Fair warning: Adam is in this chapter in all his d-bag glory. I kept it really sparse but there are instances of him being manipulative/abusive, so if anyone's uncomfortable reading that, here's your heads up. Not that I think what I ultimately trimmed down to has much, but still.
Slowly getting to the point where these story-lines are going to begin to converge, so hip-hip hooray!
Thick carpet, regal purple with gilded edges and seams, lined the corridors. Paintings of individuals Blake didn't know and landscapes she'd never seen adorned the walls, along with numerous hanging plants and tapestries. An occasional sealed door interrupted the white trim that covered the lower quarter of the wall. Waves trailed along the floorboards, rising to the top of the trim and crashing, a silent shore painted in ghostly white.
Forget luxurious. A vase so polished that even the faint wall lanterns gave its blue shell a glorious sheen held freshly cut roses, not a single petal out of place. Blake scoffed under her breath, glowering at the display before refocusing. This 'home' - she loathed to call it a simple home, was beyond excessive. It was ostentatious, a gross display of a man with far, far too much wealth.
Ill begotten wealth at that. Blake stopped in her tracks and pressed against a wall, holding her breath as a door opened. Two servants emerged and talked about nothing as they walked past, unaware of the trespasser in their midst. One came dangerously close to stepping on Blake's foot and she twisted her ankle just slightly, thankful neither heard her boot brush against the carpet.
Waiting until the pair vanished around a corner and a moment longer to be certain, Blake exhaled and continued. Light from the lantern temporarily stripped away her cloak of shadow only for her magic to replenish it swiftly again.
Remaining concealed as she was taking a great deal of magic, but she wouldn't need it for long. She had entered the home in the West Wing. If intelligence was reliable, and it always was, her target would be in the North Wing. Rooms she passed now then would be servant's quarters, she assumed. Peering through an open door she noted the simple straw mattress tucked along the far wall, a lump beneath a heavy blanket laid atop it. Aside from a desk and a simple dresser the room was barren; sparse, definitely servant's quarters.
Shadow was her shield. It deafened her footsteps and muffled the gentle clink of her weapon against her waist. Like a one-way mirror Blake could look out but others couldn't stare back. A perceptive, trained eye would notice the shadows distort in her passing, yet no servant ever bothered to look twice. Most meandered about with a bored stare while others busied themselves with late night duties, dusting pieces of furniture Blake was positive hadn't a speck of dirt on them to begin with.
Having only a vague knowledge of the building's layout she needed a moment to collect her thoughts upon reaching the central hall. The four wings joined in the center of the home, forming a box around the circular space. High above a glass-domed roof allowed moonlight to flood in, basking the room in a ghostly glow. Potted ferns and more flowers lined the walls, small tables set between each plant. Various baubles sat out on display; a sword that had likely never been used, a glass case with a gleaming pearl necklace, another with a piece of parchment, it's dark, caramel-colored paper somehow new as the day it was drafted.
Blake slipped through the room without a sound, pausing only briefly at the large bookcase that covered a good portion of one wall. Curved to fit along the surface it boasted more books than she'd ever owned, and many, she was certain, she'd never read. She was not here for pleasure and passed it by with a forlorn glance, silently debating grabbing one or two on her way out.
Simple wall lanterns were replaced by hanging chandeliers, glass casings shaped like crystals and painted as stained glass. The first was blue, the second green, and the third red. The corridor became segregated in color as Blake made her way down, throwing her magic into a fit as it did its best to reconcile the shifting shades. This is just gaudy. Who thought this was a good design choice…? She thought the bathroom and West Hall had been bad, but they had nothing on this.
A pair of voices made Blake stop in her tracks and she pressed flush against the wall. Shadows shifted to compensate for the red light washing over her and she again held her breath. An elderly servant shuffled along, trailing behind a younger woman, their unintelligible conversation becoming clearer as they drew closer.
"Honestly, grandmother, does it matter what he wears?" the young woman moaned. "He looks like a fat pig either way."
"Mind your tongue, young lady! That man is our lord!"
"And? He's still fat."
Being shorter than her young counterpart didn't prevent the woman from trying to instill respect. "And he is our gracious lord! Without him we wouldn't have work, and Galloway's fortunes wouldn't exist!" Blake watched the elderly woman attempt to swat the girl's head and have to settle for smacking her arm. "You children need to learn respect."
Crossing her right leg over her left the younger servant leaned forward, hands on her hips. The maid attire the woman wore sported a few stains and stretched with the movements, a size too small. "I give respect when it's deserved. Besides…" She smiled and blew a fiery orange bang from her face. "When he dresses the way he does I don't care how 'gracious' he is. His sense of fashion is awful."
