The world feels so cold, any other sense of feeling is fleeting other than the shooting throbbing fire of my leg, the oozing droplet of, what I presume to be, a type of poison falls off of the arrow head, it's onyx inkiness shining even within the midnight darkness. The flare of pain in my leg brings it's grim reminder of itself in my god damn calf back to the forefront of my skull, through even the chill of my blood. You dumb naive fucker, did you really expect everything to be hunky dory even after that? That's not how this world works, that's not how your world worked either. I grit my teeth, looking behind the focused arrow tip and into the blurry eyes of the betraying animal, I won't die here, not again, and I certainly won't die to the likes of you of all things.
I clench my teeth with a desperate need to push through the fiery pain in my leg, dragging myself upwards with the help of the still useful one. I hold up my hand and grasp at the arrow head, cutting through my glove with its sides as the muscles in my leg screeches, I can feel my muscles tear at itself to push the rest of my body forward, throwing myself at the mutt with whatever strength I can muster, the pulsing pain in my skull turns into a throbbing headache while my blood boils, the keidran lets out a surprised yelp as I push him against the ground, I can still see the surprise and the fear in his eyes, almost like a glowing feature of him. I use my spare hand, the one that currently doesn't have an poisoned arrow wrapped around it, and bring it down against his face, his maw twisting to the side with a sickening 'crack', his eyes squeezing itself shut as an animalistic scream wrenches from his throat. There's another 'thwip' in the air, and I feel my shoulder move from the force of the shot, but I can't feel anything beyond that, the boiling of my veins and the adrenaline numbing the rest of my sensations. I raise my fist, bringing it down on the mutts face again and again, I feel so god damn numb to the rest of the world, though I can faintly hear the clankering of steel from behind myself, as well as further commotion. I feel so drained after another swing, I lost count, but looking down on the poor soul, his face is a battered and bloody mess, his breathing is shallow and face unmoving while my breath is left ragged, heavy on my chest and throat, and there's a pang in my own soul. I raise my finally unclenched and bloody hands to my chest, my left is lathered in my own blood from holding that damned arrow head, and the right is smattered with the poor keidrans blood. I blink away the rage filled blur filling my vision, I can taste the bile in my throat as tears tinge my eyes, I can't control my jaws gaping and closing.
I did tha- I did this, I beat this poor mans face into a disgusting bloody mess, oh my god. I finally drag myself away from his barely moving body, I can't even feel the pain in my leg any more. I shouldn't have done that, do no harm my ass, you hypocritical bastard! I feel something or someone wrap their hands around the pits of my arms, I can't really fight back against them dragging me away, though they try to care enough to not tear at the arrow still jutting out of my leg. I loll my head backwards and look up, the blonde rag of hair means that it's Edward dragging me, figured so, he's pretty good at doing that. His head twists and barks out orders, the commotion is a dull noise to my ears, looking back to me. His eyes is wide and panicked, a worried fear brushing over his face. I give him a strained smile, the attempt to comfort him in whatever way I can does little. I close my eyes, deep breaths Zeke, in and out, you can pull through some arrows hopefully, the worrying part of it all is the poison that coated the tips after all.
I feel my body lift off of the ground, has Edward dragged me into a wagon? The shuddering of the wood surrounding us leans towards that being a yes, it feels weird to be in the thing when it's moving, among all of the cargo and stocks. Edward leans down face level again, his hands cupping and slapping a little roughly at my cheeks. I can feel that at least, but it feels so dull and muted. Is that from the poison, or the possible shock thats running through my body?
"Zeke, Zeke you can not fall asleep right now, whatever you do, that poison will finish you off, keep your damned eyes open." Edwards voice is soft and dull on my ears, a stark contrast from his frenzied and worried face. I grunt and force myself into a sitting position, pulling my head away from him and shaking it myself. Much to my dismay, I feel the arrow lodged into my leg once more.
"E-edward, I'll be fine, I ain't gonna die to a dirty trick like that." I reply to the worried man, I try to twitch and move my left hand, hissing in pain as I attempt to do so. That's a bust then, can't move that either. I can move my right hand at least, why can't I feel the arrow in my back? I reach around and tug at the shaft of the arrow, I can't feel it pulling in anything.
"Zeke, you really should-" I ignore Edwards protests and proceed to rip the rest of the arrow out, there isn't any pain, and I hold it up in front of me to examine the thing. There's no blood either, but it was lodged pretty deep in my back. I hum to myself and hastily undo my cloak, laying it on my legs, feeling up the area where my back would've been. The thick under woven part of it has a slit, that'd have come from the arrow head I'd bet. So my cloak took the entire brunt of the arrow shot, thanks Anna. The forceful gallop of the horses and creaking of the wagon are the only things that cover the sour and tense silence between Edward and I, I lay the cloak over my chest as a makeshift blanket to cover my chest.
