"What IS that!?" exclaimed Alen, recoiling.
"Scar," replied Sarin. "Cicatrix. Blemish, flaw, disfigurement." But her thesaurus-like babbling did little to describe the mass of white tissue that dominated part of her back. It stretched from her right hip up to the right side of her waist. "I got it during my… travels. It's not important." Her talking did nothing to hide her unease at broaching this subject.
"Alright then," said Alen reluctantly. "Sorry."
Although the two had been traveling together for a while, this was the first time he had seen Sarin's scar. Although her red dress was open in the back, she had worn a white robe over it until their last enemy had torn it open. The mage also favoured blue gems, wearing several in her hair and on her fingers to match the peerless sapphire bound into her staff.
They had walked until the sun was well past the nadir of its arc, and Alen felt it safe to talk again. "So…" he began, "shouldn't we think of a plan for fighting this demon? We need to keep the Princess Mikuna safe as well…" He drifted into thoughts of the Princess, resplendent with her long aquamarine hair crowned by her silver tiara. "Yes," he murmured, "definitely have to save the princess…"
Sarin growled softly. "We need to KILL the DEMON first!" she snapped. "Don't go mooning over women so high above you! Anyway, the demon. Hmm, what was his name again? Kaitor? Kaitok?"
"Kaiton!" exclaimed Alen. "That's his name. He's one of the Greater Demons, the Akuma, which might be trouble. So far, we've only fought the weaker demons. Can he use magic?" he asked, referring to the mage's specialty.
"Yes, he can summon fairly strong Lightning, and he can cloak himself in Shadow, although the Akuma are apparently too vain to hide themselves except as a last resort. His melee skills are also pretty high, so you'll have to get yourself back into shape."
Alen was a warrior. He wore a leather shirt that came midway down his chest, along with a guard on his right shoulder and a long grey scarf. The belt of his enormous broadsword's sheath was slung over his chest from right to left. A leather belt held up his torn, baggy white pants. At the moment, his right arm was bandaged from fingers to shoulder. It wasn't the slightest bit disabled; it was just a bit… discoloured. Demons' curses often had strange effects.
By this time they had reached the Green Dragon Inn. Alen walked up to the innkeeper and asked for a room for him and Sarin to share, and a stone for him to whet his blade on. "Dross!" said the man jovially. "I'll sharpen the thing myself, and you two can have a curtain to split the room. Short on money, eh?" he asked, and winked.
"Yes," replied Alen, smiling. "Thank you very much."
As they were eating, Sarin stared fixedly into her soup. "Good food," she muttered. "Healthy. Salubrious." She glanced at Alen, blushed bright red, and quickly started devouring her broth.
"What's wrong?" he asked. She glared at him. "Oh, is it that we're sharing a room?" She nodded and returned to her meal. "It's okay! I mean, we DO have a curtain and two beds, right?"
-to be continued-
