Looking Through Your Eyes

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Pencaliel's breath caught in her throat, sounding between a choke and a gasp, her fingers in his hair and the small upturn of her lips frozen in place as Malachi's astonishing offer took her off guard. Leave the forest? With him? To not be alone... Her eyes sought his though the expression upon them was hard to read. Did he mean it?

Immediately her thoughts whirled inside her head, keeping pace or even surpassing the alarmed squawking of the sparrow upon her shoulder. No, no she couldn't do that. To trust herself so completely to this... this monster? Her hand dropped. Malachi had proven his strength this morning, but how many more episodes would it take before he did not rise victorious from the battle? What then? Could she take that chance? Besides, she couldn't abandon her duty! No, it was out of the question. She couldn't! Could she?

If she stayed here, how long would it take the Darkness to find the crack in her shield and pry open her defenses? How much good could she actually do against a foe determined to find its prey when the maiden was at a slight disadvantage? And if the Druid was overpowered, the Darkness could consume her. Turn her. A sharp shudder traversed her spine as the presence of the icy tendrils impressed their memory in her mind. No, he was right. If she had any hope in halting the destruction of the ancient foe, she needed her last gift. Only then would she be able to keep the awakened Darkness within its binds permanently.

However, she couldn't leave her forest unprotected. Wryn, Lyle, Rasha, they were only a few of the animals who had found shelter under the trees of the Rembark Forest. If she left them vulnerable, she already failed before they began. An idea began to form in her mind. They could not tarry here any longer, but it was possible to place traps along the perimeter of the Darkness's cage. It would not stop the vile thing, but it would delay it. She could enchant her cottage as a haven for the animals as well...

The maiden leapt to her feet, determination fierce upon her brow and thick in her voice. "Come, we have much to do before we depart. Wryn," Pencaliel plucked the hyperventilating sparrow from her shoulder and looked at her warmly as she cradled her in her hands, "I need you to trust me. Now, we must make haste. Malachi must be out of the wood well before sunset."
 
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Her initial body language had Malachi drawing back, both physically and emotionally - though, the latter part surprised him greatly as he'd not realized he'd been reaching out that way - and by the time Pencaliel came to her decision, he'd almost come to the conclusion that he should have NEVER offered what he'd just spoken.

What had he been thinking? She was scared of him - he could sense it, smell it, read it in every vibration of her tense body. He didn't need to see the distrust and revulsion on her face to know it was there. He didn't need to ask her why she would refuse him. He already knew. Monster. Traitor. Evil. Animal. Dark Heart. Scatha. He knew why she'd reject him.

He knew why he'd be alone again.

Malachi braced himself for the words, bringing his shields up, unable to recognize how battered they were, how haunted it made his otherwise expressionless gold eyes look or how it created the effect of an abused, wary animal to come over him. The half-blood only knew that it numbed the pain and kept him stable enough to go on. He waited for the impact.....but it never came.

It took him several moments, several blinking, literally breathless moments for him to comprehend Pencaliel's words and only once he'd done so did Malachi feel he could breathe again.

She was....coming with him? What...how did....why?

He didn't speak, unsure he could, stunned.
 
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Once the sparrow had caught her breath, the Druid sent her on an errand to gather dove feathers while she worked on figuring out materials for her traps. She would need berries, bark, twine, and powder, all of which could be easily gathered. Not only would she construct them in such as way as to slow the spread, but to mask their trail from the Darkness as well. They had nothing to fear as long as they worked quickly. But why did she feel funny?

Then it occurred to her that these were only her thoughts. The voice had been guiding her during every pivotal decision with her interactions with Malachi thus far, but where was it now when she needed it most? Pencaliel squeezed her eyes shut, willing it to speak its wisdom, begging it to surface. Was she right? Was this truly the way she needed to go? Silence. Panic began to seed within her chest for a second time that morning but she fought it back with a vengeance. No, she would not collapse again. Not again. Hardly aware of what she was doing, the elf began to pace back and forth, the heels of her hands pressed firmly against her eyes. Just one word, she only wanted one word. Was she doing right? Nothing. She stopped short as it suddenly dawned on her what the silence meant.

"There is no right answer," she whispered, removing her hands from her eyes. Well, if that was the case, she could choose to stay. To sentence herself to solitude once more. Pencaliel's eyes fell on Malachi, noting the stunned expression, the twinge of hope peeking from behind the other emotions flitting across his face. How could she change her mind now? No, it was settled.

Dropping down in front of him, Pencaliel placed a reassuring hand on his knee. "Malachi? Are you all right?"
 
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Malachi nearly jumped at her touch, unexpected and given without warning, every muscle in his body already coiled, taunt. He flinched back, wings flaring, looking for all the world like he expected to be hit, a telltale wisp of fear passing across his face before reason took over again just as swiftly, seeming to clamp down ruthlessly on the inner turmoil he'd allowed to surface. The half-blood calmed almost immediately after that, unnaturally so as a reassuring smile touched his lips for Pencaliel's sake.

