Among Chaos (Viverescribere x Peregrine)





Imelda Fletcher

Her fingers returned to brush over some of the healing slash wounds on her opposite arm, head turned down and away from him to stare at the floor.

A part of her wondered if she should have bothered attempting to make this deal in the first place. It certainly came back to bite her on the ass now, considering he wasn't satisfied with simply being in a body alongside her. His request to 'ride along with her' was what made her the most uncomfortable. The idea of him being inside her body, ever present and still unable to escape him.

Yet Imelda found herself wanting to believe him. She wanted to feel confident that he wouldn't control her. It was well understood that he could have done that at any other point during these past two weeks but didn't do so. Imelda wasn't stupid, she knew that his lack of action in that way only solidified the notion that he did like her. It even made her question if he had a fondness for her that would make it difficult for him to possess her anyway. However all her training and previous knowledge of other monsters played Devil's Advocate.

All her life she had been trained to belief that monsters were senseless beings, good for only inflicting chaos and fear and to harvest Catalyst from.

Now that has all been ripped away from her since finding out that her happiest childhood memories were because of a monster. It was still a lot to take in and force into her head through the propaganda that had been taught to her - not that it wasn't all incorrect. But it seemed that, maybe, just maybe, Alarik was different. Or at least for her.

"No."

Her voice was quiet, small, still unsure. Her eyes remained on the floor as she struggled to form the words that would signal her agreement. Eventually she lifted her eyes to him, fingers flexing and then stretching out as fists were formed and then relaxed.

"No. I'll-- fine. Fine. We'll... we'll do things your way." She shook her head, clearly bemused with her own decision, "But I-- I'm just going to need to-- get over you also being... inside me-- God that sounds so wrong." She exhaled long and hard through her nose as she looked away again, "That's what is going to be the fuckin' weirdest thing. Even speaking about it makes me uncomfortable but if it gets us both what we want then it's got to be done."

Pinching the bridge of her nose, Imelda's free hand gripped her knee as she attempted to keep herself from fidgeting, "Tomorrow morning then. We'll do it tomorrow?"
 
"You… agree?" he repeated, rather foolishly. Even though he was absolutely there was no way he could misconstrue Imelda's agreement to mean something that it didn't, her unexpected acquiescence took him totally by surprise. After all, it felt like mere moments ago that she'd been all but cursing him out for daring to even suggest the thing. Perhaps she had been touched by his sincerity.

That thought caused a wide grin to spread across his face. "Tomorrow," he agreed, nodding his head. "Thank you, Im. I'm… really happy." He felt like the expression was insufficient to explain the contentment and satisfaction he felt at that moment, just as marvelous as any of the chaotic plays he'd orchestrated.

"I'll bring you food tomorrow," he continued, thoughts already spinning. There wasn't much he'd be able to control once Imelda went back to town with him, but he could at least make sure that he'd arranged all the matters beforehand well. "And then we can take Kavlar somewhere safe to be buried. Then I'll ride with you? Sound… alright?"

Up until today, he likely would have asked to do it backwards. Food, then riding, and then Kavlar. That was, after all, the best way to preserve all the things he liked with minimal risk. However, it seemed like 'trust' was the name of the game right now, and he figured there wasn't much better way to prove he trusted Imelda than to give her the chance to run away first.

As for what he'd do if she actually ran… he chose to temporarily not think about it. The whole point was to not think about it. If it happened, he'd make some sort of decision then.
 




Imelda Fletcher

If there was one thing that Imelda prided herself on, it was her ability to keep her word.

She never promised things she didn't think herself capable of following through on, nor did she say she would do something she knew was nigh on impossible for her to accomplish or achieve. Perhaps if she had thought that finding the means behind the livestock slaughters nigh on impossible, she wouldn't be in this mess. Unfortunately it had seemed like a simple one, one that she couldn't understand why others had not returned from. Now look where it got her.

Her conflicted emotions once again reared their ugly heads at his grin and eagerness, his confession of her agreement making him happy and the contentment she sensed from him. Imelda felt her own happiness at his, like a friend would with seeing another. But she couldn't begin to fall for that belief that they were 'friends', if that is what one could even call them. It was difficult to see the line which had now been blurred and to label what misguided and discombobulated relationship they had. Often she had to remind herself that she was a captive and he the captor in this little duo they had now formed.

"No point bringing back food if we're about to head back to Mineral Hill, they'll have plenty food there. I'm sure they'll give me everything I need once I 'miraculously' return from the Silent Forest alive." Imelda shook her head, eyes on what was left of what he had brought her the day before.

Half a pack of dried fruit, half a chicken, two small bread rolls and a half-full waterskin. Just about enough to see her through to tomorrow morning.

"They may already be suspicious as to why I'm not thinner than I am after two weeks in a place that shouldn't be able to sustain me. It may be best if I don't eat now until we reach Mineral Hill." She then thought out loud, gaze running over what sustenance was left, "It's too late now but if I'm at least stuffing my face when they take me in, it may distract them."

