The adventures of Iamora and Rune

The insidious bear struck from behind, the forked tongue of her Ravenwitch slithering up the spine of the leader assailant, wrapping about his neck as if were a noose. Flickering at his sootied earlobe, it then delved within the delicate tissues of his rotten toothed maw, as if to coil about his soul and evulse it from inside of him. Iamora's piceous eyes were drawn upwards as a simultaneous spreading of her lips would mock the celestials. A raspy cackle bubbled up her throat. "Will your Gods not lift a finger against me?" Those scornful words were spoken to root a deep seated doubt of the competence of the serephic beings abilities to contend with her and repair the damage she had wrought upon the realm. She wanted the humans to defy the Gods, to vilify them. She sought to be the puppeteer causing the common rabble to revolt against the heavens, to spark a virulent hatred in their hearts which would prove a fatality for their kind.

The people would learn to exalt her, and the deities would weep as their idols were destroyed and those created of her image were erected in the temples. Two women were bickering nearby, and the dispute quickly escalated under Iamora's influence. One of them had envied the property of the other, and stole a good amount of clothes from her dresser. "I think you've got your eye on my husband too! I shall pluck it out of your head!" The elder of the two scoffed, stepping back. "Are you daft? Your husband's very presence is a pox upon my gaze, and so is yours! Your hideousity knows no bounds!"
 
"Seems like if any a good time;" Rune mused as he pushed his weight up off the ground, brushing some of the remaining dirt off before letting a sadistic gleam bask blissfully in his gaze. The town was up in arms, a sheer cry of delighted abyss that only would encourage the most pungent of curs into its wake; he was not immune to the delectable charm it held.

Without hesitation; the mortal bound being that he was lurched over the edge that cast aside some shadows of the village; letting the scuffed rose bronze of his boots slip against the fetid soil.

Boots clamored down in melody harmony with that of the sword when he felt the solid cobblestone beneath the soles; a drawn smirk forever cast upon his lips all the while the usually seen pupils were nowhere within the iris.

Shuffling feet panicked at close range; attempting to skitter away from his sudden appearance in the scene - well not truthfully sudden as he had been observing but to them; he was an unwelcomed pox on the already god forsaken shit hole.

"Mercy of the father's blood;" quivering lips spoke the words in a trembled breath; his full attention turning full bore to the aged cow that's knees could no longer support her girth.

"Mercy..." Rune echoed, the demonic intone etched into the accentuation of his voice; "Fresh out of that." lips bore back as the rested fangs within his mouth became visible; the sickening dull ring of the sword drawn out alongside the woman's final breath. "Be sure to give your creator my regards!"

~~~

He sniffed slightly to the repungant stench of sweat, fear, blood and various other fluids as he let the rustic blade rest haplessly over his shoulder; the slow of cruor weaving a trail behind him and the carnage he left behind.

Behind him through one of the broken shop windows was that of a man who sought the sanctity of his abode in vain; wearing the kind of apron used by cobblers, had been nailed to the wall by his wrists. From the center of his chest protruded dozens of needles making him look like a grotesque pincushion. His mouth and each eye were not left unscathed, as he had been used as an object of a monstrous humor.
Others looking to protect their shops or homes were only subjected to the fiendish delight; mostly murdered for the sheer primal sport and others out of the absolute brutality. They were nothing more than simple peons for him to strike down, and strip of their most prized possession; life.

Tracing around a step as if he was stepping backwards, Rune curled the corner of one side of his lips allowing the back step into the eye of the very ones Iamora was helping with their very sinful desires and ambitions.

Pitch in his voice, Rune chuckled; "So this is what children do now a days; well I have to say I am impressed." he stabbed down the blade into the cobble; splitting the few around as he leaned against the hilt keeping the vibrant gaze drawn to that of the witch child. "And here I thought I was going to be declined a show; seems that I was mistaken."

 
Her surroundings seemed to go through a chronological transition then, as if each piece of this sinister game was physically modified by the hands of time. The people nearest were frozen in unusual poses, feet hovering above ground as they stood in a crane like fashion. It seemed as if the breeze was laden with a paralytic toxin, and the extremities they balanced upon, faultered of tortuous gusts. Iamora's gaze fell upon Rune, and withdrawing a hand that clasped its twin, she exhibited her strength in a hearty shove to all obstacles between them. "Ah, so you've come. Your presence is most appealing to me."

Showing a sugary sweet smile, she batted her lashes. "So, are you considering my previous offer?" Her palm swept the air in an expressive gesture, as if she held the very existence of these people in said hand. Finally, she bowed her head, the braid unraveling into vicious tendrils that seemed to create a makeshift halo upon the apex of her fiendish form. "We can traverse the lands together, perverting the beliefs of these pitiful humans. What say you, unto me, unto the Gods!" Her voice crackled like lightning, as if it chanelled the ferocity of the greatest maelstrom to ever clash upon the seas.
 
Allowing the jaded stare to linger on her for a mere moment before his attention seemed skewed towards the dolls that was evidently she was playing with. Though hearing her voice had him huffing a laugh at her; "Don't get all emotional on me here, my presence is appealing everywhere."

Rune cocked a brow to how sweetly she smiled to him and batted those lashes which only incurred him rolling his eyes, leaning forward on the blade and looking beyond it. He didn't give an answer right off the bat, rather he let her prattle on about destroying mankind, seeming that she enjoyed going off on unholy bouts of long winded explanations. "God or Satan I really don't care for either." Rune muttered; "And for your previous offer, I hardly considered it in the first place goblin." Lazy irises moved back to her; "Though you seem so damn keen on wiping the entire existence from this crumble wasteland that forges life,"
Locking his grip around the tattered hilt of the sword, Rune let a shoulder slump and rise before he bounced the very blade onto his clavicle moving towards the child. "Whatever then; but don't be expecting me to coddling your wild fantasy of death and decay the way you want. I do as I damn well please and I will not have a collar placed around my neck by the likes of you or any other." He narrowed an eye down to her when he stood toe to toe with her; not even taking into effect the human scum that was still around the scene; either dead or alive.

Turning his nose up some as he considered the few she had been toying with, he shook his head. "Quit playing with them and just tear them asunder, its worst than playing with your food kid."

 
Iamora's childish form lengthened in stature, until she was towering figure at the height of her mother. Her body developed rapidly, hastily molting the changes of puberty. Her fingers curled into a fist, which was heaved upwards toward the clouds heavily pregnant with rain. "If only Mother could grace us with her vile presence, escaping the fabric bastille of cottony fibers that bind her, reinforced by the whim of Atone." She let out a rather wistful sigh, her ebony eyes darting to the location of the toy. " Her power is too strong for this world, so she must remain as a baneful idol. Her calamitous ways have already ceased the thriving of the forthcoming world."

She crossed her arms about her ample bosom, a downcast glare settled upon Rune. "I do not play with my food, I take the time needed to fully appreciate it. I shall never be satiated by the pleasure derived of orchestrating the will of their species to my fashion, the relinquished dreams of mankind dangle upon the strings that I can manipulate." Tearing her gaze away from him to survey her surroundings, the scene fell prey to her scrutiny. The hair of the nearest victims tickled her ankles, and she stooped with a sweeping hand as if to collect them. "They are like insignificant specks to me."

Her fingers coiling about their frail anatomical structures, she crushed them and hurled the ruined bodies at the firey eye of Ayilta.The Goddess blinked as if to shield her igneous orifice, casting a brief eclipse upon the earth below. Her bellowing laughter had uprooted the forest growth, robbing it of its wooded beauty. "I have shed my former vessel, I am a child no more."
 
Perhaps he might have been surprised to see her willfully changing her body to that of a woman; but he barely gave her a look over. He had learnt years ago never to take someone's appearance as what it was and he was not sure about her from the first moment that she was a child or not.

Though he would give a lacklustre look back over his shoulder to her when she spoke about not playing with her food before he took consideration back to the dolls. "Looks like playing to me. Just kill that damnable scum and get it over with; there are hundreds more for you to screw around with in more towns, why take the time to fuck with them so delicately?" Rune turned right around giving a slow look at her seeming to keep a careful look on her, one of study and nothing more; "Or is it just the simple joy of knowing you can fuck with them for so long, watching the hope of their savior draining out of their faces." he quirked a brow; "Either way; they deserve a swift death to meet the eternal hell and if they are so insignificant to you; then again stop playing with them. Otherwise get a glass, sit on a hill with the sun and burn them like the ants."

Watching with inattentive stare down to her hurling the bodies as she pleased, Rune grunted under his breath before he looked her up and down. "So?" He snorted, "Want a medal for hitting puberty within two minutes? You certainly like to chatter a lot; is that one of your other powers, clucking at others until they stab themselves in the ear with a stake?"

Clouds encumbered by the girth of the rain gave way as he didn't bother to see if she was done playing around or what; either way he was moving along.
 
Her melanoid coiffure seemed to melt as if each strand consisted of wax, rivulets melding inconspicuously with her dark rainment as the sulfurous gall made its way down her sleek body. She shrank in size, a swift jerk of her head allowed her to see that the crispified offal of human carcasses in descent to earth. Tendrils of her wild mane slithered about the town, seeking life to extinguish. "Do you mock me?" Her head tilted to the right, the pout upon her lips suddenly shifted into a sneer. She stood amongst her battlefield, and finally in resignation, she nodded. There was a world beyond these petty towns, and in an instant, every existing human was destroyed. Heads rolled like stones tumbleweeds in a fierce storm, extremities and viscera pelting the rooftops of the buildings they resided prior to their decimation.

