend or foe.

He understood her now. She did what she must and what her race required of her. She enjoyed torture, but had only rented the whip upon his chest when he had wounded her. No, he didn't hold it against her, she was replying violence with violence, that he understood. But the whip had not found his skin again unprovoked. Despite her enjoyment of it, she hated herself for feeling that way. And it was her duty that she re-capture him and bring him back to the tent.

His change in perspective of her had started with her tears. The blackened streaks that had run down her face that shook him deep inside. That was the point when his enemy became a person. It had continued whilst watching her body racked with convulsions of sickness, so different than the impassive opponent he had exchanged blows with in the forest clearing. It had deepened as he had watched her for a whole day as she slept, wondering if she would survive. And it had solidified through the teasing conversations, the games and the personal stories they had exchanged as they had tried to piece together the other person. No, she was no longer the abhorrent elf that he had painted her in his head to be. He wondered at that; and it surprised him. What surprised him most, was that he didn't mind. A voice in his head screamed at him, wallowing in the death of his tribe, and for a moment, confusion flooded his thoughts.

Yet the most confusing feeling was the one he felt on the edge of his fingertips, as they tingled from the contact of her skin. Her face had been immobile but her skin had been flushed. He had felt the flutter of her heartbeat under her skin. He had assumed that his heart would pump as the power awoke, craving the life-force as it flowed under her her skin, remembering the taste of her blood in his mouth. But the power hadn't spiked, and his heart had pumped for a very different reason. And her eyes... He couldn't tell what had been in her eyes as they bore into is own, scalding gaze searching back.

Vox closed his eyes, as he leaned his head back on the metal frame, mentally exhausted from the emotional turmoil inside him.

 

[Ririn]

The moment of silence stretched out between them making her feel even more uncomfortable than she already felt and when Vox leaned back on the metal frame that kept him bound, closing his eyes, Ivorel didn't need anything more to realise they wouldn't be talking any more.

She took another deep breath, letting the air come out of her mouth gradually, feeling her heart slowly find it's normal beating pattern. It was important to stay focused, keep her mind clean off the harsh truths he spoke, keep her soul clean of those new emotions of... Compassion that had started to appear. He was a demon and she was an elf. He was a prisoner and she was his captor. He was an assasin and she was a military Captain. Compassion wasn't ment to grow between them....
Right?

Choosing to stay just as silent as he, Ivorel sat down, pushing the tray away bringing a scroll infront of her, immediately dipping the quil in the ink.

Lord Orthon,
You will be happy to know the prisoner has finally started to talk, providing, what seems to be, important information about who he is and why his group infiltrated our borders setting up an ambush.
The Demon we call The Berserker comes from the Scorched Wastes and goes by the name of Vox of the Bal'Narathu. I have come to believe, based on my knowledge of his kind's traditions, that this is the name of his tribe though I have no further information to support this nor have I ever heard of a tribe called Bal'Narathu.
Our soldiers speak of tales that they think prove he is immortal but like we already knew, there is no creature under the Sun God and the Moon Goddess that has been blessed with immortality. It's what magic runs in him, that make him appear immortal and though I can't speak of what other powers this magic grands him, I understand it's related to blood. It's been two days since my whip tested his flesh and his traumas already look healed after he bite me and killed the young servant that was unlucky enough to enter my tent without my presence. A mistake I will be making no longer.

Furthermore, the demon spoke of a team by the name of The Black Hand. The attack was orchestrated by them and he was just a hired assasin ment to lead the group of demons in an almost suicidal mission but he refuses to say anything more about the group.

He didn't do it for gold in his pouch. Nor does it seem like he did it because he has a strong ideology to support his acts. He just wanted to shed elven blood though I am starting to believe his motives are not as simple as that. There is more inside this demon that just hate. There is pain and he has felt loss. Like you. Like me.

This realisation, this deepest understanding of my own enemy has been making my mind unable to reach peace. You, of all people, know how long my heart has been torn between my duty and what I feel is right. This mission was supposed to be the first milestone to what would be the end of this war yet the mission failed tragically. I, failed tragically yet I find it so hard to feel hate for my prisoner. I can see now, better than ever before, how pointless this war is.

I write this to you with a heavy heart that's torn between two worlds. The existing, ravaged by war world we live in and the one I can't stop thinking of. I hope you can understand this darkness in my heart and that you can justify what I'm about to ask of you.

