Among Chaos (Viverescribere x Peregrine)

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Imelda Fletcher

You want to hear about my plan?

The enthusiasm behind his words surprised Imelda, who didn't actually expect the monster to be willing to divulge this master plan of his. But there was a tickling in the back of her mind, the excitement to his eyes and his eagerness to share brought forward something in her mind, still shrouded in a darkness that she needed to wipe from the memory that was fighting to be seen.

Shaking her head, she hesitantly tucked the weapon back into the waistband of her trousers before reaching up to unclip the leathers from her body. The black sap that caged her in doing nothing except absorbing the heat and causing perspiration to bead along her hairline.

A long breath of relief was released as the chest plate made of leathers loosened and finally dropped to the floor. She rolled her shoulders and quietly rubbed at her neck as she listened, fighting the urge to pour some of the water from the waterskin onto her neck.

"The odd things about Mineral Hill-- this isn't to do with the amount of Catalyst they have, is it?" She frowned, looking up at him as she re-rolled the sleeves of her tunic. "I saw some of the vials after we arrived here, they had too much for what they had to possibly trade. They have a few traps but I just thought that was the usual, to discourage any attacks."

Pausing in her out loud thinking, Imelda directed her gaze outside the cage, head turning to do so. Her arms slowly moved to fold across her chest, fingers drumming against her upper arm on the one side as she continued her musing inwardly. Eventually she looking back to the monster in Kalvar's body, eyeing him suspiciously.

"What secrets do you know about? You've slaughtered countless lives just to get the specific group you want, when you could have easily posed in any human body to reveal the truth to the right person. So this also can't be a sick, twisted kind of justice you're seeking. So why not just let me go back and start digging around instead of waiting for this new group."

While her caution kept her from getting any closer to the monster, her curiosity was too captured by this point. Imelda had felt something was off about the village the moment they arrived, but she hadn't bothered to ask the questions this creature so clearly wished someone should. But if she could convince him to let her go, to go back to the village and begin questioning the village people... then she could kill two birds with one stone.

Escape and find out what the hell was going on at Mineral Hill.
 
He watched Imelda think with a rather gratified smile on his face. She'd always been a clever child, quick to figure out the things he was hinting towards. So unfortunate that she'd decided to become a Slayer instead, prioritizing her muscles over her head. Then again, the ruined remains of the old beggar's body proved that she was just as skilled in combat as she was intelligent.

"The abnormal amount of Catalyst is certainly the first step in a whole daisy chain of conspiracy," he agreed, nodding his head sagely. "You're a Slayer, so you should know. Where there's Catalyst, there's monsters. An unnatural amount of Catalyst requires an unnatural amount of monsters, and the Slayers to kill them. But the only monsters that head towards the edge of Silent Forest are the spriggans." His grin grew slightly, momentarily feeling like they were back in Hadleigh, the village Imelda had grown up in. Of course, their surroundings were very different, and they were very far from the small, comfortable wooden cabin he'd built for himself there, but their conversations had often gone a lot like this. Imelda would ask him a question, and he would give her just enough information for her to take the next step forward by herself. He'd always enjoyed those conversations with her, especially since the rest of the village had considered him an unnatural outsider, to be avoided.

However, Imelda's next series of statements only caused him to shake his head. "I don't get into the middle of things. It never works out right, because then I become the source. In the end, questions will always circle back to the person who first speaks up. How did he know? Why is he telling people? I can't just say something and then disappear. No, the initiative has to come from inside. It's always more interesting that way. As for letting you go do it…"

He considered for a moment, lips curled into a small frown. A moment later, however, he sighed and shook his head. "No. Can't do it. I know you're more than intelligent enough to figure it out, but I know Slayer procedure. Your team got wiped out. The first thing you have to do is go back and make a report about what happened. You'll tell them what happened, and, assuming they believe you and don't think you've gone insane or been alchemically corrupted, they certainly won't send you back to Mineral Hill to keep investigating dead livestock. No, the whole thing will just get buried, and all my time will be wasted. So you'll just have to wait for a while. Sorry."
 
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Imelda Fletcher

"And spriggans don't hold enough Catalyst within them for the village to be able to have that much of it within their stores." Imelda murmured, fingers resuming their drumming against her upper arm for a moment. "So... the bigger monsters are in the depths, where I'm assuming you've brought me," she added dryly, partially turning away from him again before continuing, "Even Slayers wouldn't dare to come this deep in - it's fuckin' suicide. But... traps could be laid on the outskirts, just within. But then you'd need something to lure the bigger ones out to play. Bait. Otherwise it wouldn't want to leave the depths."

That memory continued to push against her mind, eager for her to pull the cover from it and blow the dust off the image. But each time she reached for it, it darted away again. So irritatingly close but incapable of being seen. There was something about his behaviour that seemed so familiar, even comforting in a weird way. Their back-and-forth easy and almost natural in a way Imelda couldn't describe or understand.

