No stone unturned

Re: No stone unturned

Postby CherryStatic » Wed Oct 08, 2014 2:10 pm

At the mention of his fallen comrade, Bale's eyes immediately flicked towards Molleine. He swallowed thickly, doing his best to maintain his somewhat strained grin. As his gaze returned to the Lady Warden's face, his voice lost some of its edge. He almost seemed complacent, save for the glint in his eyes.

"You can try, Egris Verreaux. Your threats mean nothing in the face of what we've endured to wear this uniform, the symbol of our order." He smiled up at her, somewhat challengingly, although it never reached his eyes. "Pain is our playground. Blood is our currency. What would some well-dressed guard dog of the realm know about torture?"

As he spoke, Bern shifted with a groan, slowly pushing herself up onto her elbows. A hand checked the back of her head for blood, but it came away dry. She was stunned that the force with which Bane had slammed her into the ground hadn't cracked her skull, but she was nonetheless unsteady. She blinked blearily at the two of them, her face warping with rage in the span of a few seconds before she rose to her feet as quickly as she could, moving towards them. She ripped a dagger from it's sheath at her hip, eyes murderous. Unless her companion objected, she was intent on using every sharp object within her reach to make the man before them sing like a song bird.
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Re: No stone unturned

Postby Kestrel » Sun Oct 12, 2014 12:07 am

He grinned up at her, but she saw the fractures. The woman was the key. When he taunted her about knowing of torture, her grin was sharp at the edges. "I've been on the receiving end before," she answered, simply enough.

She cast a glance back towards Bern and noted the storm in her eyes. Her shoulders lifted in a shrug and she turned her eyes back on Bale. "Suit yourself," she remarked, carelessly.

Her boots turned from him, then, and she strode towards Molleine. She stooped, with a hand still holding her blade, to check for the other woman's pulse. She would give Bern room to work.
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Re: No stone unturned

Postby CherryStatic » Mon Oct 20, 2014 11:46 am

Bale moved to stand when he saw the Lady Warden approach the still form of his partner, but he froze when Bern, who moved to crouch behind him, pressed the cool edge of her dagger to his throat.

"I'm not really in a talking mood at this point." she said quietly, her breath warm on his ear. "Give me a reason to slice your from ear to ear. I dare you."

He swallowed thickly, eyes forward. He watched helplessly as Egris knelt beside Molleine and lay her fingers against the woman's throat. After a moment, she had her answer; there was a pulse, albeit a faint one. The woman was still alive.

"I must be losing my touch." Bern muttered.

Bale was silent. He sat perfectly still, trying not to provoke either woman into using their blades.

"Can you wake her up?" Bern called.

As if on cue, Molleine stirred with a quiet groan. Her eyelids fluttered, as her eyes tried to focus on the Lady Warden, who stood over her.
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Re: No stone unturned

Postby Kestrel » Sat Oct 25, 2014 2:41 pm

The Warden's lips pressed down for a moment as she paused, standing over the fallen woman who had attacked them both. Carefully, she stooped to check for a quiet pulse and lifted her lips. She gave a brisk nod towards the pair waiting, Bern's dagger pressed tightly to Bale's neck.

"It is fortuitous," she remarked, passively, when Bern grumbled about losing her touch.

The hunter's questioned yielded quick results as the red-clad woman opened her eyes. The Kestrel watched her passively and attempted to press her gloved hand into the other woman's throat. Her grip tightened, her expression never shifting from the passive one etched on her face. Passive, though cold fury lingered behind her eyes.

"One move and I will let you watch your friend die slowly in front of you. After breaking your hyoid bone, of course," she mentioned, with tilted head. "You understand, don't you? It's obvious I am not making idle threats, I hope," her smile was anything but comforting.

"Bern..?"

She hoped the other would follow through on her mentioned plan, should it be required.

"Now then, now that all the fuss is over ... where is the girl?"
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Re: No stone unturned

Postby CherryStatic » Sat Oct 25, 2014 6:40 pm

The pinpricks of madness still danced in the corners of Molleine's eyes, but the confidence she had possessed only moments ago had fled upon awaking to this steely woman's grip on her throat. It had been replaced with a frantic fear; these women had actually hurt her. Had hurt Bale.

They had hurt them.