Regarding Rune in a silent state, ribbons of crimson smoke rose from the area around her feet. "We're destined to cross paths again, of this you can be certain. For now Mother and I have an engagement with the first pair of this bothersome ilk." Her body became an airy element, and malefic molecules were strewn across space and time. Meanwhile, the glow of the midday sun shone through the treetops, bathing Ashlotte's pale skin and honey brown hair. She took a moment to sit by the placid lake, enjoying the warming light that seemed to quickly dissolve the tomb of cold she was encased in only moments before. The frigid breath of November began to blow more fiercely now, stirring up the untrodden leaf blanketed earth and the unshedded remains of the dying forest around her. Mounds of snow that seemed to sit atop every bough started to melt, the cold giving way to the radiant eye of the sun, its vigilant watch upon the world below. Freezing droplets showered her as she hurriedly made her way back to civilization, to the shelter of the hovel of a tavern she was residing, in a nameless little village that seemed to be lacking in space and the modernization of the vast city she had hailed from. Ashlotte made her way to the heart of the village, searching the dirt paths for any friendly face.

She was a newcomer, and the people rarely casted a stray look in her direction, too preoccupied with their own lives to offer a welcoming smile or exchange introductions. She knew she didn't want to linger in such a hopeless place for long, a place that was wrought with the obvious signs of impoverishment. Beggars sat at every street corner, the depressed demeanors of the public became like wholly separate entities, to cast the rather unfortunate place in shadows of desolation. She could recall how the cobblestone streets of her city were lined with just about every sort of shoppe imaginable, the aromas of the many distinct flavors available by the vending carts and bistros. The city seemed so over populated at any given time that there seemed to be little elbow or breathing room. She would ponder how anyone could be complacent with their comfort zone being violated throughout the day, but most people she had observed didn't seem to pay any thought to the breech of space. She felt like the city walls were closing in on her, that if she did not break for freedom soon she would become smothered in a mass of people and structure alike. As Ashlotte's wandering gaze settled briefly here and there, she reached the conclusion that the folk here seemed to act uneasy, as if they knew of something lurking about that was the sole cause of their reduction of number. A single Blacksmith, Baker, and Barkeep had occupied the village, their wives and children. There was talk of a Cobbler having existed, A Wainwright. What happened to them? A few petite buildings were boarded up, she presumed them to be stores which felt the toll of the financial sufferings of the community.

It was evident that other structures were being built at one time, but without the profits of their shoppes it seemed that it would be a mere waste of time and materials to continue on creating them.Clad in the remnants of the attire of the grossly rich society she presumed herself having been born into, she could still feel the preying eyes of the thieves she had enountered previously to settling here, the hands of cleverly cloaked bandits greedily grasping at the array of baubles she clutched so tightly to her. She was but a disheveled figure of her former splendor, with not a clue to her past but the few memories that plagued her reveries. At least here she wasn't the target of burglars and bandits, she resembled these people not in face but now in the monetary worth of her belongings. Her torn, dirty shade of white skirts swept the paths she walked, her boots laceless and soiled with the soles in desperate need of repair. She could almost smell the lingering smells of the perfumes and oils of her last bath, scents she could not quite put her finger on but those she had favored all her life. Her hair now lacked luster and seemed to closely resemble a nest in which a mother bird would make to safekeep her eggs.

It had the texture of straw and no matter how she attempted to style it, it seemed to look as foriegn as some sort of cheap hat or wig sitting upon her scalp. She reached the thick wooden door of the tavern and with but a moments hesitiation, she peered about with a sigh, before resigning to the darkness within. The slender female made her way past the unlit fireplace, stopping only to witness how the ravages of poverty claimed this once thriving business, a place that was once popular to the townfolk and tourists alike. She suddenly heard a commotion from the rafters, the sharp cries of rats squealing in pain as they were being picked apart by a bigger predator, a crow losing a few feathers in the scuffle. A bigger crow saw a prime opportunity in divebombing the already distracted young woman, proceeding to claw and peck at her in an aerial assault. Her forearm took the furiousity of the attacks as she tried to keep the filthy creature at bay, and she dropped the bulk of the remaining portions of uneaten lunch in the process, which had been tucked within the small wicker basket she carried. The crows seemed to descend upon the half loaf of bread in a frenzy, rats scuttled from every crack and crevasse toward the aroma of the accompaning slivers of cheese that now lay in the dust that was being disturbed up from the floorboards due to the fighting and flopping about of the ravenous crows. She looked upon the greedy scavengers firstly appauled, then turned away sadly as she realized there was nothing more she could do, her vittles were lost to the writhing mass of rats. The crows became quickly outnumbered and ascended to their accustomed perches, their beady eyes following her as she retreated to the steps and then down the hall.

Ashlotte sat upon the uncomfortable burlap bedroll, feeling as if she were nothing more than a squatter amongst the squalor of a broken home, long ago abandoned of people. The Barkeep pitied her enough that she could reside within these dilapidated walls without a pence owed for as long as she had nothing, the bedroll given to her as a token of charity so that she wouldn't have to shiver the nights away against an unyielding floor. Balls of dust clung to the malformed afghan she huddled within, it looked as if a child or person fully untalented in the arts of knitting crafted it. She needed some answers and her previous attempts at getting some were useless. Her face flush with running and the ordeal of her encounter with the bandits brought her to this village, and she was barely shown any sympathy save for the kindness of the Barkeep. As she attempted to engross him in conversation about how the folk here seemed so desitute, she could feel him growing increasingly nervous, before he dismissed himself hurriedly outdoors. She still hadn't seen any sign of him, his bed and belongings disappeared. The young woman exited the tavern after bracing herself for the chilly weather. Her tea colored gaze shifting from face to face of the handful of people that were in earshot. She had some reservation about addressing the public, but if even one person would divulge any helpful information, perhaps the disappearances and poverty could cease. Ashlotte sucked in a breath, melodic tones rolled off her tongue.

"People of this village..where has the Barkeep gone? The Blacksmith? What had happened to the Cobbler? I know you do not know me but I've been here long enough to notice that everyday your population decreases! From your outcasts to the business men of this place! Look around, will not one person tell me what has you so fearful that the stillness of your tongues could cause the disappearance of another, and another..until you are all gone?" She could feel the fear of the people, a well overflowing in her very core. They scattered, wanting to hear nothing more about the loss of their people. She was helpless but to watch them hole themselves inside of their residences, or retreat to the dark alleys for those whom weren't lucky enough to have an abode. The fear took her breath away, her heart pounding in her breast and causing her knees to tremble. She fell where she stood, her head swimming in the thoughts conjured up by the sheer power of the emotion of the crowd. Several moments passed and she was still so stricken by fear not her own that she couldn't think or move.

Ashlotte couldn't call out, couldn't even utter a groan of pain as her heart felt as if it were going to explode in her chest. Thunderclouds now swirled up above the bankrupt village, and after a few particularly deafening bellows were shook loose from a darkening sky, the heavens wept upon such a forsaken place. People opened their doors and seemed to parade silently out into the storm, holding tankards or cupping their hands to retrieve some rain water to drink. A few revealed bars of what appeared to be homemade soap and unclothed themselves just enough to bathe somewhat, others used the soap in barrels of filled with items to be laundered. The chill of winter left them shivering to the bone, but even harsh winds couldn't pry them from their tasks. Ashlotte rose upon trembling legs, feeling as unbalanced and shaky as a newborn calf. "What are you doing?" Her voice echoed against the storm. "You are all going to catch your death out here!" Her words fell upon deaf ears to most, but the soft, rasping voice from behind her made her whip around to face the individual. His cheeks were sunken, his body emanciated by hunger. He seemed to be clothed in burlap sewn into a makeshift coat and pants. "We are all but a dying breed, Miss. We are famished and sick, it is too late for us." He eyed her with his one good eye and rose the back of his hand to the sparse tufts of whiskers on his face, wiping away the sticky spittle. "It is better to die then to wait to be picked off like cattle."

There was a bubbling in his throat, and he succumbed to a fit of coughing. He turned away from just in time to spray the window in a mixture of bloody phlegm. "This isin't a life for anyone, not for anyone."He continued to choke, until a handful of rain water eased him enough to speak without his illness interrupting. Ashlotte felt confused, disoriented then. She heard his footsteps receeding, his heavy limp making him splash mud all over. "We are but fodder for those...devils..fodder.." His voice trailed off as his senility left him in a realm of blissful confusion, Ashlotte straining to hear if he'd speak again. "Fodder?" The storm blew toward the east, and she pondered, staring up at the moonless night. "...I don't understand. Why would he say the people were fodder?" Ashlotte spotted her reflection in the red-spotted window. Long tresses were plastered upon her face, and her dress clung to her lithe form, giving her a drowned rat look. She knew by the time dawn broke, she would hear talk of another missing person. She prayed that by the time she awoke that she wouldn't be the only one left in the village.
 
Smacking his lips as she seemed to finally catch his drift, Rune smirked almost sincerely to her; "Oh don't flatter yourself darling; I mock everyone; you ain't no exception." He raked his fingers across his temple; "But if it makes you feel better in the dead of night, you go ahead and think that I only mock your tyrannical babble, I'll let you."

A single ear lifted as his hand drifted down to scratch under his chin; the lingering unamused look resting deep within his gaze and settling hard on his features while she considered him. "I'm certain you are going to give me a rash;" he quirked a brow to her before making a loud grunting feh only keeping his attention to her until she became nothing more than ash in the wind.

"Someone needs to cut the apron strings that much is for certain;" Eyes glued to the dark skies of heavy rain pattering down attempting to cleanse the murderous rampage that had been plunged onto the village; Rune slicked back the long bangs that hung in his face. Humming firstly before it turned into a grumping grunt again; footsteps picked up to walk along the cobble, gore and cruor; "I don't doubt she will make a point of making appearances in my destruction."

He wrinkled his nose to the very spoken thought; "Why do I attract the ones touched several ways in the head?"