Groaning, almost petulantly, Imelda turned back with her arms outstretched in exasperation, "I was already asking the question before you put it in my mind!" She argued, reaching up to run both sets of fingers through her hair while turning fully away from him to pace, "They don't need to know the full truth, I can make something up. bend the truth. Ask to stay in the village a few days to recuperate. I can do my digging then." She halted in her steps, glancing to him.

She knew he would never go for it, but she would pester every chance she could. Imelda couldn't bear the thought of being trapped in this cage for however long. She had no idea how long it could take before he was pleased that his little plan had worked out. Perhaps her and her team would be declared dead by the morning, when they don't return from the forest. Then it would take perhaps another week for another team to arrive. And Gods knew if that team would do the same as hers. Or perhaps they would investigate first, but who knew for certain that the team would investigate the village first instead of going straight after the monster who seemed to be slaughtering Slayers and livestock for fun.

"Your plan may fail this way-- how do you know they'll be interested in the village when all they know about is a monster doing all this killing?"
 
"Were you asking these questions?" he asked, head tilting slightly to the side. "I watched you in the village, and other than asking if any new livestock had been taken or anyone had died, I didn't see you asking any questions. You just went to hunt a monster."

"But now that I'm prompting you, you're starting to put the right pieces together," he agreed. "You're correct. They're baiting monsters from deep in Nightmare Territory. And what do you think would be interesting enough to get these massive behemoths to slowly crawl their way towards the edge of the forest where they normally never go?"

Most monsters were not particularly picky eaters. The Catalyst's mutations had long since rendered them beyond the restrictions of normal biology. But there were two things in particular that would draw the vast majority of monsters like moths to a flame—rotting meat, and the smell of blood.

"As for why I know they'll investigate the village when the right group comes? It's because the situation is abnormal." He shook his head slightly, as though disappointed she hadn't figured it out yet. At least from his perspective, it didn't seem like that much of a leap, but he didn't mind giving her the answer on this one. After all, it was his plan, and he'd promised to explain it.

"Do you know anything about Mineral Hill and the Silent Forest? Did you do research on it before you came? I gave you a part of the answer earlier. Spriggans are the only thing you'll find on the edge of the forest. That's been the case for years, and it's why there's more than a few villages that have dared to set up along the edge of the woods. Despite their chaotic nature, Nightmare Territories don't change easily. And yet, suddenly a beast that's capable of wiping out entire teams of highly skilled Slayers at once, without giving them so much as a chance to report back. And it's right on the edge of the village. A team that likes information would want to know all they could about the monster they're going to face before they begin. And the only way to get even a guess at what it could be, is figure out what brought it here."

He'd done it intentionally. The arrival of an unknown monster pointed right where he wanted the Slayers to be looking. Bait.

"I know you're capable of figuring it out. You only needed a couple nudges, and you're already on the start of the right track. But I don't honestly believe that you would bend the truth, when on one side there's the organization you've worked for for years, and on the other side there's an unknown monster I'm sure you'd kill in a heartbeat if you had the chance. Right?

"Perhaps it's better for me to just give you the answer, since you're already here. No need to investigate. It's quite a nasty affair. I'm sure you'd think so, too. Although I must confess I am quite enjoying our little game of question and answer, so it'd be a shame to jump to the end too fast."
 




Imelda Fletcher

Muttering under her breath, she dropped her gaze to her feet, feeling like a berated child. Then she caught herself. Why would she ever feel that way in front of a monster? She hadn't felt like this in years, not since being told those horror stories as a child back in her village. She huffed, arms folding once more, "I wondered why they had so much Catalyst. But it's hardly my place to ask questions when I am there for a job. You've been slaughtering livestock. You were my job. Not the village."

His responses began to have her wondering if he was questioning her abilities. It made her feel as though it was being suggested that her and her team weren't good enough since they hadn't been asking the right questions about the situation. It made her teeth grit together and hands tighten around her upper arms. But she listened. While she didn't appreciate the feeling of not being good enough, or not doing her job properly, she would listen to ensure she did a better job next time.

If there was a next time.

Reluctantly, Imelda pushed herself past her pride to continue thinking about the answers he had provided, and the truth he was still shielding from her in this twisted little game. She lowered her gaze again, a hand raising to her mouth to brush her thumb along her lower lip and then rub the side of her jaw as she thought over his words.

"The larger monsters would require larger bait. They aren't going to exactly be enticed with chickens or little piggies." She mused, expelling a hot breath as she was momentarily distracted by the heat which caused her to pause to take another quick swig of water before continuing, "Something larger... sheep? Still not big enough. Horses? Cows...? But Mineral Hill didn't have any livestock that big. And they wouldn't sacrifice their horses when they need them for transportation or harvest."

Then she paused, considering his words: a beast that's capable of wiping out entire teams of highly skilled Slayers at once, without giving them so much as a chance report back.

A monster that didn't kill just because it was being attacked and hated humans, but because it had... what? What other reason was there?

"It had gotten a taste for human flesh? You're not seriously saying that the village uses humans as bait for the larger monsters?" Imelda then laughed in disbelief, hands falling to her sides as her knees went slightly weak. "That's-- that's barbaric. You can't be right, the Masters-- they would never allow that."
 