"Yes. I'm fine. Just...surprised."

That was an understatement, but it wasn't untruthful.

Malachi stood then, only being careful not to hit the elf on his way up with a wing, and while he had the overwhelming desire to look around, find something to do, he knew he couldn't. It was frustrating and the male simply stayed where he'd risen, releasing a sigh before speaking again. He hated having to ask at all.

"Peni, do you think you could direct me to the river?" Bathing would give him something to do while she got ready to go. It wasn't like he was going to be a great deal of help anywhere else and while he chafed at the knowledge, Malachi knew he had to accept it.

What choice did he have?

Wait. Nevermind. He had plenty of choice. He just chose to say no.
 
Just as startled as Malachi from the sudden movement, Pencaliel scrambled backwards with her arm raised like a shield before her face to protect herself in case his claws scratched her. But almost as soon as those daunting wings unfurled, they slackened as well as his taut muscles. And then he smiled. The Druid dropped her arm and gave a nervous little chuckle in reply. Her reflexes had slowed over the years. She supposed they would have many more occasions like this before journey's end to sharpen them again.

Malachi was standing now and so she followed suit, the bloody cloth forgotten as she got to her feet and brushed her hands off on her breeches.

"If you are on your way to the mountains, we will want to head east, in the opposite direction of the river. There is a pond further into the forest where you can also bathe, though the waters are not as cleansing. I need to gather nuts from that area anyway and there is a plant, a very rare plant, that I will need to cut some blossoms from." She paused, chewing her bottom lip for a moment as she worked things out in her mind. "I wish to concoct a spell to weaken the Darkness," she explained at last, "and I need your help to have it ready by midday, for that is when it is at its weakest."

Pencaliel crossed the short distance to the tangled vine ladder and began scaling it before she continued speaking, wanting to give Malachi a direction he could follow without making it overly obvious that was what she was doing.

"I have a few things to collect here before we leave," she called down. "You may wait there or come up again to keep me company if you wish!"
 
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A pond? No. Malachi didn't even pause to consider the idea. He'd gone that route before and had hated it. With his wings being as they were, still waters filled them with more silt and mud than it got them clean, and he wasn't going to live with heavy, soggy wings for hours on end AND dirty ones. No, he'd wait until they found a river to the East. It wouldn't be the first time he'd been dirty for a long period of time.

Still, he appreciated Pencaliel's offer and determined to go with her to the pond anyway if only so neither of them would have to be alone for the time being. She because she'd expressed concern about being left alone and he for the simple fact that being unable to see and having nothing to do at the same time was rather maddening.

Speaking of which...she needed his help?

Malachi could not fathom just WHAT the young Druid would need him for in her creation of a spell and that made him wary, on guard, but he didn't protest immediately and merely shook his head at the invitation to come up into the tree house. No, he had nothing to retrieve from there and he would rather let the elf pack in peace.

Besides, he was sure that Wryn would be rather upset if he came back and he was in such close proximity to Pencaliel without the sparrow's watchful eyes.

He'd wait here.

---

The half-blood had ended up dozing in a patch of sunlight that came from the trees overhead while the elf sorted out her affairs. On his stomach, head pillowed on his arms and his wings stretched out lazily behind him, he hardly looked dangerous in the least, but looks were very deceiving with Malachi. Even half-asleep, he was semi-alert to everything around him, ready to spring up at the slightest hint of a threat and his first instincts were not to run, but to fight.

It was fortunate for Pencaliel that he didn't associate her with a threat as he cracked a gold eye open out of habit alone when she came to get him to go to the pond. Upon once again being reminded about his constant darkness where vision was concerned, Malachi stopped trying to instinctively look around and instead gave a soft growl as he forced his body into motion.

A clawed hand went back through tangled white hair as he yawned, fangs flashing for a moment before being hidden once more, his attention coming to the elf with a raised brow.

"I understand your need for this spell, but what could you need from me?"
 
Disappointment filled Pencaliel that he had chosen to stay on the ground, but she was also glad for a moment of quiet away from the subconscious threat of the dragonkin. Once inside the cottage, the elf crossed to her bedding and slipped her belt around her waist and her layers of leaf necklaces around her neck before starting anything else. Now that she felt properly dressed, she moved onto a bit of alchemy to knit together the enchantment for her cottage.

