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Silver
Jun 25, 2017 5:52:21 GMT
Post by Akir the Viper on Jun 25, 2017 5:52:21 GMT
Daemons were such interesting people. Akir had never really spoken to one beyond business, so everything about them was a mystery. She wondered if Gabe would continue to indulge her for a while longer about them. Or, well, himself she supposed. He certainly liked to talk about himself. All she asked was a simple question. Regardless, Akir had to admit it was still different from many she met in her life. The fact that she was surprised at hearing his age was proof enough that she knew so little about them. “We’l,” she pointed out, “…y’u l’ok goo’ for y’ur age.” Now that the whole situation had declined, she was able to get a better look at him. Just his appearance alone was somewhat mesmerizing. He was quite beautiful, but that was besides the point. Akir was sure he had an ego and knew he was attractive, and he had just almost killed her.
“Wai’, how l’ng do daemons li’e for?” Four hundred years was a long time. All his magic sounded neat and all, but she was pretty uncomfortable with how he could manipulate minds. She had to ask about it, because she was curious and needed to know. “Wh’ no’ jus’ manipula’e my min’ t’ te’l y’u the tru’h in the firs’ place? Or do’s it no’ work like tha’?” She felt that was a fair question. Was his manipulation limited? And if it was, what were its limitations? Most likely he would not share that information, so Akir didn’t bother to pry more than she had. The fire part made sense and she figured that he had some form of affiliation with it.
She ignored his comment about not being a healer. It’s not like she expected him to actually fix her arm anymore at that point. She just needed it to be a bit steadier rather than just flailing around, acting like an attached ragdoll. It was physically impossible for Akir to do it herself, so she needed some help. The whole process hurt like hell just like everything else that had been going on. Her shoulder protested against, as did her elbow and forearm, but she dealt with it just like everything else.
Someone was in such a rush to leave. Two hours? At least he was giving her the option to rest. It wasn’t like she had a choice, so she just nodded a ‘yes’. “I shoul’ try t’ ge’ some sl’ep th’n. K’ck me awake whene’er y’u’re se’ on lea’ing, yeah?” They would have plenty of time to chat on their way to the oasis, so she cut the conversation short and didn’t really wait to hear his response. There wasn’t much to use and she had no desire to go sleep in the sand, so the concrete would have to suffice. She bunched up her turban and laid her head on the ground, making sure to lie on her back. She did not have to wait long to go into a deep sleep, despite the pain her body was in. Her body was more exhausted than it was in pain. Falling asleep was easy.
-x-
Two hours was not enough time for her to feel even remotely better. In a way, she felt worse, but Akir knew that when Gabe woke her up, that meant it was time to go. She had no intention of being abandoned at a bunch of forgotten ruins. Her body had grown stiff from the two hours, as had her arm. Just trying to get up was awful, but again, she had to deal with it. Akir grunted and forced herself to sit up first, allowing a few seconds for her vision and head to clear. Getting up too fast would be stupid in her state.
Using her good arm, she pushed herself off the ground and wiped as much of the sand as she could off her torn and bloody robes. She reached down and grabbed her turban, frowning at it. For now, she’d had to deal with not wearing it since there was no way she could put it on.
She swore in the Doshaan language and tried to stretch, but her whole body was entirely too sore for it. Akir would have to deal with traveling stiff and sore. Again, it could have been worse. She could just be dead. Without even bothering to ask Gabe, she went ahead and reached for her weapons to try and reapply them to her belt. Akir figured that, though he did not entirely trust her, he was smart enough to realize there was little she could do in the state that she was in, nor that she had any intention to. He didn’t seem the type to carry them himself. It was tricky getting the whip and scimitar to hold, but it worked and with that, she was ready to head out.
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Silver
Jun 25, 2017 7:10:51 GMT
Post by Gabriel on Jun 25, 2017 7:10:51 GMT
Gabriel glanced at her then, amused. Though not surprised.
"Daemons are like the Fae. Our ageing arrests in young adulthood." Would she know more of the Fae? They were the natives of this land, but preferred forests and woodlands to deserts. They would be more common than Daemons in the Boil, but not by much.
"Eight hundred years, give or take, though few die of old age. We're a violent people. In our homeland, though, we are immortal." This was something not even the Fae could claim, and although the Dream Land was a memory at best to most Daemons in Litharia, Gabriel remained more connected to it than most through an ability to teleport between dimensions. He still considered himself immortal for this reason, though this was all far too complicated to explain to someone who didn't even know there was a Daemon Lord.
Her next question was a fair one, and he arched a brow.
"What do you know of magic, Akir? Do you have an artifact to wield any of your own?" Not all Humans did, he knew - artifacts were expensive and could be hard to come by if you were of a rarer branch. Even if she had one, Gabriel suspected she wasn't advanced in her use of it, at least not yet.
"There are limits, yes. The magic is specific. I have powers of influence...but the mind is a complicated thing, and I do not wield perfect control over anyone's but my own. There are circumstances under which I will rely on the magic alone, but where I can arrange a certain outcome through more mundane means, I will." He had to travel back to the oasis anyway, so there was no harm in dragging Akir back with him to confirm her story and be absolutely certain of his safety. Or, relative safety. The life of the Daemon Lord was never really free of risk.
Gabriel did not sleep while Akir rested - he wasn't tired, and however convinced he was of her story, he wasn't about to close his eyes in the presence of a hired killer. He passed the time back atop the spire, looking out over the desert. He came here very rarely - Akir was right in that the Boil was a difficult place for Daemons to thrive - but at least at night, drenched in moonlight, it was beautiful. It reminded him a little of the Olpham Plains of his home, stretching as far as the eye could see. Exactly two hours later he returned to the ground and shook Akir awake. She was groggy and stiff, and so grey he thought she might faint, but with some muttered words he assumed were curses, she readied herself for travel. He did not delight in her suffering but was impassive to it - he needed to get on the road now, or risk lethal burns from the sun later on.
And so they set out across the desert. Gabriel carried nothing with him except a water skin strung on a leather cord around his neck and under one arm, so it rested on his hip while he walked. He wore simple black cotton clothing - pants, a simple shirt - and his feet were bare. His clothing was simple but he wore many decorative rings and bracelets, almost all set with moonstone, flashing blue in the moonlight like his skin, and the rare piece of sunstone. He set a steady pace, slower than he would usually have travelled to accommodate Akir, but faster than an easy ramble. Already there was the hint of cerulean in the eastern sky, as they inched ever closer towards dawn.
"It is six hours to the caves at this pace. Do you think you can manage it?"
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Silver
Jun 25, 2017 7:48:17 GMT
Post by Akir the Viper on Jun 25, 2017 7:48:17 GMT
"It is six hours to the caves at this pace. Do you think you can manage it?"
