Dead Man's Blood

[Jade Harley]

And so it begins. The uncertain quest-line! Let's do this BD.

Warning: This story will eventually contain mild violence and blood. The term "mild" is used uncertainly. Reader discretion is advised!

Upon their entrance into the Pale Moors, the verse’s namesake becomes readily apparent; a thin stream of intermingling fog and mist, like a solemn bride’s veil on her wedding day, falls across the gloomy countenance of the landscape. The sky above, lacking in the reassuring and childishly simple light of heaven that is oftentimes tinged with blushing pinks and soft periwinkle blues, is as murky and black as undisturbed oil. The solitary screeching of night crawlers rings out in the darkness, a despondent sound that would send goose-flesh rising up along any wary traveler's arms.

Interspersed in between the sky and wafting mists are the grey and withered fronds of frothy undergrowth and slimily creeping vines, overshadowed by the skeletal limbs of a bleakly leaning tree line. Chilling noises emanate out from the fog— sometimes a raspy cry, other times the shambling footfalls of something drifting, absolutely rootless and without good cause, through the muck.

Kanaya breathes freely here, the glow of her skin dimming down to a more cautious luminescence lest the pair is being surveyed from afar. Her light footsteps that mark her entry into this gloomy verse are quite different than Devon’s, as his feet sink into the accursed ground with a hearty slurp due to his being on unfamiliar ground. It appears that he has plodded into one of the unlucky patches of damp earth that have the unsettling consistency of gummy blood cake.

As he sorts himself out, Kanaya takes the time to summon a dark shawl to conceal her bioluminescence with further, as looking like an ethereal creature is far from ideal when paying a visit to the Moors.

It takes only a moment for the amorphous and virulently shifting glow of an Omnilium summoning to peter out into nothing. As the weight of soft cloth settles over her shoulders, Kanaya is a bit surprised to discover that the fabric has a velvety, dark satin sensation to it when she reaches up to feel of it between her fingers.

With a frown, she turns her head to the side to better see just what kind of silken abomination she has summoned only to get an unexpected high-collared neckline jabbing into the corner of her eye instead.

“What,” Kanaya says, because she will graciously accept eternal damnation if she is wearing a goddamn cape right now. When she attempts to straighten out the annoyingly wide and jutting collar of her cape, her expression sours further. Well, her thoughts were rather preoccupied with things of the stereotypical vampire persuasion. Perhaps she will be lucky and the undead will mistake her for their overlord or some sort of dark agent and be more amenable to what she asks of them.

Still tugging fruitlessly at the cape’s edge before seeming to give up with a frustrated huff, Kanaya turns to Brother Devon. There is a soft vwoosh as the cape mirrors this movement in a flare of silken whispering against the stale air. Kanaya cringes; how outright pretentious.

The young rainbow drinker sighs through her nose. The lengths she will go to for the sake of these undead rapscallions.

“We will have to pass through Darkshire on our way out towards the lower mires,” she informs him, inclining her head towards a faint assortment of buildings cast in greying blue silhouettes in the near distance. Her horns curve gracefully with the movement, as unwieldy as they might appear to be. “Although we should take great care not to disturb the locals— undead and living.”

It is true, unfortunately, that the last time Kanaya had even dared to approach the settlement of Darkshire was around her third resurrection, and needless to say it was not an especially anticipated experience or one that was dear to Kanaya’s heart. She can still imagine the feel of a thick and leaden crossbow bolt sinking into her hip with an unsettlingly thick noise as she had tried to wave to one of the watchmen. She greatly suspects that it may have been because there was a horde of undead milling around her that she was received so ungraciously, but still. What an unreasonable rejoinder.

Her yellow eyes focus on Devon once again; she had drifted off into her thoughts while staring out over the Moors. Perhaps she can use Devon as a meat shield emissary to the long-forsaken citizens of Darkshire. After all, he is splendidly normal in appearance even if his personality is a tad… excitable, and humans do so love to respond most agreeably to those who look similar to them. Whatever happens there, Kanaya should let Devon be the face of the operation.

Now, as for the undead, Kanaya fully intends to take the lead. Her previous efforts to sway them from Count Dracula’s hold may have been for naught, but she is just sure that she saw a faint glimmer of recognition in the infinitesimally-scratched and lifeless eyes that had gaped back at her several weeks before. Maybe this time she will be successful.

For now, however, they had better start walking; Kanaya can hear raspy growling noises and the gnashing of rotten teeth most acutely rising up from some indeterminable place in the underbrush, the disconcerting sounds setting her on high alert. A faint-shining light towards Darkshire beckons, reminiscent of a yellowish sodium vapor lamp.

