Among Chaos (Viverescribere x Peregrine)





Imelda Fletcher

Stepping back as he moved forward, Mel made sure to stay out of his way as he knelt down. She had wondered briefly how they were going to dig the grave, but upon the sight of him digging fingers into soil, she soon remembered his explanation yesterday of what he could do to the bodies he possessed. Abruptly, as she watched, Imelda swiped harshly at tears that dripped down her cheeks, a scowl overcoming her features at the wetness that now marred the slight dirt and grime on her face; evidence of the emotion she had tried so hard to keep back.

She didn't expect anything from Alarik, thinking much in the same way as him. It was nature. If it wasn't for the fact that he knew her, Imelda knew without a doubt that, by this point, she would be nothing more than the contents of some spriggan's stomach.

Sniffing as quietly as she could while he worked, she watched his actions carefully to see just what he was doing. She took the smallest of steps forward to peer over his shoulder, occupying herself with his actions rather than the emotions battling within her. She startled as earth in front of him, a decent size of it, suddenly seemed to explode - for a better word - and hovered above the space it had just vacated. Her eyes moved from it and down where his arm should have been, taking another step closer to study such an aggressive manipulation of the host body. Her gaze went immediately back to the soil, narrowing slightly until she could make out the little network that covered the mound he had broken loose. Imelda's stomach did roll nauseatingly at the prospect of those fibres being stretched out tendons and flesh and ligaments, but soon she found herself becoming numb to it. There had been so much she had seen and learned in the past 16 days, she just needed to accept it as another new norm.

As the soil dropped, as did Imelda's gaze. She closed her eyes and dropped her head slightly, taking a deep breath as she warred with the raging variety of emotions she was experiencing. The grief, the sadness, the torment, the guilt, the anger, the frustration. It was a lot and she just wished she could bury it in that pit alongside Kalvar's body.

Her eyes snapped back open at the sound of Alarik speaking, head shooting up to direct her attention onto him only to swallow hard at the tender expression he had taken and then the added detail of him picking up on Kalvar's embarrassed habit. Her lips parted to respond, but no words came out. Slowly her mouth closed again as she thought of what to say, hand reaching up to rub at her lips. Eventually she cleared her throat and stepped forward as he turned back to the pit. She allowed her hand to quietly fall on his shoulder, struggling once more with the tide that was rising and falling internally.

"Just--... Just don't make me regret it, okay?"

Imelda held his eyes for a moment before nodding down to the pit, "This'll be deep enough, don't worry about digging it further. I'll uproot some of the wildflowers to plant over the top so it-- it doesn't look so much like a grave." She removed her hand, once more clearing her throat in an attempt to dislodge the lump that had formed there due to her unshed tears.

Moving past him, she did as she said and managed to uproot some of the flowers nearby, simply stamping back down any further upturned soil.

"So are you... are you going to exit his body, join mine, and I'll roll the body into the grave? I can push the soil back over him that way after and plant the flowers last."
 
"I won't," he replied softly. The promise might not have been particularly verbose, but he took it to heart all the same. Whatever it required, he would make sure that Imelda did not regret the trust she was giving him, and that was at an absolute minimum. If he could, he wanted to make sure that Imelda not only didn't regret his riding with her, but came to welcome it instead. That, he figured, was the result he'd like best.

With another mound of dirt removed from the ground, the hole became just large enough for a body to fit in folded into a curled position. Compared to proper graves it was both shallow and small, but it would undoubtedly be enough to cover Kavlar's body completely. He naturally stopped at Imelda's request, taking a moment to 'fix' Kavlar's arm before he turned around from depositing the second pile of soil. He knew if anyone looked too close it would be obvious that there was something wrong with it, but he didn't care enough to put any more time or detail into it at that point.

"You'll just need to bury the body," he said lightly, before stepping over to the grave. A moment later and he casually stepped into the grave, before carefully laying down in a way that ensured all Kavlar's limbs fit within the hole. The mound of dirt was situated right next to the hole, so it wouldn't be too hard to push most of it back in. He lifted his head slightly, offering Imelda a half smile. "You're ready?"
 




Imelda Fletcher

Laying the bundles of wildflowers beside the soil situated next to the grave, Imelda moved so she sat at the foot of the grave just in preparation for his possession. She wasn't sure how she was going to react to it, so thought it best to be sitting rather than potentially feel faint on her feet. Her mind raced with thoughts laced with trepidation and anxiety, looking down at Kalvar's body in the depths of the grave but not really seeing it. Too occupied with the unanswered questions of what the next few moments would feel like. She was putting her entire trust into him, and that terrified her. How easy it could be for him to go back on his word and simply take complete control.