 
Her eyes fluttered open to the feeling of her bedroll being wrenched out from beneath her, Ashlotte mind didn't register the first few moments her being burglarized, her brain still lazy in sleep. "Wha-" She gasped, her eyes widening at the presence of mystery figures in her room. "Take the stuff, this young woman won't be of any trouble to us." A low toned male spoke callously, his eyes narrowing to slits beneath the shade of his hood. "And if she -does- give us trouble, kill her." The second member protested, dropping the bedroll to the floor. "Hey, I never said anything about killing. I want out of this agreement." This individual's voice sounded as if he were but a pubescent, but he was tall for his age. "We will kill her or I will kill -you- then -I- will kill her.Two deaths for the price of one. I don't even need you for these jobs, you know. I don't know why I bother taking you with me. You are nothing but a hinderance!"The callous man hissed, raising his hand to the boy. Ashlotte choked on the youth's fear, startling the two thieves. She then felt sadness envelope her, and her gaze fell upon the elder.

"How could you, you're his father! This boy is being torn apart and I think..." The man's hand descended upon her instead, and she was knocked out cold. "Hurry up, you don't want to catch the plague do you? Who knows how shortened my life has become just by being here, breathing this air. I will wait for you at the roadside." The boy checked Ashlotte's pulse, a small sigh of relief escaping him. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have spoken out of line like that, gets him mad. You'd do well to remember that too. Here, isin't much but was saving it for breakfast. He left a bread roll in her limp, cupped hand. When she came to, she devoured it out of instinct, not even giving her palate time to register the taste. It went down with a bit of effort, as she wasn't equipped with a drink or an adequate amount of saliva to help with easier swallowing. She looked about, her voice rose as if she may be heard beyond the walls of the shelter. She spoke with a fervorous determination. "I -will- find out what happened here. I will not leave this place to be damned!" Cries of depair invaded her dreams, her heart ladden with sadness as she felt the heartache of loss. More Men, women and children became lost to the world, snatched from existance it seemed by some unknown predatory force. The people that remained had no seeds to sow but those of sorrow, the families left behind were burdened with the utter hoplessness of the situation. Ashlotte sat in the corner of her room for the next three days, feeling the chords of of a most melancholy tune being strummed from within her very soul. When she felt as though the cold eased enough for her to step outside, she rolled up her afghan and made her way from the village, the harshness of winter spared her so far of sickness. She looked back one last time, surveying the village as if she couldn't muster enough confidence in herself that she would be able to save them. Her woeful gaze was upcast to the heavens, she petitioned to any deity that would listen to the prayers of a mortal that she wished for the people to be relieved of at least some of their hardships in her abscence. Did they even care anymore? All she could do is try to embrace the faith she had left.

Ashlotte, presented with the trials of a sorely afflicted village, felt understandably dispirited and shaken in her faith. She was physically and emotionally weakened, and having not eaten or slept in days left her extra weary in her travels. Suddenly she felt a sharp pain in her right side, stealing her breath before knocking her down. Ashlotte gasped for air, failing to suck in enough before she felt the bitter sting of cold upon her flesh. Darkness threatened to cast her in an endless sea of her unconscious mind, she knew someone nearby was close to death. She was fettered by the pain and fear she was sharing with another in some sort of empathic bond, but managed to draw a decent amount of strength from within long enough to reach the boy. She could recognize him as soon as he parted his lips and spoke. "The job... I refused to ..kill anyone." He struggled to breathe a moment before continuing. "I..disobeyed Father again." He was slumped against a tree like a holey sack of flour, a pool of blood staining the freshly fallen snow he sat upon a crimson color. "He..said he would kill me..." She watched in terror as the life in his eyes dimmed, and then finally he was gone. There was nothing for her to do but leave him behind. She did not possess the strength or tools needed to give him a burial, but she was also not naive to the presence of thieves lurking about under the concealing shroud of night. They would find him soon and strip him of his earthly goods. "Not a soul for miles." Ashlotte shook herself awake, releasing a small succession of yawns. She desperately sought to borrow a bit of energy from someone, preferably the rambunctious hyperactivity of a child. She wasn't that picky though, she would easily settle to siphon energy from a person experiencing a caffiene or sugar rush. Just enough to enable her to keep one foot in front of the other, to carry her through to her next destination. Not even a random farmer or traveler. Ashlotte didn't even realize she had stopped moving until she became increasingly aware that her surroundings remained the same. The signs of blight and famine seemed to thrive everywhere, even in regions uninhabitated by people. The remains of dead animals, picked clean by the scavenging sort, were scattered about as if they were a strange adornment for the earthen floor.

The wind howled through the empty husks of trees, making a yearning, whistling tune for rain. What remained of nature seemed to awaken in a ghastly chant then, a forlorn instrumental sent up to the heavens for a long sought revival. She concluded that this was the work of something more than the effects of the bitterest cold. A stronger magick was at play, pestilence itself beckoned by the conjurations of some sinister force. In the distance, almost too far for her eyes to see, she could make out a flickering of flame. Beacons of light directing her toward the gates of a city glittering with riches perhaps? A city much like the one she came from, grand palaces with treasure rooms filled to capacity. Money and power breeding greed and corruption in the hearts of most men, people being slain in the name of the profit of the very King whose likeness is imprinted on every coin. Cut throats roaming the streets of the city, looking for their own personal gain. Ashlotte could recall being born into a family of power and finacial means, she had but glimpses of truth to piece together. Loose memories were all she had to work with, mostly formless recollections of her past. She was called Ashlotte, but surely she had a surname! Yet noone she met seemed to recognize her. Her fashion was not a design distinct of any particular geograhical area, not one anyone knew of, anyway. She couldn't remember the style of jewelery she used to own, she wouldn't recognize it if someone paraded out in front of her with them on. Perhaps she suffered amnesia at the hands of the bandits or was simply cursed somehow? The city called to her weary mind, her aching body. The wonderful temptations wine and rest pushed her onward, she could almost savor the tastes of generous portioned vittles upon moderately expensive plates. She had no coin, Ashlotte realized. This reminded her of the village, the hunger of the malnutritioned people. Was it really such a sin to desire the comforts of clean linens upon her bed, the perfumes of a hot bath? Meals consisting of meat and the fruits of a farmers labor? The answer was as clear as a crystal wine glass. So what? She would get her fill of eats and rest, and repent later if she had to.

Surely the Gods would listen to her contrition there, a city blessed with those gifts. It would be ungrateful for her -not- to accept those gifts, to say the least. She could no longer continue her journey, succumbing to sleep in the vastitude of a seemingly endless plain. Ashlotte's dreams took her to a vivid landscape of pink flowers surrounding a golden city. The tulips seemed to guard the city as if they were plant-like soldiers, and she saw raggedy clothed people becoming lost within the complexities of a pink painted labyrinth. Couldn't they just walk through them? Make a straight path for the gates? It seemed so easy for the city stood much higher than the flowers, she could see the gates just up ahead. "I'll show you the way.." She called to the people, who were mostly bumbling about. Some of which seemed to let frustration get the better of them, they fell to their knees in a fit of anger and hair-pulling. Others seemed to resign completely, drawing their knees close and cupping their hands over their face in sorrow. The rest of the lot continued their way, with nary a look in her direction. It was like they didn't hear her.

She called to them again, it was futile. They just sort of..wandered, only ceasing when their paths became impeeded by other human beings. She started toward the gates herself, hoping that they would soon follow her example. The tulips bloomed all around her, revealing their faces toward the sun. In a blink of an eye it became dark, and rubious eyes sprung up from the blossoms with a menacing glow. A field alive with demonic floral life, the petals became black and shriveled, fanged sneers greeting her at every turn. They hissed and snarled at her, then took up their roots in order to pursue her. The dreadful weeds snapped at her feet as she was running, her boots simply vanishing from her otherwise unprotected feet. She then stopped, turning toward them. This was silly, she was much taller than a bunch of weeds. She wouldn't let them intimidate her any longer. As her hand made its descent upon them in a plucking motion, the petals gleaming like the razor edges of surgical blades, spinning about upon their demonic faces like propellers. She awoke with a start, inspecting every finger to make sure none were harmed in any way. "What a gruesome dream.." Ashlotte's voice shakily strummed her vocal chords, and she shuddered for a while until the thrall of a dreamless rest took her.

"Hey, do you think she's dead? Prolly was a floater, you know. Sun dried her out by now, though." Ashlotte's tea hued gaze searched for the source of such a rude intrusion of her sleep and saw chubby fingers nearing her cheek. She slapped them away, shifting her gaze upward to see that the fingers belonged to a mere child. "She's a kicker, brother." He sounded almost disappointed at first, but shortly after flashed her a toothy grin. "Glad you're okay. We just saw you kinda layin' here, figured you were a scarecrow at first. It's been known for them to blow into the field from the neighboring farms. You see, when you get a rusher like the ones I've seen before, the winds are strong enough to pick up just about anything. Never know what you'll find. That's why we spend our time lookin' around so much." The child's prattling came to a halt as he had become so engrossed in one sided conversation he had forgotten to breathe. "Rickie, get yourself straightened up. You'll wrinkle your pants, and you know how Mother hates that. Father'll tan your hide for sure." The one identified as Rickie stuck his tongue out at his brother, and he turned to Ashlotte and held up nine fingers. "I'm this many, but it doesn't seem like it because our folks are too poor to send me to school. Max's got all the schoolin' but he hates the homework. Takes time away from our hobby, with all the chores he's gotta do. Never seen a dead body though. When we saw you weren't a scarecrow we thought you were a floater. Reckon I'd get the chance to see plenty of death when I get sent away to the military though. Or if our Father dies. He's sick, you know. Isin't enough food for all of us so he goes without mostly. Ashlotte noticed that the two were dressed rather identically, the smaller one almost a doll-like version of the older. The cloth of their pants were dirty with minor tears, the matching suit jackets looked almost too clean, as if they took careful consideration of them to avoid filth or spills. Rickie wore a gray flat cap which seemed a bit too big for his head. "What's your name, anyway?" She blinked a few times, staring at the child as he made his way in what she thought to be the direction of their home. She wondered if the youngster would wave goodbye to her. He did. Finally realizing that Max's question had floated about without a response, she piped up quickly.

