Diarmuid kept his cheek nestled at the top of her head, skimming his fingers through her silky hair. He silently reprimanded himself for cradling her for so long. There were... so many ways for this to turn sideways, but he dismissed them.
Was this just admiration, and appreciation for the fresh way she treated him? Was is it gratitude to have a woman not afflicted by his curse still want to be next to him? To learn about him? Or was it something more? He closed his eyes. He was a fool. He could not allow it be anything else. He was... cursed, dead, and even further, hell bound unless they managed a win. It was.. ridiculous.. and yet...
He remained intertwined with her. As reluctant he may be to admit it, he wanted to retain this. If he refrained from letting himself feel at the last opportunity he had... with most likely the only person he felt worthy of it, it would be his only regret. There were plenty battles to fight, a curse to heal.. and yet - even if none of those managed to work out - the time spent with this woman made it all worthwhile.
A tender smile crept up his lip, as he sorted through his thoughts. 'Enjoy every moment to the fullest', her words bounced around his mind. Something she pressed him to do when he refused to allow her in. How many times has he attempted to do that, since she requested it? Plenty, he figured. Every opportunity that came thus far, he managed to experience and majority involved her or happened because of her.
His recollection traveled to the rooftop, where the stars above, like diamonds, twinkled bright across the navy sky. Where those same stars became the object of their entertainment, transformed by their imagination into varying images. She personified him as a bear, then, powerful and protective. He wondered if she meant protective of her... and his head leaned from hers into the wall, remembering not so pleasant a memory,
"My Lady, might I ask you something?" She nodded into his chest, that she sunk into further. He pat the back of her hair softly, "Do you... still fear me?"
Haley's eyes slowly opened, and her eyebrows knit together. "No.. why would I be scared of you?"
"Because I..."
Haley followed his idle stare to the crack in the wall, and his sudden question made sense. She wondered how long he might have been looking at the imprint of her skull that surfaced from when he smashed her against it.
"Oh. Well... It's not the first time it's happened to me." She chuckled playfully, nudging him with her elbow. Concern bled into his features, and she sighed, maybe the joke was a little unwarranted for such a serious matter.
"I... have not always been kind to you," his voice trailed off, as he met the curiosity in the crystals of her stare, "And you have perfect reason to be frightened of me. Yet.. you never waver. Even... when I lose myself in the bits of the curse.. You remain confident in me. Why is that?"
The back of her head drifted into his lap so she could peer up at him, and feel more comfortable than how slanted she was to leaning into his side. It was a respectable question. Most people probably would have given up on him, hell, some might have even killed him when he.. had done what he did back then. But she was not everyone else.
"Back then, I was terrified. But I knew curses enough to understand that it amplified the insecurity that I would betray you so I had to at least try to stop it. And how pitiful would I look if I gave in because I was scared?" She shook her head, the back of her noggin scraping against his pants, "And then I got to know you and it confirmed I did the right thing so... I remain confident in you because..." She gave him her best smile, "I care about you, Diarmuid. More than anything."
His chest tightened, and not in an unfavorable way. For a woman to care for him, not for his lovespot, but for his self alone... he had not thought it would matter as much as it had. He brushed the tip of his fingers under her side bangs, swaying them as he drifted down to halt at her jawline. She was so relaxed, laying across his thighs. Had she always been this beautiful? Had he ever actually paid attention? Her eyes were blue as the sea, and her sweet smile was like flowers on her skin. How had he not noticed before...?
She topped his hand with her own, and leaned into his palm with closed eyes. She loved how gentle he was, whenever he touched her. It was something she was not used to. Diarmuid was so sweet. How could she be afraid of someone who treated her like this? She knew what a true evil, and cold man was... and he didn't fit the description. At all.
"You.. have my thanks, my Lady. I hope you remain fighting by my side because.." His throat bobbed, his voice in a deep whisper, "I... I care for you, as well..." He finally admitted to her, and it felt like a thorn in his side had finally been pulled. Still, he had not known the weight of his words, or the extent of them- but he rather embrace this than run from it. She... was worth it, he decided.