She could run. She could easily stand and flee down the road toward the village. That thought had crossed her mind countless times. The idea of sharing her body with another entity didn't exactly sit well with her, morally and selfishly for her own comfort. But each time she envisioned the disappointed expression he had displayed time and again before, and guilt wormed it's way into her mind. Guilt, of all things. What a joke. But no matter how hard Imelda tried, she couldn't shake the emotion. Her history with Alarik was now one too complicated for her to try and even attempt to unpick.

Eventually her eyes raised to him at his final question, hands tightening where they were clasped together. Nodding, Imelda shifted slightly where she sat and took a deep breath, closing her eyes as she did so. She didn't wish to see the moment where he left Kalvar's body and joined hers, uncertain as to how she would feel if she watched the joining of the two.

"I'm ready."
 
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He did his best to wait patiently for Imelda's response, as she sat down on the ground, her eyes slowly fluttering closed. It was probably a good thing that he'd already put Kavlar's body into the burial hole, because otherwise he wasn't sure he'd be able to resist the instinct to pace nervously. After all, this was the moment of truth. If she was going to change her mind, if she was going to run, this was the moment. And there was nothing he could do but wait and see.

The worst part was, in this moment, he was almost certain that if Imelda did really choose to run, he'd let her go. All of it just wouldn't be the same if she was so desperate to avoid him that she'd take the risk to run away.

And then he heard her voice, telling him that she was ready. For a second, he looked up, studying her still face and tightly closed eyes. And then he nodded, even though she couldn't see it. "Alright."

He pushed his way out of Kavlar's body, leaving the man's form still and limp within the dug out hole. And his silver, mist like being swum lazily through the air, drifting precisely towards Imelda. Gently, carefully, he touched against her skin, and then sunk in deeper.

He spread throughout her, carefully and accurately, moving with far more care than he could ever remember taking in the past. After all, he didn't want to scare her. There was no way her body wouldn't at least acknowledge his arrival, but he was a being that was meant to live among the flesh of others. He could only hope it wouldn't be too unpleasant for her.

He spread into her head last, and was relieved to see that her face wasn't scrunched in pain, nor was that part of her brain active. Only then did he relax, settle in fully, and then still.

He waited for a moment, giving Imelda a chance to settle, before tugging at the space on her inner ears.

"How do you feel, Im?"

Although no noise echoed through the space, the voice sounded in Imelda's ears, like someone was standing just to her left. The voice was male, and slightly husky with age, but otherwise smooth and rich. That voice, as close as he could remember it, was the mercenary Alarik's own, as though it had echoed across the years that separated them to reach her now.
 
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Imelda Fletcher

You could still run. It's not too late.

Of course it's too late. I've made this promise, this commitment--

To a monster that killed your friends.

It's more complicated than that.

Is it? Is it really?

Yes. I can't run. There's-- there's too much going on. Not to mention the look on his face--

You care about his feelings? Monsters don't. Have. Feelings. What kind of a Slayer are you?

Shut up. He's made his own promise-

And you think a monster is going to uphold a promise to a Slayer?

...

...

Yes.

Imelda hadn't even realised her body had started to tremble, ever so faintly, in apprehension of what was about to happen, too occupied with the inner argument with her devil's advocate. But when that argument had finished, she was all too painfully aware of the silence that surrounded her. Her breathing, forcibly controlled, was the only thing breaking the quiet of the wildflower field. She wasn't sure what she was going to experience, or even if she would know if and when Alarik made contact with her.

All of a sudden, her skin broke out into soft goosebumps. The muscles of her body relaxing and releasing the tension they once held. A warmth flushed through her, the whole sensation similar to when another's fingertips grazed ever so lightly along her skin except this went along her entire body. A gentle tingle buzzed underneath her flushed skin and Imelda's eyes snapped open in order to look at her arms to see if any little insect was crawling along her arm. However there was none.

The goosebumps remained as she moved her eyes to Kalvar's prone body, exhaling softly as the tingles began to die away slowly but surely. She took another measured breath in, hand raising to rub the back of her neck as she searched inwardly for any suggestion that something was not right. Yet she came up empty handed. All was silent and nothing felt out of place.