"Oh, sorry, my name's Ashlotte." Max nodded. "You don't sound like you're from around here, I can tell that much. So..what are you doing out here, picking posies and realized it was past your bed time or something?" Ashlotte blushed at the compliment. "Oh, I'm not that young, I'm afraid. But I'm just so weary, I've traveled quite far. There is a village that is in dire need of aid, in fact it looks as if the whole stretch of countryside that way is in need. Tried to help all I could, but it's pretty hopeless." Ashlotte viewed Max with doleful eyes. "Oh, you're not supposed to go out yonder..."Rickie came running back, hearing the tail end of their conversation. "Badlands, alot of Burgles and people up to no good there.Rumor has it that plague cleaned out most of the folk, their land plagued also. Stuff don't grow for long, you see. But, you've made it outta there jus' in time, before you met up with the bandits." Ashlotte cringed at the last word he spoke, and Rickie's cerulean gaze flickered this way and that, before noticing how torn and dirty her dress was. "Oh, I guess you had already become 'quainted with them. The Burgles, I mean." Max shook his head, and apologized for his brother. "Sorry for that, Miss. Rickie and I too, had a run-in with them only a few months ago. Went to the forest to pick some berries, and was robbed of everything. Blasted bandits even took the berries. Got away in only our knickers." Max blushed now, embarrassed at such a confession to a stranger of the opposite gender. Several moments passed and the deep reddening of his cheeks seemed to fade just slightly. "Looks like they took the knives out on this one, the burgles showed us their knives too. No bigger than a skinnin' knife but still, could do lot'ta harm to someone." The talkative child commented, eyeing Ashlotte and then his own kin. "I think you mean -burglars-, Rickie."The boy nodded enthusiastically."Was what I said, Burgles!" Turning his attention once again to the female, he grabbed at her hand in an attempt to help her up.Gritting his teeth and pulling, he let out a grunt and then his palm, slick with perspiration, caused his chubby fingers to slide out of her grasp. He landed upon the tulips, making a child sized area of flattened flowers and grass. Max looked up at the sun, shielding his eyes with his right hand. "Time to go, Rickie. Mother doesn't want us out this late. I've still got my chores and you've got yours." His brother rose and brushed himself off, fearing punishment if his mother were to spot even a single blade of grass on his clothing. "Can't Lotte come along, Max? Mother can feed her half o' my supper, can't just leave her here in the heat and all." Max nodded. "But if Mother doesn't like it, I'll tell her it was your idea. Father doesn't like you taking home strays of any sort, afterall." Ashlotte's brow rose, and her lips parted as if she were going to speak. Suddenly a piercing scream surged up her delicate throat, and she thrashed and rolled about on the ground in such a manner that it seemed she were engulfed by invisible flames. Smoke billowed into the sky a few miles away. "The farm! Rickie, stay with her. I'm going to check on Mother. Certainly Father isin't back from his fishing trip yet..." He took off then, and Rickie oggled Ashlotte with a dumbstruck look upon his cherub like face. "Rickie..."Ashlotte breathed through the pain of another's searing flesh. "I'm sorry but your Mother is gone." She slowly felt alleviated of her torment."Huh? But how would you know? We're not there..yet."

The child began to blubber tearfully, causing Ashlotte's eyes to well up with the salty liquid. Tears flowed down her cheeks. "I cannot sense your brother. I cannot sense Max, yet..." Rickie's sobs eased only enough so he could blurt out a response. "Whaddaya mean, Miss Lotte?" Ashlotte felt panic rising inside of her."No time to explain, lead me to the farm!" Rickie grabbed her hand and pulled her westward. They approached the farm in time to hear Max's cries from the barn. A fallen beam and wall of fire seemed to block his exit. "Had to get the animals..and check if Father was inside. Got myself in a bit of a predicament, though. Max was suprisingly calm although his lower extremities were pinned beneath the impossibly heavy log of wood. "Please..."He whispered, intending for the following message to be for her ears only. "Take him...away from here..hurry.." Ashlotte grabbed Rickie by the forearm, proceeding to forcibly drag him from the premises until she was once again overwhelmed with searing pain of another being burned alive.

Rickie was fast asleep, but Ashlotte was wide eyed. They were in the middle of nowhere, she could not recall which direction the city was. She had run blindly with the child, her feet seemed so swift and light it was as if they had sprouted wings. We couldn't have run -that- far..but still, nothingness all around. How could it be? Her dreams took her back to the burning farm where she watched Max's sable colored hair alight in a flaming crown. "Someone lit my home up on purpose." Ashlotte gazed helplessly, tendrils of sorrow reaching out from her, linking the two of them together. "Don't worry, Mother is with me now. Take good care of Rickie, and find Father. Flames lapped at his flesh and bone, until the morning sun awoke her. "Oh, Rickie.." She began to cry inwardly, and he stirred to the announcing of his name. His collar length auburn mane was entangled with twigs and burrs. He rose with a massive yawn and looked about for his hat. It wasn't loacated on the ground beside him and he hadn't fashioned it into a pillow of sorts. Pudgy fingers quickly sought his head, where they descended upon the apex in a patting motion. "Suppose I lost it, then." His tone possessed a strange calm for a child whom had earlier witnessed the horrors at his farm. Then a smile spread across his face.

"I'll go find some rabbits for trappin'." He chose a direction and bounded off, whistling a happy tune. Ashlotte mirrored his emotion, opting to leave the patch of dirt that had served as their bed to look for a water source. When the sun seemed at its hottest, Rickie came back with disappointment stamped across his face. Wholly unsuccessful in his endeavors, he threw the unappealing but usually effective trap to the side where the most vital parts of it broke on impact, and sat, slumping forward."Couldn't find any rabbits..nothing out there for 'em to eat." Ashlotte sat across from him, her gaze casted up to the sky. "We'll find something soon." She showed him a small smile. "Let's try fishin'!" The child beamed, running off to find branches that would be suitable for making poles. Shrieking filled the air. Ashlotte tossed a glance toward the shoreline, as that was apparently where the sound was originating from. She didn't sense the woman's terror. It seemed more like frustration, turning to anger. Ashlotte started in that direction, soon to see that Rickie beat her there. The woman looked but an anorexic version of the former robust creature which had filled out her clothes so nicely. Now her skinny torso appeared to be swimming in a ridiculously oversized bodice, her legs swallowed whole by a sea of skirts. Ashlotte's heart was like a machine working in overdrive, pumping out adrenaline filled blood that coursed through her veins. She was experiencing rage not her own. The petite female thrusted her fists toward the heavens and opened her mouth to assail the sky above. But..what would she say? She didn't really know what was going on. The woman assumed Ashlotte to be mocking her and rose in a fighting stance, last secondly deciding to shove her aside instead. She connected to the water with a wet splash. "Look around! Surely you can't be completely ignorant to the fact that he eats high on the hog while we are left to starve to death?! The proof is all around you! You are squat in the middle of a sea of dead fish, just look around you!" She followed the woman's angry commands, turning her head so that she could behold the fish stewing in their watery grave. They all seemed to be in differing stages of decomposition, but what was most peculiar to Ashlotte was that the stink of decay hadn't attracted carrion to a meal.

There was no evidence of the ichthyoid corpses being picked at by anything. She could easily recall how the crows attacked her for the bit of bread she had stashed away for herself, the rats upon the cheese. They seemed to be little more than stretched out skin draped over bones. And the crows..if they hadn't moved at all they could have easily been mistaken for a Taxidemist's end product. Nothing more than a morbidly artistic design. Leaving the water she took a mass of soaked fabric in her hands, and attempted to wring it out so the dress wouldn't feel so heavy on her. "Do you know what happened here? I couldn't even dream of something so horrible.." Her words died on her lips as she spied hollow socketed fish floating close to her feet. She knew rot was a natural process after death, that maggots stirred beneath the sun-dried flesh. She couldn't help to feel nauseaous, or look upon the carcasses with disgust. Swallowing down the acrid taste of vomit which was rising up her throat, she turned away from the scene. She had to think of Rickie, the poor child must have released his stomach contents upon the ground more than once by now. She spotted him down the way, using a small piece of driftwood on the ground in the manner one would use a gardening tool. After interring the fish in the mud, he reunited with Ashlotte. "I'm fine." He spoke, blinking."Jus' buryin' a fish is all. Livin' on a farm, I have seen the death of much of Father's livestock, it was my job to bury the ones I had enough strength to move." The woman fell silent, seated upon an embankment so that she could overlook the water. Her pale gaze was trance-like, Ashlotte reflected the numbness she was feeling. The spell was broken moments later when Rickie prodded her, causing her gaze to shift and settle upon the red headed child. "What do you want with me, boy?" Asked the woman rudely. "Just leave me be."