Then Imelda clocked on to what he said about Kalvar, eyebrows knitting together as she reluctantly looked across to him, "That sounds-- That sounds good." She agreed quietly, trying to figure out what angle he was playing now, if he was playing one at all. "I'd appreciate the chance to bury my friend, since we couldn't do that for the others so... so thank you."

Her eyes lingered on him for a second longer before turning to the branches that, drenched in dry sap, acted as bars to keep her contained, "How do you plan to get me out of here then?"
 
He nodded quietly, mildly sympathetic. They'd been in a great hurry when he had first knocked Imelda out, and the monsters would have moved in quickly to feast on her comrades almost the instant he left the area. That, and they had not exactly been on good speaking terms then, which would have made heading to the edge of the forest for a burial all but impossible.

In truth, he would miss Kavlar slightly, once they buried his body. It wasn't often he possessed Slayers, who were generally too visible for his usual brand of covert lingering, but their bodies were well-trained and honed to near perfection, which was a radical difference compared to people like Old Corrick, who were often sick, injured, or simply physically weak. Not that he'd ever bring up the matter with Imelda. She was quite right that he'd have to leave the body behind, and if it was a meaningless question between burying it or letting the monsters feed, he'd always favor whatever Imelda preferred.

"You're welcome," he replied. "As for getting you out, I'll just break the walls. The body is still intact, and the sap has mostly preserved it. The various limbs will likely shatter on the spot if I force them to move, which will create an opening."

As for the matter of her not looking starved, well… that was something he could help with, as he was easily able to control simple things like the shape of the body he was controlling. He could hold her flesh tight, making her look much thinner than she was. However, keeping her reaction from last time in mind, he firmly decided to dismiss the notion. For one, he doubted she'd accept, and he really wanted to leave things on a positive note. For another, it wouldn't be the most comfortable for her. He had no way of actually guessing, since he'd never asked anyone and had no sensation of pain himself, but he couldn't imagine it would feel particularly good. As much as possible, he intended to be unobtrusive while riding with her. He didn't want to make her physically uncomfortable, to join with her psychological discomfort.
 




Imelda Fletcher

"I best keep my distance then when it comes to you doing that then." She commented, eyes roaming over the bars. Within her confusing mixture of emotions, Imelda couldn't help but feel impressed at what exactly he could do should he choose to. Of course it was all down to his ability to possess whatever and whoever he wished to, using the resources and skills that creature and person had. However, having seen it firsthand now, it was impossible to not see the benefits of such an ability.

It was such a covert opportunity, one that Imelda knew she, secretly, would love the chance to have. He could infiltrate any village, operation, organisation undetected. She could only imagine what it would be like to be able to do that, especially knowing what she knew about the Masters turning a blind eye to what was happening at Mineral Hill. She thought of the opportunity it would present her, being able to control one of the Masters' bodies to enter a meeting or to listen in to what was being said. To poke into things and read whatever she could get her hands on.

But then would that make her no better than him? Possessing for the sake of possessing?

"If you didn't possess a body... would you die?" She abruptly asked off the back of her thought process, taking a sharp turn away from their previous line of discussion. Not to mention, she didn't want to linger on the idea of him 'riding with her' any longer than necessary.
 
Watching Imelda study the latticed walls, he couldn't help but marvel at how far the two of them had come since he'd grabbed her a couple of weeks ago. When he'd first spared her life, she'd been determined to kill him, no matter the cost. Then she'd recognized him, and with the memories of the time they'd spent together in the past, he'd slowly been able to show her goodwill, building up their friendship once more. Now, she was willing to all but place her life in his hands. Even if it was just to earn herself freedom, she'd decided she could trust him. They'd finally begun to have a bit of reciprocation between them, like they'd had when Imelda was a child.

Wrapped up in happy reminiscence about the time they'd spent together in the past, he almost missed her question. However, after a brief pause where he blinked a couple of times and reflexively rubbed at the side of his face like Kavlar always did when he was thinking, he eventually shook his head. "No, it wouldn't kill me. But it makes it very hard to... focus?" He shook his head slightly, not entirely satisfied with that word choice. But humans were so bound to their bodies. Could he explain being incorporeal with their words?

"My being, without a body, can't truly interact with the world. I don't have... any presence. It's like mist, visible but... intangible." He paused for a second, clearly considering. His hand rubbed at the back of his neck as he slowly mulled over what else he could, or should, say. "What that means, I guess, is that without a body to ground me, I will gradually begin to lose touch with the world. After all, I don't inherently have methods to perceive the world in the same way a body does."

Mostly satisfied with his answer, he nodded slightly, wondering why she'd asked. Did she think it would be better if he lived without borrowing bodies? He didn't know if she'd ever taken the fact that he mostly rode in corpses into consideration, but she didn't have much of a sample size at the moment. Alarik. Kavlar. Corrick, if she'd even realized he was dead before their fight. And then, of course, Imelda herself, who was still very alive.