Wryn arrived with the dove feathers just as the Druid finished mixing the purple liquid and deposited them on the little counter top. Thanking the bird, Pencaliel picked up the feathers one by one and dropped them into the bowl. While that soaked, she set about preparing her second concoction for the Darkness. Several strands of herbs came down from the ceiling, along with a string of dried berries and a little leather pouch of black sooty substance from the storage unit. All of these she tucked into the various cases, pouches, and compartments hooked onto her belt. Pencaliel dug through one of the cupboards on her wall and pulled out a large piece of brown cloth woven by silk worms. At one point she'd hoped to make herself another pair of breeches and a blouse out of the material, but now it would suffice for a cape for Malachi should they enter a human settlement. The maiden tossed the cloth over a shoulder and went to check on the feathers which had soaked up most of the liquid. Perfect.

All this time, Wryn said not a word but followed the movements of her Lady with a steady eye. She did not want to interrupt the maiden's train of thought. When her Lady declared the enchantment ready, the sparrow asked her what she should bring along for their journey.

"You are not coming with us, darling," Pencaliel said softly as she balanced the bowl of feathers between her hip and the wall and pinned the first set of feathers in the corners of one of the windows. "Someone needs to stay here and watch over this refuge. Someone I can trust." She picked up the bowl and moved onto the second window as Wryn once again found herself protesting. "As long as these feathers remain in place, the Darkness cannot enter this dwelling. No evil can. I need you to stay and ensure that this cottage remains a safe haven. Can you do that for me?"

Gladly, my Lady! But who will protect you against the dragonkin?

Pencaliel grew quiet and tacked the last of the feathers to the corners of the door. "I don't know," she admitted, "but I fear him less than I fear the Darkness. Perhaps... perhaps that is why..." She shook her head and deposited the bowl on the counter as she finished her thought in a murmur, "It is best this way."

--

The good-byes were tearful but brief as Pencaliel bid her mother-figure farewell for what would be their first separation since the little sparrow had taken the young Druid under her wing. Wryn perched on the edge of the deck, keeping up a steady but sorrowful chirp of well-wishes, prayers, and last minute warnings about the dragonkin as the elf climbed down the ladder with two canteens slung from her shoulder and the cloth firmly between her teeth. In moments she rejoined Malachi, careful to make enough noise to awaken the dozing man but not enough to jolt him out of his sleep.

Upon removing the garment from her bite, she said quietly, "I'm ready." Almost immediately the man stirred and sluggishly got to his feet. She peeked tentatively at his fangs as he yawned, wondering absentmindedly if they really were as sharp as they looked, but the view was soon obscured by the question on his lips.

"I need your nose and claws," came her simple reply. With that, the Druid turned on her heel and trotted off into the forest.

As they walked, Pencaliel explained the basics of the spell and why each of the ingredients was important. The first ingredient she needed Malachi to sniff out was a type of miniature lily that lived amongst the moss along the pond's shore. She had a dried sample of its petals on one of her necklaces, but for this she needed fresh. It would take the dragonkin far less time to locate the unique smell than the maiden, she was certain of it. The other ingredient the Druid needed his help with were the nuts she with fleshy insides and hard shells. Malachi's claws would work just as well as her knife in dislodging the fruit from within the casing and while he worked on that, she could start smashing all of the ingredients together.

It wasn't much of a conversation as she was doing most of the talking, but the steady flow of words kept Malachi in step with her and hopefully put him more at ease. Walking through an unfamiliar area that is prone to roots and large rocks was not very friendly for a blind man. Before Pencaliel ran out of words the pond came into view.
 
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Upon hearing her request of him, Malachi seemed to relax a great deal more than even his napping had provided. His nose and claws he could use, and he'd willingly lend them to Pencaliel's efforts. He'd been wary of what she could require of him, his mind flashing to many different possibilities and none of them pleasant. But such was the world the half-blood lived in - a vicious, harmful, painful one that didn't want him. He'd learned that long ago, had resigned himself to it, but he'd not backed down before it. It might not want him, fine, but it wasn't ridding itself of him that easily.

Needless to say, hearing only his nose and claws were needed was relieving.

So was Pencaliel's easy way of guiding him. Malachi was sure to stay within the same amount of hearing distance as when they'd started out, knowing this way he'd not accidentally run into her with body or wings, and when he inevitably tripped, he wouldn't knock her down. The tripping was soon in coming - as were the subtle curses he hissed out - but it was his wings more than his feet that gave him trouble and the half-blood knew they'd be massively tender in a few hours when the bruising set in. It wouldn't be seen, but it would certainly be felt.

He couldn't accurately remember what it was like to have his wings NOT hurt.

The smell of water was welcoming as it meant the forest opened up a little, giving him less to run into it and Malachi didn't waste time getting to his task after getting a whiff of the scent he needed from Pencaliel's necklace. He inhaled sharply as soon as she took the sample away and gold eyes narrowed, useless, but searching anyway. Habit. The truth was that even if he'd been able to see, his eyes wouldn't have helped him with this endeavor and therefore it didn't frustrate Malachi so much when he failed to see the landscape and vegetation around him. No, he merely crouched, wings expanding momentarily to help him keep balance before they folded in again. The half-blood took another deep inhale, eyes closed now and he frowned in concentration, his keen sense of smell picking up just the faintest aroma - perhaps what he was looking for.