However the sound of his voice, unnervingly clear in her ears caused her to whip her head to the left as if expecting to see him standing there as an entity in his own right. She winced as the action immediately caused a stiffness to appear in her neck, hand pressing against the ache to massage it lightly.

"Fucking hell. That'll take some getting used to." She breathed, slowly pushing herself to her feet. Movements all of her own accord, nothing yet to suggest he had control over her in any way. Imelda hesitated briefly, soon recognising the voice from the depths of her memories, "Are you using his voice on purpose?" She then asked, moving to the soil to begin shoving it into the pit that made Kalvar's grave.

Imelda wondered if he had a voice of his own, what it would sound like if he did. Or if he would forever impersonate the voices of those he inhabited as he wouldn't ever know what his own voice would sound like.
 
Imelda didn't answer his question, but from her sharp reaction to his 'voice', he could at least guarantee that she could hear him. Not that he'd needed her reaction as confirmation. He'd watched the way the signals had traveled from her ear into her head, before traveling into a specific section of her mind that he knew dealt with sound.

He wished she'd answered the question, but there was nothing he could do about that except ask again. Better to save that for later, he decided.

"I am," he agreed, silently mulling over the differences in communication. Speaking like this was certainly much simpler than what it normally took to allow for speech in a human body, between all the nuances of control he needed in the chest, throat, tongue, and mouth area, but it did also require much more delicate control, and a completely different mindset. Considering he was completely unpracticed at all this, and was simply acting off of some combination of instinct and knowledge, he was pleased it was going well.

"I thought it would be welcome, but if you prefer, I can... not."

Even as he was speaking to Imelda, he was unconsciously conducting a study of her body, growing more familiar with it. And the very first thing he noticed was the... injuries. Frankly, it shouldn't have surprised him considering her duties as a Slayer. Kavlar had been no different. But it somehow felt different now. Her left leg was heavily marred, claw marks across her hip, a burn mark on her thigh, her knee weakened and slightly strained. More claw marks were apparent on her chest and the back of her neck, both injuries likely having been near-deadly when they were incurred. Her left shoulder was also injured from repeated strains or dislocations.

And none of that included the minor leftover injuries from who knew how many fights, and the tenseness and pain that was spread throughout her body, seeming consolidated at the moment in her neck and between her shoulder blades from her recent jerky motion.

He began to move almost instinctively, intending to loosen and relax the muscles and fix the injuries in her knee and shoulder that would impact the full range of motion in her body, before suddenly catching himself and stalling. He couldn't spook her. He couldn't let her regret letting him ride with him. She'd given him permission to do minor things, but there was a big difference between moving her inner ear and affecting her injuries or muscles in a wide area. He had to be careful. Far better to think of this like when he'd hidden in some other people, when his goal was to go completely unnoticed.

But still, he wanted to make a good impression.

"May I relax the muscles in your neck and back?" he asked carefully. "It will help your headache, too."

As for the bigger injuries... better to just leave those for later. Baby steps.
 
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Imelda Fletcher

"No-- no, it's okay. I just... didn't expect you to choose his voice." Imelda admitted, teeth gritting as she exerted herself to push the soil into the pit. It had been a while since she had been able to do more than just walk around the cell he had kept her in. Of course she had done her best to keep in shape and remain limber, however it wasn't the same as the usual regime she participated in to keep herself fit.

Exhaling heavily, she began scattering the wildflowers across the grave, planting them sporadically as to not look too pristine or influenced by human hands. Unknown to her that Alarik was conducting a full assessment of her body and it's ailments.

Her scars and healed wounds had long become a part of Imelda. She had learned long ago that the life of a Slayer, while honoured and respected, was not glamorous. She would never be seen in the dresses sported by women in high society, nor could she actually imagine herself to be in one. Yet while she had accepted all those gruesome souvenirs of her job, it didn't mean she was completely immune and numb to the sight of them. Secretly she hated the sight of them, for they reminded her just how close to death she had come. As for the brutal markings on her left leg, it made Imelda feel sick to even catch sight of those wounds in the mirror or the reflection of water. The grotesque burn on her thigh only made her feel self-conscious and while Imelda had taken lovers before, she had never allowed enough light in the room for her lovers to see the extent of her marred leg.

The weakness in her knee and shoulder, she was barely aware of anymore, having adapted over time. Not to mention she had believed them to have strengthened again, or at least in the case of her shoulder, hidden the strain before anyone could become too suspicious of the lingering ache that remained there if she held up a bow for too long or wielded a sword for too lengthy a time.