"You obstinate brat! You act as if his attire is all that matters!"
"Well I mean… Yeah? He's a noble, he should at least dress the part." Blake felt her eyebrow twitch along with the elderly maid's. Did they have to do this right in front of her? Seriously? If not for the table cutting her off on her left she'd continue along and ignore this inane blathering.
Instead she settled in and flattened her ears against her head in a futile effort to drown out the elderly woman's raving. She had to agree with the brown-haired maid before her in one regard: the bastard that oversaw Galloway hardly deserved respect, though she knew their reasons differed. Blake rolled her tongue in her mouth and pressed it to her cheek, rolling her eyes as the woman continued.
Then she froze. She'd stopped paying attention to the conversation and so too had the young maid. Rather than pay the senior servant any mind her eyes were fixated on the wall. On Blake. The Meera's heart rate picked up slightly and she stared right back, amber eyes unblinking against pools of brown. She couldn't see her, there was no way she could. A hand reached out ever so slowly, and the girl smiled. Blake leaned away as fingers passed a hair's width from her ear, silently reaching for her weapon.
Something scraped against the wall and shifted but Blake didn't see what, her eyes never leaving the other girl. The other woman continued to rave and finally, after what felt like an eternity, the pair began to move along. Their voices both rose as bickering continued and Blake's chest swelled as she drank in the oxygen she'd deprived herself of. Fingers eased off her weapon and she glanced to the side, eyebrows raising seeing a painting beside her. It had been ajar and the maid, seeing that, had taken to righting it.
She'd never been seen, and what a fool she'd been for thinking that. Blake chuckled under her breath and shook her head, peeling off the wall and continuing down the hall.
There were fewer doors in this wing of the building. Some were open, revealing a study with leather-bound armchairs, a wide teak desk with a disaster of papers, binders and an inkwell strewn across the top, and more books. Quaint jealousy colored Blake's thoughts and she reconsidered 'borrowing' a few books. Maybe she'd just burn them. Though it wasn't as if the man would be reading them when she was through anyways.
Another door revealed a smaller room with a central table and several chairs gathered around it. A large window stretched from the floor to ceiling and offered an unrestricted view of Galloway Bay. Like limbless trees a multitude of masts raised out of the water, dozens of ships harbored for the evening, and no doubt just as many coming and going. Second perhaps only to Vale's harbors, Galloway was a thriving center of trade and commerce.
All of that bustling business would soon be thrown into utter disarray. Blake's lips curled into a cruel smirk at the thought and she carried on, passing by another servant who idled and passed the time cleaning one of the many paintings decorating the walls.
The mayor's room couldn't have made itself any more obvious. The only double doors in the wing were stained dark, a lighter inlay carved into it. Two halves of a mirrored, circular pattern met at the seam, rings joined together, the seemingly random pattern having some significance, Blake assumed. Two spotless door knobs plated gold rested at waist level and she reached out for one, testing it with a single finger. When she pushed it rotated, her ear flicking as she listened to the inner mechanisms click and give way. Not locked then, good.
Chain rattled softly as Blake eased her weapon from her waist. Twisting the knob slowly she eased it open, relieved that the hinges obeyed her wishes and remained silent. Casting one last cautionary glance into the corridor she slipped into the room and eased the door shut.
A four-post bed with blue drapes took up a space in the center of the room, blinds drawn closed. Wood twisted and stretched like an uncoiling serpent, peaking at the top. The posts were capped by eagles cast in brass and a handful of drawers were built into the foot of the bed. Silent, Blake padded into the room, the carpet beneath her boots like a cloud, muffling all sound. Her ears twitched, and she could hear the sound of gentle, rhythmic breathing coming from the bed itself. Someone was fast asleep.
In one deliberate movement she reached back and drew her weapon, the other hand gripping the sky-blue cloth in the other. Her heart began to hammer, and her senses heightened as adrenaline kicked in. Defenseless or not she was about to attack another person. To kill another person. Her hand trembled slightly, and she bit her tongue, throwing open the drapes.
And staring at an empty bed. Neatly made, a heavy brown comforter without a single wrinkle in it spread across the bed, a collection of pillows clumped together at the head of it. Blake's ears twitched as the breathing continued, swiveling on her head to pick out the sound. It clearly came from the empty space before her, she was certain of it. Something wasn't right.
