Leading Saya

Gene pulled Saya's hand as he walked backward, pulling her out the front door and from her life's obligation. The god-like aura around him could only attract her more to him because for all she knew he could have been. Laughter caught in his throat lifted in the air as calm chuckles.

As the distance between the two of them and the house was wide enough he turned his body to face forward and the golden hue dulled giving Gene more human characteristics. Though, his pace slowed so she could find his side as he thought out-loud.

"Where should I take you first..."

He took a peek, glancing her way for a moment. She was perfect for Nede. Her profession screamed it.

"That's it! I'll take you to Nede, Miss De'Omi. How's that sound?"

Saya held his hand just as she was lead out. Her eyes never left his, not a second, as if searching within them a truce that he meant honestly. Perhaps between the golden aura or the godlike apperance that was infact Gene, it was there amongst his gray kind eyes that she saw it. The truce.

The tread of slippers walking steadily onto the path felt strange this time around, though she walked this path many of times before. She looked back at the miniature teahouse, growing smaller and smaller the greater the distance they walked. Still, her mind didn't grasp it.. not yet.

"Nede?"

She looked at him, repositioning the sack of belongings.

He smiled, her innocence of the world knew no bounds.

"Yes, Nede! It's the entire world pacted down into one town. You can find anything and everything in Nede, it'll be a great place to start our little journey. You'll love it. Plenty of people to meet."

Gene's hand held her's in. Always would he lead her in the right direction. And that direction, now, was east. They were going to Nede.

"Nede." She repeated reassuringly once more. She wondered what it would be like for an entire world to be all in one town! It was easily far too much to comprehend all within the likes of her mind.

She looked down at the hand that still held his and blushed somewhat. Also, she wondered who this Gene really was? Earlier she talked about her past but little did he mention about his, but that what she wanted more was a specialty of his.

"Gene Ikeda," she started, "what should I know about you; the man who is turning some mere teamaiden's dream into a reality to witness as her own?"

His eyes churned into a thoughtful recipe, breifly squinting as if considering something much more inside the question. His hand gave a light squeeze over her's in result, though he kept a collected tone as he merely smirked as he spoke now.

"What you should know is that if someone ever threatened your life, their's would be at an end faster than the first footstep towards you. The only kind of reputation I'd ever be known for is my fighting skills. I'm a wanderer, a murderer, and I'm not ashamed of it."

His eyes finally turned to find Saya's, pace halting to a stop.

"I'm dangerous, Miss De'Omi. If you left now, I wouldn't stop you."

Saya merely shrugged feeling the light tense, purposely or not, on her hand caused by his.

The probe in the every now and then's he acted upon would've been bypassed as inscrutabely, for usually the peace looker were considered peaceful, and that's what the man, Gene, appeared to be. But she should've known by now that looks can be decieving, infact a man had acted upon such theories the day of her Grandfather's death.

As he stopped in means to look into her sephia's, she only wouldn't dare turn away, so that he could only see the graciousness and honesty within them, altering more brown tinted from the red now.

"The moment I accepted your hand, I had agreed to all the outcomes I may face, whether it be from you or from someone else. We're all born with instincts and I am only following mines.. So, I wouldn't dare judge you. Now, I may not have thoughts such as those.. - such as.. yours, but I know enough to know that every being in this world deserves a chance no matter how hostile and driven their past may seem." She smiled, "Do you remember earlier today as you took my hand and offered me a journey and that you'd walk along side with me? Surely a person like that can't be all bad, Gene."

She palmed his cheek lightly with the vacancy of her other hand. It was both warm and tempting despite the chill of the collecting wind that only seemed to heighten during the approaching evening.

“Watch out Miss De’Omi, he’s dangerous. He’s a murderer.”

This voice was dissonant even from its inception; it was far more than just some random occurrence of sound that came to them, it was literally an assault against the peace that they had worked hard to stitch around themselves. Any notion of serenity was torn in half and shattered to dust; behind them stood the origin of this clash, a single man. He had eyes so cool and gray and hollow that they starkly contrasted the vibrancy of his hair and his smile, though wide and nearly joyous at first glance, was fake and plastic and deadly

“I do hope I’m not interrupting anything.”

Each word slipped from his tongue like a silk ribbon and pooled at his feet like water; gray, lackluster robes and slacks adorned his form, the dreary wear unfitting for the regal presence that his squared shoulders and straightforward manner of speaking seemed to give off.