Sitting back after planting the last of the wildflowers, Imelda released a long breath and stared down at her hands that were now covered in dirt. The soil caking under her nails and pasted onto her skin.

Her head twitched slightly at the sound of his voice again, and she knew she would have to get better with her reactions to hearing him there in her ear if she were to hide the reality of their predicament. Her brow furrowed softly at his question, hesitating to answer straight away. She was nervous about him doing anything to her muscles, even something as nice sounding as relaxing them. Yet the prospect of losing the headache that was beginning to appear behind her right eye and the soreness in her neck from the whiplash was all too pleasing an idea.

"Will it... just relax them, right? Nothing else?" She clarified, despite knowing the answer, "I guess... we can give that a try."
 
"Just relaxing them," he assured. "Nothing more."

Of course, the process was a lot more complicated than he made it sound from such a simple description, but he didn't think it was necessary to muck up the matter by explaining that he'd have to go through and loosen and unstick the muscle fibers in her back from each other, one by one. Simplifying it to 'relaxing' them wasn't inaccurate. To her, it would simply feel like they became loose and relaxed, all of the 'knots' smoothed out.

As soon as he got permission, he began to work, starting from the surface of her back and moving upwards, before spreading out over her shoulders and up her neck, and finally beginning to move a bit deeper. The whole process was quite gradual, far slower than he was fairly certain he needed to go. For one thing, he wanted to make absolutely certain he didn't mess it up. Even if he had a great deal of confidence in what he was doing, it was still better to be careful. Baby steps, as he'd thought before.

Secondly, he wanted to make sure that Imelda had the chance to call the whole thing off if it started to make her uncomfortable, not that he thought it should. It wasn't as though she'd feel anything like invisible hands pressing into her back, and he wasn't tearing or damaging the muscles. Instead, it should feel like a very smooth and natural process, just like soaking in water for a period of time.

He double checked her whole back again after he finished, and caught himself just in time before he would have nodded Imelda's head in satisfaction. Despite his attempts to convince himself that he was just a rider, his actions so far hadn't been the behavior or mentality he would have as nothing but a ghost hiding in the background. He'd have to be more careful than ever.

"How does that feel?"
 




Imelda Fletcher

Imelda moved to sit with her legs crossed after giving her permission for him to work on her back, unsure as to how she should be in terms of positioning. It was hard to relax, tension both conscious and subconsciously created knotting in her shoulders until she felt them all loosening. Spots that she couldn't work free of tightness for years finally softening, it was like she could feel the muscles warming in a way she had never experienced before.

It was such a relief, that she couldn't even focus on the nervousness she had once experienced when it came to thinking about him doing anything that left him in any kind of control. Her eyes slowly closed and she quietly rolled her neck, lips parting to release a relaxed and contented sigh. With the smoothed and loosened muscles came a wish to simply lay down and sleep for a while. The dewy grass and soft bed of wildflowers were all too tempting but unfortunately, Imelda knew she had a job to do.

"Amazing," she breathed out before even being able to comprehend answering properly, moving to stand on all fours so she could lazily stretch out her back. "It honestly feels amazing. I've never felt so knot-free in my life." Imelda spoke again, a proper sentence this time. It was true, plus that headache was beginning to fade away, the pulse of the ache dying with every second.

She pushed herself back so she was kneeling beside the grave, taking a moment there to simply sit in respectful silence for her dead comrade before pushing herself to her feet. "...Thank you."
 
"I'm glad you liked it," he replied softly, taking the effort to make sure his 'voice' sounded both satisfied and happy at her compliment. It wasn't that the emotion was fake by any means, he truly had felt both happy and satisfied at her seemingly reflexive answer. He simply wanted to make sure that she knew how he felt. Humans were very reliant on subtle clues like expression and body language to know how someone else was feeling, and that particular method of communication was outside of his reach for now.

Wondering if he should offer to repair her shoulder, knee, and her scarred skin as well, he ultimately chose to keep it to himself for now. He would offer at some point, long before they were done at Mineral Hill. However, for now he wanted to keep things simple and straightforward. Give her time to settle in to his presence on the very clearly happy note that had just occurred. He could build up to larger things later, once the trust between the two of them had been reaffirmed further by time and practice. He had always been patient, and there was no need to rush things now.