She waits only briefly for a response from Devon before nodding and setting off on foot for higher ground. The standard undead are slow and especially ungifted when it comes to any steep incline, especially stairs. Besides that, her human companion will be much safer when out of reach of grasping limbs and nauseatingly swollen and pus-riddled nails. Disgusting— once she is in charge she will be certain to enforce some kind of hygiene regulations, or at least some rule that requires her fellow undead to keep their nasty hands to themselves.

The jade-blooded troll steps up onto a more or less even path that leads directly towards the town of Darkshire, a few dew slick pebbles skittering across the way and over into the colorless fog that no scrutiny would ever be able to easily break through. She believes that she hears them strike something fleshy and terribly solid in the darkness. An actual Schrödinger's zombie.

Without sparing even a passing glance towards the darkness, for gawking amazedly at the undead only seems to encourage them most of the time, Kanaya quickens her pace. A few fleeting seconds later, the first precipitous droplets of a rain shower fleck across the back of her cape.

Lips pulling into a displeased look, Kanaya adjusts the cape's collar so that it deflects the worst of the downpour.

[Kylo Ren]

The Pale Moore, so this was it huh? Devon noted that they certainly lived up to their name as everything here seemed to be covered in a fog or mist of some sort that gave the entire area the feeling of being overly depressing to someone seeing it for the first time. The entire place reminded Devon of the Great Swamp in Southern New York state, if it had been in a really bad horror movie. While the bearded man hadn't seen many horror films this place seemed to fit the bill of what little he did know.

The entire place made him feel uneasy, plus his boots kept sinking into the ground and he did not like that one bit! Hopefully this town, Darkshire he believed it was called, would be slightly better off then the surrounding area.

Kanaya on the other hand seemed to be rather relaxed about the entire thing, that was until she summoned a cape, the entire shenanigans to come after made Devon believe that this might have not been on purpose. At least it had made him smile a bit, not her displeasure at the situation but the comical way the cape kept getting in the way. Letting out a cough he decided it would probably be best to act as if he had not noticed a thing.

Though the reason she summoned it was not apparently until drops of water started to strike the top of his head. Ah, rain! Just what this wet gloomy placed need, more water! Brother Devon could tell that this journey was going to test the limits of disposition. Taking a cue from Kanaya Devon pulled out a piece of that Omnillium stuff and concentrated on it still it started to shimmer and move in his hands, it seemed to flow to his back and then stretch out till the stuff was covering his head and back.

Finally when all was said and done it had settled into the shape of a hooded cloak, though it was white in colour and happened to match his jacket. He might stick out a bit but it would at least keep the rain from soaking him too much!

The only thing that really got Devon down was that with the weather turning like this he would be unable to make any entries into his journal, hopefully he would be able to remember it all once they got a roof over their heads!

Taking a deep breath in and then letting it out slowly Devon steeled himself for the journey ahead.

“Lead the way” he said to his travelling companion, adding in a slight bow for good measure. So far those two words the only ones he had spoken since entering the Moore, maybe it was messing with him more then he thought? The look on Kanaya's face seemed to mirror this statement, but there would be plenty of time to talk about it later, out of the rain.

The two started down the path to the town, Kanaya taking the lead as she was the only one of the two who actually knew where they were going, and for once since they had met it had actually remained quiet for longer then 30 seconds. That was until something off to the side happened to catch the bearded man's attention. There were two figures at the side of the road, one seemed to be hunched over the other and Devon couldn't be sure if they were helping or one of these undead creatures doing something horrible to the other one.

This thought didn't stop him from approaching them of course. Taking a closer look he could see that the one hunched over was a man, though rather old looking, and the other a woman of about the same age range.

“H... hello?” Devon's voice was a bit shaky, almost as if he would rather keep going then stop, but he knew if there was someone in trouble he had to help them. “Are, are you two ok?”

Both of them looked over at the young mage and he let out a sigh of relief as they didn't attack or anything. Though while hey both LOOKED alive, though the lady seemed a bit worse for wear, and her companion seemed to be rather worried.

“Who are you?! Go away!” the old man snapped at Devon. “We don't want any trouble!”

The bearded mage held up his hands in the most non threatening manner he could think of.

“I am hear to help, please trust me!” The old man seemed to consider Devon's words for a moment, glaring at him, until finally the desperation took over and he nodded his consent for the mage to approach. He knelt down beside the woman and smiled at her. “What is the problem ma'am?”

The old lady looked at Devon and then at the other man beside her.