She struggled for a fraction of a second, but gave up feebly when the fingers around her neck tightened like a vice. She grunted, her still functional hand clawing at the Lady Warden's wrist, struggling to alleviate some of the pressure.

"Our sister." she managed in a rough whisper.

"Quiet, Molly!" Bale barked. His mouth snapped shut when Bern pressed her blade tighter against his throat.

"It's rude to interrupt someone when they're speaking." she murmured in his ear. Her green eyes flicked back to Molleine. "You were saying?"

"She's with our sister. Cari came to us, like our sister said she would. Our sister is never wrong about these things." She licked her dry lips, glancing from the Lady Warden to the half-elf, avoiding the smoldering look Bale was issuing her. "She told us that it was a waiting game. She told us that Cari didn't know anyone here but you and the one-handed girl. That we didn't have anything to worry about."

The realization that the plan had someone gone wrong seemed to distress her. Her breathing came quickly, her chest heaving. Her eyes sought Bale's, who had paled behind the knife at his throat. Their gazes remained locked as the words tumbled from her lips.

"She told us that she could do it quickly, could help Cari. Could fix her. We were supposed to keep you busy while she worked." A frantic, unexpected grin, one that was the result of knowing that she had done something right. It looked utterly childlike and innocent, and Bern blinked in bemusement. "She said that the two of you weren't important, that we could have you when we were done. But we failed."

She sounded suddenly ashamed, as if she had failed to complete a simple chore that a parent had assigned her. Bern's brow twitched slightly; the woman in the Lady Warden's grip was an unhinged whorl of emotion, changing rapidly. She could feel Bale swallow against the knife in her hand, and got the distinct feeling that he felt the same way, although their view on Molleine as a whole was no doubt worlds apart.

"You keep referring to Vixen as Cari. Does that mean that you know who she is?" she asked, trying to get the girl talking once more.

"I never met her. I only know what I was told by the others. She's very precious to our sister."

"And where is she?"

"Molly..." Bale warned through gritted teeth. Bern drew the knife lightly against his throat, eliciting a hiss and a thin trickle of blood. Molleine squirmed upon seeing it pool along the razor edge of the blade.

"We don't know!" she said quickly, eyes wide. "All she said was that if we took too long, our plan would go up in flames, and we would have to think of something else."

Something about her wording gave Bern pause. She dismissed it after a moment.

"You knew who we were, and what we were doing. You laid a simple but efficient trap. The guards haven't detained any of you, to my knowledge. You're organized. Who are you people?" she growled, her tone dangerous.

"The bane of the weak and keepers of the broken." the woman answered without hesitation, her expression serious. "We are Bloo--"

Her head snapped back, muscles tensed, so suddenly and forcefully that she nearly broke free of the Lady Warden's grasp. Her eyes bulged, her jaw clenched tightly shut, her nostrils flared.

All around them, the sound of chains being pulled taut could be heard. Bern looked around, the skin on the back of her neck prickling. She thought she could hear faint screaming somewhere nearby, a bloodcurdling cry that left her chilled.

This game we play has cost us two pieces already. How unfortunate.

The voice was inside her mind, inside the Lady Warden's mind, caressing them gently as it passed through like a windswept sigh. Molleine slumped in Egris' grip. Bern glanced down in time to see blood trickling from all orifices in Bale's head, his glazed eyes staring up at her in mute disbelief. She released the still-warm corpse, standing to face the promise of a new threat with her blades at the ready.

But the clanking of the invisible chains ended abruptly, leaving the night overwhelmingly silent in its wake.

Bern glanced around, realizing for the first time that people had gathered at a safe distance to watch the fight. In the lights of the store fronts along the streets, she could see the familiar uniform of the Myrken guards appear, hands on sword hilts as they approached.

"Ah. Perfect." she said, acid in her voice. "The cavalry. Can you handle this?"
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Re: No stone unturned

Postby Kestrel » Sun Oct 26, 2014 12:10 am

Madness was tempered with defeat, at least. Egris gazed down at her, one knee placed over one of the other's elbows to make certain she would stay in place. Even with the hand around her throat, there was no telling what the woman would do. Molly's free hand curled into claws and fought against the gloved digits wrapped around her neck, but they never budged.