"..I fucked up, didn't I Eddy?" I ask him weakly, giving him an equally weak smile. He sighs sadly and lays his head against the wooden wall, a faint thunk sound coming from him.
"Yeah, you kind of did, what were you thinking? Those things are not nice people, I don't know how the hell you managed to find a friendly one, but you can't try to pacify everyone you see." I flinch at his voice, the mans got a point, and I can't exactly refute it. I sigh and follow in his steed, banging the back of my head against the wall and resting it there.
"I know, I know. I truly thought that we'd get outta that situation without any blood being shed though."
"And it was incredibly naive to think so, you dolt."
"Pfeh, I gave it my best shot.. What happened on your end though? After I uh, got shot." I finally ask the man after the small back and forth between us, I really did mess up, and I could've lost my life cause of it. He's silent for a moment.
"After you threw yourself at the wolf, I tried my best to run after the other one. He fled before I could get my hands on him. The merchants were already roused from the noise, so I told them to get the horses ready to leave after I dragged your sorry ass in here." He explains, at least he seems to have calmed down somewhat, though his uneasy frown does bring a painful pang to my chest. The wagon is silent for a while longer, I can move my feet just fine, but I don't feel like I should be moving the rest of my leg any time soon, and ripping out the arrow could be dangerous within itself. I have no idea how to work around an arrow wound, I can't imagine a situation where that'd be needed from back home.
"Do you think he's going to be alright?" I finally pipe up, Edward looking up with a confused face.
"He? Who's he?" He responds with a puzzled tone of voice, his brow furrowing.
"The keidran of course, I kind of left him in a sorry state." I continue, smiling awkwardly and scratching at my neck. His confused frown turns into a completely bewildered face.
"The Kei- Zeke, you're poisoned for gods sake, why are you worrying about a keidran of all things?" He borderline shouts, a completely baffled expression really drives home the response too. I shrug and raise my hands.
"Hell if I know! I'm just worried bout the dude, I nearly caved his face in dammit. Actually, that was poison right? How am I meant to be feeling now that I've been stabbed by it?" Edwards brow furrows once again, his hands rubbing the sides of his skull.
"You're impossible Zeke, I really can't understand you. As for the poison, I think I've seen that kind before while researching one night. You're feeling incredibly ill, right?" I hum and focus on myself, trying to find any sense of wrongness, anything more notable than the poor feeling of my heart. I frown, hm.
"Nope, I feel fine actually, I guess I'm a little tired, but I think that's more so from what happened rather than the poison." I reply to him, and he looks more than just a little confused.
"Just fine? No trouble in your stomach?"
"Nope."
"Any chest pains?"
"Nupe."
"Do you feel anything at all?" He finishes finally, and we're both silent for a few moments.
"Other than tired? I don't feel anything wrong, I'm kinda hungry, and if you tug at the arrow I'll knock you out cause that'd hurt, but I really do feel fine." Edwards face is one of.. extreme puzzlement, and he quickly crawls his way over to me, kneeing in front of where I am. His gloved hand is cold on my face, and he forces me to look upwards to him, his eyes squinting.
"No pupil dilation either, the fuck?" He lets goes of my and throws his hands in the air, returning to his place on the opposite side of the wagon. "I guess you're perfectly fine, might have something to do with basitin biology or something, if you were a human you'd be a convulsing and barely conscious mess."
I hum to myself and flex my arms around, trying out most of my limbs, they're perfectly normal too, huh.
"Score one to me then, I guess I'm just resistant to poison? Perks of being a basitin." The wagon continues its sporatic silence afterwards, I'd like to think we'd be close to Wreathwood soon enough. I yawn and blink away the blur in my eyes, it's as if my eyelids are a hundredfold heavier for whatever reason, I guess it is pretty late, and I didn't get much sleep last night, my body might be trying to kick my ass for it.
"So, do you think I'll be fine to sleep? I'm borderline passing out here after all." I question Edward for his hopefully good medical opinion. He takes his time, humming to himself with slanted lips, I can imagining the ping ponging of thoughts in his skull.
"I suppose so, I suggest against it myself, but I don't think I can stop you from doing something stupid. If basitins are just resilient to poison then you should be fine, I'll wake you when we get to Wreathwood." He finally speaks, shrugging and relaxing into the wood. I guess that's fair, I don't expect him to drag my body around everywhere, hopefully he's willing to at least help me walk there. I close my eyes and continue to rest my head, the juttering of the wagon makes it tough to sleep, but I feel my heart beat slower, and slower.
..