Akir forgot she was with Gabe. Ever since they set out from the spire, she was lost in thought and was focused in on her own existence and being. She was mostly focused on keeping a steady pace and not falling over or being an inconvenience. With or without the daemon there, if she fell and could not get back up, it would mean certain death once the sun rose and drained her of water and energy. It was when he directly spoke to her that she remembered the whole reason she was in her current state, and thus brought her back to reality. Since she woke, Akir had stayed silent. Everything was awful, but she had no one to blame but herself for that mistake really.
Focusing on herself and just moving forward helped a little with her state of grumpiness, but not by much. “I’l b’ f’ne.” Besides staying upright and keeping up with Gabe, her main priority was to keep her arm free of movement and away from anything that could hasten infection. It was a good thing that they were traveling while it was dark. Heat would just make an infection occur quicker and make everything feel even more awful.
Trudging through the sand gave her a new perspective on dunes. She was so used to walking on them with ease and little resistance. Now it felt as if the sand was pulling her under or purposely slowing her down, like the Boil was trying to devour her. It was not a place for the weak, and Akir swore she would not be a victim of it.
Those were the only words she spoke for another hours or two. Her mind was busy again, re-running through what had happened in the past day. She felt very sluggish and off, so it helped her feel sane by telling herself the exact events that occurred. Akir fucked up and tried to kill the wrong guy. He was going to kill her, she convinced him not to by explaining the situation, though he could still do so later. Over and over again she played this, including details about their brief conversation that was interrupted by her need to sleep.
As they walked, there was movement from the corner of her eye, just a few feet in front of them that caught her eye. This motivated her to speak again. “Y’u aske’ wha’ I know of magic. I use it m’self, bu’ it is v’ry di’feren’ from y’urs. S’ I do use an ar’ifact.” Akir did not know his exact intentions, so she did not bother explaining what it was. She needed it to use magic, so in reality there were very, very few people she would tell. It was a thin, metallic circlet with a cobra in the center of it. She normally wore it on her head, but ever since she set out to find her target, she had looped it through her belt and hid most of it with her loose garb. It had been the one thing she did not lose when Gabe had thrown her against the wall, and for that she was very thankful. “Le’me sh’w y’u.”
They were just passing the spot where movement caught her attention. A warning was given to them for drawing to close; specifically, the sound was rattling from a snake buried under the sand. For the first time that night since they started moving, she stopped just momentarily and bent down to where she could see the very subtle shape of the snake’s body under the sand. Instead of striking, the rattling stopped. She smiled for the first time too, and gently scooped under the body of the rattlesnake with her one good hand and brought it out of the sand.
Before he could complain, she began to walk again with the snake in hand. It was quite small, no longer than her forearm, and it curled around the upper portion of her arm as if it had already been trained. Once it was comfortable, the snake gladly rested its head on her good shoulder, occasionally flicking its tongue out in the direction of her face as it watched her. “My magic is an’mal base’, yeah? I’ve alw’ys b’en abl’ t’ c’lm snakes an’ do wi’h th’m wha’ I will. I'e ne'er b'en bi'en an' th'y c'n make excellen' ki'lers themsel'es.” This made it extremely easy for her, and cheap, to get snake venom for poison purposes. It wasn’t as flashy as his fire or telekinesis, but in her eyes it was one of the best gifts she could ask for. The god she most dedicated herself to in the Dothraan was a snake god, and she was convinced her magic was a gift.
“I’m pre’ty y’ung sti’l, s’ it hasn’ de’eloped ‘ery much. I’m no’ s’re wha’ else I c’n do.” As a bonus, Akir loved snakes in general. They were such fascinating creatures, and she had yet to ever visit a place that did not have them. She wasn’t sure if she had ever really spoken with an outsider about her magic, but it wasn’t really a secret. Gabe, as far as she was aware, had been honest about his magic. Since Akir did not loathe him, nor blame him for her injuries, she saw no harm in being honest back about it.
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Silver
Jun 26, 2017 7:07:15 GMT
Post by Gabriel on Jun 26, 2017 7:07:15 GMT
They travelled in silence for a long time, Gabriel setting the pace and Akir struggling along behind. She did not complain though, despite being significantly hampered by her injury. The Daemon Lord suspected she usually travelled on much lighter feet in the desert, and that this difficulty was frustrating to her. He appreciated her determination even if it was in her own self-interest - after all, if he got impatient and abandoned her in the desert, her chance of survival went way down. The moon tracked their progress, moving inexorably across the sky. The silver light was fading to be replaced with the cool blue light of pre-dawn when she finally spoke.
He watched, expression impassive, as she coaxed a rattlesnake from the sands to coil tamely around her good arm. Gabriel was very familiar with magic of this type since his closest friend and confidante, not to mention member of the Daemon leadership structure as Strongest Daemon, Hadjara, wielded magic of a similar branch. Perhaps even the same original branch - Hadjara had been a Reptilian Shaman before her change, and he presumed Akir was one too. As such, he was more comfortable with deadly reptiles than your average person, and barely reacted to the snake’s proximity. He knew how the magic worked, and although he supposed Akir could now direct the creature to attack him, to do so would only hasten her own death. She seemed interested enough in survival that he thought the risk was minimal.
“You should meet one of my deputies. She shares your magical influence, though her specific association is with crocodiles.” He was speaking as though he had decided not to kill her, and perhaps he had. Though, it still rather depended on finding this man to confirm her story.
Sunrise came as a slow creep of rose and amber across the lightening sky, followed by a sudden, brief flash of intense gold. The ethereal gilded dawn passed as quickly as it had come, the sky quickly turning brilliant, cloudless blue. Early morning in the desert was still cold - very cold, actually, though Gabriel did not need clothing to survive it given that being a Fire Elemental halfbreed made his temperature run hotter than average. He could also tolerate very high temperatures but the light of the sun itself was the problem, rather than the heat. And warm it did grow, quite quickly, as they walked. It had soared into temperatures uncomfortable for an unaccustomed human by the time the sandstone formations he was making for came into view across the desert - distant and hazy, but fortunately not a mirage.
Gabriel figured that arriving at the caves would be a relief for Akir. It was a chance to rest, and given he already felt uncomfortable under the mid-morning sun, it was a relief for him too. He would not wish to travel again until late afternoon, though of course this also meant he expected to travel throughout the night, when the sun posed no problem to a Daemon wayfarer in the desert. He trailed to a stop outside the cave he had picked - familiar to him because he’d also rested here on his way out to the ruins - and waited for Akir to trail through the sands that sucked at weary feet to catch up.
“We can rest here, out of the sun. We’ll leave again late afternoon.” It would still be hot, but that didn’t bother Gabriel. Shade was what was important to him.