One of the Warden's brows lofted at the information spilling free from Molly's lips. "I guess she is wrong about some things, then," she mentioned, quietly, with regard to their lack of worry over easy prey. Her amount of squirming was in direct correlation to how tight her fingers clenched.

The Warden was startled into releasing her throat entirely when her head abruptly snapped backwards and her muscles seized. Her head lifted to look for the source of the chains and her eyes narrowed warily. The whisper floated through her mind and then, it was gone. The two clad in crimson dropped lifelessly to the ground.

The Lady rose, leaving the woman's body behind, and glanced over at Bern. She followed her gaze to the militia approaching with drawn blades. She waved a dismissive hand at the hunter. "Find me later," she offered, before her spine straightened and she went to meet her men. Her barked orders were an attempt to overwrite her somewhat suspicious appearance.

She did not have time to explain everything. The men sheathed their blades, cleared the streets of people, and took the bodies to the Rememdium for short-term storage. Two guards were left to keep them company, to kill them in case they rose again before they could be burned. The usual procedure in Myrken Wood. Word was sent to Seasons. There was no keeping the matter quiet and they could use all the help they could get, frankly.

For her part, Egris soon arrived at Glenn Burnie's home with blood-smeared thigh and a troubled expression.
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Re: No stone unturned

Postby Glenn » Sun Oct 26, 2014 1:03 am

How did she think he would react?

It was a good question and one that he'd play with later on, when there was time. As it was, the former governor met her at the door, dressed but hardly to leave the house, hair tussled just so, like someone not expecting guests, and that had probably been laying in some obtuse position reading or even worse, writing (which always left the slant of his letters at some oddly unsettling angle; it might have been some sort of code, but if so, there was no way to break it as of yet).

"Come in," he said, not unfondly, but certainly not worried. How could he worry about her, cold steel and hot resentment? She was the militant one. She was the weapon and the armor. He was flesh and blood, badly treated. "That look on your face is certainly yours," he'd go so far as to yank at an arm to get her in if she was hesitant or if she'd let him. "what about the blood? Yours or someone else's, or something else's."

Frankly, it was a large surprise it hadn't happened before. This was Myrken. Blood came with the territory. If rain kept bushes and trees lush and green, then blood gave the floorboards of the Broken Dagger their dull sheen. "Do you need mending or a drink or both?"
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Re: No stone unturned

Postby Kestrel » Tue Oct 28, 2014 12:05 pm

Glenn Burnie was infinitely infuriating, but he was useful. Mostly. Except when he wasn't.

Their games were numerous, but she pretended not to read his letters. Feigned a lack of interest in the slant of his letters and any possible codes that might lie within.

He answered with tousled hair and she sighed to see him, attempting to reach up to comb fingers through the haphazardly arranged locks. Adding a bit of order to his chaos, as was her way. His words beckoned her in and, after a brief hesitation, his fingers wrapped around her wrist. The look in her eyes went flat and disapproving, but she did not fight his contact. She stepped inside before attempting to shake herself free of his hold.

She followed, her voice low as she followed him down the hallway towards a less confining space. "Mine, I'm afraid. It's nothing," she remarked, glancing down at the deep gouge that Molleine's blade had cut into her skin. It yawned at him past the protective leather of her pants. Her shoulders lifted and fell with a shrug of indifference. "I will go the healers later. I'm afraid we have something of a problem and I hoped that you would provide much-needed information."

She nodded towards the alcohol he kept, after noting just how much had been left in the bottle. Burnie was not allowed to drink himself to death, so she tended to keep a weather eye on its contents. "Gloria Wynsee sent me to find a missing person. A dancer who vanished some days ago. I met with a bounty hunter named Bern and we were attacked at the Floating Dragon. Have you noticed the red-clad men and women milling around town? Seems they have a plan. I have my doubts that it involves giving sweets to children and caring for the old and poor," she remarked, with dry humor.

She frowned, her eyes directed at the table in front of her, unseeing. "The two tonight did not mind claiming lives."

"I am worried," she admitted, her gaze seeking out his own.
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Re: No stone unturned

Postby Glenn » Wed Oct 29, 2014 1:12 am

Burnie met her gaze. The two of them gave one another no quarter. It was not asked. It was not given. Respect and affection were, counter-intuitive as it might have been, opposing forces. Familiarity was a trend, but it came at a cost, and until that cost was paid, it came with the taste of iron in one's mouth. "No, Egris," though there were other words that tickled upon her name, darling and dearest, and sweetheart, betrothed, things he might have said in another setting, in another sentence, "that was your plan."