There was little sense in speculating without any sort of basis.

"Why do you ask?"
 




Imelda Fletcher

Imelda sat with her knees drawn up to her chest as he spoke, chin resting on top of her knees as she listened. Immediately after getting comfortable in that position, she realised just how familiar this situation was, all the way down to the way she was sat. It was just like when she was younger and she had been listening to stories rather than learning more about what sort of creature he was. It was an odd sense of deja vu.

Blinking back onto him after she mulled over the information he provided, Imelda shrugged with her feet tapping lazily against the floor for a moment. "No reason, just... curious." She murmured, stretching her legs back out.

She attempted to remain silent afterwards, but the quiet was just as nagging as her curiosity.

"And what about when you do... possess hosts? The alive ones that is. Are they aware the entire time, do you know?" Imelda asked slowly, watching him, "Or do they kinda... die away once you've taken over? Have you ever been in an alive host without taking over?"

Now she had started this line of questioning, Imelda wanted to know more. Her interest for knowledge regarding his kind had been sparked, and now she was - not so secretly - eager to learn more. Perhaps it was a morbid sort of curiosity, considering he would be possessing her soon but without 'taking the reins'.
 
Imelda wasn't the only one who noticed the similarity of the situation they were in. For a second, as he watched her sitting there, staring at him with her hands around her legs, chin casually braced against her knees, he felt like he saw her back in Alerik's little house. The only difference was, rather than being seated in his usual chair looking down at her, he was instead all but eye level with her. She'd grown up, and this moment somehow made it all the more obvious.

Her questions were also as complicated as they'd ever been. When Imelda had been particularly little, back when he'd first arrived in Hadleigh, her questions had always seemed to assume he knew everything there was to know about the world, and he'd always been so ashamed to disappoint her expectations.

Now, she was asking him questions about himself. He wasn't sure if all of them were even things he'd paid all that much attention to in the past. However, he would answer her. He'd just have to pick his words… carefully. Both to make sure he was properly expressing himself, and to try and avoid scaring Imelda as well. That was something he couldn't bear.

"That was a lot of questions at once," he said with a faint laugh. "I'll try and break it into chunks, but I might miss something. Let's see..." He tried to recall her string of questions as accurately as he could. "Live hosts definitely don't die if I'm both riding and controlling them. Most of the monsters I controlled were that way when I was bringing you food, if you recall, and it's no different for humans. As for whether or not they're still aware the whole time, I can only speculate, but I believe so. There's certainly still a great deal of brain activity, but I don't always know what it means. It's also not like I somehow take over their mind to control a body. I'm moving the body itself, not the mind, which is why I'm able to control corpses at all."

He paused for a second, trying to remember if he'd got all her questions. "Was there one more?" he asked, before suddenly seeming to catch himself. "Ah, yes. I've definitely entered hosts without controlling them, especially if they're heading somewhere I'm interested in going, but don't have an appropriate body to enter. If I can catch them the right way, especially if the morning is foggy, most of them don't even notice I'm there after the first few moments.

"It should be the same for you, but if it isn't for any reason, let me know and I'll try and adjust." He paused for a second, chewing slightly on his lower lip, before continuing. "I certainly don't want to make you any more uncomfortable than it seems you'll already be with my presence."
 




Imelda Fletcher

"Sorry," she mumbled at his comment of her asking a lot of questions, cheeks warming with embarrassment. It really was starting to feel like she was back in Alarick's hut. His words often said to her as a child as she demanded to know more and more about what he had to offer in terms of knowledge and stories.

Her curiosity was, as she was told by her mother (albeit fondly), one of her most annoying personality traits. If she got an answer she didn't feel fulfilled her hunger for knowledge enough, she would press for more information. She would ask questions until she felt like she had covered each and every angle necessary to learning everything she possibly could.

Everything he was telling her was quenching that curiosity; she only wished that she had something to write all of this newly learned information down on so she could read back over it. But perhaps it would be just as well that she didn't, since she promised to keep his secret safe and hidden. A piece of parchment with all this knowledge about him would only jeopardise that promise.

"That's the next thing. You're... the out of body shape is very fog-like, misty. But when you were fighting us in the clearing... the form you took was the complete opposite." Imelda then observed, "How does that even work?"
 
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Imelda's apology earned a light laugh from him, as he shook his head lightly. "I've never minded your questions, Im," he reminded her lightly. He'd always done his best to satisfy her curiosity. After all, such a curiosity was the only way to get the most out of the world. If a person didn't have curiosity, he figured they'd never be able to reach their full potential. They'd only be casually drifting through the world.

Perhaps it had been that very curiosity that had charmed him so greatly that evening in the graveyard, as a young girl wondered what exactly a middle aged man was doing, sitting alone in front of an empty grave.

But, he had to give her credit. Her questions were always complicated, too.