Ashlotte walked toward her, her attitude changing to mimic that of Rickie. "Ma'am, you spoke of someone eating high on the hog, and leaving everyone else to starve to death? I am but a foriegner to this land. Could you please explain?" The woman responded without any verbal components, but a stern look. Soon after Ashlotte got the impression that she was preparing to dismiss herself without uttering a single word, but the honey haired female reached out as if to grasp her wrist. "Please if you could just tell me any information..." The woman swatted Ashlotte's hand away. "Look, forget I said anything. The less you know, the safer you'll be. Now if you'll excuse me, I have to tend to the housework." She began to shuffle off, a rather forceful gust of wind removing the bonnet from atop her head. This did not stop her though. Ashlotte watched the woman maneuvering toward home, Rickie's boyish voice calling after her as he retrived her headpiece. "What could we be dealing with? Everyone is so tight-lipped about it, that they would rather ultimately lose their lives to keep the secret." She was speaking more to herself than to Rickie, but the youngest member of the Evan's family inserted his own opinions here and there. A weary trek lead them to a quaint little abode which appeared to be surrounded by a cage of overgrowth. Their choice to examine it more closely further destroyed their clothing, as the fabics of their garments became snagged by thorns. They paid in blood as well, receiving scratches to their skin deep enough to scar. Ashlotte wanted rest, and she knew Rickie was hungry. She would forego eating so that the child would get his fill, if it came to it. They approached with caution, not knowing if they were going to be chased away by someone brandishing a weapon, yelling in a most vulgar manner for the trespassers to leave the property or face the consequences.

A small circular window at each side of the door reminded her of eyes. She could feel Rickie's apprehension empowering her own. "I don't think anyone's home." Ashlotte told the child, as she peered in through the right window. "I usually wouldn't think about just barging in, but I can feel the cold nipping at my flesh." She tried the door, a soft push of the wooden plank allowing her inside. Rickie stood at the threshold, having been taught by his parents to never enter a house unpermitted. "It's going to be dark soon. Why don't you come in and I'll assume full responsibility if we get in trouble." It didn't take very long to coax him, but she could tell that he was feeling rather uneasy about the situation.
 
After all the events that had unraveled prior the day coming to its drawn end; Rune mused silently to himself taking in the sweet recess of quiet that purged around his form. He was a creature of seclusion when he wasn't hell bent in tearing up the inside of another thriving flesh; he was content to be perfectly alone and with his own thoughts. It left little for someone to pry at him.

The cold of the evening nipped at his bare flesh though he made no qualms about it, his body was naturally warmer than most mortal's; the cold only really affected him when it was a full blown blizzard. But he was smart enough at those points to hunker down elsewhere.

Where most would be having the gnawing hunger ripping at their guts for how long he already had been through the day without a meal; Rune raised a brow when he found his thoughts being interrupted with the sight of man in robes walking towards him against the same gravel road. "Feh; pilgrimage priest." Rune turned his face away as he tucked his once loose hands into his pockets; now if anyone wanted to call something a parasite it would have to be men of the cloth. They were bloody everywhere and more than once they had tried to purify his soul.

It had been their misfortune and his delight when they attempted to bring him about to the sanctity that was their gods; especially when they would utter their words of loving devotion at the last breath they drew from harboured lips; before their skulls cracked beneath his boot allowing the gruel of brains to mash out under skull and blood.

He believed naught in god or satan; rather he believed the horrors on this earth were enough of a realism that believing in beings that laid beneath his feet and rose among the stars was pure delusionary talk that only deserved a beheading.

Hands had been put neatly inside each other sleeve while the elder man had his head tipped forward not seeming to be concerned about the weather that was picking up. Listening to the idle clicking of the sword on his back, Rune let his own gaze close as they passed on the roadway and continued to walk. Seeming to count in his head to five; the sounds of scuffling gravel brought a demonic smile to crawl and etch over his face and lips.

The elder priest had produced a small bible from his sleeve and held the rosary around his neck, the wrinkled crow's feet around his eyes accenting the deep brown lively eyes within his skull. "Thou shall be reduced to dust under God's glory and word; demon!" he proclaimed as if the heaven's were listen as Rune lifted his head upwards to see if there was to be a response before he chuckled deep within his chest.

"Don't think he heard you; try yelling louder or can you not reach the high pitch?" Tilting his chin forward allowing the dark bangs to fall over his eyes, he shook his head; "I'll never understand how such simple minds can believe in something that doesn't exist in this realm or any other."

Speaking in rambling tongues in a dilute pray that was to aimed to cast him off; Rune rolled his eyes stepping forward only to rip the testament out of the elder's hands, "Ye be a demon that has been copulated with that of elven; ye be something unseen and embattled. Lord take mercy upon our mortal souls;" he jabbed a finger right before his eyes as Rune growled at the very thing.

"Don't you know it's not nice to point!" Snatching out to grab the wrist tight between that of a hand, the sneer of being reminded of what cursed bastard he had been only served to ignite the fuel that forever battled inside; giving it a sharp twist about it took little effort to snap the bones that connected to the elbow and hand allowing the man to let out the scream that could possibly shatter the heavens; "Let see if we can get your god's attention now with your squealing begging and pleading!"

"Lord have mercy on my soul;" the man wept through tears;

"You should be more concerned with my mercy than that of a false being!"
 
The innards of the house consisted of a fire place, decently crafted table with a trio of chairs, and a bed that smelled of mold. It appeared that the owner could possibly have met his fate, or simply abandoned the hearty home at some point. Ashlotte examined everything, but had little to go on to make any conclusions. Perhaps she was wrong and the owner left for town, and was on his way back? She left Rickie unsupervised to search for linens or blankets. He stepped out into the cold with the intentions of looking about for a source of food, preferably a dense substance like meat.He would later return empty handed, which would in turn make for empty bellies. Four days worth of icy temperatures had them holed up inside a house that did not belong to them, and despite the cracks that allowed for the intrusion of the glacial breeze, they were most grateful to have the protection of a decently sound structure. Rickie dreamt so vividly of a grand feast laid out before him that the smells of cooked turkey and lamb caused for him to salivate, a sticky stream of drool plastering a lock of henna hued hair to his cheek. Ashlotte wrapped the afghan, a possession she obtained back at the village, around her small form and pushed the door open.

She looked upon a virgin snow, blessed by the light of a full moon. Flurries of silverish ice fell upon her as she ventured further out into the darkness, the glint of snowflakes in her hair and on her skin resembling diamond pieces strewn across luxurious silk. Closing her eyes she began to sway to the whispers of a dying breeze, the musics of whatever nature was left around her. "There you are!" Rickie yelled, exhaustion making his voice heavy. "Couldn' find ya, and I was gettin' scared...Burgles have eyes and ears everywhere, you know." Ashlotte beheld the boy, her brow quirking. She didn't know how to reply, but she knew he was right. Even though he was but a child he seemed to possess a wisdom beyond his years. Could the stars themselves really be the greedy glinting eyes of a ruthless den of thieves? What of the snow, a mere ruse to conceal traps and such? The whispering wind a tool of communication, carrying coded messages from one to another upon a gentle air current? Ashlotte's mouth fell open in a gasp, her watery brown eyes darting about. Perhaps there were bandits out there, preparing some sort of ambush. She quickly spun to face the door, and rushed inside. Taking a seat upon the dusty floorboards, her brow level to the sill of a medallion shaped window, she couldn't bring herself to peer through the glass."I'm very afraid." Ashlotte admitted, trembling from both her fear and the cold that seeped in. "Sorry, Miss Lotte. But no need to worry, the rushers will scare away the thieves. They know better than to be wanderin' around out there, all exposed to the elements for long." She eyed him strangely, wondering to what he had coined the term 'rushers.' "Uh rushers. You know, swirlin' winds that have the strength to lift up a house and throw it clear across the land. We've had a problem with much of our crops bein' uprooted, 'tatoes rainin' down into the city. Found 'em floatin' in the water too." Ashlotte stared at him now, her eyes widening. "I've never witnessed something like that myself. But how can a storm cause such destruction, to rob someone's land of their riches whilst another obtains an overabundance of..."She thought for a moment, and added "A cornucopia of agricultural wealth whilst others are left to perish!" Rickie nodded. "'s not all that gets strewn about. Can find just about anything you can imagine if you're lucky enough to stumble upon it." His emerald eyes lit up then. "People say the rushers of of magickal design. Jus' don't know who had made 'em." Rickie shrugged, and cleared his throat." Do you think thieves can use magick?"

His head tilted slightly, his brow furrowed. "I suppose it's possible. Anyone can have magick, have gifts. Though I've also heard of gifts being considered curses as well." Deciding to stray from the subject she added "Look, as soon as we get the chance, we really need to find some food. Something to ease parched throats. We should wait for more favorable weather that hopefully the morning sun will bring." Rickie began to cough, and Ashlotte sensed his scratchy throat. The child was becoming ill, and without the nutrition of a proper meal she knew his chances of getting better was naught. She let out a small sigh, resting the back of her head against the wall. Eyes heavy lidded, she watched the way the wind blew the bare tree branches, sillouettes of great, taloned hands orchestrating the dark heavens.



"Rickie, get up! We're going to venture into town today so don't take too long waking up." Ashlotte tried to make herself look as presentable as she could without the use of such luxuries like a bath and combs for her hair. Perhaps one would let her do odd jobs for a meal for the both of them, and some of the goods she desired like cloth and sewing threads. As they journeyed out of the mostly barren wood, Ashlotte saw a decently constructed town, one that had potential for the shoppes she sought. Rickie appeared dead on his feet, once in a while showing signs of life in the form of a cough or sneeze. She was suprised he could still manage to walk on his own, perhaps hunger fueling him to trudge on behind her. Her eyes watered, skin flushed and feverished as if -she- were experiencing an ail of some sort, but except for hunger and exhaustion she was decently healthy. As they neared the entrance, she was shocked to realize that what she had seen only moments ago was nothing more than a work of deception. An eleborate illusion to fool the outside world. It appeared that the town had been cleansed by fire at one time, a few partially standing structures outlasting the test of time. "Another dead end." Her saddened eyes settling upon Rickie, she knew she couldn't do more to help him. He was to perish, his soul to be freed from the shackles of a living form. Then she heard it. The soft closing of a door. If only she could figure out which direction it came from...She started at the beginning, trying the doors of any complete house she came across. Nothing. No life stirred behind those wooden walls, behind the heavy doors. And then she felt it. Felt the fear gripping her heart, quickening her breath. "P-please.." Ashlotte stammered through the paralyzation of throat muscles. "Th- the child..w-will die.." She sensed nothing at first, then a mustering of courage bringing someone to the door. "Come in, hurry." She ushered Ashlotte and Rickie inside, and shut out the wind. "I was just about to put some tea on the fire, and I have enough bread and cheese to share. Do sit down, will you?"