A sudden weight slammed into Blake's back as two feet struck just beneath her shoulders. She grunted and rolled to the side preemptively, watching as a leg crashed down in an axe kick. Using her chain, she caught an arm and wrapped the limb up, twisting in bed and yanking her attacker with her. Somehow, they slipped free and Blake shot over the bed, weapon in hand and twirling as she came face to face with her assailant. Tanned, toned skin with bright orange hair, matched in color by his rough spun tunic, he stared in silence at her as his gloved hands flexed at his sides. He couldn't be much older than she, judging by his youthful appearance, which made her question why was he here?
As if sensing her unasked question, the boy tilted his head slightly and Blake caught sight of it. Three rings, with the smallest at the center and the other two encircling the first, as ripples forming on the water's surface. A triangle intersected the inner two, and within the triangle was a series of runes. The Mark of the Church. A Hunter.
"I don't suppose you'll tell me where Arthur Braun is…?" Blake mumbled. Her weapon was cold, or was it the clamminess of her hands that made it so?
The boy didn't answer, merely tilting his head again. Eyes white and devoid of pupils stared back at her, unblinking. He was blind? Blake might have found some consolation in that if he didn't manage to follow her as she moved, as if he knew exactly where she was always. Even her own ears strained to pick up her footsteps.
If a Hunter had been lying in wait, then they knew she was coming. She didn't know how or why, but clearly, she'd been made. The question was when? Climbing into the manor? Crossing through Galloway? Entering Galloway itself?
Blake allowed her eyes to snap behind her briefly, to the double-wide glass doors leading out to a balcony. From the third floor it would be a bit of a drop but nothing she couldn't manage, especially if she could make use of magic. When she looked back at the boy however he shook his head as if to say, 'Don't try it.' That, or he was conveying she was finished.
She'd barely taken a step to the doors before a foot slammed into her gut. Wind rushed from her lungs in a painful grunt and she staggered, ducking under a fist that blurred past her vision. How had he cut her off? Blake danced away, circling around the bed and swinging her weapon. Her attacks didn't come close and she realized with a start that the boy's magic was speed. No, illusions? Her Kusarigama cleaved clean through and she watched his entire body shimmer then fade without so much as a sound, a kick striking her upper arm and nearly making her drop her weapon.
Clones? Illusions? Speed? Blake's mind raced as she fended off the Hunter. His fists raised, and he danced side to side on his feet, a style reminiscent of Vale's brawlers. She'd seen them once before, she noted, leaning back from a vicious haymaker and trapping a jab in her chain. Many who had no skills other than fighting took part in underground arenas. It was where the White Fang found many of its members. Few ties, a willingness to get bloody, and the ability to hurt someone. The perfect recruits.
Blake twisted the boy's arm and he flipped to prevent damage, pulling her close. Her vision blurred as his head slammed into the bridge of her nose and she growled, wrenching her weapon free and letting her magic erupt. Shadow shot from the corners like vipers and wrung themselves around his wrists, pulling him back and pinning him in place. Rather than capitalize, however, Blake turned and raced for the door, throwing it open wide before darting into the corridor.
The mayor would be safe if Hunters were active, there was little point in trying to fight back. She needed to get out, to get away and regroup with the others. Behind her she could hear her shadows break, snapping and fading with a sizzle. The boy was in the hall and giving chase, vanishing briefly before reappearing. He was gaining on her, and fast. Blake made shadows bend to her will. Spikes erupted from the walls and floor, cutting off the boy's avenue, or so she'd hoped. With an extra effort he seemed to move faster than before, weaving in between pillars of dusk.
The common space between wings appeared again and Blake skid to a halt, whipping around and forming a wall of shadow in the hall. The boy's face, for the first time, registered something akin to annoyance before vanishing behind the obstacle.
It wouldn't last. Between the moonlight from above and the boy's fists striking the wall hard enough to make it tremble she hadn't much time. She needed to keep moving. The front exit? Guards were no doubt alert already, but that was of no significance. An average guard was an inconvenience at best, Magi or not. She'd make for the front of the building and back into the city, losing any pursuers in the process.
At least that was the plan. Blake heard the air whistling before she saw anything, and on instinct she ducked just as an arrow soared over her head. Lifting her chin off the floor she stared at the ephemeral projectile, the entire arrow cast in an unearthly blue, not quite physical, yet solid enough to strike her wall and stick. Another arrow struck beside it, then another, and her eyes widened as the arrows detonated and caused the wall to crumble.
"You know… For someone sneaking into a manor, you're not very stealthy."