"You're welcome," he replied, internally smiling at Imelda's more direct expression of gratitude. Even though it had only been a few minutes since he'd started riding with her, he'd begun to grow used to the strange balance he was walking with her body. Although he was still going to keep a close eye on himself to make sure he didn't slip up, he was no longer quite so worried about any of his 'unconscious' behaviors slipping through to her body.

"I'm happy to help. ...If you have any other requests, just let me know."

That wasn't rushing things too much, surely.
 




Imelda Fletcher

Her mind briefly drifted to her weakened knee and shoulder, momentarily wondered about the burn mark on her left thigh. All without knowing that he had also been considering these ailments. Her fingertips, without her truly realising, lightly brushed over where the marred skin was hidden beneath her ripped and soiled trousers. Her self-conscious worries and inner hatred toward the sight, and mere knowledge, of it resurfacing for the first time in weeks.

However she shoved it to the side with a physical shake of her head, not wanting to dwell on that when there were more important matters at stake.

"I should be fine, but I'll keep your offer in mind. Thank you." She answered simply.

Turning and leaving the grave, Imelda got herself onto the dirt track that lead to Mineral Hill. Her mind raced with the different scenarios that were about to occur. It considered elements to her return that she realised she hadn't thought to worry about before, but since she was still a little way out from the village, she still had time to ask.

"What if I need to speak to you when around other people? There may be some occasions where I cannot speak out loud to you lest they begin to think I've lost my mind while in the Silent Forest. I won't be able to wait until I'm alone if some things don't make sense or I am in desperate need to consult you on something." Imelda then voice her main concern, eyes scanning her surrounding areas.

She certainly would look a sight, and she doubted she would be the target of any thieves considering the state she was currently in. But that didn't mean she would be any more relaxed than normal.
 
Waiting for Imelda's response didn't stop him from paying attention to her physical reaction to his request. Her heart rate, her expression, and most importantly, any activity in her mind. But, rather than concern or worry, which he'd been fearing she might feel, she instead seemed to momentary be considering something. Leg. Knee. Shoulder?

Her thoughts were gone as fast as they'd come, but he couldn't help but feel a trace of excitement. Was she really considering what he thought she was? It seemed too coincidental that those particular body parts would be on her mind otherwise. Feeling somewhat tense about the whole thing, he waited for Imelda to speak.

When her words finally came, however, he could only be left with disappointment. Had he been in possession of a body he was willing to control, he would have sighed. Instead, he could only content himself with the thought that she'd at least considered getting him to help her. That meant that the idea wasn't completely unpalatable to her. They could discuss it at some other time. "Of course. Just let me know if I can help."

They were still far enough away from Mineral Hill that it wasn't possible for anyone to have seen them burying Kavlar, but that would change as they started to get closer. Like most small villages, Mineral Hill still had its own locally grown food, which meant they would soon start seeing farmers out tending to their fields or livestock.

The thought of other people seemed to be on Imelda's mind as well, since after they'd walked only a short ways, she began to speak again. He listened to her carefully, considering her words. They didn't have much time to put something in place, which meant he could only rely on the most ordinary and brute force method.

"Although it is not precise, I am able to pick up language thoughts from your mind. While I cannot always guarantee its perfect accuracy, if you are slow and... for want of a better word, loud, with your thoughts, I should be able to understand it to an extent."
 




Imelda Fletcher

Nodding slowly, Imelda considered his words, eyes darting to the treeline at the sight of movement only to relax to see a spriggan darting back into the relative safety of the forest.

SO... LIKE... THIS?

Her attempt to do as he suggested was probably a bit overzealous, but it wasn't as if they had much time to practice. Soon she would have to focus on the act she would have to put on to the people of Mineral Hill. Perhaps asking him to give her a bit of a limp wouldn't be a bad idea... it could be something he had control of and she wouldn't have to worry about putting it on each time if she left it to him.

Limp. Could... give me... one?

She tried again, this time a little less... shouty in her own mind. It was a learning process, she supposed, for the both of them. Imelda guessed he never had a reason to have to communicate with his previous hosts, the ones that were alive, that is. So maybe it was just as new to him as it was to her.
 
Compared to Imelda, who felt like she was yelling in her own head, Imelda's first slow and intense way of 'thinking' was a good stepping stone for him. After all, he didn't perceive any of it as sound, but instead just another way of interpreting information. As her brain reacted vividly to her thoughts, he quickly began to grab and interpret the information.

"Like that," he agreed in her ears, keeping most of his attention focused on her mind so that he wouldn't miss her next attempt at communication.