“And since you’re with me and have your snake magic we might as well make use of it. Why don’t you check the caves for snakes first? Usually I have to take my chances.” Sandstone formations, like the small network of very shallow caves Gabriel had taken them to, were also places of refuge for desert wildlife. Ordinarily he would cover himself in fire to ward off any threats as he entered the cave, but given the choice he presumed Akir would rather remove snakes a little less violently than have him burn them to a crisp. He could still do the fire cleanse for any scorpions left behind afterwards, if necessary. Hopefully she wasn’t irrationally fond of stinging arachnids as well as venomous snakes.
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Silver
Jun 26, 2017 7:43:08 GMT
Post by Akir the Viper on Jun 26, 2017 7:43:08 GMT
He spoke of another person he knew, a deputy, that had a similar influence as her. Crocodiles were fearsome, extraordinary predators and Akir’s curiosity was peaked. She still wanted to ask more about the politics he worked with, but her mind was not in a good place for such a though provoking conversation. The way he spoke of her though…had he already made up his mind to let her live? Almost everything about his attitude and body language seemed to change. No doubt he was still careful to not be too relaxed, but he less murderous and angry. Now he was more talkative and interesting.
When she could see their destination, Akir went ahead and let the rattlesnake go. It slithered down her arm and away from them, leaving a small trail behind it. There was no reason to bring it with them and it would need adequate shelter before the day got too hot. Just when it felt like she could not trudge on any longer, they finally made it to their destination and she had to force herself to not just fall over and sleep. There was still a little more work to done, and she was thankful that he asked her to remove the snakes. No one (normally) in their right mind would rest in a cave without going through it first, and he was no fool. She suspected he would kill anything dangerous to himself in the cave, and snakes were very sacred to Akir.
The cave was standard to what the Boil had to offer an she recognized it from following Gabe’s trail. There was sand on top of hard rock, natural rocky structures, and other…well, cave things. She did a quick, but thorough search as fast as she could. The first hole in the cave’s wall, she found a cobra. Akir grabbed the snake and looked through the rest of the cave. When she was done, she had found four in total, three of which were poisonous.
A few good feet away from the mouth of the cave, Akir dropped the snakes onto the sand and watched them slither away. She returned to what seemed like a luxury to her at that point, and plopped onto the floor. There was a tingling sensation from the bruising along her back and pain in her shoulder, but she ignored it. The two hours she used to sleep before was not nearly enough, so she was more exhausted than when they had left. To top it off, she was sure there was sand over every inch of her body. How that happened, the gods only knew. The Boil liked to make things miserable for anyone that had even a bit of misfortune, and yet she loved it there.
She had no complaints about leaving when the sun was not blazing in the sky. Only fools did that. They were in the middle of the desert and, even in her clothing which was meant to endure the sun, she would not risk that.
Again, she used her turban as a pillow and rest her head on it while lying flat on her back. Her shoulder protested from the hard surface of the floor, but it’d have to do. Immediately her eyes shut, but before she dozed off she stated, “Y’u’ll ha’e to enligh’en me on wha’ daemon poli’ics is wh’n we lea’e again. I can’t say tha’ I’m con’inced it’s a r’al thing ye’.” With her eyes shut, she managed to force a smile and fell asleep quickly after that.
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Silver
Jun 27, 2017 9:23:41 GMT
Post by Gabriel on Jun 27, 2017 9:23:41 GMT
The cave was on the edge of Akir's ability to travel, and Gabriel was relieved to have judged it well. Shade was hard to come by in the desert and although the sun would kill anyone exposed to it for too long without proper protection, it went worst for Daemons. Even though he was not as susceptible as some - it would take hours, rather than minutes, for his skin to blister or other outward physical signs of damage to appear - being in the sun sapped his strength. It was a measurable kind of fatigue, like trying to battle through sleep deprivation. Every moment in the sun caused this slight lethargy and the longer he was exposed the worse it would get.
The sandstone caves were only just caves - they were not deep or intricate. Only a few feet of shade was available in even the largest, but it was enough for a day's shelter during a longer journey. After Akir cleared out several snakes Gabriel strode in and sat cross-legged, his back to a sandy wall. The relief was instantaneous. The air was still warm, even in here, but that was no bother to him at all - just being out of the light was akin to a refreshing swim for a Human. Daemons did not sweat either, which was probably another reason that many avoided the desert - they lacked this basic method of temperature control - but fortunately for Gabriel he was very heat tolerant due to his elemental magic. Waiting here for the sun's intensity to dim was a pleasant enough prospect, not to mention essential both for Akir to rest and for him to avoid serious damage.
"I can talk about Daemon politics for days. I don't see why it's so unbelievable, I'm sure I can convince you." He didn't need magic for that, it simply made sense. Though, he mused as Akir fell quickly asleep, no doubt exhausted from the trauma of the last few hours, the things she had said had alluded to her being part of some cult or sect of assassins. This did tend to promote a strange, skewed view of the world - her frame of reference was probably all out of whack.
Gabriel passed the time in his usual way when he found himself without a need to sleep or anything in particular to do - he played with his magic. Fire to chase away scorpions, flickering across his seated form, turning moonstone skin to white-red-orange. Flame held above one palm, then the other - the size of a marble, then a ball of yarn, then a human head, before it disappeared again into nothing. Creatures from the Dream Land that look like tiny, demonic cats - all teeth and dirty purple fur, gambolling around the cave - not real, of course, but composed of illusion magic. Brief, telepathic messages sent to Hadjara mostly, saying nothing in particular, just chatter about recent events as was his habit. He kept things relatively quiet so as not to disturb Akir too much, but she was sleeping the exhausted sleep of the badly wounded. In this way the time passed, marked by the sun's slow but inexorable path across the sky. When it dipped towards late afternoon he finally nudged Arik with one foot to wake her.
"It's getting late. We can leave in a short while. Do you need food or anything?" Gabriel didn't know what her plan had been if she'd made her kill - whether she'd carried much in the way of supplies with her, or had intended to return to civilisation too quickly to bother. Gabriel could last longer than Humans, generally, without food, and fasting for up to a few days wasn't uncommon for him. Either way he wanted to be ready to go soon; it would be dark in a few hours, and then he would want to travel through the night. Doing this, they would need to rest only during the hottest part of the next day and would arrive in the oasis that night.
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Silver
Jun 28, 2017 1:57:22 GMT
Post by Akir the Viper on Jun 28, 2017 1:57:22 GMT
Akir did not sleep very well.
Though she was exhausted, her brain was more focused on the pain than the sleep this time. Maybe she’d get lucky and sleep a whole ten minutes, before jolting awake from shoulder shifting. At one point she forgot that she was in no shape to sleep on her side, so she started to roll over and immediately fell flat onto her back when the sharp pain erupted. Gods, she could not wait to find a healer. She felt so weak and pathetic, useless and animal food worthy.