Blake glared back as she rose and stared down the girl from before. A bright orange bang clashed with the short cropped brown hair and swayed idly in front of her face. She blew it aside then smirked, winking at Blake. In her right hand a ghostly bow was gripped tight, blue mist rising off the conjured weapon. Blake glanced back at the boy again as he picked shadow from his hands, her own spell vanishing into a faint cloud.
"Is she giving you trouble, Fox? She doesn't seem that tough!" Blake ground her teeth and watched the girl conjure forth another arrow, notching it. Rather than give her the time to shoot she fired off another spell, shadow erupting under the servant, no, the Hunter, twisting its way up her leg and stopping at the knee. Blake flexed her wrist and pulled the girl down, eyes narrowing as she continued to smile.
The moonlight gave away Fox's approach and Blake rolled aside to avoid the fist that could well have knocked her senseless. Somehow, he kept the momentum going, swinging a high kick up at her jaw, then a two-handed jab at her chest that, despite missing, Blake still felt pressure. Her blade missed wide right and she spun on her back foot, twirling the chain. Her weapon sliced through the air and became little more than brief flashes of silver, her blade slicing apart afterimages. He was fast, but if she kept this up he couldn't get close enough to hit her.
He didn't have to. By pure chance Blake happened to lean back to adjust her weapon and her face was colored blue by an arrow screeching past her. The girl had freed herself, somehow, and was back on her feet with bow in hand. Fox pressed again, and Blake managed to drive him off, having to give ground as another arrow nearly buried itself in her thigh, slicing it but missing wide.
"You can make this a lot easier on yourself," the girl cajoled, smiling as she notched three arrows at once. "Just put your weapon down and we can talk this over like reasonable people! Or…" She sighed when Blake threw another spell her way, nodding gratefully as Fox shattered the shadowy projectile with his fist. "Fine, be stubborn. Don't say we didn't try!"
Three arrows released, and Blake darted to her right to avoid them, though none flew straight. One went high, the other two fanned to the sides. Her breath caught briefly when she realized not only were they flying unnaturally, but they were actively chasing her. The first turned at an impossible angle and she twirled her chain, barely blocking it and almost being knocked over as it exploded. An intense heat washed over her, and the light disoriented her, enough that the second arrow cut into her left arm. The third missed only because of a hasty wall, though any reprieve bought was short. The girl was preparing another three arrows and Fox was closing in again.
To fight them was suicide. Even if she beat them there would be more Hunters in Galloway. The alarm would be raised and a half dozen, possibly more, trained Hunters would converge on her. That wasn't a fight she could win.
Blake erected another wall and winced internally as Fox's fist slammed into it, a loud echoing thud filling the room on the other side. Keeping her weapon in hand she turned and raced down the hall, erecting a second wall of shadow behind her. The first broke and the second shortly thereafter, but by then she'd covered most of the East Wing. One ear swiveled and Blake threw herself behind a corner as an arrow whizzed past, exploding just a few feet away. Sending an errant spell backwards she raced along, ignoring the warmth trickling from her thigh and the dull ache in her right arm.
A wide window raced to meet her. Beyond it Blake could see the same fence she'd clambered over before, the neatly trimmed hedges encircling the entire property. Footsteps hastened behind her and she reached forward, her palm outstretched, drawing in whatever shadows laid before her. They pooled before the window before exploding in a jagged, random mass, shattering glass and tearing the corners of the window frame to splinters. Discretion be damned, she was well past the point of needing it.
Cold evening air filled her lungs as she leapt from the window, spinning in freefall and throwing her Kusarigama back. The weapon's edge dug into the wood paneling of the manor and she swung along, yanking her weapon free and rolling as her body hit the dirt. Picking herself up immediately she glanced back, and her eyebrows rose seeing an arrow inches from her face. Rather than strike, however, it exploded, robbing her of sight and throwing her head over heels across the lawn.
Her back slammed into the dirt and the world was dark, blurry. A faint ringing in her ears and a warmth trickling from one warned of damaged hearing, and Blake's trembling fingers brushed along her face, finding passing relief that there was no blood. Her vision returned too, slowly, though the ringing persisted.
Barely able to see and struggling to walk straight she raced for the fence. Again, she threw discretion to the wind and parted the bars with a pillar of shadow, diving through the gap, into the rough thickets. Branches scraped against her and added superficial wounds, ones she hardly cared about. Spitting a leaf out she clambered free from the hedges and dashed across a street, using her weapon to clamber up to a rooftop.