"The body I was using to fight you and the other Slayers in the clearing was exactly that, a body. I may not be capable of interacting with the world with just my true being, but I am very capable of controlling flesh and bones." As though to prove his point, he gestured towards the intricate walls around them, which had been artfully woven from the tendril-like roots of the monster. "Since Corrick's body had been dead for a while, I could be a lot more… forceful with it than I normally would, to make it more suitable for what I wanted to do in that moment."

He paused for a second, glancing down at Kavlar's hands, wondering if he should do a demonstration. On the one hand, it would probably do a lot more to answer her question than simply trying to rely on words. On the other hand, he was still cautious of scaring her off. After a moment's deliberation, he decided to lean in favor of knowledge. After all, if he didn't fully satisfy her question, she'd likely just keep asking in other manners.

"Here. Look." He lifted his right hand, placing it, palm out in front of his right shoulder, before beginning to slowly move the hand forward. "Kavlar is already dead, which means there's no way for his brain to send messages to cause his muscles to contract or relax. Instead, it's my being that is influencing them, causing them to move where and how I want. Right now, I'm pushing his arm forward." His arm at this point was fully extended, and he paused for a moment fingers stretching forward at shoulder height.

"But, unlike normal muscles which have a final range of motion, I can force the issue by just... continuing to push his arm forward, holding and moving each cell as I need it to be." Matching up with his word, Kavlar's arm suddenly seemed to thin slightly, and his fingers stretched forward another several inches. "That's why cuts and the like don't do any real damage, because I can just hold the wound back together. If I hold it for long enough, it becomes like it was never even injured in the first place."

He dropped his arm again, the thinned spots in his bicep and forearm already back to normal. "So, for that fight, I just pushed that same concept to the extreme, to make a form that was both unrecognizable as human, and more useful for running and high-speed combat. Just, once I wasn't there to hold it like that, it snapped back to normal. Well, mostly normal."
 




Imelda Fletcher

At his demonstration, Imelda didn't know whether to be horrified or mystified. While she was slightly disgusted by what he could do, Imelda decided she was ultimately fascinated by the kind of manipulation he could inflict on a body. If it wasn't for the fact that he had kept her alive for as long as he had, sweetened by the few occasions that he told her he liked her, and the history they shared... Imelda would be fearful for what he could do to her. Both in her body and what pain he could cause through using Kalvar's.

Her eyes narrowed as she critically studied his thinned out arm and fingers, head lifting from her knees so she could get a better look as he lowered the arm back to his side. It really was incredible, Imelda couldn't deny that. And extremely dangerous. To think of what he could do when in control of a human body was... mind blowing. Of course it would have been hard to tell just from that demonstration before, but considering she had seen the true extent of his strength and ability back in the clearing allowed her to make the judgements she was calling.

"Do you take on any personality traits of the person you've inhabited?" Imelda pressed on, once again jumping to a different line of questioning, "So could you see their memories should you need or want to?"

It was selfish of Imelda to continue pushing him for answers, yet she was hungry to learn more. He was an unknown creature, one that had never been studied and she was having the opportunity to learn everything first. Granted she'll never be able to share this knowledge - maybe when she's very, very old and no one is likely to believe her. But it was something she would know, and perhaps, going forward, be able to identify should there ever turn out to be more of his kind.

If there were any kind of identifiers. At the moment, Imelda couldn't see how there would be any chance in recognising when someone had been possessed by the kind of monster that he was.
 
He studied Imelda's face closely as his demonstration came to an end, wanting to check if he'd made the correct decision on giving her such a potentially disturbing performance. And, indeed, for a second, disgust seemed to war its way across her face, against another emotion, and he began to speculate that his choice had been incorrect.

However, in the end, he finally saw the disgust fade away to be replaced by interest. He supposed that Slayers had to have an innately high capacity to deal with uncomfortable sights, or they wouldn't be able to enter into Nightmare Territory comfortably, not even the outskirts. In many ways, the spriggans and ents were the most mild examples of what the Territories could produce, with the unnatural tree monstrosity he'd used to build her protective space being a much better example.

At least she didn't seem to consider what he'd just done too alarming, or worthy of shattering the tentative trust they'd built with each other. Perhaps she was simply having fun imagining what he was capable of doing. Or maybe it was the much more practical mentality of a Slayer in trying to figure out how she could defeat a monster with those kinds of capabilities. Or maybe it all just continued to boil down to raw curiosity.

It certainly didn't stop her stream of questions, as they moved right on to the next set. At least these were much more straightforward.

"I don't take on their personality. My being is not at all influenced by the body I'm riding in or controlling. It's not a two way road." That was a truth that he was very grateful for. He didn't know how he'd continue to define himself if he ended up influenced just as much by his hosts as their bodies could be by him. It could also end very badly if he was affected, as he'd taken control of the bodies of some very cruel people in the past.