Every now and then she’d wake up to the occasional flicker of extra light emitted from Gabe. He either did not trust her to sleep, which was reasonable, or he was just not tired. Either way, she wondered what he was flickering the fire at, but she didn’t bother asking. He…interesting. Different than the way she had been told to perceive daemons. At least with him, they did not seem like mindless animals like her teacher taught her when she was very young. Akir did hold humans as a superior race, but actually meeting a daemon gave her a new perspective to consider. She’d met shifters before, and they weren’t all that. Humans were much better than them. She’d never met a fae, but they sounded like tree hugging weenies. Her teacher also told her of an interesting and more uncommon type of people, such as the angels and thins called ‘shadows’, but she had such little information on them that they were more an urban legend than reality to Akir. Her thoughts, along with the pain, kept her awake and before she realized that, it was time to go.
When Gabe tapped her to wake up, she did not complain. Though she wished to try and sleep longer, it would mean a better chance of infection setting in with her wound. The sooner they got to town, the better. She’d show him where the guy was, Gabe would kill him, and then Akir would go on her way to a healer. Depending on his mood and if he was still intent on letting her live, she considered asking him to accompany her so she could learn more about daemons in general and perhaps a bit more about himself. She was intrigued.
“I jus’ nee’ wa’er,” Akir replied as she slowly stood up. Those damn black dots clouded some of her vision for a second, and she stumbled when she was fully upright, but Akir easily caught herself and shook off the sense of dizziness. Food was a luxury that could be put off for a few days, even a week, before she would get too weak to do much. Water was a necessity. Just going a day in the Boil without it was dangerous, especially when exposed to the sun.
Even if Akir got no sleep, she felt much more awake. She stretched as much as she could, ignoring the overall soreness of lying on the hard ground. “Alrigh’ fire du’e. I’m rea’y t’ lea’e whene’er y’u are.” During the time they crossed the desert, she was very intent on asking questions. If he had any himself, Akir was to the point where she didn’t mind answering some even if she had promised not to say anything until he spared her. She would still not describe the man he was set on killing, but there would be no harm in talking about some of what she did, she supposed. It’d only be fair to give some information for asking for some.
“T’ answer y’ur ques’ion from e’rlier, it is a li’tle di’ficul’ f’r me t’ be to’ally con’inced, yeah? Y’u’re th’ fir’ daemon I’ve ac’ually met…an’ th’ firs’ one I’ve e’er unin’entiona’ly trie’ to ki’l. Won’ make tha’ mis’ake again. Go’ t’o cocky wi’h my job an’ ma’e assump’ions.” She was willing to admit her faults, and getting to caught up with her chain of success was one of them. “S’ if y’u are as p’wer dri’en as y’u say and ha’e a poli’ical sys’em, th’n are y’u wha’, goin’ t’ try t’ conquer every’hing?” That was an interesting idea. Were they set on domination, or was it just a matter of showing up the other species on who was stronger and better? “An’ wha’ the he’l does a daemon lor’ do,” she added. Akir only had her own ignorance to blame when it came to this topic. She lived in such a secluded place from the rest of Litharia and learned nothing but what her sisters wanted to tell her, but she still could have learned more and not sounded so…dumb.
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Silver
Jun 28, 2017 8:57:50 GMT
Post by Gabriel on Jun 28, 2017 8:57:50 GMT
Gabriel watched as Akir slowly roused, clearly feeling like shit. He appreciated that she didn't seem one to complain, although as an extroverted and dramatic Daemon, Gabriel would have been making his feelings very clear in her position. When she asked for water he handed her his waterskin without preamble; there was enough for the journey back, and it could be refilled in town. Apart from this simple action he remained seated, unmoving and apparently patiently awaiting her readiness to leave. As an actual fact patience was a virtue Gabriel lacked, but a certain amount of time was only fair. He had shattered her arm and shoulder quite badly. And it didn't really take long before they were back out in the desert, crossing the endless expanse of sand towards their unseen destination, Gabriel navigating by the position of the sun as it tracked towards the horizon.
Stepping back out into the sun was unpleasant, as it always was, but with the intensity waning fast the sensation could be ignored. And soon enough, conversation distracted him anyway. Akir was chattier now - 'fire dude' was a new one to him, and he snorted as they wound their way between the dunes. He'd had worse nicknames.
"If you've really never met a Daemon before, I guess I understand your confusion. I don't really see how you mistook me for that ugly mug, but at least you learned something for the future. Daemons are harder to kill." Actually, she'd have if anything a ridiculously skewed picture of Daemons from meeting him as her first exposure to the species. Gabriel was exultantly, proudly, unmistakably Daemonic of course - but he was also nearly four hundred years old, born in the Dream Land, the Daemon Lord, and a Bardic Golem to boot. Golems were the rarest Daemon type, and by virtue of age and experience Gabriel was powerful even for a Daemon. Still, if this instilled in her a healthy respect for all of Daemon kind, Gabriel considered the misleading picture he painted a net win. Few Daemons were truly weak, anyway; their very natures made them refined, violent predators - so while few Daemons were much like Gabriel, none were anything like Humans.
"Are your targets usually Humans, then? Do you kill for coin, or only for your God?" Gabriel had his own questions for Akir, should she choose to answer them. Meeting someone entirely new to the Daemons made her interesting. Plus, he might not like assassins generally, but he also couldn't deny their lives were often unique.
Gabriel smiled at her question about the Daemons conquering the world. A fair one, from the picture he'd painted, but as usual life was more complicated than that.
"Daemons are more interested in personal power than collective power, for the most part. I'm interested in collective power, as the Daemon Lord, but first of all we recognise the Fae as indigenous and respect their rights as wardens of Litharia, so we would not conquer them. We're allies, actually. And secondly, Daemons are...difficult...to organise. It's like herding bloody cats, to be honest. Very independent. Not given to long-term projects like conquering."
The question about the Daemon Lord was a hard one to answer. His role was complicated, ever-changing, and very political. So he tried to give her a summary rather than specifics. He also still had in his mind the fact that she had tried to kill him, and even if she hadn't there were things one didn't share with people they had just met.
"The Daemon Lord makes any collective decisions necessary for the Daemons as a whole. Who to ally with, when to go to war, when to break alliances." What he did day to day was so varied there was no point even trying to explain it, especially since it was dependent on the complex interconnected web of politics that ran throughout all of the Litharian species.
"And of course, I defend my title. The Daemon Lord wins the position through a fight to the death and can be challenged at any time."