By now the manor had come alive, the shouts of guards filling the peaceful night air. Somewhere in Galloway a bell tower began to ring, and as Blake darted from rooftop to rooftop she could hear the streets coming alive below. No panic, because as far as the populace knew, panic drew Grimm. Protected as Galloway might be with her wards there was still a chance, however slim, a horde could befall the city. So people might fret, but they would never, ever panic.
Blake scowled at the blatant manipulation even as she raced for the city's edge. Her mission was done, she was compromised, and knowing she'd failed meant taking the mayor out would become infinitely more difficult. They would try again, of that she had no doubt. She just wouldn't be the one to do it.
Scaling down the wall encompassing Galloway she sank onto the dirt, seething as her hand gripped the wound on her arm. Warm blood soaked her shirt and stained her hand, and a cursory look at her thigh showed it was no better. Largely superficial, thankfully, but irritating enough to make the trek back to camp annoying. Just standing again made her leg throb and her chest strain to fill itself. Clouds, at long last, decided to cover the moon and obscure its light, basking the entirety of the city, and Blake, in shadow. Under the cover of darkness, she staggered away from the confines of civilization and into the nearby forests, dreading her return more than anything that had transpired inside the manor.
/+/+/+/+/+/+/+/+/+/+/+/
"You had one job. One simple, easy job, and you still managed to screw it up!"
Blake hung her head and stared at the dew-tipped grass beneath her. The dull green in the early morning sun seemed off to her. The whole world seemed dull, so maybe it was her fatigue? She wasn't a morning person, yet it couldn't be any earlier than five in the morning. Was that the reason why? Or was it the stress, the slight blood loss, and the nerves threatening to tear her apart from the inside?
Her eyes refused to lift and instead watched as the shadow of a man paced before her, following the long, stretched silhouette. Her shoulders trembled as the cold air bit into her skin and she released a foggy breath, wincing when the man before her growled. Closing her eyes and bracing she held still, but a blow never came. Slowly, hesitantly, she opened her eyes and lifted her head, staring back at a white, porcelain mask streaked with red. Streaked with blood.
"I am so disappointed in you, Blake. I thought you could handle this."
"Adam…" Blake began, gasping as a hand seized her arm and squeezed the wound. Hissing through clenched teeth her ears folded flat, whimpering until the grip was removed. "I… I tried. I managed to infiltrate the manor, I was in his room…"
"And he's alive, and you have nothing to show for your effort, do you?" Adam scowled and stood again, taking to pacing once more. His long, black, fur-lined coat swayed behind him, his weapon hanging from a strap on his hip. Blake's eyes focused on the slender, curved blade, still unable to look up. "Tell me what happened, again. From the top."
Blake nodded dutifully and swallowed, attempting to relieve the dryness of her throat. Her lips were cracked, and her stomach growled again in a bid to find food. It would have to wait. "I arrived in the manor and began my search for the mayor's room. It was in the North Wing like we were told. When I arrived in the room I could hear someone breathing like they were asleep, and… The curtains were drawn closed. When I checked the bed though there was no one in it, and…"
"That's when the first Hunter attacked you?" Adam grunted, frowning when Blake gave a nod of confirmation. "They knew you were coming. I don't know how or why, but they knew."
That made sense, even if it didn't. How could they have known? How could anyone have known, outside of a select few members of their organization, what was being planned? There had to be a traitor in their midst, someone trying to undermine their missions. Adam reached the same conclusion too it seemed as he slammed his fist into a nearby trunk.
"Damn it! We won't get a second chance at that, and even if we there will be Hunters crawling all over that building!" Adam stalked over towards a small gathering of members, towards Ilia. Blake almost begged for him to stop when his hand raised only to go silent when he snatched a container from her waiting hands instead.
"If we have a snake in our midst then it doesn't matter anyways." Kneeling before her Adam motioned for Blake to roll up her sleeve. Dried, crusted blood made the fabric stick to skin and she winced when tugging it reopened the wound. Adam wasted no time and wiped the cut with a cloth before slathering a salve onto the injury. "First we have to find the leak and deal with it, then we'll try again," he added, carefully wrapping a bandage around Blake's arm.
"Let me try again. I can do it."
"No."
"But Adam," Blake protested, wincing when the bandages was tightened suddenly.
"No. You failed, Blake. They've seen your face." She wore a half mask, but it was enough, and moreover they had seen her magic too. "Next time we try I'll go myself. If you want something done…" Adam trailed off and finished wrapping the bandage, motioning to the wound on Blake's leg. She frowned and glanced at the small gathering of members before shaking her head, modesty getting the better of her.