Of course, also fortunately for him, that didn't mean he completely lost everything that made up that person, either. There were certain things he was able to keep, which tied close enough to her second question that he decided to expound upon it a bit. "However, so long as the body is fresh enough, it may end up influencing some of the basic motions I use. There are certain movements that people get in the habit of making, and those movements are ingrained into their bodies. So long as those connections haven't been physically degraded, it's often much easier to use those motions than some other one. That's why I often end up subconsciously picking them. There's a great deal of effort that needs to go into moving a body on my end, since I can't really rely on reflexes, so anything that saves me effort is welcome.

"As for directly reading memories... not inherently. Although I exist within my host's head as much as I do any other part of their body, I'm not sharing their mind. What I see is how the brain reacts. However, I've had enough experience in that, that I've started to get very good at understanding what those 'reactions' mean. So I can't go and plunder memories at will, but if someone I'm riding with is actively thinking about something, I'm generally able to interpret what it means.

"It's very useful if I need to get a code phrase from someone, and it works almost perfectly as a lie detector."
 




Imelda Fletcher

"So that's why you were picking up on some of Kalvar's habits." She supposed, sitting with hands resting on knees while her legs were crossed. The fingers on her one hand gently tapped against her knee, allowing her mind to slowly mull over all the new information. "And that means there'll be no way of knowing if the body you've possessed truly has been. If you're picking up on their ticks and habits, then it would be like as if nothing has changed to that person."

It was an interesting concept, the idea that he couldn't read minds but clearly with his length of life came experience and the ability to understand the human mind. However the example he gave, of if he needed to get a code phrase or something similar, was a little bit frightening. Could that mean that he could, if he wished to, infiltrate any place he wished to - and she was thinking the bigger organisations, not just a simple village or town. But perhaps like with the Slayers or even the Masters?

It was a thought Imelda didn't wish to consider for the time being.

At least her unspoken question had been partially answered. There really wouldn't be much in the way of identifiers when it came to him and his kind, if there were more like him out there.

"And you truly don't know if you're the only one of your kind or if there are more of you?" She asked, resting cheek in hand which allowed her head to tilt slightly.
 
"I truly don't know," he agreed, head bobbing slightly. "I can only speculate about how I was... formed or created, but I have a fairly strong suspicion it was an anomaly. After all, the Nightmare Territory where I was formed is gone now. Some of its aftereffects are still there, even to this day, but all new mutations stopped at or before my earliest moments of being, and I've never seen anywhere else like that."

In truth, he had spent a great deal of time speculating about his nature. Perhaps it had to do with arriving in this world fully-formed; he had never gone through anything like the infant or childhood of humanity, or even many of the monsters that could be found in the various Territories. And, in truth, he'd learned a lot, but even more of it was still a mystery.

"I've always been innately reserved," he continued, thinking back to what Imelda had said about being unable to tell if he was controlling a body, or if they were still normal. "That's precisely why I devoted the time to learn how to read memories, and conditioned myself to use already existing habits. Although I have confidence in myself, I've never found being known to be as appealing as watching from the background. Even having my host recognized is more satisfying than having myself recognized. I tried the alternate a few times, when I was much younger, but the attempts generally only confirmed my assumptions."

Seemingly unconsciously, his head bobbed side to side, as though recalling less than pleasant memories, before he shrugged far more intentionally towards Imelda. "Even you weren't an exception to that, despite how much I enjoyed spending time with you. If circumstances hadn't led otherwise, I certainly never would have found you or told you."

He paused for a second, uncertain if saying something like that would be offensive. Humans weren't the only ones who valued trust, and he wasn't sure if that could be taken any other way than a 'lack of trust'. Of course, it was all speculation, but he still considered it better to change the subject slightly.

"Point being, it's possible that others exist, but since we'd presumably have the same subtle tendencies, we've simply never encountered each other. It's not like I go broadcasting my presence. So, unless we somehow resonate with each other like some monsters do, I don't know how I'd recognize another of my... type, unless we both tried to ride in the same host."

He found the speculation fun, but it ended about at that. He'd certainly never gone looking for more of his kind, being fully content to be somehow 'unique'. In a large part, it was because he didn't know what he could possibly stand to gain from finding others of his type. He didn't value companionship in the same way humans did, and didn't crave for the presence of others, outside of wanting to see change and chaos. He found discussing his nature with Imelda fun, but that seemed more rooted in pleasure in satisfying her curiosity than because he enjoyed talking about himself. Even if he found another of his kind, he speculated that, at best, it would just end with them each going their own way.

"But I don't believe there are more. I've never seen anything that led me to believe so."
 




Imelda Fletcher

"Seeing is not always believing." Imelda murmured softly, finally lowering her gaze from him after his lengthy explanation. It was something that Mel lived by; if she believed she had seen everything she possibly could, she would be shocked at every turn of her job. Including the incident that led to her being caged up in this weird branch-sap combination cell.

Not to mention the Nightmare Territories that were a part of their lives. People knew better than to feel like they had to see the monsters that lurked in the depths of the forests in order to believe in them. A lot of people were not so foolish as to demand evidence of certain terrors.