“I'm tired, we've been travelling for a long time, I want to rest! I told my husband to go on ahead but the fool won't listen!” The woman's husband sighed and shook his head at his wife.

“It isn't safe, and look! It has started to rain!” he told her, before looking to Devon with pleading eyes. “Who knows what would happen if I just left her here!”

Devon looked at the woman, she seemed to have no visible injuries on her but it was best to ask.

“So you are just exhausted? No physical injuries?” the old woman just shook her head at him. “Right, good. I mean, in the fact I can't actually heal injuries yet but I might be able to help.”

Removing a glove Devon took a deep breath and then concentrated, the swirling lights issuing from his tattoos again and then collecting into that brilliant white flame. He could see fear forming in the eyes of the two stranges and he just smiled at them warmly.

“It is ok, it will not hurt you.” Placing his hand on her shoulder Devon dug the proper words out of his memory. “Videlicet meus mens”

The lady's eyes went wide as the white flame in his hand flared in brilliance and then started to slowly settle into her shoulder and spread throughout her entire body. After a few seconds the glow seemed to die and the mage removed his hand from the woman's shoulder, blinking and shaking his head. It was always tiring giving someone else a piece of your own energy, but in the long run it was always worth it.

“There, you will find your wife will be able to carry on to Darkshire, but when you get there make sure she gets plenty of food and plenty of rest.” Devon smiled at the two, and noticed the rags there are wearing and a little bit of sadness entered his eyes. “Or rest at the very least, though I do suggest you get something to eat.”

The bearded man stayed crouched where he was while the husband helped his wife to their feet and the quickly made their way down the path, casting glances back to Devon and almost completely ignoring Kanaya.

Devon made sure they were out of sight before taking in a deep breath, exhaling, and rather shakily getting to his feet.

“Whew, that one always takes a bit out of me!” He said while looking to his compatriot and grinning a little bit, rather happy that he was able to do a little bit of good for the first time since arriving here. “Shall we continue?”

[Jade Harley]

The overpowering dreariness of the Moors is as heady as ever. While Kanaya has more or less become accustomed to it with the passage of time, she still feels a sympathetic weight settle over her when she happens to chance a glance at her new human compatriot’s expression. She can only hope that it will not overpower him and drive his mind and soul into the marshy ground like so many who have come before him.

As the deluge from above causes their shoes to slip and slide in the waterlogged mud, the pair continues along down the path. More well-rounded sounds, like trickling streams of water or perhaps saliva gurgling in the many throats of some immense and unfathomable beast, are swallowed assuredly up by the droplets of rain that slick the uneven plain of mud and stones which shift easily underfoot.

They have been treading ground for far too short of a time before something displeasingly unexpected happens. Sighing quietly through her nose, Kanaya observes two shifting figures in the middle distance, dimly lit vegetation and greyish moon-smoothed soil conflicting starkly against their dark shapes. Whatever is taking place over there likely does not involve undead— she would know, by way of smell and the taste of the air alone,— but it is difficult to say under these wet conditions.

Just as Kanaya is about to turn to Brother Devon and suggest taking a slightly longer and potentially more treacherous route, he brushes past her and makes his way towards the possibly hostile strangers in the distance, white leather jacket shifting almost like a mirage through the torrential flood of rain. The jade-blooded troll visibly stiffens, caught between several urges that grapple stubbornly against one another in her mind.

One orders her to snatch his arm, the silly vulnerable human, and drag him as far away as conceivably possible. This thought is stalled by the obvious fact that Devon is grown, an adult, and certainly capable of taking care of himself with his supernatural capabilities. He is outside of her jurisdiction. Still, Kanaya’s body tenses as he walks past, muscles drawn taut with the barely-repressed and all too maternal compulsion.

Another is far less defensive— in fact, it borders on almost reprehensible. She could leave him now, the fool. Obviously she has made some horrendous mistake in believing he could be of use to her. If this is the way he behaves when faced with the cunning trickery of the foe they are eventually going to face, then he will be dooming her to the same dire end if she chooses to travel with him for any longer.

The last notion that spurs Kanaya into action is the one which ultimately wins out. It is a safe middle ground between the more drastic thoughts rampaging through her thoughts, and so she settles easily into it with a notable relaxation of her posture and with her senses on high alert.

Brother Devon knows what he is doing, Kanaya knows that he is no fool, and while his choice of action might seem unwise to her as of right now, the troll understands that he only wants to help, much in the same way that she wishes she could. The horrors of the Moors might have taken this compulsory willingness to provide aid from Kanaya, but she will certainly do her damned best to keep it from doing the same to this kindhearted mage.