The grass was damp under her rear as she sat down, stretching out her injured leg to be worked on. Without removing her trousers to give easy access Adam settled for cutting away the cloth, exposing the wound to fresh air as he got to work. Somehow a man ruthless enough to command fear and respect of hundreds touched her skin delicately, treating it like porcelain. The wound was cleaned and bandaged swiftly, and though the dull ache remained Blake was no less grateful.
"Tell me, who were the Hunters? What magic did they have?"
Blake's brow furrowed before she answered, trying to make certain she got it right. "The boy… Fox was his name, I think had speed-based magic?" Her head tilted thoughtfully before she shook it and sighed. "No, he broke apart my spells like they were nothing. He had enhancement magic. He could bolster his speed and strength."
"And the girl?"
"I didn't get her name, but she could conjure a bow and arrows. I'm not sure if she could conjure anything else." Blake hadn't stayed around long enough to check. "They exploded on impact, the arrows. I'm not entirely certain either, but she seemed to be able to manipulate their trajectory too."
Adam gave a soft 'hm' while his hand brushed along Blake's hair. She shivered again, wanting to pull away even more when he leaned close. Feeling lips press against her own she kept hidden her disdain for fear of retribution and closed her eyes, denying Adam any response other than a shudder. Mistaking her disgust for something more he smiled, and his hand cascaded down her back, fingertips trailing along her spine.
"If nothing else you got me some valuable information. I'll have to talk with Corsac and Fennec about their informant…" Adam's other hand cupped Blake's chin and the pad of his thumb brushed across her lips. "The mission was a failure, but not completely. Well done, Blake."
"Praise from the commander himself…?" Blake chuckled nervously. "You're too kind…"
And much too close. Lips met hers again and Blake's face crumpled despite her best efforts. That was a mistake. Her mouth opened to protest, and a hand found itself at her throat, fingers pressing hard against the sides and palm pushing down. Blake's hands scratched at the limb and her eyes watered, staring desperately at the cold mask inches from her face.
"You still failed though. Don't mistake my kindness for anything more than what it is." Which was what, exactly? Blake couldn't ask, and she wouldn't even without a hand at her throat. Letting out a choked gasp she tried to pull Adam's arm away and began to tremble in fright. "I'll tolerate your failure because you're special to me, Blake," he continued, his voice low as he pulled her closer. His breath came in short, strained spurts and his face was red, visibly holding back anger welling inside.
"Galloway will be on alert now, and that bastard dog of the Church will be more protected than ever. I'm not undertaking the job because I want to…" Adam's hand squeezed, and Blake felt her vision begin to fade, darkness creeping into the corners. "I'm doing it because apparently no one else can. Not even you."
The moment Adam's hand left her throat Blake fell forward, catching herself on her hands and gasping in a desperate bid for air. Adam stood and moved away, and a faint whine rattled out of her strained chest, tears stinging her eyes. Settling back on her rear, sitting on her feet, she rubbed her throat and eyed Adam warily as he walked around her.
"For the foreseeable future I'm suspending your missions. You're to remain here in camp and train the children, nothing more. I'll give your other duties to someone else too. No more leading scouting parties or hunting parties." Adam stopped before her and leaned down, gripping her chin firmly and forcing their eyes to meet. "You're incompetent, so until you remember how to do your job properly I can't afford to have you ruining any more plans."
Blake nodded dutifully and remained silent, averting her eyes when Adam smiled. She hated this. Hated everything about this. Why did he need to do what he did? Why couldn't he just reprimand her and leave? Her eyes found his again and she was surprised to see him smiling but looking almost apologetic. Her ears folded when a hand caressed her cheek and she shivered involuntarily.
"I'm sorry, but we can't jeopardize this. Too much is at stake, you know that. I just want things to go right for us. All of us." Blake's guard dropped again as she saw a flickering of another man, allowing his hand to rest on her cheek and even going so far as to lay into it. Though hesitant she returned his smile, clearing her throat to help chase away the soreness within.
"Besides..." Adam whispered as his lips crept close to hers, only to move past and towards her ear. "We can spend so much time together this way. It'll be great…"
Blake's face blanched when a hand rubbed her thigh, her entire body tightening in protest. By the grace of the gods Adam drew back and chuckled, turning and leaving without another word. She watched in uneasy silence as he passed by tents and other members before disappearing around a bend, heading back to his own tent no doubt. Blake remained as she was, squat in the moist grass and trembling. One of her hands crept to her throat and she held it there, suddenly feeling exposed and vulnerable.