Indeed, shortly enough, her rapidly flickering thoughts, darting between what seemed to be her leg and more thoughts of other people, settled into something slower and more distinct in the language center of her mind. But as he continued to pick apart her thoughts, he was momentarily stunned.

She was asking him to give her a limp?

There were two very distinct ways to interpret that request, neither of which were things he'd ever expected her to ask. The first, damage something in her hip or leg sufficiently that she'd instinctively start to limp. He was hesitant about that for the same reason he'd had no desire to offer to give her cuts, scrapes, or bruises before they returned to Mineral Hill. Intentionally wounding her, even if he had permission to do it, seemed like the absolute wrong way to go about establishing trust.

However, the second possible interpretation was even more shocking—have him control her walking habits enough to cause her to 'automatically' limp. What surprised him even further was that, from what he'd understood from the lightning flicker of her thoughts that were not slow or distinct enough for him to perfectly follow, that was the connotation that she'd meant. After all, her thoughts had seemed far more directed at him than her own leg. Had she really thought that request through?

"Wait," he said, wishing he could just bring her to a stop himself. "Hold on a second. I need clarification on that. Are you... asking me to take control of your walking habits enough for you to affect a limp?" He knew his voice wouldn't sound anywhere near as flabbergasted as he felt, but he still allowed the voice of 'Alarik' to be impacted somewhat. Like those moments in the past when she'd asked questions that she hadn't thought through, and he'd humored her to answer them, even as he'd watched her with a brow raised in amusement.

"I don't mind, Im. But are you sure you want me to do that? It's not 'minor' by any stretch of the imagination. Walking is a complicated matter, and your request would require me to partially control or influence almost two thirds of your body, and directly control your legs to a massive extent. Is that really what you want?"
 




Imelda Fletcher

Slowing to a stop at his words, Imelda hesitated as he explained what it would mean to give her a limp. Although she was surprised he asked for clarification, she hadn't expected him to, despite all their talk of trust and ensuring the other was happy with what was put forth. She had assumed he would just take her word and do as she suggested. But of course, that wouldn't be Alarik.

Soon, Imelda pressed forward again but keeping her slow pace so they still had time to talk and discuss matters.

"I understand it's not minor," she spoke aloud this time, knowing otherwise things may get confused or missed, "But... but you said this is about trust, right? And I-- I can't just walk into that village without some sort of ailment that seemingly needs to be fixed by a healer, it's bad enough going in without bruises or cuts or any fresher wounds." She took a deep breath, "I just thought... a limp may help, I can act like I'm in pain when their healer takes a look at it but I don't want to wake up one morning and forget I'm supposed to have it or give the limp to the wrong leg."

Imelda found herself wishing that he was in another body in front of her, so she could gauge a reaction or convey her own feelings properly rather than just talking to herself like some sort of loon.

"It would only be for a couple of days, I'm sure they would get some sort of alchemy concoction on it and I'll be able to 'walk' normally again." She ran her fingers through her dirtied, greasy hair, grimacing at the feel of it, "I'm-- I'm trusting you Alarik to help me play this right. Is that clarification enough?"
 
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"It is," he agreed, still feeling somewhat surprised that they'd jumped from her freaking out about him riding with her, to her allowing him to do minor things that barely exceeded moving tissue in her inner ear, to this, in such short succession. After all, it was one thing to speak of trust, and another to act on it so heavily.

Not that he was complaining. Not at all. But the changes had come so quickly that he was still worried about accidentally spooking her, and messing the whole thing up. Perhaps it was better for him to not be so cautious?

"Let's... test it out first," he said a second later. So much for not being cautious. Better to not mess it up, he thought. "Stop for a second and take a step forward with whatever leg you want the limp to be on."

Finished with his instructions, he waited for Imelda to follow along. Then, the moment she stepped forward, just before her foot was about to touch the ground, he took action. As her heel came in contact with the ground, he slowed and stiffened her leg, tightening her thigh and locking her knee in place. Before she'd even have a chance to follow through on shifting her weight forward onto the leg, he was already moving her other leg, causing it to sharply swing forward to catch her weight again before more than half of her body could come to rest on her first leg.

And then, of course, there was all the minor pieces that went along with keeping her balanced, making sure her arms matched the swing of the shortened stride, twisting her torso, pivoting her hips, and keeping her shoulders square and balanced. A second later, and he'd completed her faulty 'step', leaving her standing with almost all of her weight balanced on her other leg. Gradually, in order to make sure that she wouldn't fall over if he suddenly released control, he made sure he was no longer fighting her natural movements.