This middle ground that Kanaya finds is to follow behind him from a safe distance and leap into action if necessary. Her clawed thumb slides against the tube of lipstick in the pocket of her skirt as they approach. Kanaya mentally wills this entire situation to pass over without bloodshed, but that same foolhardy prayer has gone unanswered many times before. Her weapon of choice is a slender and familiar weight against her palm.

Shockingly enough, this small blip in their travels is hardly detrimental to their cause, almost to the point where Kanaya believes that the universe must once again be smiling favorably upon her. Devon’s tattoos glow with a reassuring white phosphorescence once more; the elderly and wrinkled humans are startled but not overly vicious; and there is hardly any incident to be spoken of in which any one member of their collective group has their face eaten off.

As the pair of old people hobble off into the unbroken rain shower, Kanaya is hardly surprised by the fact that they pointedly avoid her yellow gaze. It’s hard, living this way. It’s hard, and no one seems to understand.

She is, however, pleasantly surprised by how Devon handled that brief situation. It is peculiar to her how, after interacting with this person for hardly a few hours, she has already begun to feel proud of him. Almost like how she used to feel when one of her old friends did something even remotely sensible or sane for a change of pace.

This thought sobers up her pleased attitude rather quickly, but she is still sure to acknowledge the good deed with an, albeit a touch subdued, fanged smile in Devon’s direction. She even loosens her hold on her lipstick for a moment, reaching up to brush a stand of humidity frazzled hair behind her ear, and this is where Kanaya inevitably screws up.

Without warning, Kanaya’s ankle is seized upon by an unnaturally strong grip that tugs her off balance and sends her pitching forward onto the gravelly dirt. She lands heavily upon the sliding and bitterly cold rocks with such speed that she barely has time to react to the minute cuts appearing on her elbow and shoulder before there are foul teeth sinking into the skin of her lower calf. They are gummy, stale, and small rotten bits slither through the congealed mess.

A sharply aimed kick removes the creature’s lower jaw in a sluice of fleshy matter, brackish blood dribbling languidly out of the wound. Even without Kanaya’s enhanced strength it would have been easy to do away with, but it only causes the thing to lean more heavily upon her knees, scrabbling its way towards where it believes warm flesh might be found.

There are hundreds of scratches covering the undead person’s eyes, yellow and coated in microscopic cuts from uncleared dust particles, and they stare blearily at her when she whirls around to snarl at the culprit who would dare bite her. Black-painted lips pulled back taut across her gums, Kanaya hisses furiously at the mostly brainless undead clambering across her legs.

Its head cranes to the side in a clumsy spasm-like movement to look at the human behind her, an odd fixation in its gaze that is not normally present in the mind of one of the resurrected.

Surveillance, Kanaya realizes with dawning clarity. Hordes of watching eyes alongside clacking teeth.

It also becomes readily apparent that she was not this crawler’s original target, as it soon devolves into a sluggish tossing of its limbs to climb over her to get at her warm-bodied friend. As if she is only an unfortunate obstacle in its path, for it has realized that she is far too similar to itself to make for a hearty meal.

Despite all this speculation, the thing only has a few stringy strands of fair hair hanging out from the top of its pock-marked head, with the rancid skin there pulled close across its skull until it is of an almost transparent, ghostly consistency. The deathly pale being is clammy and slathered with cold mud from dragging itself across the squelchy soil. There is an honestly horrible odor of decaying flesh seeping out from where its ragged clothing mixes almost seamlessly with loose yellowed skin and jutting bone.

In several swift and successive movements, Kanaya seizes the creature under its shoulders and tosses it over her shoulder and back into the boggy marshland with little care for decorum. It lands with an audible splash somewhere, a few wriggling squelches starting up afterwards as it attempts to gain its bearings. As it is, Kanaya’s clothes are quite damp and she thinks that there is a loosened flap of skin stuck to the front of her shirt. When she looks at Devon again, her earlier cheery mood has gone sour.

“I am sorry you had to see that,” she tells him, carefully extracting a thin slimy piece of skin from her shirt and flinging it away soon after with a derisive sniff. “It isn’t a good idea to stand in one place for long while traveling, as it becomes even easier for them to sneak up on you like that. Those two senior citizens might not have been able to fend off that… creature of indeterminable everything, if you had not decided to stay awhile and help them. So.”

She hesitates, shifts a little, and then shrugs, eyes resting once again on the clustered shadow of Darkshire in the distance. With an admiring smile and a sweep of her cape, she turns to Devon. “Well done, I suppose.”

