There was blood everywhere.
Marilyn felt tears prick her eyes as she looked at the carnage her lantern had revealed. She saw the blood splatters on the walls and felt even more ill, especially since she noticed the fact that there was a small dagger lying next to one particularly vicious splatter on the far wall. Obviously the old man had tried to defend himself from whatever had attacked him, but to no avail. She couldn't tell if there was any other blood besides that of the old man around, but she highly doubted that there was. She reluctantly stepped further into the one-room house, seeing a small bed in the corner against the far right wall, the sheets of which were as coated with blood as the rest of the room. As she continued holding the lantern aloft, she couldn't help being morbidly curious as to how whatever had done this had managed to coat almost the entire room with the old man's blood.
She shoved those thoughts violently from her head and instead wandered further into the room, trying in vain to keep from stepping in any puddles of blood. She saw that the blood on the walls was slowly dribbling down, and that some of the blood on the floor still shimmered in the light of her lantern. She stopped for a moment and looked around, seeing a small storage chest that most likely contained food, and a small dresser beside the head of the bed. She looked around some more, seeing nothing more that indicated that someone lived-…used to live there. She once more felt tears prick her eyes as she looked again at the walls covered with the evidence of the old man's demise, even as she kept the hand not holding the lantern tight against her nose and mouth.
Marilyn breathed shallowly, hating that the smell of blood was so strong that she could almost taste it, and that only made her want to violently retch, though she swallowed back the bile in respect for the fact that she would basically be throwing up in the old man's remains.
She continued breathing shallowly as she took another step forward, only to trip over a previously unseen rug. She hit the ground unceremoniously, her breath coming out in a 'whoosh', the lantern rolling from her hand to rest a few feet away, though by some miracle the flame did not go out. She kept her hand across her mouth, feeling the still-wet blood soak into her simple dress, and she shuddered in revulsion as she reluctantly placed her hand in a spot that looked dry and heaved herself to her knees before levering herself back to her feet. She continued to shudder in disgust as she swiftly located the lantern and picked it up with the hand she'd used to push herself up. She grimaced as she looked down as the blood that now decorated her previously white shirt, and she could only be thankful that it didn't show that much on her dark blue skirt. She cringed in horror when she saw the blood that covered her exposed abdomen, and she managed to tear her eyes away only through sheer force of will.
Turning around quickly to see what had tripped her, she saw that her foot had snagged on the corner of a bloodstained rug. The reason she hadn't seen it, she realized, was because it was so coated with blood that it had blended in with the rest of the floor. She shuddered again, feeling the urge to retch rise even higher, though she again managed to swallow back the bile rising up her throat. She began taking shallow breaths again when she realized that she'd begun holding her breath in horror, and it was then that she noticed something bizarre about the floor she'd exposed when she had tripped over the rug.
Curiosity getting the better of her, she knelt down cautiously in a bloodstain that looked dry, grimacing when it proved otherwise by beginning to soak into her skirt. She carefully set the lantern down next to her and used her freed up hand to pull back the rest of the rug, revealing several boards that somehow seemed different than those surrounding them. However, what really shouted what was wrong were the barely visible metal hinges and the metal handle that was folded into the wood. Having discovered the trap door, she bit her lip in indecision, since she might not like whatever she found underneath the floor. She took a deep breath and tried not to gag on the horrible taste of blood that the rush of air brought with it. Steeling herself, she managed to get a grip on the handle, and then heaved, struggling to lift it, even as she distantly wondered how the now-deceased old man had ever managed to open it. She was startled out of her thoughts when she suddenly felt something give, and the hidden door popped open, sending her tumbling back onto her bottom as the door she'd struggled to lift hit the floor with a clatter.
Marilyn winced as she stood up and grabbed her lantern, now completely putting the fact that her clothes were soaked with blood out of her mind as her curiosity got the better of her. She saw some wooden stairs leading down into the darkness, and she hesitated once more, her common sense screaming at her to run back to her house, before she shoved any doubts out of her mind and began descending the stairs, making sure to hold her lantern in front of her. She bit her lip in worry as she continued making her way down the seemingly endless stairs.
She was beginning to think that there was no end to the stairs when her feet finally reached level ground. She raised her eyes up, having been looking at the steps to make sure that she didn't trip, and blinked in shock at the sight of a sturdy-looking door in front of her. The door was made of plain wood that seemed dull with age, and the hinges seemed rather rusted, but when she reached out and turned the handle on the door, it opened soundlessly, showing that it had gotten use and that it had been oiled recently. She blinked as she stared at the open door and into the darkness beyond it.