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Silver
Jun 29, 2017 1:59:55 GMT
Post by Akir the Viper on Jun 29, 2017 1:59:55 GMT
Akir thanked Gabriel for the water and tank a small portion before returning the water skin to him. She followed after him when exiting the cave and managed to walk at a similar pace next to him.
The treck through the sand was easier this time, now that Akir was more aware of her footing. It was refreshing to feel the heat slowly disappearing with the sun. Her clothing was just as suited to keep her warm during the cool nights as it was to keep her cool during the hot days. Though it was painful, she was able to keep up with Gabriel easier. At the same time, she kept a look out for anymore snakes since it was a prime time for them to start coming out. Mostly, she didn’t want any of them to be cooked to a crisp by the daemon if they struck out of instinct. Thus far, there was nothing.
With each step, her feet slid and sank with the sand as it conformed to their shape. As Gabe spoke of daemons, she was convinced that he had no intention of killing her any longer…well, unless she did something stupid. Also, Akir was sure if she slowed him down at all, he would not hesitate to leave. Though the lingering question on whether he would kill her or not was gone, she was still not out of danger’s path just yet. Chances were she could make it to the village on her own now, but If she came across any other people or creatures, she would be good as dead.
His comment regarding how daemons were harder to kill made her sneer. While she had never come across a contract that required her to kill a daemon before, she knew a few of her sisters that had. Her meeting Gabriel had changed her mind set on them, but she felt that Gabriel was an exception in terms of daemon strength. She had no idea how far it went, but he was very powerful from the little magic that had been inflicted on her. Part of her highly doubted other daemons had that same power, so she did not completely give into the idea that they were harder to kill. Akir did not comment on it since she did not know where Gabriel’s patience level was at the moment, and she did not want to give him a reason to get all rage happy on her again. For all she knew, he was right. She would need her own experiences with different daemons to determine if that were true.
“Tru’hfu’ly, I don’t kn’w how I mis’aken’ y’u for tha’ guy ei’her,” she jested. “A’ leas’ th’s ga’e me a goo’ le’son t’ no’ get t’o ahea’ of myself.” Akir meant that. The moment she knew she messed up, she vowed to never be so arrogant ever again. That was always easier said than done.
Off in the horizon, Akir was positive she could just barely make out the outline of the village. Depth perception in the Boil was always off, especially when there was nothing to compare the shape to in terms of distance. It was a little different for her since she thrived in the Boil, but her estimation that they would get there by the middle of the night could be off by a few hours. There was still enough light at the time for her to see the shape however, and she was positive that was what she was seeing.
The question Gabriel asked her was a fair one and also one she was willing to answer. “I’s a li’tle of bo’h yeah? Mos’ly I take con’racts to a’pease our gods, bu’ lik’ an’one else, I nee’ some coin to li’e comfor’ably. I se’l snake v’nom o’ca’sionally t’o for a li’tle ex’ra on the si’e.” It was a fair and honest answer, though not the complete truth. He was an outsider, so Akir was forbidden to speak of her home and how their people believed, in order to keep it habitable, blood had to be spilled in the gods name so that the oasis would continue to thrive.
“Th’ugh there is ‘ne god I ma’nly pay pa’ronage to, we ha’e many. My fe’low sis’ers are spli’ up in’o two groups wh’n I’ comes t’ rel’gious bel’ef. One si’e bel’eves our gods ar’ th’ only true gods tha’ exist. Th’y only a’pear as on’ enti’y and are ne’er to be percie’ed any o’her way. The o’her si’e, wh’ch is the fac’ion of fa’th I’m in, b’lieves tha’ our gods can ch’ose t’ manifes’ themsel’es as o’her gods to a’pease o’her Litharian bel’efs. Th’y are no’ res’ricted t’ one f’rm of fa’th.” Compared to her sisters, Akir was not nearly as religious. She did believe in the gods and she did worship and kill for them, but she did not consider herself an extremist compared to those that would pray all day, every day, or those that would preach nonstop about how their faith was right and all others’ were wrong. She enjoyed talking about her faith, but Akir never was one to push it onto others. She would avoid talking about it to strangers or accomplices too if it obviously bored them.
Akir had not expected to hear how the title of a daemon lord was obtained. She was not exactly surprised either. Fighting to the death for a position of power was common to most species, but that fight was more commonly done via using other people and war. The Doshaan had taught her how daemons were no better than animals. That seemed to be untrue, but not entirely from the information she just learned. “S’ wha’ abou’ th’ humans? Are th’y y’ur a’lies or no? I kn'w li'tle of the K'ng in The Ci'ty. I rea'ly l'ke t' stay ou' of poli'ics, like I sai' earl'er. ” Akir understood if he decided not to tell her, but she was curious. It wasn’t as if she would defend the whole human species. Even though she was very proud to be human, she had no loyalty to any but those at her temple and home.
“Bu’ let me ge’ th’s straigh’. I trie’ to k’ll no’ jus’ a daemon, but on’ of the stronges’ daemons? I’ve go’ some shi’ty luck.” There was no reason for Gabriel to make all of this up just for story purposes. Akir found herself starting to believe what he said more because of that.
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Silver
Jun 30, 2017 7:21:33 GMT
Post by Gabriel on Jun 30, 2017 7:21:33 GMT
Gabriel raised a brow, expression wry.
“So I’ve inadvertently inspired you to become a better assassin? Wonderful. If I let you live, you’d better not come after me again even if I’m your actual target.” Not that Gabriel expected she would be any more successful that time, even if better prepared - the natural ego of Daemons prevented any real fear of death until the moment actually came. He really would have to kill her if she targeted him again though, and more and more he thought that might be a shame. She was interesting, if terribly young - she reminded him of Hadjara in a few ways, not just in her magical persuasion. But her excuse was on the thin side even now and it definitely wouldn’t fly a second time.
“Your order, will they punish you for failing to kill me?” Everything Akir had told him of her world so far was relatively familiar. Sects of assassins differed in specifics but some things tended to be relatively consistent, including intolerance for failure and varying degrees
of consequences for a missed target. Gabriel thought some of the assassins he had killed over the years might have preferred to face their sects - he could be cruel and sadistic when angered, and his Bardic heritage made him terrifyingly creative. He'd once broken and removed every single bone in an Angel's wings, a process that had taken hours but offered intense catharsis. However, cults of assassins - and Gabriel did think of them as cults if there was a belief system behind their kills - could be cruel too, and he was curious to know if he was simply delivering Akir from one death into another.
Her willingness to share some of the basics of her beliefs, therefore, was appreciated. Gabriel was intensely curious by nature and devoured new information intently whenever it was offered. He was always alert to anything that might benefit him, either personally or politically, and could find value in most things he learned.