"Barbaric indeed," he replied, laughing humorlessly. "But efficient. You know how valuable Catalyst is."

Catalyst, the rare, mysterious, inexplicable substance that allowed humanity to grasp at the vast powers of the universe. Once a source of nothing but terror to humanity, generations upon generations had slowly gathered information on it, realizing that it was possible to predict the effects Catalyst would have on the world, if only they could study it thoroughly enough. Now, humanity's entire alchemical empire was built on the substance. And the only known source of it? Extracted from the bodies of monsters.

In truth, despite the importance of their position, the vast majority of a Slayer's income did not come from either the Masters or the people in the villages they protected. Instead, it came from the fact that they were permitted to keep whatever they earned from selling the Catalyst they were able to gather from their kills.

"You caught a glimpse of the collection of Catalyst in that village. And that's only the stuff they weren't able to sell yet. How much, then, do you think they've gathered over the months? How much money do you think that is? And yet, the village as a whole is not particularly wealthy. Nor were the Slayers who were based here, or they would not have remained in such a rundown village, risking their lives. If not to the residents, and not to the Slayers, where do you think most of the profit is actually going?"
 




Imelda Fletcher

"No. No. That's enough." She retorted, shaking her head and taking a step back. Imelda didn't want to hear any more if what he was hinting at was true. That the Masters knew what was going on, but were turning a blind eye and taking a profit for doing so.

If that was the case, her working for the Masters, working as a Slayer, didn't feel as bright and glorious as it once was. The idea that the people she answered to, took orders from, knew about the sacrificing of humans in Mineral Hill... Imelda wasn't sure if she would ever want to go back to them. She had always seen it as a beacon of hope and protection; little children looking up to them and dreaming of becoming her one day. But if what this monster was saying was, in fact, true...

But why was she even entertaining this idea? This was a monster in Kalvar's body. Surely it would wish to turn her against the Slayers and the Masters. It would say anything to have her believe that it wasn't in the wrong. It would want her to trust it, and these stories were a certified way of doing so. Imelda would never stand for being a part of such a disgusting truth.

"And why should I trust anything that you say? Moments ago, your hand was wrapped around my throat in preparation to kill me. No, I can't believe that. I can't believe any of this."

Imelda lowered herself to sit on the floor, legs crossed and elbows balancing on the insides of her knees. She rubbed at her face, exhaling heavily as her hands then moved on to tangle into her hair. Eventually she spoke again, voice quieter than before, exhaustion from the physical and mental aspects of the day beginning to catch up on her:

"If it is the Masters that are taking a cut for turning a blind eye... how can you expect anything to be done by the Slayers that come to investigate? They could be murdered by the Masters if they get found out, or even become involved in turning a blind eye themselves. How can you be sure anything will happen from any investigation you want?"
 
He shrugged rather casually at Imelda's fierce, almost instinctive objections, but the relaxed movement of Kalvar's broad shoulders couldn't entirely overrule the disappointed expression that momentarily flashed across his face.

Staring at Imelda, his head shook slightly. "Why are you objecting to me?" he asked, voice almost as casual as his gestures, if slightly aloof compared to the warmth he'd spoken with before. "I never said any of that. I simply told you some information you already know, and asked some questions. You reached all those answers on your own."

He knew he shouldn't be all that bothered by Imelda's sudden refusal to listen to him. After all, it was only reasonable. To her, he was just a monster. People would naturally prioritize those they trusted over those they didn't know, let alone someone they considered an enemy. And yet, for all the logic of it, he couldn't help but feel indignant over the matter. She'd always listened to him when she was little.

Shrugging again, he turned away from her slightly, his attitude showing a sudden disinterest in continuing to talk with her. "You also seem to be forgetting," he continued, tone growing colder. "I don't need to persuade you of anything. We were just having a game of question and answer because I thought it would be fun, but you're not the person who's going to be solving any of this. It's irrelevant whether you believe me or not."

Finally turning away from Imelda fully, he strode over towards the edge of the cage, stopping by the bars. It was only at that moment that he realized a sudden problem with the little 'home' he'd set up for her. He'd been so focused on keeping Imelda in that he'd forgotten to make sure there was a way to get Kavlar out. The sap had long since hardened, and he'd have to fully break it open to make a person sized gap. And Kavlar was a larger man than Imelda.

"Inconvenient," he complained out loud, before turning around to glare at her. Not only had he lost Old Corrick's body during their fight, but now he couldn't even bring a human body back. It was likely that he was going to have to find a rat or a cat if he hoped to enter the village this evening. "I don't feel like playing with you anymore. You can just think about it on your own."

He settled Kavlar down carefully, leaning his back against the railing. "I'll bring you food tomorrow morning. Don't mess with the body."

And then he pulled away from Kavlar's body, a rush of silver smoke cascading out of the man's body, and easily passing through the boundaries of Imelda's new home. The few small monsters in the area began to run away from him as fast as their little, rotund bodies could carry them, but he wasn't interested in them. He'd find something once he was closer to the village.
 