They continue on towards Darkshire after that, mostly silent with the downpour’s voice rising and falling in cacophonous whispers around them. When they finally arrive at the settlement’s outskirts, Kanaya notes with little fanfare that all of the windows and doors facing inwards as well as outwards are fastened soundly shut to the dark night. She does not question this, instead pausing for a moment to speak with Devon about what kind of an operation they are about to undertake.

”This will likely not go very well if we dally for too long. Our course through Darkshire must be quick and with as little interruptions as possible. Refrain from using sarcasm or excessive manners unless you know someone; they don’t like that here.”
With that last cautionary statement, Kanaya strides resolutely towards where one of the nearest watchtowers is located. She had hardly passed through its shadow when the rickety sound of heavy footfalls across wood accosts her.

“Hey!”

Kanaya turns, shoulder hunched defensively until she sees who it is. A young citizen in a hunting cap frowns down at her from where they are at the tower’s edge, their freckled face dirtied from the usual grime and lack of sleep.

The jade-blood recognizes this person, but only distantly. She hasn’t spent much time in Darkshire, although she mildly approves of the occasional undead militiaman she sees stationed at the city walls, but the face is somewhat familiar to her.

“What are you playing at coming back around here, vamp?”

Kanaya grimaces at the female guardsman. Oh yes, she remembers now. They all suspect her to be in league with Count Dracula, don’t they? Surely this cape isn’t helping matters. She will have to do her best to clear this misunderstanding up right quick.

Focusing once again on the narrow here and now, Kanaya goes through the motions of telling this guard that no, she is not going to suck anyone dry while she is here, and that blood would actually be the furthest thing from her mind at the moment. Say, that is some nice armor, would it be possible for her to acquire some while she is here?

The young woman’s face scrunches at her, still rife with suspicion, before she sighs and sets her reservations aside. Her eyes briefly slide to curiously peer at Brother Devon before she adjusts her stance so the metal plating she is wearing is more evenly distributed over her midsection. “Yeah, okay, I’ll believe you for now miss vamp. You don’t look much like Drac anyways, I don’t get why my old da’s so worried about it.”

She jerks her head in the general direction of one of the buildings along the street. “Smithy’s there. Don’t give anyone any trouble and we won’t have a problem.”

With a nod and a brief smile of thanks, the two travelers are granted entry to Darkshire.

”Well,” Kanaya remarks to Devon as they walk down the street in broad…. Well, not daylight, per se, as the Pale Moors haven’t exactly seen the light of a true day in a long time, but in some kind of light. ”That was easier than I expected.”

[Kylo Ren]

After the brief pit-stop, random undead attack and all, the two of them seemed to have made it to Darkshire with relative ease, though that didn't stop them from getting hassled at the front gate. What ever had happened his companion had been able to take care of it with little problem, even if the young lady at the gate still seemed to mistrust them a bit. As the gaurd gave Devon a look he just offered a her a warm smile, but resisted the urge to say anything. Kanaya had warned him about being too overly familiar with people after all.

As then entered through the gate Devon took note of the vampire’s words. Yes, it had been rather easy to get it, but wasn't that a good thing?

“I am guessing there could have been some trouble?” Kanaya paused for a second at Devon's words and nodded to him. The troll continued to lead the way, though it didn't really look like they were heading towards the Smithy. If Devon had to guess he would say they were probably going to just pass through town, and despite the constant nagging in the back of his mind to stay a bit and help these people that might be the best idea. There was a greater evil to take care of at the moment, once Dracula was taken care of THEN they could come back to help these people.

While the bearded mage had decided to just follow Kanaya, something was telling him that they might have to stop for awhile. This particular something was a feeling of light headedness and an intense growling sound coming from the lower section of his torso, more specifically that part that housed his now empty stomach. It had been loud enough that even his vampire guide had stopped to turn and look at him, to which he replied with a sheepish grin.

“I, well you see, I haven't eaten in a long while” Scratching the back of his head in embarrassment Devon just shrugged. “I think we should probably stop for some rest, possibly something to eat as well.”

As if coming to life at the mention of food his stomach growled again loudly. “Ok, most definitely to get something to eat.”

The look he got from Kanaya wasn't really annoyance, as far as he could tell. No, this seemed to be more along the lines of 'You silly humans and your constant need for rest and food'. That is how Devon chose to take it though, as a few moments later they were headed towards a building he could only assume was an inn or tavern of sorts. The strangely painted sign he saw as they approached only confirmed his guess. Hopefully they had something warm to eat!

