This is all for tonight, my little plague rats. I need to get to writing the fourth chapter. I don't care if no one even likes this story, I like it.
HE SPEAKS! Woo. I love how animals and pets are the common starter for chit-chat. You're afraid to talk to him? That's okay, talk to his dog.
Disclaimer. What have you.
"Better watch yerself, chicken," Clara whispered over the counter the next day around mid afternoon, looking past Elizabeth's shoulder. She looked up from the counting book, blinking. Ever since Mr. Balding's eyesight had started to fail, Elizabeth had counted their earnings. Though she never attended school, Will would teach her all that he learned when he returned home and Elizabeth found she enjoyed sums. Numbers were simple. Numbers were never afraid and numbers never needed to be brave. All numbers had to do was be added and subtracted with each other and Elizabeth found a calm presence about them.
"Hm…?" Elizabeth hummed, peering over her wide reading glasses.
"I'sat Butcher, again," She leaned in, eyebrows raised so high that her forehead wrinkles. "No one's 'ere but Roland, the gambler, and 'at ol' sod. Don't you fink 'at's a little weird?" She nodded subtly to the far corner where Butcher sat, his piercing eyes glaring under his Highwayman hat. Elizabeth did not need to turn to picture the expression, a shiver rolling down her spine.
"I-I've no idea…" She murmured, grabbing her book to sit at the closest empty table. She glanced out over the bar, seeing only the three men occupying the place. It was to be expected. At least once every week, the new shipments would come to the docks and every man was scurrying about to accommodate them, leaving the pub empty. Roland the bar sat near the bookshelves, humming off-key notes as he wrote down his 'latest composition' about the dark hero. The gambler tried to appear busy with polishing each game piece and setting them in exactly the correct order. Butcher, however, sat in the corner, silent as the grave, with a bored looking Kane lying at his heels. A half-filled tankard of ale sat on the table with his large, gloved hand curled around it. He was slouching and his bright eyes glared harshly under his cap, unmoving from Elizabeth's position. She made the mistake of looking at him, feeling his eyes pierce daggers through her. Clara sat in the chair across from her, leaning in again.
"Did you do somefin' to tick 'im off, er somefin'?" She hissed, eyes darting between the young barmaid and the murderer.
"Well… W-Will aimed a g-gun at him l-last night for t-touching me, b-but…"
"'E touched you!" Clara all but screeched, arousing the drowsy gambler's short attention. Elizabeth hushed her friend until his eyes drifted back to his dice, his fat fingers slowly making circular rotations with a rag on them.
"I don't know w-what he wants," She shook her head, attempting to concentrate on the digits before her. She sighed and closed her eyes. Why had he suddenly taken an interest in her? Usually if he was going to kill someone, he would swing out his gun on impulse, always shooting the neck so the head flew off. He was swift and quick, the person's fear and paranoia being more painful than the actual death. Elizabeth shivered and ducked her head further into her book.
As the day continued, Butcher never once moved from his spot in the far corner of the tavern. The only thing that changed was that he brought out a sheet of paper at some point and scribbled quickly on it, glancing up randomly. Despite herself, Elizabeth found her eyes drifting to the silent murderer more and more throughout the day. Finally, the end of her shift arrived and she quickly left the well-lit tavern to set out once more to the dark streets of Bowerstone. This time, she walked along the main, direct path to her house, despite her love of taking the scenic route. She hoped for a peaceful and quiet stroll, but, of course, Lady Luck was not on her side. Not ten minutes into her walk, she heard the same heavy footsteps and light pants of a dog. The steps got closer and closer until her nerves could take no more.
She spun on her heel, her entire body rigid. "W-Why are you f-following me?" She exclaimed louder than she thought possible and bit her lip, furrowing her brow. Butcher blinked emotionlessly and pursed his lips, exchanging looks with Kane. "W-What…?"
Butcher shook his head and stepped closer again.
"P-Please, th-that's quite close enough…" She whispered, backing up. To her surprise, he stopped in his tracks, head bowed slightly. Elizabeth's hands shook so she held the edges of her cloak to hide them, glancing away. "You… don't say much… d-do you?" She asked softly, stealing a peek at him. He simply shook his head, resting a securing hand on Kane's head. Kane barked up at him and waltzed closer to Elizabeth, neck craning to examine her. She whimpered and tried to back away, but felt her back colliding with stone. This dog aided his master in fights by tearing the remaining life out of enemies who were knocked to the ground. He could break her spine in seconds. Instead, he pressed his snout against her hip, as if asking for attention.