Imelda Fletcher

At his sudden cold tone, Imelda looked up with her hand feeling for the hilt of the dagger under her tunic. She kept her eyes on him, her anger beginning to spike again at his words. Of course this was all some game to him, what else would it be otherwise? All he wanted was for chaos to ensue in the village and for her to remain locked up in this little cage as some small plaything, it would seem.

As he sat down, Imelda stood up, dagger now wielded in hand. Obviously him sitting down wasn't exactly the most threatening position in the world but she knew better than to underestimate this creature now. But before she could dare to ask 'or what' in response to his demand about the body, that silver smog appeared once more.

Her eyes widened and her heart began to thud rapidly at the prospect of being alone in the cage, surrounded by whatever lurked among the trees.

Rushing forward to the bars, her hands wrapping around them, "Wait! You can't just leave me here! You can't just--"

But she knew it was hopeless, that his change in attitude suggested he no longer cared nor wanted to listen to her. She slapped her one hand against the bar with a growl of frustration, forehead leaning forward to press against the dried sap.

Pulling away from the edge of the cell, her gaze did turn to Kalvar's body and briefly she considered dismembering it so the monster wouldn't be able to use it ever again. She owed it that much to her friend. Besides, they had promised each other they would do what it took to make sure none of them were ever used as hosts or puppets. But something stopped her, hesitant to harm her friend's body and memory. Besides... she wasn't exactly sure what the monster would do if he did see her handiwork.

Reluctantly, Imelda tucked the weapon back into the waistband of her trousers before moving to the middle of the cage. She sat slowly, eyes surveying the surrounding trees and anxiety rising at the prospect of what may be hidden within the treeline. She knew she would need to sleep, but if any of the creatures outside of the cage came to realise that the beast that scared them off the first time was no longer present... how long would it take before they became brave enough to enter the cell and take a little nibble at her? The mere thought had Imelda shuddering, but she forced herself to lay down on the cool, dried sap.

As the sun began to set, a coldness began to roll over the Silent Forest. It started to seep into her bones, goosebumps breaking out along her skin and body shivering. She laid out with the dagger now held in hand and body curled up as tightly as possible to preserve the body heat she was desperately trying to keep. But the feeling of eyes on her was too intense, leaving her to raise her head and go colder still at the sight of Kalvar's dead body still propped up and directed at her.

Instantly she was on her feet, pulling the body away from the bars so it no longer sat up and laid it on it's side just away from the edge of the cell, but positioning it so it faced away from her.

Returning to her spot, Mel resumed her previous position with her one arm wrapped around her and the other clutching the dagger close to her chest. The warmth she had managed to keep had immediately disappeared the moment she had stood, leaving the little patch of dried sap she had been laying on now as cold as the rest of the cell.

Forcing herself to close her eyes, Imelda exhaled a shivering breath in an attempt to get some sleep, regardless of how small the hours it may be.



The next morning, Imelda woke and immediately felt a stiffness to her body she hadn't experienced in a good few years. She winced as she pushed herself up into a sitting position, stretching out her back and groaning as she heard a few things click in a number of places. Her muscles were sore, and she wasn't exactly sure if that was from the sleeping arrangements she had been provided or the fight the day before.

She reached for the waterskin on her hip, daring only to take a sip or two from it. It made her nervous how quickly the water had depleted; she hated how she found herself at the monster's mercy, having to hope that he really would do as he said and bring her food - and hopefully water - this morning.

How he would go about doing that without a human body, Imelda had no idea.
 
It was already dusk by the time he found a suitable host and was able to make it back into Mineral Hill. However, despite the late hour, the entire town was still abuzz with activity.

From the roof where he perched, fluffing the black feathers of the crow he'd found perched in a branch right at the edge of the Silent Forest, he could see the villagers huddled up in groups of three to four, the setting sun causing long shadows to obscure their faces, while burning orange torchlight flickered in their eyes.

The Slayer party hadn't returned yet, they whispered. Could they have already… But this was the best team in the county. But who in their right mind would stay in Nightmare Territory overnight? Had they really all died?

If they'd died, who was going to be able to finally kill the monster? If they couldn't, would they end up having to abandon Mineral Hill, this town where they'd been born and raised.

As though mirroring the gradual darkening of the sky, the faces around the village grew more and more tragic. But the plight of the villagers did not bother him. As a matter of fact, their distraction presented a perfect opportunity for him, now borrowing the body of a stray dog, to steal a whole roast chicken from an unattended fireplace.

By the time the sun set in full, it seemed that the people of Mineral Hill had finally begun to resign themselves to the fact that the Slayers weren't going to be coming back. The small groups of people split up, skulking back to the shadowy entrances of their homes, while the tall trees of the Silent Forest swallowed up all traces of light in the distance.

Finally free of observation, the ghostly silver mist began to plunder from the village at will. After the roasted chicken came a couple pouches of dried fruit, a container of water, a bar of soap, and he even nabbed a small enchanted firestone from the mayor's house. Only when he was satisfied that he'd gathered everything Imelda would need for the following day did he wrap it all up in a coarse brown horse blanket and drag it to the edge of the forest.