Head tilting, chin rising slightly to inhale again, his mouth opened much like a cat's might or any predator, enhancing how much input was coming to him. Malachi's lips curled back slightly over his fangs, the scent hitting unique glands in his mouth, serving the same kind of purpose as his nose. He was hardly aware of when he started moving, a predator's fluidity and grace in his limbs as he followed the scent he was so focused on. His feet didn't trip, almost eerily avoiding the rocks and fallen logs around him as he made his way down to the water's edge.

He knew when he'd found the lily Pencaliel wanted, the scent almost unbearably strong before the half-blood remembered to finally close his mouth and stop inhaling so sharply. Shaking his head slightly as the strong instinct that had ruled his actions faded like fog before sunlight within his mind, Malachi then promptly sneezed, ruining any lingering effect of a predator's grace.

Knowing the elf would be close, he spoke to the void he could see, not knowing where she might actually be in proximity to him. "Is that what you need?" He had no doubt it was, but it seemed courteous to ask.
 
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Pencaliel forgot what she was supposed to be doing as her steps slowed and her lips parted in amazement as Malachi shift into hunter mode. For once, his battered wings seemed to trail gracefully behind him in a way that was beautiful and the effortless movements of the dragonkin bound her eyes in some sort of spell. She tore her eyes away after a few seconds and dropped the canteens and cloth upon the grass before following him.

"Let me see..." The elf closed the final distance between them and dropped to her hands and knees in the moist, green mass near Malachi. With careful fingers, she pried apart sections of moss and prodded around for the velvet flesh of a lily petal. It didn't take too long to find the bit of white poking its head out to catch the sunlight. She smiled broadly and plucked it, bringing it to her nose to inhale its sweet, musky scent. "It's perfect! New blooms are the most potent." Slipping the lily into one of her pouches, she bounded to her feet again.

"I'll go locate the nuts now. You can bathe while I'm gone if you'd like." Her cheeks flamed as she stuttered, "I-I promise not to peek." On instinct she averted her eyes and cleared her throat. "I'll-I'll be right back."

Then she was gone.
 
The stutters amused him, making the half-blood smile even as he heard the elf's departure. If she'd stayed, he would have told her he had no plans to bathe, but even if he had, he probably would have stayed here. Her search for nuts would lead Pencaliel back to the forest and for the moment Malachi had been given his fill of painful jarring from the trees. He'd have to endure more soon enough on his way out of these woods. For now, he wouldn't hinder the elf's search. If she didn't have to help him she'd be faster at her task.

No, instead the half-blood crouched at the water's edge, deciding he'd use the water for what he could access just with palmed hands. Arms, shoulders, chest, feet were all semi-cleaned, his face being last before the white-haired male simply sat. Knowing he was alone, even if just for a few more minutes, his arms came around his legs and his head found his knees, wings curling tightly to his back, spread out over the ground behind his frame. The entire affect made him look young, vulnerable and hurt, though, it wasn't a physical pain that radiated from the half-blood.

It was something far deeper that he took great efforts to hide.

So it was that he didn't allow himself this moment of weariness, of sought-after peace, of weakness for very long, forcing himself to uncurl and then to stand, a blind gaze focused out across the pond.

He heard nothing, smelled nothing, but still the lingering sense that something waited could not be shaken. This time Malachi knew what it was, though, had felt its touch, and while he could not deny to himself that he wouldn't mind feeling it again, he also knew that to do so would be too great a temptation so soon after the last encounter.

He couldn't risk Pencaliel that way...and he couldn't let him know where this incredible power had been lurking for so long.
 
The nuts were still a bit green, much to Pencaliel's annoyance. It meant they were more challenging to tear from the bushes, more challenging to peel, and more challenging to crush. They didn't have time for challenging. Opening the last empty leather pocket on her belt, she set to work collecting as her thoughts drifted back to her first encounter with Malachi. That Fate had arranged that test for her, Pencaliel had no doubt. She'd almost failed it.

What if she hadn't saved his life and he'd bled out on her forest floor? If she'd allowed him to die, acting as a god in determining his fate based on inherited prejudices? The elf paused long enough to close her eyes and remember how his whole body had shuddered under her as sobs tore from his throat. To put the knife to someone that vulnerable... what kind of power would an evil like that have fed the Darkness? And if it had found the body of this seemingly possessed man, what would have happened then? Her fingers worked faster. How vulnerable was she without her last gift? Was she not a danger to the dragonkin as he was to her? Oh, surely not on the same scale, but to some extent she was sure she was a hindrance to him. A risk.