"I have met more than one Litharian God. Do you believe they were your Gods but appeared to me in a form I would accept?" There was no judgement in his question, no derision in his tone. He was genuinely interested. His own belief in the Litharian Gods came from personal experience - there was nothing to do with faith in it, he could literally feel the two pieces of magic gifted to him as physical sensations nestled just below his heart. He respected the Litharian Gods for their power but he did not worship them - few Daemons did, they mostly considered them as belonging to this land and the Fae. Worship and faith were endlessly fascinating topics to Gabriel because in his homeland there were no Gods at all - only the Daemon Lord, the most powerful man to ever live.
None of what Akir asked for in return was a secret, and Gabriel answered her questions willingly. The conversation made the time pass quicker - already the sky was shot through with gold as a dramatic desert sunset started its ostentatious show.
"The Fae are at war with the Humans, have been for hundreds of years. Now that we're officially allied with the Fae, we're also at war with the Humans and will play an active role. There's a stalemate at the moment though, with the new King taking control of the crown...there hasn't been any true warfare for several years." He refrained from too much detail, aware that he really could discuss these kinds of things all day long and bore the average person to death in the process.
'That artifact you're wearing required a Fae to be killed for its production. They don't like it much when Humans do that. It's not about individual Humans, though - I have no quarrel with Humans personally. I'll murder soldiers in droves in battle, but outside of that context I quite like Humans for the most part. Resourceful. Stubborn." Politics made for a certain kind of cognitive dissonance which Gabriel had gotten good at managing over the years, resulting in the ability to loathe Humans for what they did to the Fae while being able to form perfectly good, even very close, relationships with individual Humans just fine.
In fact, Akir even made him grin with her statement about her luck. There was a humour in the way she said it - dry, quick-witted humour - that he appreciated.
"There are few more dangerous people in Litharia you could have tried to kill. Mind you, I had the presence of mind to keep you alive with the intention of torturing information out of you because of my position. Plenty of others, had you failed, would have cut your throat without a second's hesitation. You got unlucky that I was strong enough to foil you, but perhaps a little lucky that I also had some self-control."
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Silver
Jun 30, 2017 9:20:53 GMT
Post by Akir the Viper on Jun 30, 2017 9:20:53 GMT
Akir laughed from how excited Gabriel sounded that she found some inspiration. Just because she did not trust him because she did not know him, and because he almost killed her, did not mean she could not like or admire him. Admittedly, she was beginning to think both of those things. It helped too that he was willing to have a conversation with her and not tell her how she was crazy for believing in different gods, blah, blah., blah. “M’ try t’ ki’l y’u af’er tha’ show of mag’c? No, I’m goo’. It’s m’re l’kely I’d warn my sis’ers to s’ay away from any con’racts af’er y’u. An’ if y’u le’ me li’e, maybe we coul’ e’en spar, yeah?” One did not have to be friends to be willing to practice fighting each other, if he was even in to that sort of thing. For all she knew, Gabe only fought when it meant one person or the other would end up dead. “I c’an use m’re th’n ‘s’ab y’u in th’ back’ w’apons, I’ll ha’e y’u know.” Though it might not convince him, Akir did not see why the gods would demand for his blood. It was her faith that stated how the strong should be praised and the weak disposed of, similar to many cult mindsets.
“Y’u were no’ my targe’ t’ beg’n wi’h, so no, I wi’l no’ be pun’shed. If I ca’not ki’l my orig’nal targe’ though, th’n th’y wi’l ki’l me.” Which meant she had to heal her arm, and she had to continue her search. Her target always returned to that same village though, so eventually he would come back. As they walked and talked, she could see the village getting steadily closer towards them. It was increasingly getting harder to tell with the sun setting however. The chilly air stung her mangled arm, but in a way it was also refreshing from the heat.
She was curious about what Gabriel’s faith was, if any. Akir did not pry. Just as he could bore her for hours on politics, she could do so talking about religion. Most people not from the Doshaan could only take so much before they lost interest. It was very surprising to hear him say that he met multiple Litharian gods. For a brief moment, Akir frowned from disbelief. Was he mocking her by telling her something like this? Being visited by the gods was no small feat. He could have been telling the truth, so Akir went with it, assuming it was true. “Tha’s exac’ly wha’ I bel’eve. O’hers woul’ ca’l y’u a hea’hen for no’ acknowledg’ng th’m as only o’u gods.” Akir liked to believe she was more open minded than that.
Akir listened with genuine interest as Gabriel spoke more of politics outside of the Boil, most of which she had no idea was even going on. She knew a basic concept of the war between the humans and the fae and that it had been going on for a lon ass time, but that was as far as her knowledge went. There was no need for any more. The magic he spoke of, and where it originated from with humans, she was aware of. She could understand why fae hated humans for it, but without it she doubted humans would have been able to thrive as they had without magic in a magic filled world. It would be like putting a mouse in a field full of cats; the chances of survival were tiny.
A grin spread across her lips at his mention of humans being stubborn. “Tha’ we ar’,” she responded light heatedly. Her stubbornness to give in to his demands of ‘who hired her’ to ‘kill him’ when she tried was a perfect example. Akir was extremely stubborn.
Again, he seemed full of himself and was so proud of his abilities to thwart her mistakened attack. Instead of looking down on him for the over confidence, she retorted, “Don’ le’ it fi’l y’ur hea’ too m’ch or it’ll pop l’ke a grape.”
Abruptly, Akir stuck her arm out and pulled on Gabe’s shoulder to make him stop. She pointed to a very still shape sitting on top of the sand, blending in with it. It was a viper sitting idle, waiting for its prey, and most vipers were venomous. With the growing darkness she could not see very well, but Akir was able to sense the snake. Moving around the snake as to not disturb its peace, she continued on her way with Gabe to the village in the distance.
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Silver
Jul 2, 2017 2:16:49 GMT
Post by Gabriel on Jul 2, 2017 2:16:49 GMT
In some ways, Gabriel was not a complicated person. Ego-stroking, irrespective of how genuine it was, could go a long way to improving his mood, and it was rather gratifying to have an entire sect of assassins warned off you. He grinned, thin fangs catching the gilded light and flashing gold.
"I'd like to spar, yes. Your ability to do so might depend more on the skill of your healer, though. I did a number on your arm, didn't I? How's it feeling?" He did not feel remotely guilty for causing the injury, especially given it had been in self-defence, but nor did he feel any continued need to revel in her suffering or enjoy the prospect of long-term or permanent damage.
"Oh, I don't doubt your skill. What are your chosen weapons?" Gabriel rarely used weapons, though he could wield most one or two-handed melee weapons sufficiently well to get by. His strong preference was to use his magic supplemented with his claws and fangs, although he was open to brushing up on his skills with weaponry too.