Send word to our King, tell him to send another Captain to take my place for I'm not sure I can go on anymore with this interrogation. That's what I'm asking of you and that's why I'm praying to the Goddess that you will find it in your heart to forgive me for my failure.

I.

Ivorel let the pen down and leaned back, rubbing the sides of her forehead like she was in pain. Was that a report or what that a personal letter to the man that had raised her? She really couldn't tell anymore but he was the only one who knew the torment of her heart and could persuade the King to let her go. Lord Orthon had too much power and he always knew how to use it to get what he wanted and a long time ago, when Ivorel had run to him to speak of her worries, he had promised to help her, as he had done since her parents were murdered. And now, she was beginning for his aid once more.

Making sure the ink had dried, Ivorel rolled the scroll and secured it with a blue ribbon, before she stood up, walking to the entrance of the tent. For a moment she stood there, looking at Vox, fighting to figure out something to tell him but feeling her throat dry and her mind empty. Eventually, she just turned her back at him again, exiting the tent. For the following week, Ivorel would only set foot in the tent to make sure he was getting food and water, unable to control her own feelings.

"I want this send at the first light of the day!" Ivorel said as she walked into the posting tent, holding the scroll up to draw everyone's attention to her though she didn't need the scroll to achieve that!
"I'll make sure of that Captain!" A young girl said immediately standing up and carefully taking the scroll from Ivorel. "Where are we sending it?"
"To Lord Orthon in Elaluma."
"Yes Captain!" The girl nodded, keeping notes.
"Did the search party return? Do you know?" She asked looking around hoping that one of them would at least know but they looked like they didn't even knew what she was talking about. Being sick had set her back but she would take over control again and retain it for as long as it would take for somebody else to come and be incharge.

Shaking her head, Ivorel decided to go visit the higher officer of the camp, the one she had terrorised upon their arrival and who probably now was seeing her in his nightmares!

She found him easily, searching for the biggest tent in the camp, having the feeling that a man like him, would want to showcase his power by such a meaningless act.

"Captain!" He said, standing up a bit too fast from behind his desk, eyes growing bigger upon seeing her. "You are up!" He said almost like he didn't expected it which made Ivorel want to laugh but she held back, bitting the inside of her cheek. "Thats good. It's very good to see that you are alright!" He tried to fix his earlier mistake, circling around his desk to meet her, like he ment to keep her away.

"Well, thank you officer. I am in fact feeling much better." She said mocking him so obviously, the man frowned.

"Is there something I can help you with Captain?"

"Surprisingly, yes!" She said smiling wide, walking pass him, sitting at his own chair behind the desk only to further annoy him. "Did the search party return?"

The officer swifted his weight from the right leg to the left, his lips a thin, white line as he looked at her with pure hate.
"Yes Captain. Just two hours ago."

"Just two hours ago? And I wasn't informed about their return?"

"I thought it would be better not to bother you while you were resting."

"Oh my!" Ivorel brought her hand over her heart dramatically. "You can think? Who knew!" She said amused but her expression changed in a split second. "Don't ever think or assume anything about me again officer. Or you will find your sorry ass to some outpost in the Frozen Isthmus praying for sun to remember your existence!"

The officer clenched his fists but said nothing. Instead he lowered his eyes on the ground until he had regained full control over his anger.

"The search party couldn't find lord's Gongo body or any trace of him. They find sings of a fight though, not too far away from the carriage so they believe the Lord has been taken prisoner or he was later killed somewhere else. They did find the Demon's axe though. And his bow and quiver like you requested."

Ivorel leaned back, closing her eyes. Was that good news or bad news? If Gongo was alive, it ment he was getting the same, if not worst, treatment as Vox and it was their responsibility to get him back though that would mean getting into Omega, finding him and getting him out of there alive which, at the moment, didn't seem possible. She frowned, feeling the world spin around her faster than she would like and even in this desperate moment, her mind couldn't help but wonder back to her red tent and Vox.

Why did he matter that much suddenly? Why had she asked to he removed from the mission, let somebody else take over the interrogation? It wouldn't save him from pain and it wouldn't save his life either, no, all that request would save was herself. Ivorel wasn't sure how that thought made her feel. All she knew was that everything felt like a tangled knot she couldn't figure out how to untie.