Bitterness and admiration and maybe just a little concern, if not for her, then for Myrken, but maybe for her after all. The former Governor had a tendency to lead with the sting and then follow up with something more tender. "Is Henderson alright?" Oh yes, terribly tender, that. Widows would weep.

Still, these were two notions that she had to know he meant, because with her wearing honest concern, he was far less likely to play games. Honest anything was held in quite high regard between the two and their constant cat and mouse maneuverings. "It was bad, wasn't it?" He would not shy away from her eyes, quite the opposite. "Shame. We could have weaved a tapestry out of this; I could have talked about how you know my sources and watch me like a bird of prey and how anything as new as this group would be utterly out of my realm of knowledge. Then you could scowl at me and not believe me and we'd end up back on the table in a shoving contest at which point I'd lament the fact that you're wearing boots and I'm not." She had blood and violence and maybe even dark magic in her mind, flashes of adrenaline-laced moments rushing about, this way and that, playing havoc with even her usually steady pulse. He tossed other images at her, but it likely didn't help a bit.

"Fine." One step back, if not in defeat than in acceptance of the situation and her concern, and even more than that, the fact she had so freely come to him. "In truth, I don't know much. It's not a lie. I'm cut off from the machinery I created. They're ill-served by the restructuring and best served, within it, by me keeping my distance. It's more important than me," which was an arrogance of a backwards and inverted sort. "Bern's some sort of elf, right?" It may have been due to the war becoming matter-of-fact in Thessilane, or an aftereffect of Rhaena's reign, or just the general sense of confusion and opportunity that followed, but more and more, they were seeing non-humans arrive or make themselves known in Myrken lately. That was the sort of stimuli that could further stir the pot. People were afraid of what was different, even here, especially here.

And now that he'd gotten past the preliminaries, drink was poured. He never did seem to drink as much as he ought to, given his situation. If she ever asked him why, he might well tell her, but that would mean she'd have to admit she was looking in the first place. "I don't know much," he repeated, because it was a point of pride to answer questions such as this, even as limited as he now was, "but if you want to keep your activities a secret, deep red is a terrible choice for clothing, especially when they highlight elements of a uniform. People notice uniforms here. They mean something," and he had to bite his tongue to prevent a story from coming out. There wasn't time and for once he, for her, could accept that. "More than five, less than ten. Carrying some sort of strange instruments, weapons, something. I was going to venture out and have a look, maybe," which was probably a lie, but not one worth calling him on. There was a spark missing from him these days and the lack of that spark was one of the things that enabled moments like this. He was leashed only by his own lethargy, no matter the cause of that, and she well knew it.

"They've only been here a few days and haven't done anything disruptive, not that I've heard about at least. At the same time, they're not making any real attempt to hide their presence. Either it's simple arrogance (because they seem to be foreigners; did I mention that? From far enough afield that we've no record of them) or they want someone to know they're here to smoke that person out." He turned his hands upwards, not exactly showing her his belly. It was as apologetic a gesture as she'd get from him. "Like I said, I don't know much. I didn't think you wanted me that engaged with what was going on. If I'm wrong about that, I could make more of an effort," because he couldn't help but say something playful in there, even in the midst of serious business.
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Re: No stone unturned

Postby Kestrel » Thu Oct 30, 2014 1:42 pm

His question about Henderson surprised her, for a beat followed his question. "I did not take any of the men with me. They are now employed by Myrken and I was not attending to Myrken business," she explained, as if that were obvious. As if her only option at that point had been to trek into danger without a friend at her back to protect her. It made complete sense, at least to her daring mind. She did not seem to take his question for what it was - a way of showing concern. Such as it was.

Or perhaps she recognized it for what it was and found it wanting.

She eased down into a chair with a hiss of discomfort. She stretched her wounded leg out with a scrape of heel against floor so that she would not tug at the edges of the jagged laceration. Fresh blood bubbled from its depths and she fished out a rag to press against her torn flesh to stem the swell of blood. She was a soldier, used to all manner of damaged tissue. Her own was of little concern.