"In darkest night we breed unseen
The carousing dead in hellish dreams.
Demons, ghouls,
Wise men, fools,
All will fall into that fatal stream."

Tingles pin-pricked her back at the end of her poem, her senses suddenly picking up on the hundreds of thousands of unseen eyes floating by on the breeze, reaching out to her from shallow graves, and crouching in the darkest shadows to ambush her. She shivered and yanked off a few more nuts before latching the pouch closed and dashing out of the shadows into the warm sunlight where Malachi waited for her.

Why did she spook herself like that? 'Foolish child.'
 
-----

Malachi felt an equal amount of relief to be out of the trees and longing to turn back into their embrace that would have startled him had he not already expected it. He said nothing of this to Pencaliel, just as he'd not given any satisfying explanation as to why he wanted to be as far away as possible from her when she'd done her spell. He'd been curious, of course, but had KNOWN better than to stay near the magic she was weaving.

It would have harmed him just as surely as it would harm the Darkness if the power so chose to try and escape its cage. The half-blood had not wanted to explain the 'why' details of that to the elf who was already skittish around him as it was. Oh, she hid it well, but he knew the truth of the matter was that she didn't trust him and had seen something in him that scared her.

She had right to be. He wouldn't hold her reactions against her, no matter how far she shied from him. Malachi knew very well how unworthy of companionship and trust he was. That had been bred into him his whole life and he saw no change in that view since he'd come to these lands. The fact that she was willing to travel with him, had helped him at all, still astounded him and Pencaliel could not have been more pure in the half-blood's mind even if she had glowed with light.

For his part, he would defend her against any threat if only to keep that innocence alive...and perhaps that was how he could repay his debt to her.

Such were the white-haired male's thoughts as they exited the trees, coming onto the southern plains and into a warm summer breeze, unhindered by the forest. Even though it was getting dark, the last rays of the sun warm against their right sides as it set in the west over the Nimya River, the half-blood found himself relaxing at the freedom that swept over him, finally free of the branches that kept pulling at his wings and the logs, leaves and rocks that had seemed to make it their personal job to trip him up despite Pencaliel's constant help.

No, out here he didn't have to worry about running into anything and just that was heavenly for Malachi. Combine that fact with the wind, a steady stream of sunlight during the day and the opportunity to stretch his wings without hindrance and it was safe to say the plains were his favorite place to be. The half-blood was stretching said wings right now, letting them expand fully, showing how their full length was nearly twice as tall as he was. He gave a few slow flaps, getting feathers back into place - mostly - and just letting the muscle relieve itself of cramping after staying so tightly folded for so long.

Tomorrow he'd do some low flying, mostly staying in place, just to exercise them. He might have been blind now, but Malachi would be damned if his wings would be useless to him anymore than they already were.

Finally folding them loosely to his back once more, gold eyes opened to look in Pencaliel's general direction, his head tilting in subtle question. He knew she hadn't wanted to leave - familiarity was nothing to sneeze at - and Malachi was sincerely surprised that she was still here, hadn't abruptly changed her mind and left now that she'd led him safely out of the trees. There did seem to be more to this elf than what met the eye, though.

"How long has it been since you left the trees?"
 
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She'd sent Malachi on ahead both willingly and reluctantly after his part in her preparations came to an end. Unbeknownst to him, she was also aware of the danger should he stray too close to the web she was spinning, though why he could pose a threat was still a mystery to her. It all had to do with that glimpse she'd seen inside when first she touched him, that mass of darkness threatening to swallow her if she'd stayed a moment longer. The mass within the winged man in front of her now.

Pencaliel raised her eyes to his muscular back, marvelling at his unfolded wings stretching forth from it. Cramped inside Rembark, the elf had no inkling of just how large and breathtakingly beautiful the white feathers were. If she could just reach out and brush the magnificent wings with her fingertips... but no. It was there. Sleeping deeply until Malachi lost his hold on it again. She folded her arms across her chest as if to ensure her hands would stay put and quickened her pace to catch up to the dragonkin.

Oh, she'd been tempted not to follow after him after she'd scattered her powder to the winds, to refuse to hunt down the trail of broken branches and the occasional print of bare toes in the soft earth. To stay within her little forest and pretend none of this had happened. But that was impossible now, she reminded herself, the Darkness had arisen from its slumber and eventually it would grow enough in power to overstep its boundaries even with her spell in place. It had to be stopped and she had not the power to confront it alone.

No, it was best to leave her home, to leave her family, to leave with a man she did not know and could never fully trust. And so she'd hurried after him when her doings were done, catching up to him well before he'd reached the outskirts of the forest.

Silence surrounded them except for the soft tinkling of the bell on the tip of her ear, both of them lost in thought and still trying to understand this strange turn of events that had thrown them together. At last, the dragonkin spoke to break the spell of quiet and she responded.