She left the officer, walking around the camp trying to ignore the stares she was getting. Vox was right. In this whole camp, he was the only one to perceive her differently. To him, she wasn't a Captain, she wasn't a weapon, she wasn't some kind of mystery with powes beyond their comprehension. But what was she to the demon?
A captor? A sadistic torturer? A worthy opponent? A crying little child? A woman with scars? What was she to him?

What was she... To her own self?
All of the above?
Or none of it?

Ivorel kept walking.

 

[Roaring_Dragon]

With his eyes closed, Vox could hear the scratching of the quill as Ivorel wrote line after line of flowing script. He wondered what she was writing. Was she reporting every little detail of their conversations? Was she doing it out of spite for the truths that he had said, or duty? He didn't blame her regardless. At that moment, he couldn't even muster enough emotion to even care what words flowed under her fingers. Eventually, the scratching stopped and he heard Ivorel get up. There was the soft padding of feat and then she was gone.

Ivorel did not return to the tent for a while. In fact, he saw little of her in the days to come. Vox found that fact curious and he couldn't help but wonder just how much his words had shaken her to drive her away from his presence for so long.

As the hours passed by, all he had to keep him occupied was his thoughts. The chains around his wrists were starting to feel like an extension of his body. They affixed him to this place and without enough blood power there was nothing he could do but wait. The chains were loose, allowing him some mobility. He could sit, he could lay down, he could even stand up and walk a small circle under the metal frame that refused to budge. He had almost made a routine of it, changing position or pacing often to try and chase away the sluggishness in his limbs.

His mind wandered endlessly, swirling around in circles. He thought of his painful past, he thought of the war, he thought of his reasons for fighting in it. And most of all he thought of her. Her stormy eyes flashed across his vision more than he could count, angry, hurtful, empty, laughing... He considered every conversation that they had had carefully. He tore them apart and reconstructed them over and over, searching for hidden meanings that could help him make sense his jumbled emotions. His hand often found itself on the whip scars on his neck and chest, tracing them as if they could spill secrets into his mind.

The thing he struggled with most was boredom. The ever present guards at the entrance of the tent remained as mute as statues and he never caught any casual conversation from them. Occasionally, he would hear the stomp of boots as the guards changed, silently exchanging positions. Vox started mentally recording when it happened in the case he could use that information later for his escape. Yet time stretched and slowly became unable to tell the difference between hours and minutes.

The conversations outside the tent were also muted. On some small occasions he managed to make out snippets of sounds and conversations between passing elves. Two cooks, discussing how to season a stew. The trickling laughter of an elf as he spoke to his companion. The absentminded humming or whistling of a passerby. Yet if the sounds got too close, they where shushed by the guards. It was like a void had formed around the tent, sucking away at all life. He briefly wondered if Ivorel had created it or had ordered the guards to keep it that way in order to torture him with the absence of life. And nobody ever entered the tent apart from her. All his plans of potential escape were never realized as he could never supplement his power with elven blood. And whenever Ivorel was in the tent with him, she kept carefully out of his reach, as if the touch on her neck had burned her.

It was then that he started looking forward to the visits from Ivorel. They were short, silent encounters. She brought him food and water twice a day. Her eyes didn't quite meet his own and she stayed carefully out of range, At first, Vox was content with the silence as he busied himself with trying to read her quiet form. He was not going to be the one who broke the silence between them first. He knew she would eventually crack and ask him again about the Black Hand. There was a constant tension in her shoulders and whenever her eyes did meet his, he caught glimpses of some unknown confused emotion that she was battling with. He almost thought that perhaps she feared him, though it was not the fear he was used to. The fear had nothing to do with blood and the sharpness of his blade and more to do with the sharpness of the words that had exited his mouth. Her eyes always quickly left his before hurrying out of the tent.

There was a time when she brought him a blanket. It appeared over his shoulders one day when he woke. He palmed the edges of the fabric, disorientated, wondering how it appeared on top of him. The answer of who had brought it swam in his mind and played on his lips, grateful for the added warmth as the autumn evenings bit at his skin. Just like the blanket, there were some rare occasions where a small sliver of apple pie had been placed by his feet when he woke. He never mentioned it to her when he next saw her, a subject he was not willing to broach. It was at those times that he felt the most emotionally confused.