"It was bad," she parroted, ignoring his playful banter. Likely all the more concerning. "We had them down and they were giving us information. There was the sound of chains, a voice in our minds like nails against glass, and then they just ... died," she remarked, her lips set in a deep frown that matched the furrow of her brow. "Mid-sentence." She could remember each word that echoed between her temples.

This game we play has cost us two pieces already. How unfortunate.

She blinked, breaking her own reverie and lifting her eyes to meet his own. Solemn. Probably the most vulnerable he'd seen her. She bobbed her head as he questioned her about Bern. "A foul-mouthed elf with a quick temper and little respect." She almost liked her. She reached for the drink with trembling fingers and knocked back her drink. The glass knocked against the table and she waved for him to refill it. She sensed a story behind his words, noticed it in his pause, but did not think it was a suitable time.

"No, stay out of things. It's not safe." Again, she missed the teasing in his voice. She was not often off of her game like this. "They said something about their plan going up in flames if they did not enact their plots with some speed. What do you think that means?" She asked, thoughtfully, with one gloved index finger tracing back and forth over her lower lip.
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Re: No stone unturned

Postby Glenn » Thu Oct 30, 2014 11:55 pm

It was striking. You really didn't know someone until they were bleeding out from their leg. You just really didn't.

Once upon a time, it had been bravado for him, a way to express his fear, and back then, he was always afraid. The words came. He leaned into the blows of his persecutors. It wasn't bravery but it was defiance. That was a long time ago now. These days? It was something else entirely, the sort of unflappable, deranged, confidence that could only come from suckling on the wellspring of the worst sorts of dangers; it was what Myrken truly offered its chosen children.

She was so damn young, wasn't she?

His movements were smooth and steady, like a snake taking its time to gracefully, if not economically, move across a field. Her drink was refilled, but then he was upon her. She knew about treating injuries in the field. He knew a thing or two about treating his own. So much time spent in the Remedium in the last decade. So much of his life in a bed stitched up for one reason or another. "Let me help." The voice was soft, maybe a little tender, but mostly matter-of-fact. It wasn't about pride; it was about utility. It wasn't about trust; it was about necessity. Something had to be done. Let him help do it. All of that would have probably been easier to swallow if he hadn't pressed his forehead against hers lightly, the sort of mannerism you might see between a wounded wolf and a fellow member of its pack.

He'd help if she let him. He'd stay there, close by, if she let him. Either way, he would say this. "I don't like the idea of any voice in your head. I can teach you a few things about blocking that out. Later, though. There's not enough time now. You're willful enough that I'm not too worried. Just focus on who you are and not what you want." She was used to the way he could string together words and thoughts, even disparate ones. He was closer now, his voice softer. Still, he continued on. "My guess is that the scale of whatever they're planning now is relatively small. That is, they're not looking to conquer the province tomorrow. Maybe plant seeds for something down the line or take care of some personal goal. With the crown involved, no plan that relies so heavily on swift resolution can be enacted in the face of the Myrken you've contrived for us. It's a long game or no game at all. That doesn't mean they couldn't do damage if they wanted to, especially if they're as willing to sacrifice themselves as you say. Pressing them could lead to a further act of desperation. We need more information. You should really send me out, Egris." Which was what he offered before any other suggestions, which, knowing him, he probably was full of. "It's rather what I do."
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Re: No stone unturned

Postby Kestrel » Fri Oct 31, 2014 12:53 pm

Carelessly, a hand reached for the drink he poured her. Abruptly, he was upon her. His forehead pressed against the flat of her own and her hand flew up in an attempt to wrap fingers around his throat. In truth, if she connected, she did not steal his breath. Her index finger's tip and thumb would press against the back of his jaw to keep him just where he was. Her eyes would narrow upon his own. He had gotten too close, too quickly. She might be young, but the soldier was staring back at him.

Just as quickly, her eyes would soften and her hand would withdraw, whether it had been wrapped around his throat or not. "Sorry," she would apologize for her actions, or at least the attempt.

"You want to help tend to my wounds? Well, isn't that just domestic of you," she drawled, the shackles of unease were shaken away in favor of their usual banter. "You are aware of what that would involve? A little less clothes than either of us is entirely comfortable with, I'd imagine," she drawled, seeking to claim her second drink, to swallow it down.