“If I didn’t know any better, I’d swear that the two of you have known each other for years, what with the budding romance just oozing all that tension. But I apologize, I digress. The two of you are, approximately…” The man paused and turned his monochromatic eyes to the horizon. “I’d say half an hour away from death?”

His eyes were locked into Saya's, smiling happily. He searched every feature of her face as the hand rose meet his smooth cheek. Though, the moment was broken as easily as a frail trig beneath the crushing weight of a man's foot.

Gene, without taking a second glance in Saya's direction, turned to find the random appearance of the man. He had gone unheard, uninvited, and unwelcome. Though, Gene would rather sigh and try and compromise. It was Miss De'Omi's first.... five minutes out the door and in the world. She didn't deserve her first road-bump so soon. Nobody did.

"And, if I may so kindly ask---Why?"

Those sephia hues that fit perfectly in place within the sockets adjusted to the direction of the presence of someone she had never seen before. At first glance, he seemed harmless, but this innocense of his was highstrunged with confidence that Saya almost answered him. Though the smile straightened, the kindness in her expression that never seemed to dull her face, no matter the usuality of using it, remained..

But this man was anything but..

By the seconds past, she drew her hand back from Gene's smooth face and held it just near her chest, concerned, worried.. and above it all, did she hear him correctly? That their death would be just as this stranger claimed.

The worry stressed her face.

"Who are you?"

At the boy’s query, this poorly dressed man could not contain the effervescent joy that shone through his smile. Already, he could tell that this boy was not quite like the rest; others would have lost their lives in that very moment, wrongfully deeming that assault was the best of their available options. So very few people had the clarity of thought to ask why.

The girl’s question, while still refreshingly unique, served an inconsequential purpose when compared to that of her counterpart’s. And yet, her’s would be the first answered.

“Have you ever heard of true-name magic? It’s a very archaic form of magic, lost to every single person in this world save for a very, very rare few. It allows a practitioner to, for the most part, alter reality at their discretion, the drawback being that they need a person or object’s name. It separates that person or object from all the other people or objects that resemble it in anyway.”

He stepped forward, his smile frozen in place but gradually becoming more and more wolf-like in mien, and rooted himself to the ground when he had reached a much more comfortable talking distance.

“This is one of the reasons that I’ve never given out my first name, it gives a true-name sorcerer far too much of an advantage. But let’s call this an exercise of trust; namely, I trust that neither of you are…advanced enough to know true-name magic. My name is Deimos.”

His grey eyes locked onto the woman’s own, searching her eyes in such an invasive fashion that her soul might shudder, before training his sights onto the boy.

“Vampires. A small contingent, likely 20 strong, heading this way from where the sun will set, and they’re all coming for you. There are five more groups, 20 strong, of their brethren coming for you as well, but they’re much farther away. Do you have your weapon?”

His hand hadn't reached for the weapons but cold feel the cold steel against his flesh tucked away amongst his body. Rather, the hand at Saya's pulled her closer to his side as his eyes fixed over Deimos. With what was just explained about true-name ability, why would they be so quick to pass their's out to the stranger. He could have been one, for all they knew.

Gene's eyes glanced toward the sun. Indeed, it was soon to set and deliver to them nightfall. Eyes turned back to the man.

"What do they want with us, then? That amount of vampires have no desire to feed off of just two. They're looking for something specific, or add to their numbers."

Deimos.

She had spoken, almost, out loud; the name of the man, the conveyer of their death, so he claims, or was he just a messenger for these vampires. The chilling entrance with just his gaze indeed caused the tremor in her soul and the beyond weakness created by the simplicity of his eyes immobilized her for that very moment.. She felt Gene pull on her. She wouldn't hesitate. She snapped back to reality. But how safe would she be by his side? .. No, how safe would the both of them be as darkness falls on them. She moved slightly behind Gene, blocking the partial of her sight from seeing the man wholy. "Gene.." she whispered in distress.

Deimos slanted his chin upward and let his eyes cast themselves over the infinite expanse that was their ever-darkening sky; the last rays of sunlight peeled themselves from his body, fled across the ground, and as if a great and raging inferno had been suddenly doused, they were in the midst of a starry night.

“There they are, I can smell them now; a tidal wave of rusty blood and rotting flesh crashing into me. They’re just over the horizon, should be here in the next few minutes.”