He had memorized the gait of her steps. It was light and feathery, as she almost slid over the packed earth. If he was awake, he always knew when she was on the way to the tent and he could prepare himself to encounter that lowered gaze and hunched shoulders. He got so skilled at telling apart her footsteps that he could hear her pad about in a tent near by. If he focused his hearing in that direction, he sometimes caught snippets of muffled conversations between herself and the male elf, Conor. They were mostly inconsequential, talking about reports, supplies and the consequences of their mission. He never really derived much useful information from those discussions. Once, he thought he heard an argument between the two, their voices where heated but hushed as they quibbled. What Vox wouldn't have given to know the topic of their quarrel. Yet there were also times when he had heard laughter from both, Ivorel's musical laugh floated back to his ears as he tried to block it out.

One day, on what Vox supposed was the fifth day of this mute game they were playing, he decided to break the silence. She had entered the tent like she always had, tray of food in hand, intent on ignoring his existence even though every line of her body spoke of how aware she was of his presence. He shifted in his chains, changing position like he always did. She placed the tray at his feet, , before turning her back to him to walk out.

"Aren't you getting tired of the silent treatment?" he uttered, voice raspy with disuse. His tone was careful, as if he was talking to an nervous animal that was about to bolt. "I thought you had liked the sound of my voice as it spoke your name" he muttered, teasingly. She froze mid-step, her back tensing. She was silent for a while, considering her words carefully, as if she didn't trust herself to speak. When she did reply, she didn't look at him, back still turned.

"The next time we speak, if we were to speak, it will probably be while my whip bites into your skin" She paused, uttering the next part in a quiet voice. "I don't think either of us will recover if that was the case." She finally looked at him then and her eyes were bleak, expressionless. He knew what she meant then. If it came to it, she would do what she must, because of the duty she had for her people. But it would break a part of her that could not be repaired.

"You could just free me." He suggested in an equally somber voice, yet he knew the answer to that as well. Her eyes bore into him as if trying to read his mind. Then, she blinked her stormy eyes, before turning slowly and making her way out of the pavilion, tent flaps billowing around her as she exited.

Vox shifted his position again, pacing his little circle under the metal frame. Like a caged animal, he yanked at his chains exasperated and like the cage that it was, the frame didn't budge. Vox crumpled to the floor, his forehead on the structure, cool metal providing some sick comfort to his frustrated mind as he prepared himself for the long hours of disgruntlement ahead until her next short visit.

 

[Ririn]

Seven days had passed since the last time she had stayed in her tent for more than a few minutes. Seven days where time seemed like it had slowed down. But now, now something was finally about to change! They had informed her there was a message for her, who she knew was from Lord Orthon and though she did fear his reaction Ivorel didn't doubt he would help her get away from Ghaston.

Now with the scroll in her hands, she rushed back to the tent she had been sharing with Conor, anxiously breaking the seal but the letter wasn't at all what she expected it would be.

I never expected to read such words of defeat from your hand!
Even though the information you acquired are important, you know refuse to go on with the interrogation and for what? A Demon that has somehow made you believe this war should be over?
I supported you once Ivorel, you know I also supported this union between our kind and theirs, even if it makes our ancestors move around in their tombs, because like you, I too understand this war has been doing more wrong that good to our people.
But to forget my duty? That is unheard for me and it is unheard of you. I raised you better than this imbecile excuses in your letter. What would your late parents think? Would they be proud their own daughter, their daughter who witnessed their murder, is now ready to give up and move on without ensuring peace and safety for our people first?
That's not the way of the Elves. That's not the way of the military. That's not your way.
So I will do as if I didn't read those treacherous words in your letter and I will in fact, toss it to the fire so we shall never speak of it again. I expect you to get back on your post immediately and carry on with what is your duty.

Lord Orthon.

Ivorel's mind couldn't process what all that ment and she went on to read the letter a couple more times and each time she did, her heart sunk deeper in her chest and his words about her parents made her vision blurry with tears that she wiped off refusing to let them fall down her cheeks. She didn't want to cry for them anymore, the past was in the past and even though it had shaped who she now was, there was no reason to think about it and allow it to still burn you inside.

Ivorel stood up, pacing up and down in the tent. She had feared the time might came, when she would have to let her whip meet with Vox again. She had feared this time so much those past days that she had even told Vox about it. How could she ever hurt him like that again? How could she martch in there and slush his flesh and enjoy it? She didn't want to enjoy the pain she caused to others and she couldn't even imagine how it would now make her feel to hurt him.