She struggled to maintain her indifferent attitude when he mentioned teaching her to guard her thoughts. Still, she nodded gratefully at his offer.

The pinch of her mouth revealed just how much she disliked his plan of ferreting out information on his own. Still, she seemed resigned to accept, if she really had to. "Other options?"
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Re: No stone unturned

Postby Glenn » Sun Nov 02, 2014 5:34 am

She went for his throat and he smiled. It was, perhaps, not the reaction she was used to and it had nothing to do with his own likes and proclivities, which did not lean towards getting choked or hurt at all. Maybe he'd still be in the dark, dank city of the black elves if that had been the case. Though if he was that much against it, maybe he'd no longer be in Myrken at all. No, she choked, and he smiled more than he winced, disarming, certainly daring or at least without much care for his own well being. Her sorry would get a nod, and nothing else. No point in lingering.

"Practical, Egris." about her wounds, about states of undress. "We're practical above all else, you and I. We're not going to let a little thing like impropriety get in the way of properly tending to your leg. I'd rather see it on you now than not be able to see it on you later, right?"

"So, options. They're pressed for time. They're desperate enough to die if it advances their goals even a little in the immediate. We don't know what they want. Either you send me out and let me do what I do, or we press at every logical point. We send everyone out that we can, we create as public an environment as possible. You give a speech. Something along those lines. About anything really, or some other public display. We crowd the streets so much that while they can move in secrecy, they can't ACT in it. Everything becomes public. We choke out their options. We force their hand. The problem with that plan," his voice cool and serious, "is that it puts everyone at risk, though less risk than if they actually got to do what they wanted unheeded, probably. That's the gamble. We'll stop their plan but people could get hurt. My way, only I am at risk. You know which one's preferable."
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Re: No stone unturned

Postby Guppy » Sun Nov 02, 2014 6:30 am

She would pull her hand away from his throat, thumb seeking to stroke against his cheek in passing as if to ask for forgiveness. The matter was discarded immediately afterward. They moved on.

"Practical? Fine, we will be practical." Liquid courage burned as it slid down her throat. She rose to stand and her deft fingers worked at the fastenings on her trousers. She pushed them down enough to reveal the ragged edges of her wound. Still, it seeped life's blood, though it was sluggish. She was hidden from his gaze, but this was hardly appropriate, given their relationship and its many complexities.

Her mouth set into a frown as he gave her options. In the end, she could risk everyone or just him. The choice was an obvious one, he was correct. Despite her own preferences, she was a leader before anything else. Her soldier's mind weighed each option and came to a decision. "Fine," she relented, ill-tempered. "If you die, it will be from your own foolishness."
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Re: No stone unturned

Postby Glenn » Mon Nov 03, 2014 2:07 am

He'd allowed the choke and he allowed the stroke of the cheek. Whether he accepted the apology was another question. Whether he ever felt offense, despite his words and gaze, might have been another as well. They may have had certain similarities, but they were not the same. She was a beginning and he was an end, with Myrken Wood the crucible between them. Then came her leg and its unveiling to the world. Did she want shock? Awe? Awkward stumbling hands maybe? All but the last maybe, and even then, not now but later. Or maybe not at all. She'd get none of it though.

"We will be practical or we will be dead. Even at my very worst, Egris," and he talked while he worked upon her. There were supplies for just this occasion; of course there were. He was a professional bleeder. He had left only briefly to get them. Thankfully, they had the alcohol to clean the wound right there. The words would be a shield against impropriety, or at least a distraction from it and at the very least, a redirection of the pain. "I was practical. Too practical. If there was a potential threat, I saw it as an actual threat. I ended it or subdued it or suborned it. I used resources I had swore never to use. I was broken and damaged and lost, and even then," he said as he worked, as he cleaned and moved to pour the liquor on it, "this will sting," just a quick aside as he continued onward. "But even then, it was only my lapse that did me in. Golben. An impracticality."

Would she punch him in the face due to the pain? Yes? Then he'd take it and continue on. No? then he'd continue on with his nose not adding his blood to hers. He would begin to stitch up, if she let him, not with the skill of a surgeon but instead with the precision of a mapmaker. Accuracy was everything for both. "I only ever die from my own foolishness, Egris. Ironically, that's the only way I ever really live too."
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