Deimos stepped closer still, the sinister smile that seemed every bit a part of his being as his fiery hair or vapid eyes was wiped from his lips and a mask of utter and unequivocal neutrality overtook his visage.

“These aren’t the creatures of social refinement that I’m sure you believe them to be. No no no, these are their bestial cousins; savages trained onto your scent who have no other goal in mind than to sever every inch of flesh from your bones. Oh, and her bones as well.”

Deimos circled around them, every bit the hunter to his prey, until he stood directly between them and the yet invisible horde of vampires; he was right though, if you had sense keen enough to apply, the smell was steadily becoming unbearable.

“I’m sure you’re asking why they’re after you, so I’ll put that question to bed here and now. I’ve ‘hired’, I suppose is the word that best applies, and sent them after you. Consider it a test, if you will; kill or be killed. Unless you’d like me to save you?”

His body turned, keeping Saya behind him, as Deimos circled around. His chin, however, turned so he could see De'Omi's eyes from the corner of his own as he whispered.

"We're fine, don't worry."

Although he gave reassuring words, his attention alternated once more to Deimos. His brows burrowed over his eyes into a frown frustrated. However, he was mostly confused.

"First of all, what do you want with us? What is the purpose of testing us? What reason could you possibly have?"

And then, his expression fluxated completely. A single brow lifted above the other, a devious smirk twisting his lips as his tone was found curious.

"Are any of them unique other than their strength and speed? Or is it a test of how we react when outnumbered?"

Her body pressed against Gene's back probably more firmly then what she inititally wanted, but she couldn't help it. The circulating of the man caused the shivers that reacted from her very spine. She felt like a prey; and this was to be the beginning of the slaughter.

But Gene's statement caused her a bit of ease, just a little, but any alleviation of relief - even if just a fraction at the moment, would do wonders mentally for the teamaiden. Such situation as these she wasn't normally used to.

To her utter surprise, how could the two keep such a level head amongst each other? Surely she wasn't understanding the issue here, but then again what could the naivety of a mere woman present now? She had no choice but to wait.

When Gene offered him a smile, Deimos’ own lips curled upwards to reveal those sharpened teeth of his; they weren’t yet fangs, but did well enough to give off the right air of menace. Smokey eyes turned to the horizon once more and now, framed in the effervescent silver starlight, he could spy a multitude of shadows prop themselves against the sparkly velvet sky.

“That’s a good question. See De’Omi? Your boyfriend here has quiet the head for slaughter. Of the 20, there is one who is stronger, faster, and smarter. They operate kind of like a hive-mind and this one vampire rules over them all. You could hack and slash through each of them one by one, or figure out who leads them, dispatch him, and the entire group will fall.”

His back was presented to the two of them, either as a measure of trust or as a trap, and his right hand extended lazily; fingers idly swam through the air, as if he were playing an angled piano, and the air began to thrum with some unseen power. Directly around Deimos the air began to pop and crackle, bolts of cobalt majesty arced from one end of his body to the other; ambient temperature dropped by ten degrees and scent was assaulted by something sharp and clean.

“But I’m not without a heart Gene. If you’d like, I can protect Miss De’Omi while you go out and test your mettle. Afterall, your performance tonight will decide whether the two of you survive, so I suppose you need all the focus you can get.”

Deimos made it a point to dodge Gene’s first question; time was of the essence, afterall, and they did not have enough to spare on such frivolous details.

He ignored Deimos's words toward Saya, his accusations of their relationship toward one another. He, rather, watched the presentation and his skin prickled against the bite of the quick drop of tempature. Although, words would not go unheard. Each sentence was noted and every one had their own moments of thought put into.

Deimos's proposal was generous, of course, but could not go trusted. He would let Saya stand on the sideline with him but not without a chance to defend herself. His body turned toward the woman who was already close enough to just whisper to. His hand left her's and rose to cup her shoulder as his right hand reached back and felt beneath his sweater to reveal to her a pistol. He brandished it to her, turning it this way and that so get an eye on every angle and aspect of it until finally pointing down to the trigger.

"I'm afraid you must stand beside Deimos, Miss De'Omi. I'll have the full attention of the vampires, and you might get caught up in the middle of it all. So, I want you to take this. It's a gun, and when you pull this trigger it'll fire."

His finger lifted to rub down the top of the gun, breifly tapping the sights at the beginning and the bead at the end of the barrel.