"That's what it will be like every step."
 
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Imelda Fletcher

"Fucking hell."

The hiss escaped her before she could stop it, yet she wasn't sure what the curse was referring to. The fact that her left leg had stiffened so much she genuinely felt like it could buckle beneath her at any moment, or because her other leg moved without her instructing it too. Or just at the full sensation of her walk being overtaken and manipulated.

All of her own asking, yet it was so much easier to ask and think of it in theory than to experience it in action.

Taking a deep breath, Imelda quietly bent over with her hands on her knees as she considered the prospect. It would only be for a day or so, this lack of complete control. They would most likely call for a healer the moment she was recognised, she would be allowed to bathe and eat, the healer would tend to her leg during the time she ate. Perhaps by tomorrow morning she would be able to have Alarik stop with the limping movements.

She had purposefully chosen the left leg, knowing it would be an easier story to tell considering the slight weakness that was already in that knee. All it would take, perhaps, would be the idea she was dragged along by some of the more carnivorous vines within the Silent Forest, or perhaps another beastly monster that decided to toy with her before she managed to escape.

"That's fine. It's fine." Imelda eventually breathed, straightening up again as she kicked out her legs as if trying to rid herself of the previous sensation, despite it being what she had asked for. "You have my permission to do this, but only this, for now. I'm trusting you to maintain this limp until I say otherwise or they apply some sort of concoction to remedy it. There's no need to uphold it when we're in private but whenever we are in public or to be seen by another living being, yes?" She set out the terms, ignoring her discomfort and focusing on what was necessary at this point and that was to believe that Alarik would stay true to his word.
 
Although he'd never been in a situation to experience anything similar, and lacking an inherent body of his own he could barely even empathize, Imelda's reaction to his actions didn't take him at all by surprise. It was the reason he'd insisted on having her test it out before simply agreeing to what she wanted. It would only be more awkward if he'd agreed, and she'd suddenly refused his efforts after the fact.

However, it was impossible for someone to be a Slayer and not be both brave and a bit stubborn. Otherwise, how could they possibly dare to face off against monsters, oftentimes in their own habitat? Imelda had always been one to do whatever it was she set her mind to, no matter how other people tried to dissuade her. How else could she be a Slayer now, when he'd gone to so much effort to try and persuade her out of the profession?

So in that regard, her insistence that he continue, even as sweat beaded on her brow and she had to bend over to stabilize her breathing after he released her, didn't really surprise him either. And, he couldn't say that her end result didn't please him, either. If she grew used to and comfortable with this, what else would she be willing to accept in the future. The thought excited him.

"I promise," he agreed, before considering the empty area around them. "I know we are in private right now, but I would recommend we practice for some time before we reach Mineral Hill, both so you can get used to the feeling, and so that I can make sure I'm able to read and predict your movements correctly. Is that alright?"
 




Imelda Fletcher

Exhaling with a lack of want to even practice, despite knowing his words rang true in the fact she did need to become used to her lack of control and for him to learn her movements, Imelda nodded grudgingly. "Alright, fine."

Waiting for a second or so to ensure he was prepared, Imelda began to walk again, wincing as that control was once more handed over to him and the threat of her knee buckling washed over her once again. Even though she knew it was fake, it was so well done that the Slayer had to continuously remind herself that she genuinely did not have a problem with her weakened knee.

By the time they reached Mineral Hill, her face no longer contorted with the discomfort of Alarik's control over her movements although her teeth did grit from time to time. However, such an expression would be easy to mistake for actual pain believed to be from the limp.

As she entered the village, her anxiety levels began to rise. Her nerves growing over if Alarik would continue to remember the limp, paranoid that the people would see straight through her act, fearful that they would immediately know she had a monster riding within her and seek to cut off her head.

However that didn't happen. Instead, people looked to her with disgust at the state she was in, taking steps away and around her as if in fear of tainting themselves with whatever it was she was covered in. It wasn't until she reached the centre, meters away from the village hall that was used for gatherings and meetings did a face finally recognise her. One of the village Elders.

"By the Gods." He muttered, eyes widening upon seeing the Slayer, "It's Slayer Fletcher." His hand raised to grip the arm of the young adolescent at his side, material bunching under his grip, "Fetch Healer Uriel immediately."