With her curiosity momentarily satisfied, Imelda pulled at a piece of loose thread on the horse blanket he had brought back a few weeks ago. Processing the information and storing it away for future use, Imelda knew she then had to focus on the next important event. Her return to Mineral Hill. She would have to put on a bit of an act, and dirty herself up. She had been using the soap Alarik had brought back for her, but if they were to believe she had survived in the forest alone by some miracle, she would need to look filthy and tattered.

Imelda reached for her dagger with that thought in mind, twirling it absently in hand by the hilt as she stood and looked down at her clothes. Then she looked to him, realising how aggressive her moments may have seemed. "Tomorrow I'm going to have to make some adjustments to myself otherwise they may become suspicious. Tears to my clothing, dirt and grime on my face and body, messy and greasy hair. I can't look like I've been well taken care of." She explained before stopping, a sheepish smile appearing, "But I suppose you already came to that realisation yourself, right?"
 
Imelda's final comment earned a noncommittal gesture from him, something that seemed to blend a shrug, a head shake, and a nod all into one. He certainly didn't blame Imelda for her skepticism. He figured, were their roles reversed, he would have been doubtful too. After all, their perspectives were different. He was a sudden emergence to Imelda, a mystery from a mysterious place. Whereas to him, Nightmare Territory was almost more home than the human world could ever be. Of course they'd view things differently.

But he wasn't really prepared to debate with her on the matter. He didn't need her to believe he was unique, especially when even he didn't have any true certainty on the matter. After all, there was no way to prove that something didn't exist.

However, whether she agreed with him or not, it seemed that he'd at least managed to satisfy her curiosity for the moment. After all, instead of asking him another question, she instead focused on the blanket under her, picking at a loose thread while she thought. For one moment, he found himself wishing that he was already riding with her, so that he could begin to get a hint of what she was thinking. Instead, he could only rely on her words and body language to understand her. Which, at the moment, only told him that she was preoccupied with something.

It wasn't the first time he'd thought about that. Back when he'd been living as Alarik, he'd often wondered what it would be like to see how Imelda thought. But, back then, it had been nothing more than a passing fancy, an idle thought that vanished as quickly as it came. After all, he'd been Alarik then, a normal man, if slightly more world-wise than most. The fact that it hadn't even been a possibility had made the temptation far easier to disregard. It wasn't like that now.

"I know," he agreed, with no particular pause in his response despite the wandering of his thoughts. He'd never stopped paying attention to her. "People are very good at being suspicious and speculating." Depending on how Imelda approached the situation, she'd have a harder or easier time digging for information.

"I'll help you prepare in any way you'd like."


True to his word, he helped Imelda prepare for her return to Mineral Hill village. While Imelda handled most of it herself, his most significant contribution was a bucket of spriggan sap, which would help Imelda to soil her clothes and hair. In truth, it wasn't a perfect disguise, most notably due to the lack of any particular injuries on her, which should have been apparent after so long alone in Nightmare Territory. However, it wasn't all that hard to imagine that the villagers would simply attribute that to the skill of a Slayer. The profession was near mythical in many commoner's eyes.

"Is there anything else? Or are you ready to go?"
 




Imelda Fletcher

Imelda looked down at herself, nose wrinkling as she attempted to get over the fact she was covered in spriggan sap and whatever else it was that Alarik could bring her. She didn't wish to know how he got it, it was bad enough being smothered with it. She could already feel it drying up in her hair, tightening over her skin. She had torn some parts of her tunic and trousers, leaving the ripped pieces of material on the floor where she had stood before she had been doused in the foul-smelling sap.

Checking herself over, she brought her gaze up to Alarik at his question only to shrug in response. "A few wounds or bruises would be good... but I don't want to risk having any fresh ones and them becoming... infected." She admitted, itching at a spot where the spriggan sap had dried on her upper arm, nose wrinkling once again, "This is the only thing that can be done, let's just hope they're more in awe of me surviving than suspicious as to how I managed it."

Taking a deep breath, Imelda ignored the grumble of her stomach which had gone less than 24 hours without eating for the purpose of her return to Mineral Hill, "We better get going."

She watched with fascination as Alarik broke the bars that had kept her trapped for 16 days, and made sure to stay close to him while he led the way out of the Silent Forest. It did nothing to dampen her curiosity and interest when she saw the occasional silver-grey wisp extend from Kalvar's body to push back any creatures that seemed too curious themselves about the two human bodies wandering through. Imelda was surprised that her human scent could still be smelled, considering the amount of gunk that was on her skin.

It felt like an age before they finally reached the outskirts of the Silent Forest, seeing the village in the far distance and the dirt track leading to it only a little way in front of them. Imelda released a sigh of relief, eyes narrowing slightly due to the full glare of the sun as she lifted a hand up to her eyes to shield them.

Imelda thought it best to not think about the fact that he would soon be riding with her, however the thought soon poked and prodded it's way into her mind with stubborn persistence. The fact of it being even more clear now that they were out of the forest and soon to bury Kalvar's body.