She wouldn't do it! They couldn't make her do it! Orthon was too far away! The King was too far away! Who would dare go up against her decision in the camp? Nobody! Not even Conor! No, they couldn't make her do it again!
Images of the time she had whiped Vox half to death, flushed before her eyes coloured in bright red. She could remember every detail of what she had done on his chest and the image made her stomach turn in disguise. Yet the image just floated before her open eyes like a hallucination. A hallucination that crumbled and fell when Conor appeared in the tent, a seriousness he rarely had, written across his face.

Ivorel stoped her pacing and looked at him, wondering if he too, knew of Lord Orthon's reply somehow.

"We need to talk."
"What for?" She asked carefull not to give anything away.
"Ivorel, just please sit down." Conor said offering her a chair that she reluctantly took as he sat opposite her.
"An order came in today." Conor begun, interwining his fingers, resting them on his lap as he looked at her with a profound coldness in his eyes that alerted her something was seriously wrong. "It's very hard to tell you this but, the King appointed me as the new Captain." Conor said speaking softly, like he was walking on eggshells knowing that Ivorel could snap at any moment but actually Ivorel was starting to feel like a weight was being lifted from her shoulders! If Conor took over, Ivorel would be free to return to the base if not to leave completely!

"Ivorel it's not just that." Conor said trying to stop the smile that had started to appear on her lips. He didn't want to see that smile and then be the one who shuttered it with such a betrayal. It was too much, even for him. Even after everything he had done already...
"There really isn't an easy way to say this, I'm sorry. It's not my decision, it would never be but the King... He sent an order to put you under custody and lead you back to the capital with the demon. They will execute him and inprison you." Conor said in one breath.

Ivorel blinked, trying to comprehend what she has just heard. Put her in prison? Why? She had done nothing wrong, she wasn't an enemy of the kingdom. She had failed her mission but Conor had failed too yet he was getting promoted while she was thrown away in some cell?

"Conor, I don't understand!" She said biting her lower lip. "Take me into custody? Why?"

"I really don't know Ivorel." He said shrugging. "Probably because they want someone to pay for the Lord's murder."

"Then why are they executing him? The questioning is not even over yet! He has more answers to give us!" Ivorel was starting to yell now, her mind rushing to connect the dots, her heart busy with the realisation that no matter what she had done, Vox would die all the same and somehow, that felt worse than her imprisonment.

"You haven't been in that tent for a week Ivorel! What did you expect? That we would allow a demon like that to live? He is the fucking Berserker, he has been slaughtering our people for years now!" Conor was also getting angry now and it clearly showed but she had spotted something new in his attitude now. Conor wasn't afraid of her and he talked about himself like he had taken part in the decision of Vox's execution.

silly little man, thinking he is getting decisions with the big bosses from the top! Ivorel thought, feeling disappointed in her companion.

"But why take me back with you? What have I done to deserve prison after all these?" She asked sighting.

"The order just said to bring you back. Nothing more and nothing less. Please, just let me do this as peacefully as possible and I'm sure everything will be sorted out once we are back in the capital. Please?" He tried to reason with her, dropping the tone of his voice, reaching over to take her hand in his but she pulled away.

"You really believe things will sort out?" .

"I do Ivorel if you just let me do it quietly. We will be leaving tomorrow morning, at dawn. Why don't you... I don't know, take a walk, take care of your business and then, allow me to take you in the chambers until tomorrow?" Conor proposed wanting to reassure her everything would be fine, if she just played along like a royal soldier would, even providing her with enough time to take everything in before chaining her up. "I haven't told anybody else ok? I came to inform you first Ivo, I would never do anything without you knowing. Please, just trust me on this one." Conor lied with such natural ease, he even surprised himself.

But Ivorel's mind was already rushing somewhere else. Somewhere even Conor didn't know about. To Gongo and his still missing body and the Black Hand and Vox and...

Ivorel sat up looking around her.
"I really need to do something first but I trust you and I will do as you say." She said looking straight in Conor's eyes as if she had nothing to hide! "I just need an hour ok? And I'll be back here, waiting for you to drag me to whatever shit hole they call a cell here. Ok?" She asked, kneeling infront of him, now reaching for his hands. It was important he felt she was desperate and ready to listen to him and as it usually happened, Conor fell for her pretty face and seductive lies.

"You have one hour! Then I'm sending the dogs after you." Conor joked, leaning forward, looking deep in her eyes thinking if now would be a good moment to kiss her.

"You would tell me right? If you knew why this is happening?"