Imelda, pushing aside an embarrassment for the show she was about to perform, finally collapsed to her knees, her supposedly injured leg moving to lay out before her as if the pain of the position was too much. "Elder Nathaniel. I'm sorry." She breathed out as the older man approached her, his hand reached out to help bring her back to her feet.

"Hush, Slayer. It's a miracle that you've been brought back to us." He answered before raising his head to survey the crowd that had formed, "Enough with your gawking! Move along, the Slayer has evidently been through enough and doesn't need to be made a spectacle of!" He commanded, yet the crowd still dispersed slowly, all trying to linger long enough to get a final look at the injured, filthy Slayer. "We will get you to my hut where you can bathe and rid yourself of the filth your covered in. My wife will be there to help you. I'll organise for another hut to be prepared for your stay. I am certain the Mayor will insist on your recovery here at Mineral Hill since it was our doing that caused you this distress in the first place."

She breathed out heavily, smiling weakly to the Elder, "Thank you. Thank you so much."

Imelda was secretly relieved that this new position hadn't affected the limp Alarik maintained too badly but was all too grateful the moment the older man released her after escorting her into his hut. His wife, Yvette, immediately sprung to life where she had been sitting, reading. Ordered the moment the Elder entered to create a bath for Imelda.

"You will have your privacy behind the screen, please feel free to... disrobe, we'll find you some new clothes to change into and... burn these. There will be a towel over the screen."

Imelda nodded to his explanations and instructions, pulling the screen closed once the Elder had left. She didn't wish to disrobe and be only in a towel until the bath had been run and she could get in it, not enjoying that prospect of nudity and vulnerability. Then she tensed, Alarik would be looking through her eyes, and she hadn't even considered the notion of him witnessing her naked before.

Is there... a...ny... way for you to... not... look?

Of course it was not the biggest problem in the world, however, if it were possible for her to have complete privacy, Imelda would like it.
 
With Imelda's consent they set out again, and he took to his new role as 'limp creator' with great enthusiasm. Of course, he was still careful, he still didn't want to end up upsetting Imelda over it, but he also knew that limps were inconsistent, and as much as Imelda was practicing with getting used to him, he was also practicing to find the most appropriate limp. After all, she was a Slayer, and he couldn't really deny that his very first limp might have been over-exaggerated a touch in comparison to how much any self-respecting hunter would limp in front of other people, regardless of how much it hurt.

And so, as they traveled closer to Mineral Hill, he began to smooth out the process a bit, making subtle changes so that the limp read well, but impacted Imelda's walking process less. She'd still feel it, there was no particular way around that, but hopefully it didn't feel quite as obtrusive by the time they reached the edge of town.

However, much to his amusement, he found that the gazes of the people in Mineral Hill hadn't really changed between now and the last time he'd visited the village in a human body. Of course, none of the gazes were actually directed at him, but Imelda's bedraggled appearance earned her no more empathy from the gathered people than they'd ever paid to the old beggar Corrick. It wasn't until they'd made it all the way to almost the heart of town that someone finally recognized her.

While he couldn't say that she was as good of an actor as him, he still gave her silent accolades for her performance. The village elder looked so worried about her that it didn't even seem to occur to him to ask questions or doubt anything about the situation. He just seemed genuinely worried for her well-being.

The little group—albeit larger than the elder probably could have guessed—made their way to the elder's house, where Imelda was quickly shuffled off behind the changing screen. Gently, he eased her weight back onto both legs, giving her right leg a short break since it had been carrying the majority of her weight since they were outside the village. He figured that a changing screen counted as 'privacy' as much as anything else.

However, perhaps Imelda didn't agree, because he noticed her sudden hesitation. Distracted, he nearly missed the sudden burst of activity in her mind, although he was able to catch it before too much time had passed.

...For him to not look?

It was only at that moment that he realized that Imelda's hesitation hadn't been born from concern over the changing screen, but concern over him. The realization left him somewhat flabbergasted. He was riding with her. His being had already spread throughout her entire body. Her wearing clothes did absolutely nothing to impact his ability to perceive her entire body. Had she... perhaps not realized this?

Uncertain how to respond, he hesitated for a second. Should he tell her? Should he just answer her question?

He 'hummed' lightly to try and avoid spooking her, before beginning to speak, only half confident on what he was actually saying. "I can forcibly withdraw my presence from your eyes for a short period of time," he said, deciding to just disregard how uncomfortable it would be for him. That wasn't the concern at the moment. "But I naturally perceive you through my being and I'm not sure... how much of a difference it would make."
 
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