"Look down the barrel of the gun, through the sights and have the bead aimed at them. If they get too close, if... anyone," he glanced back to Deimos, "get's too close, aim for the head. Nowhere else. Please, Saya, stay strong. We'll survive the night."

The hand at her should slid around to her shoulderblade, nudging her in the direction of Deimos as his free hand lifted the front of his sweater, pulling his second and last glock from between his stomach and beltline of his jeans. A smile was, oddly, given to Deimos before his eyes began to search around.

"Don't let me down, I'm counting on you Deimos."

This was his sign of trust to the man.

Clearly the weather was brought upon the unseen decrease in temperature. Surely, the kimono wouldn't persist any warmth.

The specified choice of weaponry given to her by Gene was of one that Saya was apprehensively oblivious too despite his explanation. For all she knew, the shifting metal underneath and where her finger strapped rather comfortably in was the trigger and by pressing it would fire. What would fire? Gene sure had high hopes for the ostensibly insignificant peice of metal.. but then again, she had never seen such a material before.

She presented Deimos with the cautious glance that read entirely the fear she felt. Just the view of his back was cearly intimidating and Gene wanted her to stand along side him! She held the weapon by her side her hand clutching tightly on the hard peice as she tried to match the brave treads of steps with a similar visage alongside her features. She might've choked at trying so hard.

Step by step, little by little.. She should've hurried but took her time instead - not on purpose, but in sheer concern for Gene. Would he be alright? Her view moved to her shoulders and looked bacl at him.. then, looked at the man before her once more.

His head.. aim for nothing else.

The delicate brows furrowed which felt foreign on the forehead.

Gene’s distrust was equal parts well-placed and charming; Deimos wondered idly to himself if, were he put in the same position as this boy and his female companion, he would react much the same way. Equal levels of contempt? Equal measures of prompt willingness to slay a legion of undead? Maybe, maybe not; this was a riddle that he would ponder upon later, far more pressing matters lay at hand.

They were only twenty men strong, just as the mysterious Deimos had promised, but they came with such an animalistic savagery that one would swear there were thousands more. At first, they were puppets, mere shadows whose frames were made willowy by the blackness of night, but soon the vampires began to bound into the sky, leaping stories into the air so that they were framed in by the risen moon.

And they were horrid to look at; truly they were beasts. Eyes, not white, but hot red with anger and bloodlust and fangs that were wicked and sickle-shaped, curving beyond their lips even when their mouths were closed. But their mouths never closed; they stayed open as they jabbered and howled and roared, noxious drool slicking down their chin and splattering against their tattered clothes. One after another after another after another hit the ground with a deafening thud before rising into the sky like they had risen from the earth they first day they were turned; with frenzied abandon.

When they were finally a feasible distance away, where jumping served more as a detriment than any form of advantage, they began to run; a dense tidal wave of claws and fangs and murderous intent that rushed towards Gene.

Deimos smiled and did not turn to the woman though his words were clearly meant for her.

“That gun won’t do you any good, not unless it’s enchanted. Metal, even if it’s in the head, won’t work against a vampire. You want wood, and you want to get them in the heart. But stop worrying. If I wanted you dead, I’d have killed you by now. No, believe me when I tell you that you serve my interests far better alive than dead, and by that reasoning alone I will protect you.”

Deimos took one step forward and sidled in front of the woman, his arm held at his side as if it were a weapon that held within it the danger of striking back; around his hand the air churned and whorled like a stew, as the center of his palm began to emit an odd, throbbing light.

A long breath was taken, eyes glancing back to the rather close Deimos and Saya. No matter, the group of assassins weren't after Deimos and the man---so said his word---would stand between her and the assailants if need be.

However, when he looked back he had found the barrage of shadows sail in and out of the sky. Gene tilted his head, his bones cracking. Both hands, fingers that could be spared from his gun on his full hand, grabbed at the hem of his rather large and loose sweater and pulled it over his head. What was found beneath was a ebony muscle shirt that, frankly, didn't bulge from muscle so well.

It occured to him, in this spare moment, he did infact encounter something similar to the vampire's tactics---but in much larger scales. An entire army, controlled by one single entity, active through connective mindsets. They were given the title The Hive.

The sigh finally came, the hot roll of breath rising in a faint fog to disperse into the air above, and with it soft green aura encompassed his body. Slowly, more and more charges of lightning streaked over every limb of his body---more show than nescessary.