She wasn't sure how long she remained seated like that. Long enough for a few members to come out of their tents and see her prostrate on the ground. Some were piteous and offered silent condolences, mostly other women. Others were contemptuous and angry that her failure had brought down their commander's anger on their collective heads. Maybe not just yet but knowing Adam he'd punish the entire group for her misstep. The next week or so was going to be very unpleasant.
It wasn't until Ilia approached her that Blake finally looked up from the blades of grass. She was worried, understandably so, and judging from the red tint of her scales, angry too. Blake gave a rueful smile as her friend knelt before her and leaned into the hug willingly, resting her chin on the shorter girl's shoulder.
"I'm so sorry, Blake. I wish I could stop him…"
"Don't. You know full well what would happen if you tried…" Blake felt the arms around her tighten and lifted her own, weakly hugging Ilia in turn. Her grip felt loose, and her muscles ached, the growling of her stomach returning.
Ilia frowned as she drew back, holding Blake's shoulders and looking her over. "He bandaged you up but you're filthy," she observed, noting the bags under Blake's eyes and adding, "Exhausted too. Let's get you some food, then you can sleep, okay?"
Both of those ideas sounded heavenly right now. Blake nodded, and accepted Ilia's help in standing, draping one arm over her friend's shoulders. Terror brought on by Adam amplified the fatigue already eating at her and Blake relied on Ilia's strength more than she intended, leaning into her as they stumbled along. Rows of tents sewn together with whatever hides could be gathered funneled them through the camp. Like a wagon's wheel the camp formed a large circle, clear paths separating tents and more permanent wooden structures like spokes.
One of two entrances were at their backs, a large, heavy wooden gate made of sheared tree trunks, drawn up by thick chains. A handful of White Fang had greeted Blake on her arrival and now stood silent, fearing perhaps any interaction would draw Adam's ire onto them as well.
Everyone else they passed seemed of the same opinion. Most averted their gaze and others offered only a silent look of sympathy before carrying on their business. They passed by a man hard at work forging new weapons for the group. His muscles strained beneath ash-coated skin, every bit as leathery as the protective gear he wore. The air filled with a loud clang and ring whenever his hammer struck, sparks flying up and lapping dangerously at his face. Large as he was he was no fighter, something that Blake thought ironic. A man who made weapons was incapable of using them.
A small group of children sat around a tree stump and listened to an old Kanin sharing a story. One of his ears was cut away in the middle, old, grayed scar tissue capping it off. Lost in a raid, he'd said once, though he proudly boasted he'd made off far better than his opponent. Blake's lips quirked into a smile as he gestured wildly and made a roaring sound that sent the children into fits of giggles and screams.
The man might have been a killer once, now he was the resident storyteller.
Blake's own tent was much too close to Adam's and so they went to Ilia's instead. No different than most, the tent was open and spacious enough. Rather than the hides that made up some tents Ilia's was cast in a treated, waterproof cloth, a surprising catch after one of their raids. Since she'd found it the piece had belonged to her and she'd made use of it judiciously. Keeping out the rain and cold both - not that summers were particularly cold, it was the envy of plenty of those around her.
Speaking of others, Blake stopped alongside Ilia and raised her eyebrow in surprise. Opal sat beside the tent along with Liam and Dunst, the latter two surprising Blake more than anyone else. Tilting her head in silent question she blinked when a familiar, tantalizing scent wafted up, absently licking her lips and drawing a playful laugh out of Opal.
"When we heard you'd come back I decided we should prepare some food for you!" The elderly Canis smiled warmly, her grey-laden wolf ears twitching as a pair of children ran by, giggling loudly.
With Ilia's help Blake took a seat on a short stool. Glad to be off her feet again she reached down and unstrapped her boots, leaving them on but letting air get to her sore soles. Hearing flesh sizzle she looked at the skillet over the open flame, whining seeing a filet of fish browning, ripe for a feast. Her hand reached for a piece, just a taste, and she winced when Opal slapped her knuckles with a wooden spoon.
"It's not ready yet!" Opal chided, then smiled and grabbed a small dish. "Here, have this while you wait. I'm sure you're famished."
A small dish with freshly seared carrots, sliced potato and a mix of herbs sprinkled on top. Not exactly a gourmet meal but at this point Blake had toyed with the idea of eating handfuls of grass. "Thank you…" she mumbled, graciously accepting the dish. It did smell good, and the first bite filled her mouth with pepper, lemon, and something she could only describe as earthy. Chewing on the snack she offered some to Ilia who shook her head, then to the others as well, who mirrored her. "What are you two doing here anyways…? I thought you'd be on patrol."