"Of course I would Ivorel. But for now we need to play along alright?" He insisted and Ivorel smiled and Ivorel leaned in, pecking his cheek before she stood up, rushing out of the tent as the wheels in her mind caught fire!

What she wanted was to go straight to Vox but he would need persuasion to follow her plan and that could prove difficult with a demon that in fact, wanted to die! So she spent half of her one hour, casually walking in the camp, collecting what she thought would convince him to help her. And then, moving carefully towards the red tent, making a whole circle in order to avoid Conor's, Ivorel had about twenty minutes to get Vox on board.

She stepped in, making sure to not make eye contact with Vox, carrying his quiver and bow on her back and a large package in her arms under a red and brown fabric, choosing to ignore him for just a bit longer. She set everything down on the large table carefully, taking her time with revealing what was underneath the fabric, knowing that probably, Vox would be puzzled and pleased to see his axe again.

Stepping to the side, she revealed it and finally turned to face him though she still kept her safe distance. A week apart from the demon hadn't made anything better for Ivorel but standing there, with her heart racing from the excitement and the fear of what was to come for both of them, Ivorel started to feel better and more sure of her decision.

"I want to go on with our little game." She said and a playful smile started to appear on her lips. "Though we are not sharing stories this time. This time," she said taking a step and then another one towards Vox "I am offering you freedom. Completely freedom if you help me cross the borders and lead me to the Black Hand." She said as the old sparkle Vox knew, returned gradually to her grey eyes, like with every word that left her mouth, something inside her roared to life.

 

[Roaring_Dragon]

Vox lay on the ground, staring at the domed roof of the crimson tent, his eyes tracing the folds and creases the fabric had created as it hung over the wooden posts. A slight breeze was billowing the sturdy material today and he was mesmerized by the movement of the cloth. A small tear in the fabric exposed a clear afternoon sky. Why had he not noticed this before? A thin beam of light streaked through the roof of the tent and where the ray touched the inner walls it painted the interior a brighter shade of red. A plume of dust mites swirled in the beam, dancing around each other like a shoal of fish. Vox watched the plume, enthralled as the movement made him drowsy. He blinked and when he opened his eyes again the ray of light had shifted across the wall of the tent. He frowned in confusion; had he fallen asleep? He sighed, raising grimy hands to rub his face in irritation. He didn't even know any more.

With disgust, he looked at his stained hands. Dirt and blood and grease lined the creases of his palms and he made a grimace at the grime under and around his fingernails. He lowered his hands rubbing them on his soiled trousers. No, that hadn't helped at all, his trousers were a crusted mess. He sighed again, giving up and lying prone back on the ground. His eyes went back to his beam of light, and his dust mites as the swirled away. He didn't even care anymore that he had decided that the light and dust were his. He felt like he was loosing his mind. He continued staring at the beam as it crawled across the fabric as the day progressed.

He heard her footsteps then. A light and feathery sound though she trodded the ground harder than normal; was she carrying something? Her steps were also more harried and they came from his left, not his right, as if she was circling the tent. He frowned; was he dreaming again? This seemed unusual. As the footsteps came closer he snapped out of his perpetual daze. He heaved his sluggish body to a sitting position, eyes intent on the tent entrance.

The tent flaps billowed inwards and Vox had to half close his eyes at the brightness from outside. A halo surrounded her for a moment, obscuring her features. She was carrying something, but it was not a tray of food. A package of dark fabric was clutched in his hands. His dull senses ignited at the unfamiliar change of routine. Her back was to him as she lay the package on the table. His eyes went to her back as she worked, noticing that she was armed. It took him a long moment to recognize his bow and quiver. Surprise flashed across his features and it only grew when she presented his trusted axe. His eyes ran over the steel, nicked and scared as his own flesh from the battles he had faced with it in his hands.

Surprise turned to confusion as she spoke. Was she trying to trick him? Had she brought his weapons to him to torment or tantalize him? He just stared at her, his mind a foggy mess of broken words and sentences. It took a moment to compose himself and construct a coherent sentence.

"What do you want, Ivorel? Is this a new joke you concocted, meant to torment me?" His voice was a raspy mess, and his tongue felt thick like leather, unused.

 

[Ririn]

For the first time in a week, Ivorel had the chance to really observe him and the image he presented didn't look great at all. Though she had made sure he got food twice a day and she has even brought a blanket, sneaking in the tent as he slept when the first cold Northern wind visited the camp, Vox looked now more tired and lost than he did when she had his limbs stretched tightly from the chains and whiped him. The sight made her frown but she didn't have time for his doubts. Neither of them had time!