The rush of claw and fang had been grounded, and Gene's hand lifted and stretched forward as his eye aimed precisely as that of a sniper. In one smooth, sturdy motion his arm swept sideways as five rounds were quickly fired off. The glock was their caster, seemingly normal bullets carrying with them an explosive addition aimed for five vampire's chests. If the group was close enough, the ones beside them would be caught in the blast and concussive force. Though, nothing to great kill them. Preferably slow them down, or trip them.

Gene, however, wouldn't avoid this fight. He was rather close behind the bullet as he charged forward into the pack--but still distant away enough to not be caught in any danger of his own weapon--as the green radiance from his body let him move equal to or even faster than the vampires. Regardless, four translucent vectors reached out up to twenty yards away from Gene to those closest to him first, vibrating at such a lethal dosage that they dared to cut them in half with ease.

It was just as the man had said it.. vampires; the undead, the cursed, the damned, the condemned -- however and whatever they, no, it were called, they had indeed arrived thusly in the contingent numbers of twenty, just as hungry, with a perfect blood lust that befitted, perfectly, the ravenous packs of the wicked that they were.. just as Deimos had promised. It was a silent cogitation that had Saya thinking. This man, was honest.

The sight was of a horrific nightmare, watched undesired, prancing wildly in their stealthily yet maniacal style were the legions, twenty vampires with the terminus of a specific objective, one that she had yet to utterly comprehend; a meal. At the moment, it was Gene.

Towards Deimos, who had just approached almost unseemingly, she held the gun. Two hands this time; the right, that originally held it in the first place, and then the left, that intentionally helped the carpus from trembling so. However, the aim was unavailing, for still her frail wrist shudder, aiming lower than the head that what she hoped for.. Her wide eyes glanced at the throbbing light.

"Wh-.. what are you doing?" The words choked by and by.

It was so distracting! Just the simple wry of her neck to either side emerged the sight of them so often that she wondered if there were more than the twenty he'd said would be arriving. Even just looking straight ahead at Deimos, the peripheral view became problematic, and if she were to close her eyes there still remained the sound.

Deimos did not even bother to turn to the girl, eyes much more content to watch the scene unfold with the promise of all kinds of gore and grotesqueries; his hand visibly shook now from the strain of trying to withhold his own power.

“What am I doing? Well, at the moment, I’m trying to decide whether saving your life is truly worth the effort and I’ll be the first to tell you that pointing a gun at me is not swaying my opinion to your favor.”

That boy hasn't met creatures like this before; they were faster and stronger than their civilized cousins. Don't hold back Gene, or you'll most surely die.

----

The bullets, though undoubtedly effective against most types of creatures that Gene had encountered in his lifetime, proved to be effete when facing the raw and awesome might of these brutal creatures. The hot and screaming steel bit into their flesh easily enough and the concussive forced that ripple outwards managed to slow them down some, causing one or two of the creatures to stumble as a cone of raw concussive force ripped a clean hole out their backs, but that was it. Those very, very few that fell to the ground got right back up again and the others had never stopped running.

Now those clear, horrifically sharp, vectors seemed to post more of a problem; seemingly unable to apply any of their heightened senses to picking out the dangerous ribbons from the ambient environ the vampires were at Gene’s mercy. His attack arced through them with all the ease of a knife through butter, parting flesh with barely any amount of measurable resistance and cleaving through bone with the same kind of zeal until the vampires were only half the men they claimed to be.

But was this enough to stop them? Hardly. As their upper halves were forcibly separated from their lower halves, the creature’s mask of unrelenting barbarianism hadn’t even flinched into pain or discomfort. A slick, thick tendril of swirling bone and blood shot upward and latched onto the upper body, squelching grossly as both halves were joined into one and they continued their rush.

What Gene had was intellect and reason; while an advantage in the eyes of many, these two traits brought with them the frailty of things such as hesitation and caution. These vampires had no such thing; a contingent of four rushed at Gene with a speed that blurred their edges while four more suddenly appeared out of thin air above the boy. Teeth brandished, drool splattering from their fangs, the 8-man group converged onto one point.

"Shit."