Liam smiled eagerly, which was unusual for a man whose real job in the group seemed to be simply complain about everything. "I'm not a guard anymore!" Blake's eyebrows rose in surprise, and before she could ask what he'd done wrong the Toro quickly elaborated. "Turns out I'm a decent cook, and with Adam's permission I've taken to learning from Opal. Those vegetables?" he asked, gesturing to the half-empty plate in Blake's lap. "I prepared them!"
That was… A surprise. A welcome one at that. For as many people as they had, dozens at last count, if not over a hundred, they had few cooks to serve the group. Most could get by with rudimentary skills but only a handful could prepare a proper dish worthy of being served. To get another cook, however green they might be, was good to hear.
Blake looked to Dunst and raised an eyebrow at the Dimuran. "Well…?"
Flashing her a nervous smile, Dunst rubbed at his head, then itched a spot near the spike protruding from his shoulder. "I was on guard duty today but… I traded with someone. I'll take the night watch instead. Wanted to be here for this."
"For what exactly? To see me eating?" Blake blinked and looked at Ilia confused as her hands were taken, glancing down before smiling. "Um…?"
"We want to thank you, Blake. Well, most of the camp does." That was nice, but for what? And why did Ilia seem so guilty? Opal too, and neither of the men were able to meet her gaze any longer. "Compared to Adam, you're a saint. There's a lot of people here who are glad to have you around," her friend explained. "Things are… Tense whenever you're gone."
Adam. She knew he hated to send her away, yet he also knew she was among the most capable they had. It was why she was sent off on missions so often, why she was trusted to lead groups. It was why he was so open about his anger and disappointment earlier. Not that he ever had a problem voicing it before either.
Blake wanted to take the compliment and run with it but she couldn't. There was an untold message, and whether intentional or not Ilia implied something dourer. I keep Adam in check. No… I give him something to focus on. I'm his plaything and the rest of the group can live in peace. That explained the guilt Ilia expressed, a look that only deepened as Blake's face fell.
"If we could help, we would," Ilia insisted, giving Blake's hands a squeeze.
"I know…"
"What he's doing isn't right…" Blake perked up in surprise hearing Liam speak out, staring at the Toro. "You aren't some... Thing. You should be leading us, not him. He's just a monster."
"Liam don't!" Blake hissed, knocking the plate from her lap and reaching across, grabbing the man's arm. Her eyes were wide as she looked around nervously, fingers tightening their grip. "If Adam hears you, you know what he'll do. Please, it's not worth it."
"He's right, you know," Opal said. The woman's wrinkled face twisted as she prodded the fire with a stick, then flipped the fish over. Examining it, she nodded once and let Liam pull it from the flames. "The White Fang's changed since I was a young girl. Sienna is letting her commanders run rampant and it's causing more problems than it's solving."
It wasn't that Blake disagreed. Her hands tightened around the plate with the fish and she stared at the savory meal. Bass, judging from the color and smell, and a young one at that. Spruced with a bit of the same herbs used on the vegetables it would be a delicious meal. Shame her appetite was fleeing her now. "You can't… Don't talk about him like that," Blake mumbled.
"Why? It's true!" Ilia moved to grab Blake's hand again, but she pulled away, frowning. "Blake, he's not a good leader. He's angry, he's hot-headed, he treats us like dirt."
"He's just under a lot of stress." That was it. That's all it was. Blake smiled sadly at the four stunned faces staring back at her. "I failed my mission and it's going to cause problems. Then we had one of our camps attacked last week, and the Church is searching for us again. He's worried, and he just… Lashed out." Blake shrugged and began to pick at her fish. "He didn't mean it."
Adam was disappointed, angry and upset. But it was justified, she had failed, and she had complicated matters because of her shortcomings. He would apologize later, as he always did, and they would carry on as before. He could have bouts of aggression, but they were met with just as many, if not more, moments of tenderness and kindness. That was the real him, the one that sought to make her comfortable and safe. To make all of them safe. Everything Adam did was for the betterment of the Faunus, and for equality. And above all else he loved her.
Blake smiled wistfully and began to pluck at her fish, eating small, incremental bites. No one else said a word as she dined, simply watching her in stunned silence. Warmth that had begun to bubble in her chest was quickly squashed and replaced by anxiousness and despair. Her stomach turned, and she felt her blood run cold despite the warm food beginning to fill her stomach.
He did love her… Right?
This is normally the part I might try to say when the next chapter is coming. Only problem is I've got no idea! Some have been a week or two apart, or in the case of these last few, 4-5 days. Seems to be helping my muse that I'm reading a lot more again but time will tell!
Thanks for reading, you lovelies!