True to his suspicion, the monsters of the Silent Forest had long since cleaned up every scrap of the corporeal remains of his fight with the Slayers. The clearing he had also made with such meticulous care had once more been swallowed up by trees. In the end, he stole the body of a spriggan, carefully bringing it to the edge of town to pick up his bundle, before retreating once more before his presence could be detected by any of the village hounds.

It would take some time before the next team of Slayers could be dispatched to the village, which meant he'd get to spend the next several days talking with Imelda before he had to start setting up for his next encounter. He'd already all but forgotten the burst of indignation that had ended their conversion a few hours ago, and was instead only looking forward to learning more about her.

Shortly after the sun began to breach the horizon, a spriggan carrying a large, lumpy brown bag began to run deeper into the forest.
 




Imelda Fletcher

Imelda had spent some of her time after waking attempting to figure out some sort of escape. Not that there was any point, it was all futile and she annoyingly ended up blunting the one edge of the dagger. This being due to her trying to see if the material the monster had used could be cut through, but it was impenetrable. She even again tried to push and pull the bars apart, but nothing worked, leaving her hitting one of the bars with the flat of her palm with a low growl.

She had placed the dagger back into the waistband of her trousers, briefly standing in the middle of the cage with her eyes closed and hands rubbing over her face. Mel focused on controlling her breathing, not wanting her increasing panic and anxiety to get the better of her. Emotions were not an option at that moment in time, and her fears and insecurities were not welcomed.

In an attempt to keep her mind occupied, she tried to replicate some of her usual morning routine which included a few simple stretches to keep her muscles loose and body fit.

As she straightened up after reaching down to touch the floor and holding that position for a few breaths, Imelda noticed movement just ahead of the cage. She took a quiet step toward the bars, hand reaching around to behind her back to feel for the hilt of the dagger. While she relaxed at the sight of a spriggan, not exactly the most worrisome beast there possibly was out in the depths of the Silent Forest, Mel grew cautious as it got closer.

It wasn't until she noticed the makeshift bag that it was dragging along behind her that Imelda considered that it wasn't just any sort of spriggan. It had to be the monster that brought her here, why else would it be pulling along the bag filled with gods knew what?

Her eyes narrowed as it got closer, but her hand removed itself from the hilt of the dagger so her arms could fold across her chest.

"You know, this could all be so much easier for you if you let me go. You wouldn't have to keep doing this every day to make sure I stay alive." She drawled, moving to lean her side against the bars as she watched the creature near the cage, speaking despite knowing he wouldn't respond straight away. "I'm sure you have much better things to do - lives to ruin, chaos to create, villages to destroy. Surely babysitting a Slayer isn't at the top of your agenda, even if you do supposedly 'like' them."
 
He inspected the cage, and Imelda within it, as he drew closer, before eventually nodding internally in satisfaction. It was clear that the cage had held together well overnight, and the scent of the tree-like abomination's sap had kept the other monsters from drawing near, even while he was away.

Imelda also looked… fine. A little tired and messy, even compared to yesterday, but he couldn't really consider that a surprise considering her current living conditions. He wished he could do a bit better for her, but, well, the depths of Nightmare Territory really were not meant to be a place for human habitation. He thought he'd done quite well, all things considered. At least she was still alive after spending a night alone in the depths of the Silent Forest.

She interrupted her exercises as he approached, looking tense for a moment before she finally seemed to identify that he wasn't a normal spriggan. He nodded back politely in response. Apparently taking that as final confirmation, Imelda immediately began to speak.

He listened to her words attentively, before shaking his head somewhat. In truth, he didn't really mind taking care of her, especially not right now. It might become slightly more inconvenient once the next team of Slayers arrived, and he would be a bit busier, but such were the sacrifices any decision would make. He couldn't have everything in life. If he wanted to keep Imelda alive, and didn't want to ruin his plan, then he would have to take care of her. It was simple enough logic to follow.

Unfortunately, he couldn't really explain that to Imelda at the moment. He approached the tree-formed barrier that surrounded her, letting out a high pitched noise that sounded somewhere between a tree falling over, and food sizzling in hot oil, before beckoning her over. He then reached into the bag, pulling out one of the items, this one seemed to be the bag of dried fruit, before aiming to pass it to her by sticking his hand through one of the wider gaps.

If she didn't come to receive it, he was fully intending to just drop it, and every other item he'd brought along with him. It would be a bit of a shame to get the chicken covered in grime from the dried sap, but he could only pamper her so much in this situation. It would still be edible either way.
 




Imelda Fletcher

Wincing at the grating noise that the monster had just released, she gritted her teeth to control her building frustrations. Her head was already beginning to ache in the first beginnings of dehydration, having attempted to conserve the rest of her water for as long as possible. She hadn't been entirely sure what he was going to bring back, if he was going to bring back anything at all. She hadn't exactly been sure either on if he would have kept his word on getting her provisions.

However, Imelda found herself pleasantly surprised at what he had pulled first from the brown, makeshift sack. Immediately she sprung to action, not daring to waste another second when there was food on the line. While she enjoyed food before all of this, just seeing the small pouch of dried fruit was like a god send.