"So as soon as we're done and you're healed, you'll continue with the job?" Assassins led harsh lives, he knew this. Nearly getting herself killed by the Daemon Lord apparently didn't qualify as an excuse for any time off.
"I hope your real target is more obliging about shuffling off the mortal coil than I was," he added, a touch of amusement in his tone. Akir obviously took her work seriously, as she would have to as a member of a sect or cult, but he didn't think she seemed like an overly serious person generally. In fact, as far as her personality went, Gabriel was fairly impressed. She had retained a sense of humour throughout the whole experience, didn't complain much, and appeared sensibly wary but not scared of him, the latter being a tiresome state of affairs if you were trying to drag someone through the desert. He didn't like assassins mainly because he loathed the idea of being killed by one - it wasn't exactly the glorious end he hoped for - but he did like that her training and way of looking at the world made her pragmatic, realistic, and determined even in the face of terror.
"The telekinesis? You saw me floating the rocks, I presume, when you arrived at the ruin. And when I threw you against the wall, and retrieved your weapons? That is not my magic, which is all bardic and fire-focused. A Goddess who called herself Seree gave that magic to me as a gift. Do you know how your Gods correspond to the Fae Gods? Does the same one always call herself Seree to those outside your sect, or do they take many different personas?"
Gabriel laughed at her comment about his head, which he was shaking even as she spoke. If she thought she might feed his ego too much she was already about two hundred years too late - he had overconfidence issues that were very long-standing, and though he did have some self-awareness about it, this was a fairly deeply ingrained part of his personality. And, possibly, something intrinsically required by the Daemon Lord - anyone who wanted to hold the title had to be deeply secure in the knowledge of their own power. Self-doubt, in the harsh structure of Daemon politics, was a weakness that could be exploited. However, that didn't mean he didn't appreciate that there were things others were much better at than him and he stilled at once when Akir touched his shoulder and pointed out the snake. It would have warned them if they got much closer, most likely, and ordinarily he'd have killed it without a second thought, but he had enough respect for Akir to follow her path around the reptile and leave it be. The dramatic sunset was fading fast into deepening twilight now, the light turning from gold to purple. The moonlight began to find traction on his skin, turning the moonstone gloss from subtle rose and gold - flashes in the sunlight to augment the silver - to dramatic, almost glowing iridescent blue.
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Silver
Jul 2, 2017 22:18:53 GMT
Post by Akir the Viper on Jul 2, 2017 22:18:53 GMT
Gabriel did have a point. If she couldn’t find a good enough healer, her skill level would most likely heavily decline. Were that even the case, Akir would see it as a challenge to overcome. She could never use something that required two hands, and she would have to get used to her new sense of balance. For now, she’d leave those dwelling thoughts aside and would wait on worrying till she found a healer to begin with. “It hur’s like a bi’ch, bu’ it coul’ be worse. Y’u coul’ ha’e broke my sp’ne or some’hing, so I consi’er mys’lf lucky in th’se circums’ances. I c’n sur’ive wi’h one arm if nee’ be, yeah? Mos’ of th’ we’pons I use onl’ requ’re one han’ anyw’ys.” She had a practical view on life, or as practical as one could be when part of a extremist cult group. The fact that Gabriel showed no signs of guilt for what he did to her never even came to mind. He acted in self-defense against her, and that was all there was to it, nor more or less. Akir would not feel sorry for someone if she had been in his position.
Now it was he turn to grin again. She loved to talk about fighting, especially with weaponry. She noted how it didn’t seem like Gabriel had anything on him, but with his magic level she wondered if he would even let someone get that close. “I mos’ly use my wh’p. It’s ligh’er than it l’oks, yeah? Tha’s wha’ I trie’ to use on y’u. E’sily decapi’ates p’ople and usua’ly makes pa’nle’s, quick dea’h. Usua’ly.” She emphasized on the usually with a playful tone as recent events showed that it is not efficient all of the time. “O’herwise I use a scimi’ar for any’hing tha’ las’s longer th’n a few secon’s.” She also had her knife laced with snake venom, but she had already mentioned about that earlier. Akir was about efficiency and getting the job done quick. She did not like to make others suffer, and the gods rarely ever demanded for something like that. Causing pain was not something she took pleasure in doing.
“Daemons ha’e na’ural weapons, righ’? Bes'des y'ur magic?" She couldn’t quite recall what had been taught. Something about how they could tear out throats and had nasty claws like cats or something. They could also use their own magic without the aid of an artifact.
Just the thought of having to find down and track the idiot she was supposed to kill in the first place almost made her groan with annoyance. She was happy to do it, but it would need to be done soon before he decided to vanish or die by someone else’s hand. All she wanted to do was sleep, damnit.
Her feet were beginning to feel heavy again in the sand, but it wasn’t as bad as before. They wouldn’t have to spend much longer walking anyways, and the man that she was going to point out to Gabe seemed to live on the outskirts of the village anyways. Within hours, she could find a healer and end up sleeping in a bed somewhere.
Akir listened with great interest as Gabe described his encounter with a goddess named Seree. Part of her felt blessed to met a man that had gained the gods’ favor in some way, and she realized why there were so many things that went wrong when she tried to kill him. In her eyes, it was more than just a lack of skill. Gabriel was not only immensely strong, but also favored by one of the gods. Depending on what god actually appeared to him, it was very possible that they did not want Gabriel to die.
As for which god was which, there was no way for her to know. She knew of the Litharian gods and the names they took as well as the basic concept of their lore, but that was it. If she was correct, Seree was one of the goddesses that looked over the land, along with Tataryn. The Doshaan did not have exact gods that correlated to that, but there were two that acted in a similar fashion.
“Naatak is the go’dess tha’ mos’ likely t'ok’ on tha’ persona. She eterna’ly sl’mbers wi’h her lo’er, bu’ her subconscious sti’l rema’ns. Bu’ yes, our gods can t’ke on many di’feren’ personas. Th’re is no on’ of o’r gods tha’ wi’l only a’pear as one of the litharian gods, yeah? Especia’ly when it c’mes to our tricks’er, shapeshif’ing gods. Th’y can t’ke any f’rm tha’ th’y like and are b’lie’ed to e’en pre’nd to be o’her gods.” The Doshaan had a very open ended, but confusing belief system that could be very confusing and different to outsiders. Akir was watching herself to make sure she did not delve too deep into it since she could go on for hours and probably bore Gabriel. She’d continue to answer any questions he’d have though, since it was only fair as she poked and prodded him for information as well.
Akir grinned when the daemon lord laugh. He seemed quite aware of his own ego, but cared little about it. She wondered if he saw it as a fault at all. Many people have ended up losing everything because they’re took caught up with themselves. Akir wondered how much if affected Gabe’s actions and choices.