"It's not a joke." She said and the pressure she felt inside appeared on her tone. "In fact, I'm being very serious. I will give you your freedom and get us out of the camp if you take me to the Black Hand. You've been a man of your word thus far and I kept the end of the detail too. Now I'm just asking you to play the game a little differently." She said, taking another step towards him, though the distance between them was still larger than it had been the last time they really talked to each other. Now Vox couldn't put his hand on her neck again and she wouldn't have to deal with the burning sensation his fingers left upon her skin.

Ivorel's eyes flew to the entrance of the tent, all her senses sharpened to their highest level, ready to act as soon as he would agree to take her in Omega. She needed to tell him something that would make him jump on board fast but every possible line that crossed her mind seemed unfit to have that effect on him.

 

[Roaring_Dragon]

Vox blinked at her, his expression blank. He shifted in his position, chains rattling around his limbs as he positioned himself to be able to look at her better. His eyes ran down the length of his weapon again as he tried to make sense of her words. It didn't make sense. None of it made sense. His tired eyes returned to her grey ones as she shuffled closer to him. There was only one word that came to his lips as he contemplated her words.

"Why?"

 

[Ririn]

Ivorel took a very deep breath through her nostrils, slightly leaning her head backwards with her eyes closed, fighting of the scream that tried to climb out of her throat and as she let the air go out, her head lowered back and her eyes opened, gazing right into his own.

"Because they are going to execute you Vox." She answered and though she wanted to look away, she didn't. "And don't start telling me how you are going to welcome death alright? An execution is not the death of a warrior." She added, knowing that in her heart, she fully ment what she was saying but Vox wouldn't believe her anyway.

 

[Roaring_Dragon]

Vox's eyebrow rose at the statement. His mind was slowly lifting out of the perpetual fog it had been in the last week. Listening to her talk helped.

So, they had finally decided to take his head, eh? That came surprising fast. He wasn't surprised; he had known from the moment he was captured that unless he had escaped, this day would eventually come. It was why he had considered himself a dead-man when he first provoked her in this tent after his capture. Yet he had thought that they would try and extract a lot more information out of him than what Ivorel already had.Since she had not interrogated him in a week, perhaps she had already gained all the information that she needed? A pink tongue licked his slender lips thoughtfully.

His mouth was just about to say that he was happy to die, when she cut him short. His eyebrow rose even further at her accurate interpretation of his desire to die. Yes, he would indeed welcome it, he would have welcomed the release from this mortal plain. Hadn't he done enough already? But her words stopped him.


'Not the death of a warrior'


What did she know about his tribe anyway? He had fought enough! Would his ancestors not accept him into The Great Desert Hunt? He closed his golden eyes, feeling the weight on his soul.


'A Bal'Narathu never submits.'


The words of his tribe echoed in his head. No... a Bal'Narathu never submitted. Wasn't that the reason why he had tried to escape to begin with? The reason that he always fought, despite his deep desire? The reason why he got back up, no mater how many times the world ground him down?

He turned his golden gaze to her and there was a touch of fury in them. "Why do you care enough to free me?"

 

[Ririn]

And what was she supposed to answer to that? The truth even though she had no idea what exactly the truth was? Was it because she needed him to find the Black Hand in an attempt to get Lord Gongo back? Was he really such a valuable piece for the restoration of her credibility and, in the end, did she care to restore her credibility at all?

Why don't you tell him how your heart sunk upon learning of his upcoming death? the inner voice asked to which Ivorel didn't really have an answer either.

She took another step and then closed the distance between them completely, kneeling down infront of him so now they were exactly at the same spot as one week ago.

"You asked me, why was I standing within your reach, knowing you could snap my neck. And I told you, it's because I know you wouldn't do it. Like you won't do it now." Ivorel said softly, realising that Vox made her feel, weirdly alive even when he didn't look very amused by her presence there.

"And you know what? I wouldn't do it either Vox. You are too good of an opponent to kill you while you are still chained up. Say you will take me to the Black Hand and I'll give your freedom. And the recipe to an apple pie." She joked playfully, trying to remind him what their talks had been like up to now, like that would, somehow make him want to live and stay around her just a bit longer.