Licking her lips and then grimacing at the grime that she had picked up from them, Imelda turned her head to spit before looking back to him.

"You know where would be best to go for this..." She trailed off, studying Kalvar's body for a second to then meet his eyes, "When you... ride with me... will I feel you possess me? Do you know what it might feel like?"
 
As soon as Imelda expressed her readiness, he carefully settled Kavlar's body on the ground, before pushing his way out. As the silver mist once more flooded into the space within the hardened tree, it instantly and unerringly moved towards the heavy body of the tree, before once more slipping out of sight.

From within the tree, he began to move, causing the branches that formed the walls to begin to faintly tremble. Gradually, the hardened black sap began to flake off, floating through the air like ash. A second later, and the vibration grew more intense, and harsh snapping sounds echoed through the forest clearing, sounding more like cracking rock than shattering wood.

He could have stopped after leaving an opening large enough for Imelda to slip through, but instead chose to take the whole thing down. He had no particular desire to leave such a potential refuge intact in the middle of the Silent Forest, especially when he had no clue what would end up using it. The hardened sap was strong enough to resist all but the monsters that were just as powerful as it, and he'd rather not see what kind of catastrophe might come about if some strange little creature was given a place of more permanent refuge.

And then the shelter was shattered, black chunks raining down from the sky even as his silver being suddenly began to flow out of the incomplete shell that was no longer capable of holding him. And Imelda was free.

For an anxious second, he hesitated, floating through the air like mist, wondering if Imelda was going to run. He didn't want to believe she would, if just simply because it would also be much smarter to wait until they were closer to the edge of the Silent Forest, but the thought still came to his mind. Until the moment he was riding with her, he wouldn't be able to know exactly how much she valued her promise to a monster.

And she didn't run.

As he settled back into Kavlar's body, pushing his way to a standing position before unconsciously brushing Kavlar's tattered clothes in an attempt to 'clean' them, he offered Imelda a small smile. "Let's go."

With the presence of two human bodies, his journey back to the edge of the forest was a lot more intense than his previous runs had been. Shadows loomed among the trees, twisting and writhing, and more often than not it suddenly became the trees themselves that were moving, reaching out in curiosity or hunger towards the foolish presences that dared to approach so blindly. Sometimes, the twisted, gnarled ground would heave upwards, ripping open to reveal sharp teeth and the fearsome presences that hunted beneath the soil. As they grew closer to the edge of the forest, it was the spriggans and ents that began to appear, momentarily circling around them like ravens that were waiting for a meal, before they disappeared back into the shadows.

No matter what presence it was that approached, they all began to recoil as he made his presence known from within Kavlar's body. Instinctive fear drove them away, forced to acknowledge that the two humans passing so brazenly through their territory were already something else's prey.

But only when they reached the very edge of the Silent Forest did the presences finally allow the two humans to fully escape, unwilling to chase beyond the safety of their land when there was no real assurance of a meal.

He led them along the treeline for some time, rounding a few hills before Mineral Hill finally became visible in the distance. As brave as the people who lived there were, even they wouldn't dare to butt up against the forest, where who knew what would slip out into their midst.

As he surveyed the rolling grassland that bordered the forest, wondering how exactly they should go about digging a grave, the sound of Imelda's voice caused him to turn. "I can dig a grave wherever you would like," he offered. "Just pick a spot."

As much time as he'd spent among humans, he still didn't have entire confidence in the ability to pick somewhere "suitable" for a final resting place. The tastes and criteria for it varied so much depending on where he was that it seemed much simpler to just leave the choice to Imelda.

"As for your question, that is actually something I wished to discuss with you before we went much further forward. How much do you wish to be aware of my presence?" He was already planning to keep things quite subtle. Imelda's mention of bruises would have been an easy matter for him to resolve, but he had no intention of wounding her. But there were still levels within subtlety. "Should you wish it, I can completely hide my presence, to the point where I believe you would be unable to tell I was there after the first few moments. However, that would also completely separate us, and I believe I would be able to provide better help if you give me permission to do minor things."

One hand lifted, and he pointed to Kavlar's ear. "Communication being the big one. I can move your inner ears mildly, in ways that would simulate my voice, but no one else would be able to detect. Is that acceptable? Is there anything else you wish to allow?"
 




Imelda Fletcher

Hesitating at his question, she glanced around at the area surrounding them before randomly beginning to walk away from him around the foot of the nearby hill. She stepped slowly and carefully, allowing herself to just walk and stop when an spot felt right. As she walked, she slowly began to feel the emotion she had been bottling up for the past 16 days.

She was about to bury her friend; someone she had thought of as family for the past four years of her life. And while she knew it was because of the creature that occupied his body currently, Imelda couldn't find it in herself to hate him with the anger she wished to feel for the death of the other members of her makeshift family.

She slowly crouched, pressing her palm against the dewy earth as she fought against the emotion that welled against her will. Imelda took a few long, deep breaths in order to keep herself composed. The breaths were shaky, becoming slightly harsher as the seconds ticked on into minutes. Not usually one to allow herself to become caught up in her emotions, Mel firmly scolded herself and patted the ground twice before pushing herself back to her feet.