Ashlotte took the child's coat and aided him to the chair nearest to the fireplace, thanking the elderly woman for her kindness. "Please, call me Chamomile. My name and favorite tea." Ashlotte nodded. "I'm Ashlotte and he is Rickie." The woman offered a warm smile. "Is he..your son?" She shook her head." We're of no relation. His.." She continued in a whisper "His mother and brother died in a fire, we haven't located the father as of yet." Chamomile's hand went to her heart. "The poor dear!" Her voice came out louder than she wished, causing her to quickly fall silent. Her hearing concentrated on the sounds of outside, she waited a moment with baited breath as if anticipating something consequential to her outburst. "I'm terribly sorry for your misfortunes, child." She spoke in hushed tones now, removing the heated kettle from the fire. threads of silver fell from the sides of her bonnet, and instead of simply tucking the hairs back under it, she plucked the headpiece from her scalp. The skeletal-like figure then sat in her rocking chair, a simple knitted shawl draped about her shoulders. The color of it brought a rosy blush to the woman's ashen skin tone, summoning life to her sickly pallor. "What happened here?" Ashlotte dared to ask, although she was prepared to receive the same response she had gotten other times she had asked that question. "It is best not to speak of it, dear." Chamomile observed the disappointment on Ashlotte's face, as the young female was unsatisfied with the lack of information. "I can offer only a little, to speak of it more will seal my fate." Rickie managed to finish his meal through the sneezing and snuffles, and Ashlotte waited patiently while sipping her tea."A long time ago this town thrived, like many others. It was a new colony, of which my family was one of the first settlers. I could still remember my mother and father, my two sisters. It was quickly built up, the rubble you see today is proof of how this town once bustled with life. We were rich, rich in ores and soil. I have seen the glittering of profit, coins of gold and silver. Something evil began to grow. The people reaped what they sowed, and greed spread throughout the town like a plague. Men turned on one another, their blood spilled upon the once pure soil. It is an everlasting curse." Her pale gray eyes danced across the fire, before turning her attention to her guests. "As you can understand, once evil blood touches something pure, it begins to corrupt it. It is a vital factor growing the seeds of revenge, of hate. The town was to be cleansed by fire, and we understood that. We were prepared to leave our home. But...something wouldn't let us leave. We tried and tried, but we couldn't! So greed continued to spread rampant, a wholly uncontrollable force made of man. The people here destroyed themselves before the land could be purified." Ashlotte regarded Chamomile solemnly, before a downward look brought her to her tea. Rickie was fast asleep with his head on the table, clutching the last bite of bread close as if it were a comforting toy. "Do you think this has spread beyond the town?" Chamomile nodded. "Of course. Men are but vessels of sin and corruption. Our desires, temptations are our downfall. Of course other things are at work as well, but I will speak no further on the subject."

The frail woman rose, turning in the direction of her bed. "I apologize for not having better accomadations, but I never thought I'd have overnight company. There is a tub to wash in, I will heat some water for you. I have enough blankets for you to make an adequate bed on the floor. I also have some fabrics and thread you can have to do what you wish." She sat upon her bed, quickly falling into sleep. Ashlotte took the kettle once it was heated, and a candle to light her way to the bath. She hadn't bathed in so long that the hot water seemed to sting her skin at first, but she persisted through the discomfort for the first few moments so that it could soothe her aching muscles.Layers of filth dissolved away, and the soft scent of lavender filled the room. She would wake the boy in the morning so that he may also bathe. Once she was finished and skin dired, she dressed in the same pitiful garment she had wore for so long and retired for the night after draping her afghan over Rickie. "Morning!" She was awaken by the cheerful greeting, spoken by the bright eyed boy. "Feelin' better today, Miss Chamomile gave me some medicine. Was strong stuff too, that peppermint tea, but it did the trick." Ashlotte's eyes came into focus to see him standing in the doorway. "You'll take a bath, after breakfast. Wash away your ails." Rickie nodded in agreement and then he was off toward the table. "Miss Chamomile's makin' eggs this morn'. Said she'd be back in a bit. Ashlotte took a seat beside him. Enough light permeated the small home so that she could take a look around. The innards were rotted, with decaying curtains dressing the windows. The floorboards seemed to give with little force, slivers of moldy wood piercing her unshod toes. Chamomile's belongings were destroyed with age. The walls were but a singed and sooty shell around them. Ashlotte rose, feeling the floor spinning beneath her feet. Did they break bread with a ghost the night before? Preposterous. There must be some sort of logical explanation. Perhaps it was all but a hunger induced hallucination. But Rickie told her she spoke to him this morning! And then she saw it. Upon the bed, the charred remains of Chamomile. The fabrics that the old woman promised her lay undamaged at the foot of the bed. The blankets she had wrapped herself in the night before? She ran to the room and her mouth dropped open in terror. The goosedown quilt her body was enveloped in was totally unrecognizeable as was the tub she had bathed in. She couldn't have imagined all of this so vividly..the taste of tea, the floral scent she used to perfume her bath. "We...have to go." She uttered, taking Rickie by the hand and gathering their belongings. "But Miss Chamomile 'll be back soon and it's rude to leave 'fore sayin' goodbye, Miss Lotte!" He protested, being dragged out the door. "It's not rude if she is not coming back!"

Ashlotte groaned, making a beeline out of the town. "Don't you see? She's dead! She died in the fire..."Rickie tried to relieve his hand of her grasp, but he couldn't escape her clutches. "Miss Lotte! She isn't dead, spoke to me this morn'! Said she was going to get some eggs from the market!" This made her stop pulling him about like a maniac. "The market, you say? She turned toward the singly erected plank of wood, the market sign swaying to and fro upon a rusted chain. "I don't think this place has sold eggs in quite some time, Rickie." Fear took ahold of the child, leaving him to tremble upon his feet. "Do you think the spook'll come after us, Miss Lotte?" She patted his head, choosing to reassure him although she wasn't certain of the answer herself. "I don't think she meant to harm us or anything. I fear that we would have perished in the snow without her.."After some hesistation, Rickie nodded. "But supper and tea, they were real..." She only now realized how far they had been walking, and how long. "I cannot explain, but we're fed and rested and that's all that counts now." Ashlotte heard the child's steps come to a halt." Oh, I don' like this, Miss Lotte. Air has changed. Storm's brewin'." He was quite nervous now, eying the formation of clouds, darkness unfurling across the sky. "Gotta get somewhere fast." He spoke, looking upon the shaded earth. Ashlotte's turned to find that nothingness now stood in place of the ruined town. "Huh?" She gasped, utterly confused. Not even a trace of scorched land remained.


The wind began to blow with such a ferocity that it could rip flesh from bone, the unseen fingers of a forceful storm pulling their hair, grasping their clothing. She heard a tearing of fabric as the already worn threads gave way to the wrath of nature. The icy air stole their breath, leaving them huddled close in an attempt to withstand the elements. We're going to die out here, to be buried beneath the snow. They would have to wait until the warmth of spring to reveal the secret of such a demise. Then, the swift galloping of horses broke through her thoughts, and she figured that death was coming to reap their souls. She whispered a prayer upon soft, trembling lips. "Does life flow through you?"

The man yelled against the raging gale, his own words thrown back into his face. Ashlotte did not fear this man, but the child did. Dismounting the carriage, the man started toward the female, his hand extending as if to aid her to rise. His black cloak concealing the funeral attire he wore. "You have a bit of snow, Miss. " He spoke gently, a smile tugging the corners of his lips. "Uh.." She eyed him strangely, the subtle movements of her head causing a small mountain of snow to come tumbling down from her hair. "Yes. Thank you." Ashlotte swiped a few times at the apex of her wavy locks, dislodging the more stubborn flakes. She took his hand then, and Rickie eyed the man with suspicion. "It's Ashlotte, by the way. "she looked to the man, his horses. "Who might you be?" Rickie rose, staying close to Ashlotte. "I'm Andor. Was on my way home from a funeral, saw you two here." Ashlotte became saddened. "A funeral? Oh, I'm terribly sorry." They were soon on their way to the steady trod of hoof beats. "They buried the last of my kin yesterday." Andor told her, the carriage slowing. "Close to town now. Should arrive in another half hour." Rickie's emerald eyes were peeled the whole time, for upon their meeting Ashlotte sensed his distrust in the man. "Has there been any strange...disappearances?" She asked, expecting the same tight lipped response from Andor. "Not that I know. Once in a while there's some peculiar rumors swirling about in the tavern, but you know how that is. Drunkards seem to have quite the imagination." He chuckled some. "Ah. Here we are." The carriage came to a stop and they were aided out of the buggy. "Please, do go in and make yourselves at home. I have to water the horses and tie them up for the night. Will be back in a few." Ashlotte pushed the door in with caution, as her senses were fooled before by a most realistic appearing illusion. She smelled the scent of pine and saw a basket of blushing apples upon the table. "Help yourself.." Andor spoke, shutting them inside. "Made it back just in time. Starting to sleet out there. I don't know how some of these people could call the cold invigorating. Got to be a little touched in the head to go dancing out there in a snow storm, I figure." He got some wood from his indoor stock and started a fire, muttering about how depleted the pile was getting.