Steeling herself, since she'd already come this far, she stepped into the newly-discovered room. Her lantern helped to shed some light on her surroundings, revealing that she was in a room a tiny bit smaller that the house where she had found the hidden door. The room was made of stone, that much she could be sure of, and she saw that there were several candles on tall iron stands placed in the corners of the room. She looked at the walls of the room, and then looked back in front of her, at the same time taking an instinctive step forward.
What she wasn't prepared for, however, was the fact that there was a bed, of all things, placed in the middle of the wall opposite the doorway, the headboard touching the stone wall. She had the vague impression of simple linen sheets with some truly suspicious stains on them, before she noticed a large lump in the middle of the bed, though it was completely covered by one of the sheets adorning the bed. She cautiously took another step forward, not sure what could be under the sheet. What she wasn't prepared for was the fact that as soon as she reached the end of the bed, the lump under the sheet shifted and a barely audible groan came from the lump.
Marilyn tensed, about to throw courage to the wind and run like hell out of there, when a slim, pale hand emerged from the top of the bundle and pulled the sheet away from the face of whatever-it-was. The tailor blinked in shock as she stared into sleepy eyes the color of glowing embers set into a face so beautiful it rivaled that of the mystical gods.
She continued staring, even as numbly held up her lantern a tiny bit higher to shed more light on the man.
His skin was pale, though it was by no means an unhealthy pale; instead it was white as milk, and seemed to be just as smooth. His tousled hair was so dark it seemed to blend into the shadows, and she could plainly see that it was long, so long that she wouldn't be able to see all of it unless the man stood up, though she was uncertain of whether she wanted him to or not, since it quickly became apparent to her that the man was naked beneath the sheet. She tore her gaze away from his body, and swiftly directed her gaze back to his face.
She felt her face begin to heat up as she looked at the unknown man's face, but then she began to wonder about why he was there, especially with no clothes on. She discreetly looked around, only to realize that there were absolutely no clothes anywhere around the room. Extremely aware of the sinking feeling beginning in the pit of her stomach, she looked back at the man's face, only to freeze when she saw that he was looking at her curiously. Just curiously.
There was no fear, suspicion, or even a tiny bit of confusion in his fiery orange gaze. Marilyn shifted nervously and blurted out the first thing that came to her mind, "My name is Marilyn Duskweaver." She could have kicked herself for not thinking before she spoke. She snapped out of her thoughts when the man made a confused sounding noise, and when she looked back at him, she noticed that his hands were twisting the sheet this way and that, and she also noticed how he had lowered his gaze from her when she'd spoken. She bit her lip, feeling all her uncertainties come pouring back, and she had to take several deep breaths before she could shove her doubts away again. She turned her attention back to the man, and found her focus drawn to his hands, unwittingly fascinated by them.
As she watched the pale fingers twist the thin sheets, she couldn't help thinking that they looked perfect to her: Long, thin, yet not too thin, and obviously strong, like the rest of his body. She hadn't noticed before, but she saw that the man was large, large enough that, she suspected, he would be longer than the bed if fully straightened out. She also saw, to her embarrassment, that the man's chest was smooth and muscled, though he was partially curled up, his posture clearly submissive, especially in the way that he had turned his eyes away from her face.
She forced herself to turn her attention back to the real matter: figuring out what to do about all of this.
As far as she could tell, she had three options. Option one: Run to Lakeshire and tell them about the dead old man and the very much alive young man in the hidden room. Option two: Ignore everything she'd found and just go back home. Option three: Take the young, quiet man back to her house and make sure he was alright before going to tell the Guardsmen in Lakeshire about the old man's death, conveniently forgetting about the hidden room while doing so.
She didn't really need to think about it. She chose option three.
Marilyn slowly walked around to the left of the bed, the side that was closest to the young man, who looked to be a little younger than her. She felt the man's gaze on her the second she moved towards him, though when she looked she saw that he still did not lift his eyes to her face. She stopped at the man's side, and slowly lifted her hand, pausing before she gently touched his shoulder. However, he didn't tense like she'd expected. Oh no, he merely made a soft, confused noise in the back of his throat before falling silent, his muscles completely relaxed under her hand.
She bit her lip uncertainly before asking him hesitantly, "What's your name?"
No answer.
She decided to try another question, "Are you injured?" That would certainly explain why he wasn't trying to move.
There was still no answer.
She was starting to get worried, but before she could start panicking, a thought occurred to her, and she had to ask, "Are you mute? Are you unable to speak?" That would definitely explain why he wasn't answering her.
However, he proved her wrong by subtly shaking his head, so subtly that if she hadn't been looking at him and standing right next to him, she would have missed it.