"I do not know. The days drift in and out of each other to the point of nonrecognition." The maiden turned her head to look away from the lowering sun, closing her eyes briefly as another urge to dash off into the woods consumed her. She felt so... exposed out here, without the cover of tree nor the background of twittering birds to hide behind. Her arms wrapped even more tightly around her middle, this time to chase off the sudden chill of homesickness. "It was when Mother sent me away to receive my gifts," she added quietly before falling silent again.

Would she ever see her darling cottage again?
 
He understood that. So many days passing, all the same, that you lost track of time itself. He knew that feeling rather intimately, though, Malachi would have bet anything that Pencaliel's days had, for the most part, simply been boring.

Not painful.

In that they certainly differed and he was glad for it.

He couldn't see her posture, couldn't see how she hunkered in on herself or the expression on her face, but Malachi knew, nevertheless, just what Pencaliel was doing. He could hear it, his ears having been sharp before his blindness and now even more so, but further than that, they were becoming unnervingly accurate at pinpointing the smallest change of emotion. The inflections changed, even in pitch, and after almost three months without sight - and always having been highly adaptable; forced to be - Malachi had quickly started to change the ways he filtered information.

The elven maiden's tone told him everything he needed to know about her mood, her fears and even what her body might be doing in relation to those emotions. It was this unique ability among the sightless that he'd developed that made the half-blood stop and turn, his gold eyes unable to accurately pinpoint the female, but looking just slightly over her shoulder, close.

He didn't touch her, couldn't see her, didn't draw closer, but his words were earnest and powerful regardless, and like with everything he did, Malachi didn't mince his words or hide the truth, even if it was less than perfect-looking. Most of the time truth was downright ugly.

"I know you're scared and I won't tell you there is no reason to be. I know this world and I know the pain it can inflict, but I swear to you this; I will never harm you. I know that you don't trust me and I understand why, but I promise I will not do anything to hurt you, Pencaliel, and if it is in my power, even unto my life, I will protect you until you are back home or until you send me away."

He didn't explain HOW he could protect her. If the time ever came, she would know, but it wasn't something he could...describe. He knew she wouldn't like it, that it would likely scare her, but if it came down to her being dead or her being terrified of him, Malachi would choose the latter without hesitation. He'd given his word and regardless of what Pencaliel thought of him, he'd keep it as long as she traveled with him.
 
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Pencaliel met his sightless gaze with her seeing one, a slight shiver tingling down her spine at the intensity in his words. With or without his eyes, the maiden did not doubt Malachi's capability to keep that oath. The underlying message assuaged some of her more prominent fears, the chief being her fear of him. He would protect her from himself. She knew he could not read her expression, but still her eyes dropped as a tinge of shame pinked her cheeks that she could have labelled him a monster. Perhaps one slept inside, but the man, the real Malachi, was not so. Honour coursed through his veins. What was more, he didn't ask for her trust. He gave freely, expecting nothing in return. How could she justify continually shoving him from herself when he was so good to her?

When she uttered the words, "I- I believe you," nothing could have rung truer. She drew nearer to him, reaching out for his hand to give it a gentle squeeze in exchange for the timid smile upon her face which he could not see. Touch, it was such a natural and sacred response to Pencaliel for she rarely had opportunity to communicate this way. It never occurred to her that Malachi might not share her feelings on the subject, that the dragonkin could have an aversion to her invasion of his personal space. He was a loner, as was she, and that surely meant he was just as starved for fellowship. Or even a simple gesture of friendship. Without his sight, how else could Malachi know she was willing to offer these very things?

Nothing had spoken more of his concern for her than the way he had pulled her into his strong embrace in the wood this morning. The Druid could not deny that a small part of her longed to be in that place even now, cradled within his secure grip and sheltered from whatever evil may seek to hurt her. Though she greatly appreciated and clung to the dragonkin's offer of protection, his promise of constant companionship on this hard journey touched her even more so and brought a relief so sweet to her soul that mist gathered in her eyes. Abandonment was not in her near future.

Silently, she extended the same promise to Malachi--the bruised and battered man, not the frightening part she could not understand-- but only said, "Thank you, my friend."
 
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Her words alone were enough to satisfy him. He always said what he meant and while he knew others didn't always do the same, Malachi had discovered that Pencaliel was not one of those people. She was honest and if she said she believed him, that was enough acknowledgement for the white-haired male. It was all he expected. He certainly hadn't, couldn't have, anticipated her touch, so gentle and...and reassuring against his skin. It startled him and his body jerked just slightly, a reaction she most-likely expected, would think was due to his being blind, but the contact also caused a shiver Malachi could not help.

That one action alone contained more emotional responses than he knew how to categorize or deal with, and so the half-blood pushed them away, focusing on what he did understand.