Her stomach grumbled just at the mere thought of the dried fruit, so at the sight of the whole roasted chicken, her eyes widened and her mouth watered. Swallowing back her hunger, Imelda carefully took the chicken awkwardly through the gap, grimacing as it did get stuck once or twice and ended up with some of the grime from the sap on the bars. But she knew she couldn't afford to be picky. Hopefully it would brush off and if not... it wouldn't effect her stomach too much.

Even the bar of soap and firestone was a consideration she hadn't expected him to make. Although Imelda couldn't see herself having a bath any time soon. But at least she would have something to wash her hands after relieving herself. The blanket was another item she would appreciate having, since she had felt the cold on a number of occasions throughout the night.

Imelda balanced everything precariously until the blanket had been pulled through the bars too, only settling the chicken back down once she had it since she didn't want to get any further grime on it. She knelt on one side of the blanket once it was all through, staring at all that he had managed to swipe for her. Her mind worked quickly, attempting to figure out what to do with the food she had been provided. Surely she didn't need to worry about halving the contents with the monster, since Kalvar's body was dead and no longer needed nutrients? However this was a first for Imelda, and she wasn't exactly sure what this monster would need in terms of subsistence.

"Well I-- I didn't actually expect..." Imelda started awkwardly, brow furrowing as she battled with herself. She was grateful that he had brought back this amount for her, not to mention the firestone and the blanket which would help keep her warm at night. But at the same time, none of this would be needed if he just let. Her. Go.

Getting a hold of herself, Imelda couldn't help but lick the grease from the chicken off her fingers, stomach growling even more aggressively at that teasing taste of food. Instead of going straight for the chicken though, she decided she would divide that up for a small lunch and a small dinner, settling on some of the dried fruit to start with. It had crossed her mind that the chicken would potentially attract some smaller monsters to the area, but it seemed that the substance of the sap kept them at bay during the night so perhaps it would be the same even now.

Chewing on the dried fruit, she stayed silent as she waited for him to do whatever he needed to do - such as possessing Kalvar's body once again - before trying to speak to him again.

"Do you have a name? Or do you like being called Monster?"
 
He smiled as Imelda approached, quickly taking his press away from him. Of course, with a spriggan's face, the smile looked more like an 'I'm preparing to bite you' leer, but he didn't really let that bother him. For one thing, Imelda seemed far more concerned about what he'd brought her than what he looked like, and for another, it was simply impossible to communicate properly between a spriggan and a human anyways.

One by one, he passed the items through the fence, his frustration at not having thought of a simpler way to go about this mostly suppressed by the pleasure of getting to watch Imelda react to his various gifts. Despite the situation, she seemed satisfied with what he'd brought, which he also considered satisfactory.

Only once the horse blanket had been shoved through the gap as well did he move backwards a little ways, before mist began to gush out of the spriggan's form. It began to tremble as the smoke vacated it, before freezing. If it was possible for a wooden monster to have an expression of terror on its face, it would probably look something like that.

The moment the last of the smoke fled the spriggan, it stumbled backwards, almost falling flat on the ground, before it turned on the spot and raced away. He ignored its departure; it wasn't as though he could really expect the thing to stick around when it had been brought here by some sort of evil smoking mist, but he didn't have high hopes for its chances at making it back to the edge of the forest alive, either. Perhaps if it had been more intelligent it would have stayed and waited for him to take it back, but that was asking too much from a monster, he supposed.

Flowing through the gaps in Imelda's room, he quickly ghosted his way back to Kavlar's body, before sinking under the man's skin. His body… wasn't doing well after lying entirely unmaintained for twelve hours, but the cold night had kept the body from rotting. And, much to his satisfaction, it seemed that Imelda had paid heed to his rather abrupt request last night, as, other than not being exactly where he left it, Kevlar's body was otherwise undamaged.

It would take him a few minutes to repair it properly, but that didn't stop him from prying open Kavlar's stiff eyelids and offering Imelda a rather crooked smile. "I\m glad you like it," he said, voice a hoarse croak. He grimaced, licking his cracked lips with an equally dry tongue. It was going to be hard to keep Kavlar's body in good repair without some sort of resources. He might have to gather materials from the monsters in the area, or rely on alchemy, since he didn't want to take any of Imelda's supplies.

"If there's anything else you need that's small enough to fit through the gaps in the branches, let me know and I'll see if I can find it."

His presence was starting to get Kavlar's body working again, and he began to move his limbs in a manner very similar to the process he'd used last time, after making the cage. "Nightmare creatures don't really have names," he replied instead, most of his attention focused on making sure he didn't break anything as he forced the body through its paces. "I've been called a lot of things, none of them having anything in particular to do with me. If you'd like to pick a name, feel free."
 




Imelda Fletcher

Imelda watched curiously as the smoke began to peel away from the spriggan's body, attempting to learn what she could from this new monster they-- she had stumbled across. So it seemed that he was capable of possessing hosts that were still alive - which was slightly terrifying considering she was at it's mercy. If it decided to possess her, it wasn't like she could run from it - there was only so little room in this cage.