Her shoulders slumped in relief, but then she had to wonder why he didn't answer her if he could, in fact, speak. She forced herself to shove those questions into the back of her head, instead concentrating on getting the silent man to move, and preferably stand. She knelt down as best she could, not taking her other hand off of the man's shoulder, and placed her lantern on the floor. She straightened up and immediately placed her now lantern-free hand on the man's muscled bicep before gently applying the tiniest bit of pressure in pulling him towards her as she talked to him, gently encouraging him to stand, "There now, just swing one leg over the side of the bed, and then the other," Surprisingly, the man instantly did as told, easily swinging both legs over the side of the bed, moving aside the sheet as he did so.
Marilyn choked down the embarrassed shriek that threatened to rise up her throat when she saw that, yes, he had been naked under the sheet. Emphasis on the word 'had', since he was no longer under the sheet. She immediately tore her eyes away from his form, her face already turning a fierce shade of red. After a moment, she looked back at the man, making sure her gaze was well above waist-level, and then began gently urging him to stand, which he once again instantly obeyed.
Now she couldn't control the small, shocked noise that escaped her mouth, as she saw exactly how tall the man was. He had to be over seven feet, even if it was just by a few inches. She restrained the urge to look at his entire body, and instead looked at his hair, since she could now see how long it was. She looked at the top of his head, and then glanced to the side, following the pitch-dark strands downwards, only to find that it was a lot longer than she had originally thought. Her gaze traced the thick, black mane, following the flowing locks until her gaze landed on the ends, which reached his ankles.
She blinked in shock before she found the will power to tear her eyes away, and she then looked back up at the silent man's face, taking extreme care not to look at the rest of his body, aside from his feet and a small peak of his well-muscled chest. She noticed that the man still wasn't looking at her face, instead apparently concentrating on the floor next to her right foot.
Marilyn frowned in confusion before shaking her head and quickly unclasping her cloak. She figured it would attract attention if she took a naked man back to her house. Sure, it was nighttime, but adventurers didn't necessarily follow strict schedules. Once she had taken her cloak off, she gently wrapped it around the silent man's shoulders. As she quickly fastened it around him, she couldn't help noticing that it only came to his knees, but when she wore it, it went to her ankles. When she pulled her hands back, satisfied that she'd fastened the cloak as securely as she could, she found herself staring into the man's fiery orange eyes.
She couldn't seem to bring herself to tear her eyes away from the silent man's confused eyes, even as she dimly noticed that one of the man's pale hands rising to gently run across the soft material. She couldn't really figure out why the man would be so confused, since all she'd really done was cover him with her cloak. Instead of pondering it further, she finally managed to look away from the man's entrancing orange eyes. She quickly retrieved her lantern and held it level with her head as she turned back to the silent man. She gently reached out her free hand and grabbed onto the hand the man was using to smooth out the material of her cloak. She held onto the man's hand and gently tugged him to follow her as she led the way to the stairs. As she was learning to expect, the man immediately followed after her, needing little prompting after her initial tug.
After they made it up the stairs, Marilyn started to worry about how the man would react to all the blood splattered around the main room, since she had figured out that the man she now held by the hand had known the old man well, for him to have lived in the hidden room, though she didn't want to think about why the silent man would have been left naked at the moment. The night had been crazy enough without adding those thoughts into the mix.
However, her slight worry proved unfounded, since all the man did when he saw the blood was look at it and then look down in understanding…and what seemed to be resignation. She wondered distantly about why he would look resigned, but then decided to ponder that another day, since her main priority was to get both herself and the silent man back to her home in one piece.
She held her breath, since both her hands were occupied, as she quickly led the man to the door, and out into the fresh air. She took a deep breath the minute they were out, glad that they were away from that horrible scene. She didn't pause, however, continuing to tug the silent man in the direction of her house, though she determinedly refused to look back at him, partly because she had to concentrate on leading them, and partly because the wind was against him, and she didn't want to chance seeing a full frontal view of the man she was currently leading. Not that she wouldn't like seeing him, don't get her wrong, but she would feel too much like a peeping tom if she did, even though the man seemed to not mind the fact that he was naked.
Marilyn shoved her thoughts to the side, concentrating on looking ahead and keeping an eye out for danger. She was relieved, however, that they were close to her home and they had seen neither hide nor hair of Gnolls or a single adventurer. She was extremely conscious of the fact that the man whose hand she held was following her compliantly. She couldn't help wondering why that was, but then she told herself, 'Shove all thoughts to the side and concentrate on getting both you and him back to your house in one piece. There will be time to ask questions later once you're both inside, out of harm's way, and he's dressed!' She was pretty sure that she would have something that would fit him.