Control, so he wouldn't push her away. Malachi sensed she needed this contact, that for Pencaliel, touch was just as important as say, flying, was to him. It steadied her, made her content and he would not take that away...no matter how it made his head spin into chaos. He remained calm, so it would be harder to see that something was wrong with him, that he was unsure, almost scared, and confused. He kept his hand in hers until the elf would decide to pull away.

Malachi felt he had a good handle on himself when she uttered that simple phrase, completely unexpected, just like her touch had been.

My friend. The words rang through his ears, foreign, trying to find a place to rest in the tempest that was his mind, looking for somewhere to latch on to. Those words were in for a fight. They would not be accepted easily. Every thought, every emotion, every learned habit, even most of his instinct would be distrustful, suspicious, even vicious to those words and what they meant. How he'd heard them at all, addressed to him, was almost beyond Malachi's ability to understand. He wasn't stupid, not in the least, but in that moment...he was clueless.

The silence demanded that he say something, though, and the half-blood did, haltingly. "I...you're...you're welcome."

--

The words had stayed with him the rest of the day - what little was left of it - and were still with the white-haired male when they made camp. Malachi stayed well away from the fire Pencaliel had built, though, he could feel a bit of its heat on his sore wings and found that made him a little more amendable to the flames. But not trusting. No, his core temperature would keep him warm enough, even without 'proper' clothing and his wings would help with that problem as well.

Having laid down on his stomach, head pillowed on his arms, Malachi's sightless eyes looked out into nothing, both for himself and for the real world, nothing to see in the darkness that had swept over the plains.

He'd been quiet as they walked, not pensive, not moody or sullen, just quiet in the way someone got when they were extremely puzzled over something. And he was. HOW Pencaliel could call him a friend was a mystery as deep and complex as the depths of the ocean to the half-blood. He KNEW what he was and she had seen a glimpse of it, enough to know better than to trust him.

So why offer him kindness? No one ever had before.

He didn't understand it.
 
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The dry, scrawny twigs crackled within their little makeshift fire pit. Pencaliel sat as close as she dared to it, hands hovering over the little flames to warm herself. She was incredibly thankful she'd thought to bring her cloth for it acted as her blanket now, wrapped snugly around her shoulders to ward off the coolness of night. On the other side of the fire, the elf could just make out the dragonkin's form stretched out on the ground. The same thoughts she'd been plagued with all that evening resurfaced as she watched the light from the flames flicker across his bare skin and caress his wings. Why did she feel so drawn to Malachi? Her eyes fell to her hand. Heat tingled in her fingertips, not only from the open fire but from the fresh memory of the strong grip enveloping it.

At first she hadn't planned to impose upon him. The gesture was supposed to be quick and heartfelt, but to her surprise and delight, the dragonkin's hand had stayed in her own. As the silence between them progressed, Pencaliel's reasons for clinging to the comforting hand abounded. She couldn't be the first to withdraw her hand, it would defeat the purpose of it being there in the first place. Malachi wanted her near, or else he would have pulled away already. It lessened her anxiety out in the open plains. The blind man needed some sort of guidance to fill the void left behind after their voices ceased. He was warm. As soon as one reason seemed ill-equipped to justify her persistence, another one settled into its place and she tightened her hold. It wasn't until the sun's final rays departed from the land as they stopped to make camp near the protection of a few bushes that Pencaliel finally let go to set about gathering nuts for supper and firewood for warmth.

The Druid poked another twig into the glowing embers, reawakening the fire just long enough to finish her musing before following the dragonkin's example and curling up on the ground. She knew she was starved for any type of affection, but that still didn't explain how she could feel so easy with Malachi. He'd done nothing but complicate her life, introducing a whole new level of fear and uncertainty into her future all within a matter of hours. And yet, his presence-- there was something so satisfying in it. His strength poured out like a fountain, and Pencaliel couldn't drink enough from it.

A soft sigh escaped her lips and she closed her eyes against the dimming light of the fire. Pulling the cloak tighter about her shoulders, she huddled against the bare openness of the plains and eventually fell asleep.

--

Morning dawned too early for the elf, her entire body screaming from stiffness and lack of comfort. With great effort and much groaning, she managed to push herself up onto her elbows and blink groggily in the direction of Malachi. She waited until she was certain he was awake before inquiring:

"There is a human settlement a good day's journey from Rembark. If we keep to our present course, we should reach it after midday." Pencaliel paused before saying timidly, "Unless you had other plans in mind?"
 