Haley nodded. Of course she would remain by his side and fight. How silly was he being, right now? She chuckled, which was followed by an embarrassing yawn. It was sudden, but she felt sleepy. She rested after their fight with Achilles, so this was strange. She was not easily tired, but funny thing was, she felt more exhausted more often than usual...
The watch vibrated, interrupting her train of thought as she sat up to read the message aloud,
'Rest wisely, Round 3 will begin in 12 hours. Bring the Ruby key.'
"Jeez, so quick?" She pushed off the floor and stumbled to the bed, "Well, guess I should take their advice." She glanced to Diarmuid who answered with a nod, and she drifted off to sleep.
oooooooooooooooooooooooooo
"I like this one..." Haley centered on the medium, gold plated sword, that had thin armor to match. She was light, and required something that complimented her physique. The armor was adjustable, too, to help with her above average height. She looked to Diarmuid for confirmation.
He inspected the plates for her shin and her arms. The chest plate might be a bit... He slanted his gaze to her mediocre... well, it was going to be loose. It shouldn't be too terrible, though. She needn't worry.
Haley signaled a worker over and he removed the battle set from the glass and lumped it with the items Diarmuid had brought together as well. At first she thought the necessities for the next round would be... expensive in points. However, they.. well, were loaded. After defeating Achilles, their points skyrocketed to where anything was doable. Even their currency was high - too bad they didn't really care for the things that they could use it for.. outside the Arena. She actually felt bad. She wondered how those who didn't effectively gather enough points would fair in the upcoming rounds in the tournament given how essential some of these things were.
Her gaze wondered around the shop. Aside from basic needs, like different foods and drink to be transported into the Arena, there were katanas that hung along the crystal blue walls, and some spears even hung. Cases filled with different style guns, daggers, and knives, were delicately placed around the room. There were manikins with purchasable armor for both men and women, and they were of different styles and centuries. She debated retrieving one of the modern weapons - but decided against it because well, she didn't know how to use them. It cross her mind, though, to be mindful that these very things will appear in her enemies hands, though.
After they selected the necessities, Diarmuid and Haley were escorted underneath the Arena in the bland room, surrounded by fellow competitors. Once again, instructed to wait for Briscella to finish gearing the crowd for the next Round. An Observer announced, when they all arrived, what to expect.
Haley shrunk into her shoulders... so, they were to survive for ten days in the Arena... The kicker? Detainers were targets, and were unable to fight Or heal themselves with magic. It was completely the responsibility for the Forsaken to keep them safe. If they failed, their souls would be stripped shortly after. In addition to that, whoever defeated the most Detainers gained a special prize to further them in the tournament. Now, If the Forsaken were to be defeated - the Detainer would not be free to return to their world until the ten days were over - or if they died.
She groaned. The weapon she spent their points on- worthless this match. She paced, while Diarmuid layed across the bench, arms folded behind his head. He was probably deep in thought on the stakes this time around. She bit her lip, after their brief heart to heart, she bet he was perturbed. She knelt down on her knees, and rested her chin on the arms she crossed over his chest,
"Whatcha thinkin about?"
He spared her a glance, then returned his gander to the rumbling of the Arena above them. Were she not nervous of the rules that were just proclaimed? She was to be on the level of a damsel and she was hardly the part. Well, he was at least grateful that the luxuries they bought were of food, clothes and other supplies he thought would be necessary in the battle. He knew it were odd majority of the options were such things. Now it came together, since they were to survive in the Arena for an extended period of time.
"About too many things, my lady. Are you not frightened?"
Her lips vibrated across his jumpsuit as she hummed, "A little, but I have my Knight in shining armor to protect me, so I think I will be fine."
He breathed outward through his nose, all the while his smile crept back at his lip. Silly woman. He ruffled the top of her hair in a bunched, tangled mess. The way she scrunched her nose and murdered him with her icy stare only encouraged a low laugh.
She reached out, to pull that silly strand of hair that swayed over his nose when he laughed- when a screen dropped and a countdown began. Diarmuid shot up, almost knocking her back on to her rear. He swung his feet over the bench and grabbed her hand, as a fuzzy static sizzled through her skin. She inhaled, gripping his hand tighter. She meant it, when she said she trusted her to protect her. She got the hang of surviving, but not with - her eyes scanned their room of cursed spirits, angry souls, and company they made sure to avoid given past experiences - so many adversaries breathing down her neck.