These beasts were infact vampires. They held specific qualities others didn't, but they were in the same category. However, their tactics were very simple: bum-rush Gene. They must of been newborns, fueled by thirst. The only reason they would listen to any command, whomever the leader was, would be with the bribery of another reward. Special attention, rank, or just a good meal. Their numbers were great, but their mindset of attack were very direct. If Gene was to ever fight them one-on-one it would likely fall after its first attempt of striking him.

And so, they were still charging him. The gun seemed useless, somewhat, for now. His vectors, thankfully, could likely keep them at bay if need be.

You want wood, and you want to get them in the heart.

Gene didn't exactly have any wooden stakes laying around. Nor did he have any wood. However if he needed to target the heart, so be it.

His vectors would very physical, vibrations ceasing. They could touch or grab something without cutting right through it. And so, they would. Two hands grabbed rock and earth at either side of his feet, while the remaining two did the same further behind. They literally jerked his body back, away from dropzone of the decending vampires and making a greater distance between the four rushing entities. Of course, the hard chunks of rock had been ripped from the earth and as the force propelled Gene backward, the hands threw the clumps for their chests at the same deadly velocity they moved forward with.

Gene, of course, had caught his footing quite gracefully and he bounced backward toe-to-toe. His body turned, running in the opposite direction of them with a wake of dust and debree in his wake. He, of course, made sure none were infront of him before turning to watch his sides and behind him---and also above. He needed them to chase him to slowly work their numbers down as he tried to observe just who led the gang. If the leader was dead, they would either flee or fight blindly.

A trembling shrug and she slowly drew her hand back.

Her sight gathered before Gene and the unholy turmoil of deaths pursuing him. This term of fight and survival sunk down relentlessly at Saya's very core. No, she didn't share the urge and excitement that circulated Deimos's sickening atmosphere, where there, amidst his eyes revealed the restraint not to help Gene but to, perhaps, share the highlight underneath the stars, as if it were a mere epic show for all the ages to remember and cower in fear from. Exactly how horrid were these vampires?! From the ripping and the splitting, only to be adjoined as if it never had happened, to the bloods that untidily stained the Earth's crust, immortal strengths meshed against the fight against a man who had no choice, coerced by the likes of an interloper who had nothing better to do..., she couldn't take it.

"Please, help him or he'll die!" begged Saya, liberated from all safety that Gene entrusted her; the gun that she released, and a reliance that she hoped for that Deimos would.

"I'll do anything you ask of me, just please..."

A desperate woman who's hopes were all lost the instant the night blanketed any gleaming glory of light.

The rocks, heavy and solid, were flung through the air and impacted a few of the vampire’s chest with a most asserting thud; their chest was caved in an inch or two, their lungs popping like balloons under the duress of the weight and their hearts impaled by splinters of bone. They fell to the ground, puppets with their strings cut, and others swarmed in their place. They were hardly a drop of the water; Gene had dropped two, maybe three if he were lucky, of the creatures and there was still a legion bounding after him.

“If nothing else, cut off their heads boy! Come on, you’ve got to learn to think on your feet or expect to die every other day.”

Deimos’ arm, which had once been shaking with an untold vigor and seemed as if it were on the verge of its resilience, as if his skin would flake off at any moment or peel back along the bone, had suddenly gained an iron-like endurance; it was stone, for how little it moved, and the iridescent that once came from his palm in waves was snuffed.

But to think that his power had vanished, that Deimos the EndGamer had gone effete, was a mistake that would be made only once; beneath the shades of visibility, nestled comfortably between the layers of ethereal might and astral rage and infinite shadow there pulsed an orb of replete strength.

And yet, it was not this furious power that lay in waiting which brought fear to the world; it was his eyes, those gray and lusterless and depthless eyes that were now focused solely on the woman; on this Miss De’Omi.

“You never make that promise, do you understand me?”

His voice, once smoothed honey and dripping charisma, had taken a deep plunge into ice and daggers; it was soft, it was even, and it was all the more dangerous.

“With just those words De’Omi…oh…oh the horrors that I could unleash on you.” His eyes came to her feet and traveled up back to her eyes, taking in everything that she was piece by piece. “Nightmares that would do unspeakable things to your body and incomprehensible things to your soul.”

He paused, letting the fact that his threat was now hollow settle onto the woman’s shoulders.

“Next time, think before you make a promise you aren’t ready to uphold.” His eyes finally left her and turned to the battle at hand; his tone had slipped back into the glove of comforting command. “Come closer, stand behind me.”