As they entered the building the small bits of conversation from it's few occupants seemed to trail off into an awkward silence, to which Devon became all to aware of. He wasn't sure what was getting more glares, his brightly coloured wardrobe or his companions obviously vampiric nature. Either way it was best to just ignore it, order something to eat, and then get out of here as quick as possible. The constant mistrust from fellow humans, as well as the overall tone of this place, was starting to wear on the otherwise optimistic mage.

Taking a seat at a table the two travellers wait for the barman to approach the table.

“What do you want?” The words were almost spat at them by this hulking brute of a man. Devon tried not to let the man's attitude and manners get to him as he replied.

“I just want something to eat please, my friend here,” the mage looked over to Kanaya who just shook her head at him, “is fine for now. Thank you.”

The barkeep just glared at Devon, his eyes taking stock of the overly polite man in front of him, before muttering to himself and walking off. Taking a look around the room Devon hoped that all the dirt and grim was not some sort of foreshadowing towards the meal he was about to receive. When the food finally arrived Devon was neither happy, nor disappointed, in what he had been given. It was a simple broth with a few pieces of vegetables that was accompanied by a small piece of bread, and while it was not much it at least looked rather edible.

It did not take the mage very long to devour what had been placed in front of him, barely having the time to taste what he was eating, though hopefully it would be enough to keep his hunger in check for the trek to come. The last thing they wanted was to be given away to the enemy by a noisy stomach. The broth had been pleasant enough, the vegetables could have been a bit better, and at the end Devon had wished he had kept some of the broth to dip the bread in as it was like he was chewing on a small bit of wood. Finally when he swallowed the last bit of his meal he turned to Kanaya.

“Thank you for stopping, I had forgotten how long it had been since I last ate. Though I think before we go any further we should ask the barkeep for some of that, uh,” Devon paused, hesitating to call what he just ate bread, “bread like substance?”

[Jade Harley]

The roadside inn that they have entered is dimly lit but warm and outside of the rain. Golden-yellow candle light whispers along the walls in rounded whorls of radiance, causing the gnarled shadows that manifest between the creases of wood furnishing and clothing to appear much more bulbous. Kanaya Maryam can hear a draft of wind whistling through the rafters, although it could very well be some carrion bird that has slipped inside to escape the bone-chilling deluge outside of this dark and stuffy hall.

As Brother Devon helps himself to a meager meal of a few bits and bobs of vegetables and crumbs of questionable breadstuff, Kanaya waits calmly alongside him and steadfastly ignores any stares turned their way, her nose primly upturned as she inspects the low ceiling hanging overhead. Small shadows, some alarmingly large and quick, skitter across the wooden beams above. Unsurprisingly, this place appears to have a rat problem, and a rather great one at that.

After about a quarter of an hour of the two motley travelers doing nothing even remotely threatening, most of those in the establishment turn back to their drinks and vittles and the lively chatter from earlier returns with a vengeance, albeit a tad subdued.

“Anyway, as I was sayin’—“

“You’re always sayin’ something, Theo.”

“Well, yeah, but I’ve got somethin’ to say about a lot o’ things. Anyways, this big ol’ wolf was—“

“Ha! You think wolves are bad! Try fighting a bear in the Siberian winter, with nothing but a leather belt and a can of—”

“No one asked you, Frank!”

The barkeep still keeps an eye on them, but the other is focused solely on the task of clearing the wooden countertop of gritty residue. His wrinkled features look like a puckered bruise-purple prune, spider-webbed with dark shadow and a sour attitude.

Kanaya’s gaze returns to Brother Devon as he finishes his meal. He asks her about finding some way to acquire more bread from the barkeep, but as her eyes drift back towards the man’s downturned face, wrinkles all like the fleshy black veins of a shellfish, Kanaya frowns reproachfully. No, they have already overstayed their welcome enough as it is. It would be best not to push it, at least for now.

“You could always summon food using Omnilium, you know,” she tells him. To be honest, she was a little puzzled about why he did not choose to do that in the first place, although she certainly isn’t complaining. It had been nice to step outside of the rain for a time.

She looks at him again only to find that he appears to be surprised and more than a little bit delighted by this news. He moves to summon something at once, holding his hands out before him much like his earlier trick with the chalk, before Kanaya cuts off the process by abruptly seizing his arm, eyes wide and her orange and yellow horns dipping precariously close to the crown of Devon’s head.

“Not here,” she says, her eyes flickering this way and that to make sure that no one is observing them. Her voice lowers to a whisper, urgent and almost perfunctory. “Omnilium is a precious substance, Devon, and it is highly sought after. I am sure that you have noticed that we are not exactly in the company of friends…” She trails off, watching his face for any signs of comprehension or mutual understanding.