"Pile like this should've lasted all winter long. Always used to. Now it's only a few months in and I have to chop some more." Rickie sat at the table, chomping an apple. "So, Mister Andor.." He started in between chews "Are you a spook or what?" Andor was so suprised at the child's question that he dropped an exceptionally heavy log of pine on his toes, announcing his pain in a yelp."I don't think so, anyway. I did visit a funeral yesterday but it wasn't my own." The house was filled with the warmth of the fire, and rabbit stew was cooking in the cauldron. "Does the boy have a name?" Rickie shot him a look as if he had been insulted, but Andor only grinned."Rickie." The autumn hued child spoke curtly, almost slamming down the remains of his apple. "Kid doesn't like me much, does he?" The question was asked loud enough for Rickie to hear, perhaps intending for him to feel guilty about it. "No, can say I don', Mister Andor. I don' like 'ticians very much." The man understood. "I'm a mortician. Tis my job, son. I also specialize in a unique hobby. Making..as you say...mobile homes." Ashlotte's brow rose questioningly. "What are these..mobile homes?"
 
It really had been a one sided battle, well more so murder in the dark dying night of the priest before he left the corpse mangled where it fell. It did little to settle the flickering rage within his breast as he walked away, slapping off the blood from his hands to the side of the road with a splatter and walked listlessly towards the next place of wherever he ended.

Journeying amongst himself for the few days never actually stopping for sleep, food or anything else that could be considered the basic need of a mortal; Rune had made his travels quick until he stopped on the cusp of the roadway twining down into a larger town, the pungent smell of iron and coal ripped through his nostrils causing him to cover his face.

Looking aside, he figured that it was the best time to at least settle his body for a time being as he moved through the white snow that littered the once green ground, to wind into the cover brush of a tree that had kept most snow away from this roots.
 
Ashlotte turned in Kiruku's direction before the waifish female could sneak up on her. "Hello, friend." She spoke a tender greeting, dark emotions conflicting with the unconditional affection she felt for her. "I felt you since before I could see you." Kiruku's tattered black cape billowed some in the glacial gale that seemed to now envelope them both in a tomb of cold. "What are you doing out here?" Tendrils of honey brown hair fell loose from the hood, settling about her face. Kiruku's carrot locks were blowing freely, she appeared to have been journeying for quite a while in windy weather conditions. "I had things to do." Ashlotte's companion spoke, rather curtly. "Well I do hope that you traveled well, friend." She replied with a nod, remembering her own ordeals. "I feel so bad that you had to take him, it wasn't his time." Ashlotte looked toward the twilight sky, reflecting sorrowfully. "Death is inevitable, just a fact of life. People are born only to die. I suppose the end justifies the means, after all. There are no such things as accidents, no bargaining. You, too, will realize this one day when I come for you."

Kiruku responded, lacking emotion all together. Her words, no matter how true they were, were hollow. They were devoid of anything more than the soft enunciations of the Bard's hauntingly melodic voice. "I cannot offer one sympathies, I cannot console the poor souls I prepare myself to take. It is what it is." Ashlotte felt numb inside, apathy coiling about her heart like malignant ribbons, choking the sadness she felt for the loss of Rickie. "I...understand." A voice wholly foriegn arised from the Empath's throat, mimicking the nothingness that was causing part of her, in the process of withering to simply die and fall away like the tears she had been crying. "I don't feel..anything." Fingers delicately removed the remnants of the salty liquid that streamed down her cheeks. "This is my purpose in life, to bring death to others. Surely you cannot be angry at me for doing my job."Kiruku added, feeling a bit inferior to Ashlotte's scrutinies. "You..are not coming for me now, are you?" She observed Kiruku, her tea colored eyes mirroring the objectivity that the dirge bringer was feeling. "I..hope not, but if it's my ti-" The slender Bard shook her head."No, not you, not yet. I speak this merely as a warning, for the omnipotent presence of death always lurks behind you."

Her head was bowed at this moment, her emerald eyes closed. "I am sorry for your loss." The monotonous words slipped from her thin lips. "I do not speak these words to console you, Ashlotte, but should you find comfort in them, that's your business." The empath threw a sharp glance in her direction. "Apathy is like a poison, no? I do not feel a thing, not even a fragment of a damned emotion. It radiates off of you, and now it is inside of me. Perhaps I allowed it to infiltrate my being, perhaps I am tired of feeling the emotions of others. The pain, the sorrow. Even joy can be a tiresome emotion. I rarely am able to let my own feelings shine through. " Kiruku turned in the direction of town. "Would you like a cup of tea? I'm buying.." She slightly shook a satchel that contained her money, just enough to let the coins rattle." Oh, thanks but no thanks. Unless it's a strong drink you offer, I don't think I'm interested."

"Anything you wish." Kiruku announced, her dry tone seemed to change the air around them, making Ashlotte's person feel quite uncomfortable. "Ugh, it's so dry out here, it's almost like the air is making all the moisture in my body evaporate." She said with a frown." Let us retire to the inn then." Kiruku replied, starting toward the clearing, but turned back. Something was amiss, she felt the energy of another dark inhabitant radiating nearby.
 
Perhaps he could have passed off as a marvelous captured stature with how little he had moved since he had retired for a moment; but that seemed rather short lived still.

Eyes that once been shut tight, jolted open revealing the slowly absorbing irises that reflected white; Rune tightened a hand against that of his bicep to the wafting unwelcoming prickling feeling that seemed to invade his flesh. It wasn't far off and yet it managed to irk him enough that he pushed himself off the ground; turning his prying eyes over the horizon attempting to scryer for the assailant of questionable intent.
He was partly pulled towards it; due to the fact that if he could feel it picking at his skin this far, it was a troublesome creature but he was hardly one to go looking for the answers to such a feeling. It was familiar and foreign all at once.

Huffing a sigh as he adjusted the belt that ran over his shoulder; Rune jumped forward to sprint in and out of the snowy drifts until soles found the crunching gravel under them; as his attention turned grisly towards the town.

At first he thought it was the return of the hob goblin girl woman making her appearance again; but it was different than that.

Clenching and unfurling a fist; Rune spat to the side as he began the trail towards the town below.
 
She urged Ashlotte on, who uttered nothing in opposition to the idea. "Barkeep.." Ashlotte's gaze briefly fell upon every other inhabitant of the small tavern, her heart and mind no longer bombarded with the mental reflections of the people around her. Kiruku's apathy was was indeed a fortress of sorts, a seemingly impenetrable shield against all the other emotions she could possibly feel. "I'll have a cup of chamomile and I suppose Ashlotte will have a whiskey then?" Ashlotte didn't speak in protest for the type of drink mentioned, her mind reeling at the memory of the ghost named Chamomile. Before the drinks could be put upon the table, the empath snatched hers from the serving tray and downed it in a single gulp, almost spewing the pungent cocktail in a random direction.

She called for another, and another, until her thoughts were only faded fragments due to intoxification. Kiruku's loose, orange locks swept her shoulders as she turned toward a slovenly individual, his obese frame slumped over the tabletop as the leftovers of his mead poured to the floor. It was quite obvious that the alcohol got the best of him, the sounds of snoring rattling in his throat. The Bard left Ashlotte for a moment, seeking the company of this once knightly man. "Are you trying to escape your past, or your present?" Taking a seat next to him, she leaned in close with a soothing tone no matter how hollow her words were. "You will finally be at peace, once gallant knight. You will no longer be burdened by earthly problems." The drunkard awoke at this, his eyes wide with fright as he realized what she meant. In an attempt to move away from her reach, he tripped over the table leg that was in the way and fell to the floor with a loud thud. His metal cuirass dented in an inrepairable manner as it made contact with the old floorboards, his own armor working against him as the newly damaged steel made a shiv to stab him. The metal easily pierced his lung, and Ashlotte, along with the rest of the patrons, couldn't help but to witness his death helplessly. The sounds of the dying man seemed to echo in her mind, bouncing off the walls of the labyrinth of her brain. The wheezing finally stopped as he struggled to take in in his last breath. "And one more." Kiruku left the man's side and approached the hall, ascending the small set of stairs effortlessly. A few moments passed and she returned, leaving an aged, ghostly pale woman where she lay in her rented room. It seemed evident that she had been fighting the effects of some sort of poison, but the toxin proved too strong for her body to combat. Could it have been an accident, murder or suicide? Kiruku knew not. It wasn't up to her to investigate the means of death, but if she or another had used poison as a tool, death would then simply be a consequence of one's choice to intake the tampered liquor, after all. Her wrinkled mouth wore a blueish hue, as if the old woman painted herself up in a strange fard, or her mouth had been stained with blueberry juice. " I do this in the name of Azriel Yula Atone.." She spoke quitely with her head bowed, as if she were speaking a prayer. Ashlotte regarded her silently until the carrot topped female's words died upon her lips, her gaze settling upon the shuddersome young woman. "I have never head that name spoken. Well, I assume it to be a name. Does the name belong to a god, perhaps?" Kiruku's brilliantly shining, jewel green eyes met Ashlotte's. "Yes. You should show reverence, respect. You wouldn't wish to be placed in exile by her followers, or cursed by her her very lips. I was cursed by her..."