Diarmuid stood and pulled her into his side, hanging his arm around her waist. They were to teleport in twenty seconds into the Arena, and he wanted to keep her close, just in case. He made the mistake once before, leaving a lady too far off for his protection and it not ended well. His grip tensed, and they transported into the Arena.
ooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo
It was a rush of air and gust that planted her on top of him into the weeds of grass that curled around the uprooted gravel. His breath burned hot against her lips, and his arm was still tightly wrapped along her back. For a split second, opportunity struck, and all of features registered in her thoughts.. The perfect way his jawbone curved, the high rise of his nose... She blinked. Well, this was awkward.
"My lady... can you..?"
"Oof, sorry!" She rolled to the side, and surveyed their surroundings. Anything to get her mind off what she was thinking.
How... did all of this fit in the Coliseum she did not know, but she spun awestruck by the enormous detail in their environment. Crumbled buildings engrossed with overgrown grass stretched far into a forest that circled around a rotting bridge. Cars broken down and entangled with weeds were scattered across cracked road and trees that sprouted in random patches of grass. It was like a post apocalyptic event happened in this magical, battered city.
Thunder rolled through the heavy, smoke colored clouds that clumped together across the sky. The air was graced with the scent of rain, and a strong breeze whined, aching to spill the overflow of water bundled tightly in the clouds above.
Diarmuid joined her at her side and glanced around. There were no enemies as far as he could tell, just scattered boulders, and plastic being carried by the wind. The trees swayed in the gusts and leaves raced past them as a loud thud erupted behind them. He turned to see a duffel bag dropped from a ripple in the Arena.
Digging through the ugly brown bag, Haley realized it was the belongings they ordered with their points, and Diarmuid slung it over his shoulder. They should find shelter quickly, before they were to fall victim to either drenching rain, or an enemy hiding out in any of the easily occupied buildings.
Shattered glass crunched under her feet, and she carefully splayed her hands across the window's ledge to hop into the broken down cafe. She strolled through overturned chairs and collapsed tables to the bar sink and attempted to run the faucet. The corroded metal only squeaked, and a single drop of water squeezed through the tap. Another priority would be to find water. They had only two water bottles each, and obviously that was not enough for ten days in a demolished city.
Lightning whipped the sky with a crack, the pattering of rain dripped and then rushed heavily into the pavement. Diarmuid ducked into the kitchen that layered the back and dug through the cabinets until he found a sizable bucket, that was probably used for cleaning. He grabbed a rag from the sink and wiped down the inner part of the bucket a couple of times, while holding it out in the rain. Rain water was not always available, but it made for relatively safe water to drink so long it was taken directly from the sky. Something he learned on his extended hunting trips.
"Shouldn't we make sure it's safe, first?" Haley questioned, "You never know with the demented way they do things."
"Yes, you might be right," Diarmuid nabbed a cup from the counter and dipped it, pooling a quarter size amount of water into it and brought it to his nose, "It smells normal," he sipped the liquid and nodded, "It is fine, but we shall continue to be careful."
Haley agreed, wishing they had a filter or something to test the water for any.. poisons or something the Hosts might come up with. Maybe this portion of the Arena was meant to be natural. Looking around, it seemed likely. With having water, all that was left was finding food. They only had enough canned fruits and bagged snacks to last a couple of days. It's a good thing she is accustomed to living off a scarce amounts.
They wandered around the cracked foundation of the Cafe. Broken frames, and wood snapped under their feet, as they looked for possibly a stair case or anything for their enemies to hide. The structure they were in was squared off like a box and they relaxed. They sat, backs pressed behind the counter, hiding themselves from the broken view the windows gave their enemies. Haley dared herself to try the rainwater, and was surprised at how fresh it tasted. She glimpsed the bathroom not too far off, and dismissed the thought of how smelly it could soon be since there was clearly no plumbing. Her eyes traveled upward to the roof lined with cobwebs and followed a spider sewing its web.
"How should we handle enemies?" Haley asked, bringing her knees to her chest to wrest her wrist on them as she flicked through the watch. She figured now would be the best time to discuss strategy, since they had no weapons. No armor. They were sitting ducks.