Devon blinks at her, and then pointedly at the hand that she has wrapped around his wrist. Ill at ease, Kanaya quickly releases him. The mage’s face grows more serious than Kanaya believes she has ever seen it. He scratches idly at the side of his beard, thoughtful. “Ah, I understand. How will I pay for the meal I just had, then?”

“Leave that to me,” Kanaya replies, wringing her hands tensely together for a few seconds before rising to her feet.

She slips away and waits for the man behind the counter’s gaze to switch from a suspicious squint to something that could pass for affably interested. The jade-blood feigns at digging around in the folds of her dark cape, as if searching for the currency that everyone here seems to be simply obsessed with, all the while calling a few drops of pure Omnilium to her hands.

The jade-blooded troll places the Omnilium droplets into the palm of the red-boned man with an arrogant, squared look to his jaw. He accepts the payment with little fanfare, deigning to give her a gruff nod. Kanaya returns to Devon’s side, and the two travelers once again step out into the rain, a flood of tension and suspicion trickling out behind them.

Grey and somber buildings are sharply sketched against a water-strewn canvas, darkness bleeding like streams of black pigment across the landscape, grainy and blooming in great rounded smears. The sky sobs wretchedly, tears dribbling down from steepled rooftops and loose shingles.

Someone crosses the street, a huddled phantom whisking through a gloomy and sullen wood. The trees are almost skeletal; shadows prowl their bony-fingered boughs, sleeker than midnight oil seeping across a still pool of water.

They pause at the threshold of the door a moment, Kanaya’s cape giving a silent velveteen murmur as she turns to face Devon and looks him sternly in the face. He is receptive, cobalt blue eyes intelligent and lit up with gentle curiosity. Kanaya recalls a flare of light hardly comparable to a strike of lightning in its quickness, and instructing a friend on how to wield that light long before.

Her voice is soft and trembling uncertainty sheathed— sheathed, much in the same way that her weapon of choice is, the whirring chain paler than sun-cured bone.

“Yes, well,” Kanaya begins, gathering her thoughts, for they are walking many paths of life at once and she has great trouble differentiating between one and the other much of the time. She continues, “I do not believe that we are being closely watched now as we were before. You could summon some bread at your leisure now, if you would like to.”

The mage seems pleased with this statement, and after a moment of excited rambling at her, he asks what she thinks he should summon, because that bread from inside was fairly horrible and he is sure that everyone knows it, including her.

Kanaya knows this, but she is quick to confess that she is unsure of what he should summon. Perhaps some meal from his home universe that was particularly good for long days and long nights of rambling over hills and vales with calloused feet. Some foodstuff that filled his stomach and made the trek across that last stretch of land that much more bearable.

Brother Devon thinks on this, his blue eyes thoughtful and gleaming, no doubt with musings of home. Kanaya does not have a home any longer, and she did not for a long time before her entry into this Omniverse, but she can say that there were a certain motley few who were very dear to her heart. Their company alone was home.

A flickering of summoned Omnilium draws her out of her reverie, and the distant stare in her eyes is blinked away as if it were a drizzly grey morning and she had been caught between the realms of sleep and wakefulness a moment before. The rainbow glow laps around the mage’s fingertips, shining like liquefied opal filtered through strumming harp strings of starlight.

She peers curiously at his hands, waiting. She has not heard much of human foodstuffs, although she suspects that they are not much different from her own planet’s— at least in the general concept that leads to their creation. Flavor and aroma would of course be a major driving factor, but one could never be sure if a certain odor hanging around a dish could actually determine whether it was satisfactory or not.

It could be some sugar-dusted pastry streaming red-tinged juices from a gelatinous berry goop layered within, or perhaps a simple wrap of thinned water and flour, salted and speckled with sun-warmed kernels of corn, or fresh and crisp vegetables with an earthy tang encircling each bite. Truly, the possibilities are endless, and Kanaya awaits his decision with an immensely interested tilt to her head.

What she does not expect is for a sloppy fixing of two slices of slightly-dampened, purplish bread with a heaping slather of fruit jam and brownish peanut butter tucked in between the bread slices. She has a distinct feeling that this particular concoction may be found in the lunchboxes of schoolchildren everywhere, and for those who are hard-pressed for time when searching around for something, anything to consume. It appears to be simple, yet efficient.

Kanaya approves.

When she asks him about his choice out of simple interest, Devon rambles on with some reasoning that sounds almost exactly like the assumptions she has already made. Kanaya nods, her curiosity satisfied.