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The half-blood had been awake long before his companion. Unable to see the sunlight, nor the stars, his sleeping patterns were erratic at best and nonexistent at worst. He only knew when true day came because of Pencaliel's movement and the slow creeping of warmth across his sensitive feathers, designed to soak in any source of heat and use it to help circulate the blood through the great appendages. With white wings, it was hard for the sun wanted to reflect off of them, not be absorbed properly like what would have happened if he'd had black, red or even green or blue wings. Pale colored wings - and hair for that tended to match the wings - were rare among Dragonkin and white was nearly unheard of, but Malachi knew his albinism didn't come from his Dragonkin mother's side of the family but rather his father's, whose people were nearly wraith-like in their paleness.

Such were trivial facts, though, and Malachi easily left them in favor of processing Pencaliel's information and question. Her hesitancy amused him somewhat and the half-blood made a sound that could only be described as a warble as he pushed himself off from the ground. "I hardly have any plans at all, Peni. I only know I need to find the Dragonkin. How that happens or when, I can not guess to. I've been traveling for nearly three months since leaving my homeland and only instinct has gotten me this far for sight certainly hasn't."

It was probably the most information he'd given the elf about himself since they'd met and for a moment Malachi had to wonder if it was wise to do so. The more he thought about it, though, the more he came to the conclusion that she'd find out most there was to know about him if they stuck together long enough anyway. This wasn't going to be a quick journey by any stretch of the imagination and while he knew that as soon as Pencaliel had what she needed, she'd leave, he also knew that until that point, they had only each other to rely on.

And relying on anyone was strange for Malachi.

That would certainly be put to the test now, though, and the half-blood paused in the stretching of his enormous wings, the muscles falling a little, creating an almost 'drooping' kind of effect like one's shoulders would when they fell in defeat or disappointment. For Malachi it was simply uncertainty.

"Humans are not going to want me around them, Pencaliel. I understand that we need supplies and perhaps word of where a Dragonkin settlement might be, even if it is just rumor, but I am only going to get hostility from these people and if you are seen with me, you will get the same."
 
A small smile of pleasure soon replaced her timidity at the sound of her nickname upon his lips. Though spoken a few times before, she'd not had the leisure to dwell upon it nor even acknowledge that he'd given her one without much of an acquaintance. Normally, elves despised nicknames bestowed on them by outsiders, even if it was a shortened version of their own name. Outsiders did not usually understand the influence of a name upon a person nor were they particularly aware or appreciative of the meanings meticulously woven together to create an elven name. To shorten this labour of love from parent to child or do away with it entirely was often seen as an insult, but Pencaliel-- though of elven blood-- had not been raised to think this way and so she found his moniker for her sweet and endearing.

Despite her protesting muscles, the maiden forced her stiff limbs to bend as she stumbled to her feet to join Malachi. Three months on his own? Relying solely on instinct? She turned eyes full of new-found respect upon her travelling companion. That he had survived long enough to reach her woods with bounty hunters after him spoke multitudes of his perseverance and hardiness. But the... bitter... tone that surfaced as he spoke about the humans struck her as odd. In her travels, especially in the land of Iruknel, she had discovered one or two dragonkin living among the humans and neither one minded the other. It was true they weren't of the proud stock as the conquerors behind the great Druid Azamuthel, but they were dragonkin nonetheless. There must be something more, something he was withholding from her in regards to his distrust of the hospitality of humans.

"The bounty hunters, were they human?" she asked softly.
 
Her question, innocent enough, expected even, still had an impact on Malachi as his wings folded inward, but did not stay tightly to his back, rather they came to curl a little over his shoulders, as if to make a cocoon, a shield. It was a reaction he hadn't had to think about, but the male had to put some conscious effort into making his wings unfurl, to force them to rest against his back again, the muscles twitching and feathers shifting with nerves even as he kept his fact mostly, carefully blank while answering the elf.

"All but one of them, yes. There were five humans."

He didn't say what the sixth bounty hunter was, though, he knew very well just what and WHO that person was. One of his own kind - or half of his own kind, anyway - and the two had a history that went back a long way, and neither held any fondness for the other.

Malachi tried not to let the thought that his enemy was still out there make him uneasy, but there was no disguising when his hand moved to his side, where the arrow had pierced before he'd escaped into the woods. He could almost feel the pain if it again. The fact that his rival had NOT followed him into the forest was a puzzle the white-haired male could not figure out, but his best guess would have been that the other had wanted to keep his cover as a bounty hunter with the humans. If the humans had been reluctant to go in, than his enemy might have grudgingly done the same for the sole purpose of blending in. Or perhaps there was a deeper, more sinister goal at work.

It was not within Malachi's power to tell yet.

What he did know was that even without his enemy at large, humans would see him instantly for what he was. He was too little Dragonkin to be accepted that way and too little of the other half of his kin to be able to weave the glamour they were well known for. He was caught in the middle, too much of each to be either too fully and too little of each to have acquired some of the more common powers afforded to both.

But if Pencaliel wanted, needed, to go to the human settlement, he'd endure it for her sake.
 
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