Diarmuid rolled his sleeves above his elbows, "I collected a couple of knives, however worn they may be. It would do if someone should attack."
A worried line formed across Haley's lips, "We aren't going to target Detainers, are we?"
"Depends, my Lady," Diarmuid started carefully, wondering where she was going with this. "Should a Forsaken attack us, it might be best to take out the former."
There was nothing useful on the watch, and she dropped her arms to her sides, "But we won't personally go after them for the rewards or anything... right?"
He placed his palm on her shoulder, "Did you not want to?"
Her lower lip rolled under her teeth. No, she really didn't. Unlike the souls of the Underworld... the Detainers - well, most of them - were living beings. They would actually die and she was not really comfortable taking someone's life for some sort of benefit. It might of been stupid, and she was sure Diarmuid would disagree given his warrior status, but she wanted to stay true to herself while being here. It was the one promise she made, because surely the Underworld could do strange things to living beings... "I really don't.. If we could avoid it... just focus on surviving.. would you mind that?"
There was a time he wondered if she was capable of taking a life, but never had the opportunity to discuss it. He had long forgotten it, until now. She wanted not to harm others, he was sure in fear of turning out like her father. An understandable sentiment, but she was still in a battle that might push those limitations. He slid his hand down her arm to pull her hand into his,
"So long as you are not in danger, I will abide by your principals... but my Lady," His glance found the scraped floor, "There may come a time that not possible."
It felt like his spear found her gut. There had to be a way to avoid killing people. Even in her ten years of running, she was able to. The goal was to survive... killing Detainers was just an additional prospect to make it more interesting. "Can't we just... run away or something?"
Diarmuid cradled the back of his head. His question earlier of what she was capable of had definitely been answered. A slight hitch in their partnership. He had no qualms killing anyone, should it be necessary. Her life, and the destination his soul were to head to.. might depend on him making that decision. Running away would not entirely solve their problems, "What if we are backed in a corner and cannot retreat?"
She stood in frustration, almost banging her head against the counter top, "I- I don't know. Couldn't we think of something? You and I are smart, what if we gave them injuries or something that would hinder them useless?" She balled her hands into fists. No, she didn't want to kill people. She wouldn't.
His brows furrowed together at the agitation in her voice, and her sudden leap, "My Lady... It's not so-"
"No, come on. I know you're a damn murderer but-" She stiffened, her eyes darting to the man that she stunned silent. She crossed a line. She knew it the moment she vomited the words. She felt the burn in her eyes and jammed them together, stomping off across the room before he could come up with a rebuttal.
She pinned her forehead on the wall under her arm. That was so uncalled for, and she didn't mean it. His times were different, didn't she tell him that herself? She just... can't stand the idea of hurting people. This was not what she had signed up for. She agreed to supporting Diarmuid fight other souls like him. Not living people who were desperately trying to save their friends, maybe family, lovers, or whatever!
Diarmuid's eyes narrowed, expression sour. That was not what he had been expecting, and it stung she would insult him so direly. "Haley... a Knight and a murderer are separate things, and I would appreciate you seeing the difference..."
She knew the difference, and wasn't aiming to belittle his knighthood. If only he could understand that this was just difficult for her. "I'm sorry, Diarmuid. I really am. What I said was uncalled for..." She shook her head, "I didn't mean it. It's just... killing people is.. not me. You.. understand that... don't you?"
He did, quite well, actually. In that moment, he decided to cast aside how displeased he was with her hysterics. He had come to care and respect her well enough to know that it was out of character for her. The other nagging feeling was that maybe, his original opinion that she was in over her head, blossomed again.
"My Lady..." Diarmuid approached her, and propped his hand on her shoulder, "If it is too much, maybe we should consider a forfeit.."
It was as if someone took her heart and snapped it in half like a twig. Forfeit? That was his answer to all this? After everything they had been through? She whipped around with the complete intention of giving him a piece of her mind on the matter, but... The broken haze in his discolored eyes obstructed the hammering in her chest. Why, why did he have to look as vulnerable as she felt? She jabbed his sternum feebly with the back of her fist, and hung her head. "But then what happens to you?"
He tucked her hair behind her ear and offered her his gentlest smile, "I will meet my fate."