And then when the spriggan began to move again, it was clear that the creature that it did possess was still able to return to it's relatively normal state afterwards. Whether it was sane after the experience, Imelda was sure was another matter altogether.

So it did leave her slightly nervous when the mist seeped into the cage, wondering if perhaps he had gotten bored of Kalvar's decaying body and wished for something fresher. Only to have her body go weak with relief as the monster chose the body of her deceased friend over her. Although she grimaced with him after he spoke, the hoarse voice answering her previous, unspoken questions.

Hesitating, she pushed the waterskin he had brought her, filled with fresh water, across the blanket to him. While she didn't appreciate the kidnapping, nor the fact that he was a monster, at the end of the day he would be her only source of interaction. Besides, if she could find out more about him, that would be a bonus. Another added factor was that he would probably be the only one that could break her out of this cell, so reluctantly she was forced to admit it would be better to keep him alive and able to communicate with her.

Falling silent at his response regarding a name, Mel continued to swallow down another few handfuls of dried fruit before tying up the pouch again as she mulled over ideas. Although there was an odd feeling of deja-vu in that moment, and she was reminded of the tough old man who used to tell her stories when she was a youngster. It seemed like he had a scar for every story he told and the way he spoke was so to the point, so factual and unfiltered. Imelda always knew he was telling the truth.

This monster reminded her of the ex-mercenary in an odd way.

"I did mean what species are you. Y'know, like how spriggans are spriggans. An Assassin Vine is an Assassin Vine. But I suppose it would be amusing to name you." She mused, gently scratching at the side of her neck as she pondered. Though the more she thought about her old storyteller, the more she was drawn to giving the monster that name - unknown to her that it was a name he had previously been called.

She reached for the firestone, turning it over in hand as she studied the quality of it for a moment. Eventually she turned her gaze back up to him, studying his movements as he worked on Kalvar's body. "How about Alarik?"
 
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Still carefully stretching out Kavlar's limbs, he chuckled slightly at Imelda's clarification. "You are assuming there's enough of 'my species' for people to have an opportunity to give it a name," he replied, rather amused. He was always relatively careful to leave no traces, and if there were any others of his species they must be the same, because he'd never seen one. "Spriggans are called spriggans because a large enough group of people saw them and collectively decided to call them that. I am not that overt."

He shook his head slightly, the motion causing an unexpected pop in Kavlar's spine, Pausing in his stretches, he began to roll his neck carefully, before Imelda's next words caused him to suddenly freeze up.

Alarik.

It was a name he hadn't heard in years. Not since he'd stolen the body of that man, an ex-bandit turned mercenary after a raid on a powerful caravan had gone wrong, who perished on his journey back to the village where he planned to retire. He'd found the man to be a most suitable host to watch the chaos that had arisen between a local bandit group, and a merchant caravan that was paid to escort undercover nobles. When the whole thing was over, he'd followed through on the man's dying goal, and walked him back to the little village of Hadleigh, where he'd fully intended to bury the man next to the remains of his parents and little sister.

That was, of course, until he'd run into an enthusiastic child with brilliant hazel eyes, who'd found him sitting in the graveyard, wondering if it would be appropriate to just leave the man's corpse there, or if he had to go through the effort of actually digging out a hole. Asked him what he was doing there. And, somehow, he'd ended up returning to Alarik's house, and settling down for a time.

One hand still placed behind his head from his previous stretch, he turned his head to stare at Imelda. She might have grown up, but her eyes hadn't changed one bit.

Had she recognized him? Had she guessed? He couldn't decide whether he hoped she had, or that it was all some strange coincidence. How would she feel knowing that she'd grown up listening to the stories of a monster?

"Why that name?"
 




Imelda Fletcher

At his question regarding the name she had provided, Imelda frowned and brought her gaze back to his eyes instead of watching the stretches he was going through. His behaviour turned odd at the sound of the new name, she had clocked on to the sudden tension in the body he occupied and his prolonged silence.

She leaned forward to pull the one end of the horse blanket over the top of the chicken in an attempt to preserve it until the evening, shoulders shrugging, "Does it matter? A name doesn't mean much do you, does it?" She inquired, tucking the firestone into her trouser pocket as she leaned back. Imelda stretched her legs out, wincing at the stiffness within them that had been caused from her kneeling position.

It didn't matter if she told him about old Alarik, since the ex-mercenary was dead.

Mulling over it for a moment herself, Imelda shrugged again, eyes averted, "He was just an old man from the village I grew up in. Used to tell me stories of all the different monsters in the Nightmare Territories. You just... remind me of him." She reluctantly admitted, leaning forward to touch her toes in order to stretch out her hamstrings, "You're very... unfiltered, just like he was. You're very blunt, to the point-- very literal too."

Thinking about it... there were a few things similar between this monster and Alarik. The old man wouldn't always give her the answers straight away either, he would lay the breadcrumbs or trail off, allowing her to fill the gaps only to grin gleefully once she got it right. His eagerness to give her the stories she demanded had been similar to the excitement this monster had to tell her of his plan.

Her frown deepened in thought, eyes becoming slightly unfocused as she compared similarities. Eventually she shook her head, blinking a few times to bring herself back to the present.