"U-Um…" Elizabeth glanced up at Butcher who was watching with slight amusement in his eyes, nodding at her. She shrunk into her hood and lowered one gloved hand to awkwardly pat the dog's head. "N-Nice… K-Kane… P-Please don't b-bite me…" Kane pulled his head back to tilt it at her, as if raising an eyebrow, and huffed, as if laughing.
"You're kind to him," A deep voice whispered and Elizabeth looked up to see the owner of the voice. "He doesn't bite those who are kind to him." Kane blinked and barked lightly, weaving his strong body against her legs, tail wagging.
"He has r-red eyes…" She reasoned, knocked against the stone behind her by the dog's force.
"His appearance reflects off mine," Butcher explained and knelt onto his knees to be eye-to-eye with Kane, running an affectionate hand along his dark fur. "If I weren't so corrupt, I would have red eyes, too…" For a moment, Butcher simply looked at the dog, as if having a wordless conversation. Before long, he rose and started walking down a street closer to the river. Kane stayed behind, looking up at Elizabeth. He barked and galloped after his master, turning his big head to watch the girl occasionally.
Run, her mind screamed, but her body could not obey. Her foot moved forward of its own accord, followed by the second, until she was walking following the dark man. Her mind could not figure the reason for this, but was content with screaming at her body as it moved as it liked. Maybe it was because the mystery of Butcher fascinated her. Throughout the many years he had existed around Bowerstone, she never once heard of him speaking. Some said he had no voice, that he only had a roar. They said because he was an orphan and lived on the streets as a child, he did not know how to talk. Those who knew him in his youth said he would only talk to his sister, Rose, but she disappeared as mysteriously as he did. They seemed to fall off the face of the Earth the night before Lucien left Fairfax Castle. No one knew why. No one cared.
Soon, Kane's wagging tail fell out of Elizabeth's view and she ran to try to find it again, stopping as she met the street along the river. Her hood fell off her head, dropping limply against her back.
"Over here," The strange voice called and the girl turned, spotting Butcher sitting on the far end of a bench, looking out over the wide river. Elizabeth took baby steps closer, glancing around anxiously. "There's no one around here. No one will penalize you for being with the Oakfield Slaughterer." Venom dripped from his last sentence and it appeared that his fist clenched tight around his knee. Elizabeth shrunk back, but continued to slowly walk closer. Her heart thumped violently in her chest with each step she took until she sat at the far end of the long bench, looking to the side. What on Earth was she doing? She was sitting with the treacherous hero who killed hundreds of innocents and refused to bring back those who died in the making of the Spire to save no one but his own dog. As if reading her thoughts, Kane looked up from his paws, an ear rising suspiciously.
"You're nervous," He said, breaking the chilling silence between them.
"Y-Yes," She replied, unable to look at him.
"Afraid?" She nodded.
"Hateful?"
Elizabeth paused and glanced at the dark hero who remained gazing into space.
"Mm…" She hummed, scratching her nails against her cloak. "No."
"No?" He raised an eyebrow and looked back at her, causing her to immediately turn away. "Why?"
Elizabeth had never hated another human being in her life. A lot of negative energy was needed to hate someone, energy she simply did not posses. She preferred not to be near many people, but she did not hate them. Despite all the terrible things Butcher had done throughout his life, Elizabeth had grown up with him and sat by in awe as he defeated the evil of Lord Lucien. He murdered innocents, yes, but he did save Albion from such villains as Thag and Lucien. He started at the bottom and worked to the top, becoming the richest man in all of Albion. He was hated and feared by all. He was wealthy, he was powerful, but he was completely alone with no one but Kane to accompany him. Elizabeth could not bring herself to hate such a pitiful character.
However, she kept the answer to herself. Though he had been kind thus far, he could behead her at any moment. The thought snapped sense back into her body and she tensed. "I should g-go."
"Wait," Butcher said immediately, straightening up. His hand extended to her, ready to grab her if she tried to leave. Elizabeth inched back, the metal arm rest of the bench cutting into her side. The man visibly cursed himself and pulled his hand back. The girl rose and backed far from him, ignoring Kane's whimpers. The air was tense, as if he was thinking of what to say, but she turned, starting off toward the main road again.
"Don't fear me," The voice muttered softly. Elizabeth stopped and glanced over her shoulder, puzzled. He was standing, staring deeply into her.
"W-Wha…"
"Don't fear me," He repeated, his tone grave, as if he was afraid to be feared. He stepped closer, the muscles in his arms and neck tensing menacingly under the dark, cracked skin. Elizabeth jumped back, heart skipping.
"I c-can't…" She shook her head and rushed off, afraid of the fiery look in the piercing green eyes. They held an emotion of which Elizabeth was unfamiliar. A look of dark desperation. An animalistic need for something that Elizabeth was afraid to give him.