Stupid Diarmuid. Stupid tournament. She wrapped her arms around him and dug her face into him while shaking her head side to side, "Stupid.. Come on... don't say that. Not after everything we have been through."
"I am not sure what else to do, my Lady. The... rules of this tournament will not allow for us to keep our hands clean." The way she clutched him tighter pulled at his heart strings, but there was nothing he could do beside speak the truth she did not want to accept with ease in his tone, "I am but a Knight, I do not take killing lightly... However, I do what it is needed, even if the result is death..." He gently gripped the sides of her arms and pushed her back to look her in her eyes when he spoke, "You, however, are not. I do not wish you to sully your honor. So if we must make that difficult decision to end our journey here, then so be it."
Her lip quivered under her teeth. This all sucked. Yeah, killing people wasn't what she signed up for, but, Diarmuid was.. the question that stabbed her in the heart was if he was worth turning a blind eye to her own convictions. Her chin dipped, and she thumbed a stray tear away. They both fell silent. Only the sound of rain pattering on the rooftop accompanied by the roaring roll of thunder echoed in the cafe.
Diarmuid lifted her chin with the tip of his index finger, and wiped away the wetness from her cheekbones. He had not intended to for her cry, or for this conversation to become so heated. He only wished she understood what she would be up against, not feel whatever dread plagued her mind. If only he had attempted such a thing sooner, maybe she this would not have hit her so hard, or might they not even be here. Even still, she needed to answer, however tough it might be, "My Lady, I know it to be a tough decision, but we do not have much time." His hand fell to his side, "I have no regrets, and have no qualms with whatever you decide."
She cursed, and gripped her arm. No regrets, huh? If only she could say the same. Killing others weighed on her, but it was to be expected with what she was participating in, right? Diarmuid's soul... lost in the abyss of torture because she gave up midway? Not by some other, unfortunate means? That would be a guilt she didn't think she could ever overcome. Even after she downright insulted him, all he cared about was her resolve, how she wanted to do things. It would be... an injustice letting him fall for her selfish reasons. She couldn't just forfeit, and have him eat the outcome of it while she returned to her pathetic life.
Given those thoughts, she finally came to grips with how much he meant to her. She was willing to sacrifice part of her ideals to save him because he was invaluable to her. When had she ever come to care for someone as deeply as she did him?
"Diarmuid, I could never abandon you... Just.." When his arms wrapped around her torso and his chin laid delicately on her head, she practically broke into pieces. It was never on her agenda, but deep inside the pits of her morality, she knew he was right. She could not easily admit it, and didn't think she would, not so soon, anyway. She still wanted to attempt, at any given chance, to avoid taking lives. At the same time, she would allow Diarmuid, even even herself, to do what was necessary if it ever came to it. "Just promise me you'll at least try? Try to find an outcome that wont result in needless death?"
Her devotion made his heart squirm, and he wanted her to understand he were worthy of it. Targeting innocence was not something he, nor other Knights, would take pleasure in. She had to have understood that, but he would dispel any doubt, "Even without promise, it is in a Knight's code to never kill needlessly," he met her glossy stare, begging him for reassurance, "But you have my word."
Haley muttered a thanks, while she leaned into his comfort. What else was going to challenge her resolve in this flipping tournament? She really hoped nothing else, because she was hesitant to believe that she could handle much more.
An unnatural shuffling of footsteps that interrupted the drumming of rain had Diarmuid reluctantly pulling away from the woman cradled in his arms. The hairs along his body began to prick, as the scuttling intensified above them. Crumbs of dust and foundation from the ceiling sprinkled into his eyes and trailed towards the mouth of the window. His hands dipped into his pockets, to grip the handle of the knives which blades hidden in their covers, as a single, soaked figure dropped from above.
The person teetered left and right, almost like a man who had too much to drink. Diarmuid's eyebrows knit together, as the person slumped over the window and collapsed onto the floor. He released the hilt, while another being abruptly plummeted after, accompanied by three more. He spared a glance to his Master whose head tilted into her shoulder and raised his index finger to his lips. He then slowly inched his way over to their bag.
Master, do not say a word. Those... are not people. Come very slowly, and quietly, over to my side.
What are they...? She thought back to him, sliding along the wall.