No, there was no way... surely.

"Yes, anyway-- that's why that name."
 
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A name doesn't matter much to him…? Yes, it was true. He didn't care what he was called. Alarik, Corrick, Kavlar, they were all just names he'd borrowed from somewhere else. He'd never considered himself the kind of being that could have an identity that was somehow tied into a sound. He was simply himself.

No, what mattered to him wasn't the name, but what the name represented. Why she'd chosen that specific name for him. That was what he cared about.

But, before he could find a way to articulate that in a way that would answer her question, but wouldn't also give away exactly why he cared so much, she'd already moved on. Had it been a rhetorical question, or was she still expecting him to answer? He didn't want her saying that he'd ignored something she'd asked.

But those thoughts were gradually driven out of his head as she spoke, clarifying her thought process.

Similar.

He didn't quite know how he felt about that answer, just like he didn't quite know whether or not he wanted Imelda to recognize him. Right now, they both firmly sat somewhere in the middle. It was more than mere coincidence, but not so far as full recognition.

Listening to the way Imelda spoke about this 'similar person', with a trace of affection buried under apparent indifference and unflattering descriptions, he ultimately decided to… let the matter rest. He wouldn't tell her anything.

Better not to pollute those memories of hers with unfortunate reality.

"I see. I was simply curious. Thank you for the clarification. As I said, you are free to call me whatever you like."

He smirked at that, before pushing his body upright. Now that Kavlar's flesh was moving better, he was able to move like a normal, healthy human being. However, as much for his own amusement as anything, he bent over, imitating Imelda's hamstring stretch.

He figured he was supposed to speak at this point, but he didn't really have much to say. He was uncertain if Imelda had calmed down enough that she wished to continue their question and answer game from yesterday, or if she had other things on her mind. Or perhaps she did not wish to speak to him at all, and would rather simply pretend he wasn't there.

Therefore, he decided, quite simply, to let her set the pace of the conversation, and imitate her stretching routine in the meantime. Hopefully they wouldn't end up fighting again once she'd finished warming up her body.
 




Imelda Fletcher

Imelda glanced across to him as he sat up, eyebrow raising as he began to imitate her movements but decided to keep any comments to herself. She was still partially attempting to deal with all the similarities she had now recognised between Alarik and this monster. After realising just how many there were between the two, she began to feel a sense of unease, that not everything was how it originally seemed.

It could be a possibility, that he was in Alarik's body when she was a youngster. There were no tell-tale signs that he was a monster possessing a human body, which was rather terrifying. He could easily infiltrate any village or organisation he wanted. Why he hadn't done so given the fact he seemed to crave chaos, Imelda wasn't sure. But going back to the issue of her memories of Alarik and the likeness between the two in personalities. Surely it was too much of coincidence for them to be so similar in certain ways. Unless perhaps Alarik had been possessed but by another of this monster's kind.

There were too many questions that couldn't be answered. Except... she could ask him straight up. He had acted odd the moment the name left her lips. It made her wonder if the name held a history for him, he seemed to recognise it.

But how would she feel if this monster really was the Alarik that she once loved to find for stories? Certainly conflicted, that was for sure. So many years ago those stories brought her delight and she had listened in awe, dreaming of the day she could become a Slayer. It allowed her to escape the monotony and mundane life of her village. While the stories should have scared her half to death, Imelda couldn't get enough when she was little. It simply left her hungry for more. Thirsty for adventure.

Yet this monster had killed what had been her family for the past four years. He had kidnapped her. Entrapped her. Refused to let her go until his plan was completed and who knew how long that would take.

However she kept thinking back to how he explained his keeping alive with him 'liking her'. Could it be that he had been Alarik and he remembered the times he had spent telling a dirty, hazel-eyed child stories of the Nightmare Territories?

Her gaze lingered on him, uncaring to him mimicking her movements and she drew her legs back in to sit cross-legged. Imelda faced him, elbows on knees as she continued to think.

"You said yesterday that you liked me, and that's why you kept me alive. But until you had me pinned down you were prepared to kill me, so clearly I wasn't a planned factor. You hadn't been watching me prior to this hunt. I was prepared to kill you yesterday, and I don't really think that's the way to getting people to like you. So what was it that really made you keep me alive, hm? Why do you like me enough to keep me alive and trapped in the middle of the Silent Forest?"
 
Well. So much for letting the matter rest.

But, it was just like he'd always known. Imelda was clever. It didn't take much for her to start putting the facts together, and it wasn't as though he'd been intentionally hiding or acting in the time he'd been around her. If he'd wanted to, he could have borrowed the habits and mannerisms from Kavlar's body, and that would have allowed him to behave like a completely different person. Instead, he'd just let him be… himself. Just like the time when he'd been staying in Hadleigh, unburdened by any need to do anything or set up certain scenarios. It had been a nice time.

Straightening from his stretch, he once more imitated Imelda's sitting posture. He wasn't going to lie to her, so there wasn't really any point in dancing around the issue either.

"I like you because I know you, Imelda," he said softly, a small smile crossing his face and causing his eyes to momentarily narrow.
 
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