Clearing her throat, she glanced to him over her shoulder before turning to face him again. She quietly folded her arms across her chest, considering his words and suggestions. She too had been thinking about how aware she would be of his presence, if she would be able to hear him in some way or another. At least now he had explained how that could come about.

"Here is good. Near the wildflowers." She avoided the question for a moment, tapping the ground with her foot as she otherwise thought about what she would be comfortable with.

Glancing in the direction of Mineral Hill, Imelda thought about what she was entirely comfortable with and soon realised she would appreciate being hear his voice. Besides, perhaps if she allowed him some abilities then it may keep them both happy. He had said it was a matter of trust, after all.

Looking finally back up at him, she answered: "I'm giving you permission to... do minor things. You said it's about trust, right? So I'm going to trust you to not take advantage of my body. Communicate with me, keep us safe, do whatever it is that class as minor. It'll be a learning curve, and I'm sure I'll be quick to tell you if I'm not happy or comfortable with something."
 
He remained silent as Imelda began to search for a burial location, watching her slightly hunched back. Even he was able to tell this wasn't a moment he should intrude upon. After all, he had been the one to kill her companions.

Of course, it hadn't been quite that personal when he'd acted. It had actually been quite simple. They were Slayers, and he was a monster. Fated enemies, destined to try and kill each other. And it had been before he'd even recognized Imelda, when he'd simply been impressed with a Slayer that was slightly more clever than usual. Now, it was all far, far more complicated.

As he listened to Imelda's shaky breaths as she crouched in the field of wildflowers, looking dirty and exhausted compared to the delicate beauty of her surroundings, he wondered if he should apologize to her for his actions. He didn't want to see her be in pain. However, in the end, he held his tongue.

It wasn't because he didn't want to comfort her, but because he knew that he wasn't truly sorry. If he were sent back in time to the exact moment when that group of four had come into the clearing, he couldn't say that his actions would be any different. There was no way he would have allowed her other three companions to live after they saw him. After all, they weren't Imelda. They didn't have any history together, to complicate matters beyond the simple relationship of monsters and slayers trying to kill each other. He didn't care about them. He had no reason to trust them, and every reason to assume they would betray him at the first given moment. Perhaps they would even turn Imelda against him, or turn against Imelda herself if they began to consider her bewitched.

As for letting the entire group go, unaware of his presence, he didn't like that result, either. That would lose him Mineral Hill, and lose him the relationship he'd once again managed to build up with Imelda.

No, he didn't mourn the deaths of the other three Slayers, didn't care about them at all beyond the fact that he had enjoyed getting to use Kavlar's body. He was incredibly satisfied with the way everything had turned out so far. Everything had turned out just the way he liked. He was going to get to see the play surrounding Mineral Hill, he'd gained Imelda's trust, and he was going to be able to ride with her in only a few minutes more.

He would not offer an insincere apology, so there was nothing he could do to comfort her. All he could do was wait.

When Imelda finally stood back up, turning to face him, he watched her expression, trying to judge whether or not she'd changed her mind about anything, whether she still trusted him, or if the reminder of the death of her friends had changed anything. But all he saw was sadness, and firm resolution.

"Alright," he agreed, stepping around her to move towards the spot she'd picked out. He kneeled down, before digging his fingers into the soil, palm and fingers flat and stiff like a shovel. A second later, and Kavlar's fingers began to sink into the soil, followed only moments later by his palm, wrist, and forearm. When he lifted his arm again, a clump of soil the size of a small boulder came away with it, in the place where his lower arm should have been. If one looked really close, it would be just possible to see a very fine network of unknown fibers spread over it, like the soil had been trapped within a messy spiderweb.

This was one of the more "forceful" methods he had described to Imelda before, but it went far beyond anything she would have seen before. If they weren't about to bury Kavlar, he would not have resorted to such methods. After all, even as familiar as he was with the human body at this point, there was no way he would be able to correctly assemble all of the fine details of Kavlar's arm again after shattering it into such tiny little fragments and moving all the parts around as he pleased. But he'd be able to fake a general approximation, which would be enough for the burial later.

As he dropped the soil to the side, allowing it to form a large mound on the ground, and drew the pieces back into the general shape of an "arm", Imelda's voice suddenly caused him to pause, turning to look at her with an incredibly gentle expression on his face. "Imelda, I..." he began, before hesitating, uncertain what to say. "Thank you," was what he settled on a moment later, as he unconsciously followed Kavlar's habit of biting at the corner of his lip when he was mildly embarrassed. "It means a lot to me. That you're willing to trust me. I promise I'll be slow and careful, and will undoubtedly respect any boundaries you set."

Shaking his head slightly, more as though he was trying to jostle something loose than out of any form of denial, he turned back to the pit, preparing to continue to dig further in hopes of smoothing over the atmosphere somewhat.
 
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