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Silver
Jul 3, 2017 7:55:12 GMT
Post by Gabriel on Jul 3, 2017 7:55:12 GMT
Good of her, to be so relaxed about his part in causing her injury. Of course, Gabriel thought he was entirely in the right on this one, but it wasn't everyday the victim of his hair-trigger temper agreed. He upped the pace just a little though - the sooner they got to that healer the better her chances of keeping the arm. If anything was going to cause her problems with it, it was infection. And in the distance, as the darkness of the night deepened, the lights of the oasis town appeared like glinting jewels. They looked closer than they were by virtue of how the vast, flat desert fooled the eyes, but at least their destination was definitely in sight.
He turned his head to peer more closely at the whip as she spoke. A weapons specialist he wasn't, but he'd come up against most weapons over his lifetime and knew the basics about how they were wielded - even if, as was the case with whips, he'd never used one himself. It was a beautifully crafted thing, clearly lethal. Scimitars he was more familiar with and had even used once or twice - they were common and popular within the Boil, though less so in other parts of Litharia where swords and axes were more favoured.
In response to Akir's question Gabriel nodded and let his fangs and claws lengthen in demonstration. Every Daemon was different in this regard - they all had fangs and claws, but the specifics varied hugely. Gabriel's fangs at full length nearly reached his chin and were thin and sharp - longer than most vampires. His claws were several inches long, smooth on the top and serrated on the underside, and again thin and almost elegant. Like his fangs, they were bone white - strangely ordinary next to his iridescent skin. At the same time as his claws and fangs lengthened an elegant knife appeared seemingly out of thin air - the handle made of white bone, the blade of some dark, near-black metal, both bearing beautiful and intricate carvings. It floated through the air and made a lazy loop of Akir before disappearing again as though it never existed.
"All Daemons have fangs and claws. It's one of the ways you can recognise us - we cannot hide our true natures without strong magic, and most register us as predators instinctively anyway. The knife is my only personal weapon, another gift from a God. It exists only when I will it to and is controlled telekinetically. Truth be told, though, I fight almost exclusively with my magic and my claws. The knife is useful for threats but I don't think I've ever killed with it." This was how he'd been taught from childhood by his father, and as much as he had tried to break his connections with this part of his past, he'd never managed to feel as natural and confident with any other form of fighting.
Gabriel continued to question Akir about her faith, answering any questions she had in return about the Daemons, as they wound their way through the moonlit desert throughout the night. And soon enough, as the earliest hints of dawn lightened the horizon, they arrived at the oasis. The town was quiet, still asleep for the night except for the occasional early riser - Gabriel could smell the flatbreads being made for the day even before they set foot on the road. As pleasant as the chatter had been, when he broke off as they came into town he was all business again - eyes bright and discerning, a certain tension in his posture that hinted at boundless energy and a quick mind unsuited for patience or distraction.
"Would you like to find this man you told me of first, or find a healer first?" Gabriel wasn't thrilled about the idea of waiting for a healer, but he was also aware Akir might not be able to wait much longer herself.
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Silver
Jul 3, 2017 9:40:31 GMT
Post by Akir the Viper on Jul 3, 2017 9:40:31 GMT
The village lights were upon them as they finally arrived to their destination. The treck had been long, but Akir was glad she could pass the time by speaking with Gabe. She still could not get over how his mood had changed so drastically from when she tried to kill him less than a day prior. It was a good impression on her when it came to the daemon race, and she wondered if he was too high of an expectation for the species. The first daemon she’d ever officially met was their highest rank in their political order, though she still wasn’t sure what exactly that meant.
As she had suspected, Gabriel focused on using his magic more than anything natural he had. Her look of shock was unintentional, as she was not sure what to expect when he extended his fangs and claws. Both looked sharp, and she made a mental note on how she was glad he did not use those on her. The floating knife was a neat use of magic though, and she wondered what its properties were. Yet again, he explained how he met another god that had given it to him as a gift. Now she truly wondered if she believed him. Was he truly so gifted by the gods?
“Y’u are hea’ily fa’ored by th’ gods, it s’ems.” Admittedly, she was jealous. Akir never had the luxury to speak with her gods during her lifetime. They were silent with her and most of her sisters, and yet she still believed that she could feel their presence in the world. “Do y’u ha’e any fa’th in them?” If he did not, then she would not judge. Akir was fairly open to how others interpreted religion, faith, and their lives. As long as her own gods were not desecrated, she tolerated a lot.
Again she was caught off guard. He had originally seemed so set on killing either her or the man, she never would imagine that he’d give her the option to go to a healer first. Akir did look absolutely awful. Her clothes were stained with blood and dirt, while he lower part was shredded to act as a band to hold her arm. The leg that was exposed was covered in grim, as was her face. The dirt that was caked on thankfully hid the fact that the paints she decorated herself with were beginning to smear and drizzle. There was also the obvious look of exhaustion; puffy, red-ish eyes with bags underlying them, her awful posture from her body just being so worn out, and so forth.
To sum it up, she was a mess and needed sleep and a healer. But, she did make a deal to Gabriel. Since they were finally in the town, she took a moment to stop. It felt good to have less malleable sand under her feet.
Thanks to the people in their deep slumbers, the village was quiet. It was very small, so Akir cupped her good hand around her mouth and shouted, “Ishall Annya Tomad!” It wasn’t the best way to go calling for her horse, but with how quiet it was and how small the village was, her voice could carry far.
Before Gabriel could get upset or suspicious, she stated, “I am jus’ ca’ling my horse, yeah? Sh’ has a’ my o’her g’ar.” Yelling had increased the dull ache in her head, but she ignored it along with everything else that was wrong with her.
Moments later, a beautiful, black arabian mare trotted around the corner of a building. On her were sacks of gear, but no saddle or reigns. She was obviously uncomfortable, both from being around the daemon and sensing Akir’s pain, so she could not sit still and held her ears alert and forwards all the while making light nicker sounds and flicking her tail.
Placing her hand on the horse’s head, she tried to calm her, but to no avail. The horse was still agitated and uneasy, so Akir shrugged. “Ma’mals don’ l’ke me.” Not like she really liked them that much anyways. Snakes had always had her biased appreciation.
Both her whip and scimitar were taken off her belt. She put the whip into one of the pouches, while the scimitar hung off the horse’s hip. Finally, Akir turned around to Gabriel and replied to his original question with, “If y’u care t’ sp’ak wi’h me m’re abou’ y’urself and d’aemons wh’le I go t’ a h’aler, we c’n go ki’l my man firs’, yeah?” Otherwise, damn straight she would go see a healer first. Akir could barely stand as is. She didn’t want Gabriel to leave just yet; there was still much she wanted to learn from him, and ask him.
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