The Bard turned away from Ashlotte, her gaze fixating upon a slivered piece of wood on the wall. "I heard of another having been cursed by the spells she uttered. It's really not wise to upset her." Ashlotte nodded. "I'll take your advice into consideration. Is this why you bring death to others?" Her brow rose, and she pondered such an idea. "Yes. For far too long I sat back and watched people die, people that could have survived if I had lifted a finger to help them. I watched my entire family die, my clan, too, had perished. But they all had did me wrong in one way or another, so I held on to my grudges when the time came for me to give them assistance. My hands were full with the grudges, you see, and I didn't drop them. If I had, they may have survived." Kiruku turned back toward Ashlotte, staring blankly at her beautiful face. "But.. I don't quite understand." Ashlotte shook her head, allowing her slightly wavy golden brown locks to move about her shoulders and back. "What does this have to do with killing people now?" The frightened patrons ceased all talking and a strange hush fell within the the tavern. It was an errie quietude, where one could hear a pin drop if one such fell. "It has -everything- to do with killing people now. Kiruku spat through clenched teeth, although anger wasn't present in her to change her uncompassionate demeanor. "I will not perish. I've longed to, to be interred by the cliffside. But no, death will never come for me. Instead, I have to witness the sorrow of the families of whom I take, I have to listen to the pleas of those who bargain and beg for me not to take them. Eternally, I have to turn a deaf ear to those pleas and bargainings, always to remember my own tresspasses. I repent all the time for my sins, but I will never be relieved of my duties. It doesn't matter if the poor souls are mostly pure or not, because everyone sins. I am the consequence of their tresspasses." Ashlotte rose then, bits and pieces of fury filtering through the apathy that encased her inner being. Her delicate right fist slammed down upon the table making her wince as she caught a knuckle upon the edge. "So this gives you the right to wipe out entire cities, towns and villages without so much as blinking an eye? Death is a tool of justice? How can you call this justice?" She seethed, catching the attention of the drunken crowd. The Barkeep contemplated throwing her and Kiruku to the street, no matter how much he agreed with Ashlotte. If his tresspasses were suddenly revealed to Kiruku, he would be next to perish. He didn't want that, so he remained in an aggravated silence. Ashlotte took a seat, reviled by Kiruku's confessions to her. "How... what sins could Rickie have commited? What sins could he have comitted that would call for the punishment of death?" Kiruku's right hand snaked out toward her, fingers clasping a twig-like wrist. "Then don't look at it that way. Death cleanses the soul. Try to see it as such." This angered Ashlotte further, her fists shotting toward the ceiling. "What sort of -goddess- would bestow such a negative gift upon you? Perishment is the ultimate absolving? I don't believe such nonsense! She is no godess of mine." The Bard, peering about anxiously whilst Ashlotte's fury was ever growing in her speech, suddenly shushed the young empath. "The Goddess may be listening.." Kiruku warned, Ashlotte paying no mind to the urgency in her voice. "She would -eavesdrop- on our conversations? Fine! Let her hear us! She can't curse us all if we unite in our cause!"

The audience of drunkards soon dissipated, some stumbling out into the streets, some heading upstairs to sleep off he effects of their alcohol consumption. The common room was then ghostly quiet, until the sound of a woman's scream broke the silence. "We need an undertaker." She announced in a garbled tone, heavily butchering her words. "I..can't..sleep.." The disheveled blonde had lost her bonnet in the commotion, too intoxicated to realize she was without headwear. She fell over in an inebrieted sleep.
"It's not all me, you know. I bring death as to cleanse one's soul. There are others who bring death to gratify themselves, or to gratify others in their greed or whatever. You have seen it yourself that there are those who kill for personal gain. Some have a greedy or blackened heart, and just wish others to die with curses or hexes. This is why bounty hunters, assassins, and bandits exist. Unfortunately it is -my- hand that does the job, though. Behind every knife thrust, every poisoning, or arson. My hand guides it all." Ashlotte beheld her as if the Deathbringer had gone daft. Death was -guided- somehow by -her hand-? Ashlotte Took several moments to escape into her mind, the perplexities of what she'd heard were wrapping about her like chains weighing her down. Then, just as if a bolt of lightning was cast from the heavens to jolt her being, she saw Kiruku standing over two bodies. They were tossed from the wagon, their bodies strewn upon the roadside as if they were carelessly discarded ragdolls.

She seemed far away, as if space and time were culprits separating them. She saw their lifelines, two thin, silver threads which still had tied their spirits to their fleshy forms. Kiruku came into view, manifesting of both darkness and light. Of both shadows and the radiant rays of the sun. Her morbid melody would end their mortality. As the vibrations of her humming traveled up the chords of those threads which had still bound them into existance, she had sung no words, but the the ghostly tune had become a death knell, and the lifelines were then severed without the need of manually doing so with an implement of any sort. The wagoneer that was recently met, and Rickie. The child she had fostered as she continued about on her journey. Kiruku took their lives.

So what had gripped Kiruku so, that clad her in jittery shakes? The woman spoke nothing to her, and seemed to lock her secrets in a chest that was cast into the innermost depths of a turbulent sea. Ashlotte frowned, reflecting on Kiruku's mannerisms.
 
Patrons reeking of stale booze and foul air lumbered out of the tavern in a hastened hope to escape the loud conversation that could be heard beyond the wooden walls, as it seemed like he was attempting to peer through the wall.

He knew this was a bad idea; it was ringing like a bell in his bones, echoing in his mind and yet he had thrown all his instincts to the wind to come here. He had no death wish, that had long ago faded when he had a youth and a soul to save; rather he was just curious to a way. Wondering what sort of foul cur could radiate such a powerful yet miserable existence that would get him to be interested.

People moved idly, pushing past him not even seem to notice that he was within the lines of mortality and demonic parentage as they were more concerned in making themselves scarce. It seemed like a wise choice, nay it was a wise choice and one he should have listened to himself.

Rocking his jaw back to grind the fangs and teeth against one another; shoulders rose and squared with a daunting image of a man walking towards the inventible death that he could only laugh at.

Dark markings coiled around his arms and up his right side of his neck, present to the world in a way to mar himself as a toilage to the pits of hell or whatever existed past the realm of psychical being; metal and belts jangled with the creaking leather as feet lifted to advance towards the tavern; all reason in his mind thrown towards the wind.

Planting a firm flat hand to the oaken door that kept the heat inside and the bitter cold outside, Rune schooled his expression with expert skill to exclude nothing while the inner reaches of his body seemed numb. He had no idea what he could possibly be dealing with, and it would be the best to keep any anger and hatred harvested deep within the portioned mind that he had learnt years ago.

Floor boards creaked under his weight as the door slammed shut to vacuum seal the warmth of the bar inside as he peered up through slits to the pair of women seeming to be prior engaged in a heated discussion.

Great more hens to cluck away.
 
Ashlotte spied the newcomer, severing her concentration upon thoughts of Kiruku. Who was he? He did not invoke fear in her, and the patrons were too inebriated to aspire anything within her except a strange numbness that enveloped their true burdens or a false courage produced of imbibing the toxins that flowed incessantly from every spout. She pushed away her tea, watching the others for any visible or internal reactions to the very peculiarly marked creature. She rose, approaching him carefully. She would fail at an attempt to decipher the inscriptions upon his flesh. "Hail, weary traveler." She could only utter the words softly, as she was wholly confused by his appearance. He seemed of demon origin, and yet wore the trademark ears of an Elf.

He was not a loathesome sight to her, an anathema that the commonfolk would quickly brand him as. Kiruku excused herself with the soft manipulation of her seat, but her dismissal would go unoticed by Ashlotte. The Empath's tawny gaze was fixated upon his face, her brow furrowing as if she were trying to read any movement his features could produce, from a quirk of his lips to a flick of an ear.
 
Lifting his chin upwards to the eyes of tea colour when she spoke at him; Rune's usual quirk of a brow hadn't even made its presence this time about rather his attention seemed to transfer to that of the red haired woman that excused herself.

He knew the odd presence he was getting was from her and that was honestly enough for him. Registering her in the brinks of his memory, Rune side stepped around towards the bar not daring to take in much to the scene nor snap at the fact that he was still being watched by the one woman. It took a lot for him not to roll his eyes knowing that the ears he so happily possessed were part of the on look. It was a curse and a blessing in a way, it allowed him to cloak in with some people with ease and other times it was the exact reason that drove him crazy.

It was when he came up towards the bar that he adjusted his piercing white gaze to that of the woman through his peripheral; "The hell you looking at?" he couldn't contain that much from his body though the malice that usually sat within such a comment was nowhere to be seen, rather the thunderous tone was dispassionate as he narrowed the eye upon her crown.
 
Ashlotte gasped, feeling her response sliding back down her slender throat as if she feared emitting a sound of any sort. Where was Kiruku? Surely the Deathsinger would have a moments respite from prompting the living to expire. She awkwardly sauntered behind him, attempting to appear as composed and womanly as possible in the presence of this winsome individual. But, what of the rapid state the town seemed to unravel due to some wicked affliction cast upon the community? Was this unfamiliar man responsible for the degradation of her surroundings? Her footsteps halted at a quicker rate than her brain could sense, pitching her forward with her arms reaching out as if to grasp something she could steady herself upon.

He was a puzzle of a fellow, and she was determined to put the pieces together needed to solve the issue. "Did..did.." She stammered, almost recoiling as if she expected him to whip around with fingers folding about her throat. "...You.." Her voice seized, she turned away from him, cursing her faultering words. She eased herself onto a stool beside him, motioning for the Bartender to hurriedly ready a drink for her quivering lips.
 
Knitting his brows together upon that of this woman as she seemed lost within her own body; Rune snorted before he shook his head and did nothing more than tip a chin to that of the bartender making an order without a word.

The slender slide of an ear twitched lightly making him huff and turn directly to face the woman when she sat down on the stool beside him. "Did what? Don't go making assumptions about people you just met girl, especially since you could be right at the wrong time." he was warning her though he hadn't done anything nearby other than the priest and that was a couple of days ago now. "Call that passing by advice,"

Putting down the glass, Rune made no bones about not drinking, it numbed the mind and that was something he could never afford in any situation, so he just took the water without a comment more to that. Though it would be apparent to even a blind mute deaf man in the bleak corner that the bartender was worried all the while this woman seemed more spacey than he cared for.
 
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