They set off at a walk, an easy pace that allows for them to skirt around mud puddles but still sets up an absurd squelching in the soggy dirt, like the croaking of dozens of frogs. Crystalline droplets of water catch in Kanaya’s eyelashes, but the backwards sweep of her hair and neck is shielded by the high collar of her cape. Devon’s hood is drawn over much of his face, but she can still see a delighted smile spread across his lips through his ruddy brown beard. He folds the sandwich up in paper for later, and it is presently tucked into his pack for safe-keeping.

There is no one to be seen or heard— no soul sits out on their front stoop to greet any random wanderers in the street, be they friend or stranger. Kanaya seems to recall that there was some great tragedy recently— or mayhaps long ago, time works distortedly and in inscrutable patterns between verses. One might be gone for days and only minutes will have passed in the next realm over. It is like an imperceptible drip in the plumbing of the universe, a leak from some great faucet of temporal flow that dribbles incessantly in the night which may never be repaired. One day, Kanaya thinks that this small drip will dribble into a faint stream, and then into a great torrent of rushing water, until finally all of the floodwaters break loose and all of time is swept away into oblivion, into such an utterly lifeless state of nonbeing that not even a whisper of doomed timelines will be left.

She confides all this in Devon, and not much more. But, Kanaya was never one for Time. She was more about Space, for even the wide, expansive, wonderful, and star-stippled fabric of the cosmos can be repaired with simple needlework. Sylphs are quite good about such delicate matters, weaving frayed ends back together until they flow in perfect symmetry. To counter the chaotic behavior of Time, there is always Space to maintain order. It is the one thing which Kanaya understands down to the very fibre of her being, and which she will profess as truth to every ear willing to listen.

The steady drip-drop-plink of water along awnings and chimney tops accompanies Kanaya and Devon with each step. A stray scattering of buildings, built up like termite mounds with little order and precision to them, is spread around them across a flat plain of dead grass and even deader spirits. The air smells clean, but if one were to tip their head back they would be stricken with the impression of drowning.

Kanaya suspects that, if Darkshire was not so elevated above the murky swampland below, the basin of scraping limbs and mudbugs that has so consumed all of her energy since her arrival here, that a fair amount of shallow graves might have been vacated during the night only to be discovered bobbing someone’s porch step amongst other floating debris.

They are nearly on the outskirts of the town when a shrill voice calls out from behind them. Devon turns immediately, but Kanaya takes a moment to glare out into the fog smothering the lands before them, imagining the stone walls of a dreary castle rising up out of the gloom. When the voice persists, she resolves herself to her fate and turns at well.

A small human child stands, barefoot, in the rain. Her knees are knobbly and she is wearing a dress that seems to be little more than a rag hanging off from her shoulders. It is dotted with faintly orange sunflowers, which are just as grubby and worn away as her stringy brown hair and thin cheeks. Kanaya cannot tell from whence she came. She looks to be little more than three sweeps old.

Devon stoops down in the dirt before the young girl, and a muted conversation begins that the rainbow drinker cannot quite hear, as deafeningly loud as the rain is in her ears. It ends with him digging around in his pack and presenting the sandwich from earlier to the girl, which she accepts with a wobbly grin. Several of her teeth are missing, and the gaps are wide and dark in between them.

Kanaya moves nearer just in time to hear Devon ask after the girl’s name.

“Olive,” she says, partially stuffing the crust of bread into her mouth and garbling her words around it. “Olive Prendergast.”

Brother Devon smiles, turning his head to look at Kanaya over his shoulder. “That’s a beautiful name, Olive is. Now, tell my good friend Kanaya what you were saying earlier, Olive.”

The young girl gives Kanaya a slightly distrustful look, but with some gentle coaxing from Devon speaks up. Her eyes grow tearful as she speaks, and her voice wavers in between pointed marks of trepidation and distress when she lowers the sandwich from her mouth. “My best friend’s gone missing, my dog. His name’s Ham. I think someone took him!”

Her bearded companion looks at Kanaya as if this says it all, while in fact it says very little. As her lips start to curve downwards, Devon stands and leans in so that the child cannot hear when he urgently speaks to her.

“Kanaya, I really think we should help her out,” he says, and then directs a reassuring smile at the small girl standing a few strides away. Kanaya frowns a little more, brows drawing closer together. “I mean, it will only take a short while. I am sure it will be hanging around here somewhere— nothing as serious as what she’s implying.”

Kanaya sighs, looking again towards where she knows Castle Dracula lies in the mist-wreathed steppes.

“Very well,” she says, turning to face the pair. Her face softens when her eyes land upon the child, her posture becoming a bit less stiff. “We will search for the barkbeast.”