Undead. They are tortured souls trapped in their rotting corpses. They cannot see, but their hearing and sense of smell is impeccable. Their hunger to multiply is great. I had encountered them only once before in Hell's Lobby. I was lucky to have evaded them, or else I would be what you see before you. He slipped her the bag and slouched for her, eyes pinned to the staggering, inhuman persons.
How do they multiply...? Haley asked, adjusting herself onto his back.
When they inflict a deep enough wounds, a piece of their essence mixes in their victims, slowly corroding their bodies and corrupting them. He sunk to his knees, and took very tiny steps in the opposite direction of the beings that meandered towards them.
What... happens to your soul, if you are defeated in that form?
My spirit.. would cease to exist... He was unsure which was worse; being internally tortured while starving to multiply as a last ditch effort to preserve oneself in insanity. Or to be tortured for all eternity. At least one had some sort of peace, though no longer existing felt... harsh. Just one of the many ways the Universe punished evil spirits. It was unfathomable how tainted he had become in his final moments.
It was also best not to think about such things.
Haley gripped him tightly, as he crawled across the upturned debris. She didn't want to discuss any further the possibilities of those.. walking evils.
They paused behind an overturned wooden table, as one fumbled around the corner, and paused. Its head snapped in every direction, cracking bone as it did. The tattered portion of the pant leg brushed against Haley's shoulder and she flinched. The sniffing sound that escaped the eerily still body, had her breath tranquilized. It took a wobbled step forward, and its head spun to them. Empty eye sockets, and a wet mouth agape faced them with a hiss.
Did it... sense them?
A glass whizzed past from outside, and shattered right before them. Diarmuid immediately broke the leg off the table and stabbed it through the dropped jaw of the undead that lunged for them. Shit. An enemy must be near by as well. He sprinted, and maneuvered his way through the swarm of undead that erupted after them in a frenzy.
The adjacent window collapsed, spewing shards of glass from Diarmuid's crash. Water licked his skin, as he rolled through the puddle and rain. The sound of screeching scurrying behind them. He would not worry about his hidden enemy- for it would be stupid for them to reveal themselves. Rain slanted past them, as he mustered his speed to get across the acres of rotting vehicles to reach the flooding under the bridge. If he could submerge themselves in the water, he needn't worry of their attack since they could not swim.
The problem was getting there. The slanted and corroded buildings leaked more undead that answered their screeching call, causing them to swarm like bees. The knives in his pockets were not enough - He could only dodge their onslaught. As more lined in the very direction they were headed towards - even that seemed highly unlikely.
He hurdled over them and Haley really wished she could use her ability to keep these things at bay. There was no way they would make it to the bridge in time. Not before at least one these creatures harmed them. Their best bet was to race to one of the obstructed buildings to strike them down and barricade themselves inside it.
Raising his foot to meet the belly of another Undead, Diarmuid caught another by the arm and swung the light body into the two that scrambled for him. She was right, if they were to continue like this, they would never make it to the bridge. He was worried there might be more lurking in the buildings, but felt it easier to fight the minimal numbers there than the steadily increasing flow of undead here.
He darted, blinking away the droplets of rain that threatened his eyesight. Maneuvering cleanly through the barrage of undead bodies that attempted to block his progression. He was glad they at least were not as fast as himself, but they easily could catch up if he were to hesitate.
"Holy shi- Diarmuid, there, there! We can slip in!" Diarmuid followed her hastily wagging finger to a window in the alley way. It was low, almost leveled with the ground on the side of the brick wall.
Diarmuid rapidly pried the window open, while the mob of undead flailed closer. Haley swung herself inside, and he tossed the bag in after, following suit. They dropped into a basement that aside from the poles, rotting flesh of deceased carcasses and cabinets, was empty. After immediately closing the window, that the undead slapped and rammed into, they both scurried to the stair case that curved upwards to the level above.
They reached the door, glass bursting following behind them. Thankfully it wasnt locked and they rushed through, Diarmuid snapping it shut behind them. He went to turn to find anything to create a blockade with- when the door frizzled, and burned shut along the edges. What...
"Diar-" The sound of Haley calling his name had him twirling right into a string of fire leveled right underneath his - and Haley's - throats.