 

[Roaring_Dragon]

Vox's gaze darkened even further. Something unreadable and very sinister flitted across his eyes, like a bat in the dead of night. He had been chained up for over a week, with nothing to do but stare at the tent ceiling, and wait for her to bring food. The consuming silence when she wasn't there was deafening, to the point that he had thought he had heard voices in the wind. Scenes had played in his mind over and over till he felt like he needed to scream. Gone was the teasing and playfully provoking demon. Her scouring gaze and assumptions about what he would or wouldn't do did not amuse him anymore. She inched closer, within his range, provoking him with her closeness and his nostrils flared.

A snarl curled his lips, sharp fangs glinting in the crimson light. Quick as a snake, he reached out and snatched her slender neck. He was not gentle, like last time. His large hand almost encircled her slender neck as he squeezed her neck forcefully, nails digging into her flesh. He could feel the flush of her skin and the pulse of her veins on his palm and it awoke a hunger inside him that was little to do with how a man views a woman and everything to do with blood and violence. He leaned in, head tilted slightly to the side as his fangs hovered dangerously over her exposed neck. His hot breath exited his clenched teeth, tickling her skin.

"Do NOT presume to know me." His mouth moved even closer to her neck, a deep growl in his voice. "I will happily snap your neck and feast on your blood. I would revel in in it" His tone was low, dangerous, hand putting pressure over the healing bite mark on her neck. At that moment, sitting there with her blood pumping under skin and a feral look in his eyes, he was very, very close to doing it.

 

[Ririn]

Ivorel wasn't trying to provoke him and she hadn't thought he would get aggressive but he did. In a moment, his hand was around her neck, forcefully choking her. She could feel his nails scratch the delicate skin but she didn't move. The best thing to do when being choked was to stay calm, breath through your nostrils and fight back the need to cough and Ivorel did all that. Her nostrils opened up as she tried to get as much oxygen as possible in her lungs.

She wasn't scared, even as his mouth came so close to her neck that she could feel his hot breath against her skin. She wasn't scared, even as her heart started beating faster and faster, signaling that something was wrong.

And then came his voice, a deep growl of darkness and Ivorel didn't have the clarity to remember, if his voice had ever sounded like that before.

And then came the pain. A real burning this time, as he purposely applied pressure on the bite on her neck that hadn't healed enough for her to ignore it. It was then, a feeling similar to fear, but not the fear of death, kicked in.

Ivorel raised her hand, finding his own, grabbing it tightly, nails sinking in his flesh though she didn't try to pull him away from her, instead she just kept holding his wrist, feeling the veins under her fingertips. Her heart was racing because he was cutting her oxygen off and his heart was racing for the thrill of it.

Raising her other hand off the ground, Ivorel swirled her fingers, making the shadows in the tent dance to her rythm as they rushed not on Vox but his chains, setting him free as they pulled them away.

"Do it." Ivorel spoke, voice coming out weak and husky as he still held her in his palm. "You are free now so do it or my own will."

 

[Roaring_Dragon]

As the shadows crept closer, Vox's body tensed. His hand tightened around Ivorel's neck as he prepared to sink his fangs in and claim her life. His vision was red tinted as he bared his teeth. It was a fraction's hesitation that saved her as a weight lifted off his limbs. The chains that had held him prisoner in this confined cage loosened and fell to the floor around him. His arms and legs suddenly felt light as a feather and it startled him. It startled him so much that he eased the pressure on her slender neck to consider what had happened.

He blinked, realizing what she had done, and some of his fury drained away from his features. He stared deep into her cool grey eyes as he searched them for an answer. His face was millimeters from hers, lips almost touching, He wasn't chocking her anymore, but neither did he remove his hand as he lingered it there, a threat.

"Why? What do you gain from this?" he growled, voice low.

 

[Ririn]

Ivorel took a deep breath, the first real breath of air after minutes with his hand squeezing her neck relentlessly and her body shook as a reaction to finally being able to ease her tensed up muscles. She sucked oxygen like she would have suck water after a martch under the hot sun of the desert. Her eyes shut tightly as she could feel the tears gathering up and went she opened them again, Vox was just millimeters away. In fact as he spoke, Ivorel would swear she had felt his lips brush against hers.

"They will throw me in a cell, by King's orders." She said, trying to clear her throat as every time she spoke, she felt thousands of small needles pierce throw. Truth was, trying to cough only made the irritating pain more persistent.

"I rather die right here than get chained up again by my own kind." She said, licking her lips, breast moving up and down fast, like she had been running but her fingers still held his wrist tightly.