There's a choking cold sensation in my chest, I throw myself into a sitting position, looking around. The wooden boards have been replaced with the warmth of a soft bed, the mouldy walls are a grand difference to the solid wood of the wagon too, the stale air doesn't feel great in my lungs either. I sigh to myself, I guess I'm in the dream room once more, what triggers this anyways? I look over myself, minus my cloak, I'm in the same outfit as before, and there's no arrow in my leg either. I look to my hands, they're a clean leathery couple, no holes or scratches here. I guess using the cloak as a blanket means I'm not technically wearing it then? Either way, it's nice to be able to move my collective legs around. I hop off of the bed, the carpet is as disgusting as it was last time I was here, I'm still thankful that I can't smell its potential rancidness. I hum to myself as I lay my hand to my belt, my sword's still sheathed there, that's certainly surprising.
I sigh and sit myself down again, rubbing my face in my hands. There's not much I can do here, and there isn't much I could do out there too, looking at my suddenly clean gloves feels.. wrong somehow, as if being here is cheating myself out of some responsibilities. I rub my face a final time before returning to my feet, standing in front of the book case. As much as I'd love to recollect my memories and knock myself awake, I feel a sense of revulsion flow through my chest. Do I really want to remember? I was kind of a prick before the fire after all, and knowing more could get me in more trouble too.
..But at the same time, I could be in trouble regardless, my actions have already happened even if I can't remember them, at least knowing of them would give me the foreknowledge of what I've done. I shake my head, I'll get to it in a bit. I turn to the wardrobe and look over the locks, the chain's as rusty as I last remember, and the silver lock seems to shine despite the age of the rest of the thing. I don't have to unlock it, I can just break the chains. I draw my sword, giving it a few swings, it feels similar enough to the one in the real world, other than the weird.. floatiness, but that goes for mere movement sometime. I clench the hilt in two hands and raise it above my head, the chains aren't slacking on the wardrobe, so it'll just be a clean downwards swing. I breathe in for a second, before bringing the sword down with all my possible weight.
The clanging of metal on metal fills the air, and the rusted chain doesn't seem to be affected in the slightest. Okay, lets try that again. The clanging and ringing of the metals connecting is a welcoming change from the silence, I continue to beat on it with my teeth gritting. I land a final swing on the chain and pull away, breathing heavily with sweat beading on my forehead. Nothing, there's absolutely no change on the chains, no cuts or any sign that my hits actually connected, are you kidding me? I look towards at the edges of my sword and wince, the once sharp metal dulled down into a blunt in various places, I really hope that doesn't carry over into the real world. I sheathe my sword and move closer to the chains, examining it with a close eye. It seems like a regular overly rusted metal, I can't see why it'd turn my sword into a blunt hunk of metal, nor why there wouldn't be any nicks on it in return. Looking close at the lock, it's also just a shiny bright silver, there's nothing seemingly special about that either, and I can't tell if they're meant to be enchanted in anyway. I tsk to myself and pull away, sighing deeply, what a waste of time. Hey wait a second, what about that journal? Where would that be?
I turn to face the desk, the void filled cabinets been flicked open, and the dark seeps out of the top. I kneel in front of the thing and shove my arm inside, trying to rummage through it once more for that journal. It takes a while, but I manage to grab and drag out the journal, flicking away the wisps of darkness. I don't think I should be throwing my arm in that, but there's not much I can do about it. I sit my ass down on the bed, I don't exactly feel like anywhere else is nearly comfortable enough a place to sit and flip to the front page. Does it really matter what page I go to? Lets.. go to April I guess, there's very little marked off pages there, so it shouldn't take too long. The pages at least feel nice on my fingers as I flip to the page, granted its size is a little bit uncomfortable.
"Is that all, my dear? You know you can always ask me for anything you need, or want~" I can hear that lady's voice echoing through my skull as I read the elegantly written passage. Oh my god, are all of these things written down just quotes from my past? I guess it'd make sense in a way, a journal of the mind rather than an actual journal, it suits the the strange nature of it. I rub at my face, just more mysteries onto the pile then. It'd explain the differences in quality and tone at least, I wonder what else is in this month.
"Cmon you furry bastard, is that the best you got?" He doesn't sound too happy, and I can feel the disdain through the words alone.
"One lobster for the lady, and what of you, Ser-" Lobster? I don't think I've had that myself, and the way it's said.. is this a date? That sounds like a date, almost undoubtedly a date. Given what I know of Zeke's past, it'd likely be the emerald lady.
The last passage, last one for the month anyways, is nothing more than a hasty scribbling, it feels less of one out of frustration though. I squint and look over it, but I genuinely can't read it, though something edges me forward, I raise a hand and brush my thumb over the passage.
Fear, the shuddering sense of fear runs itself through my body, and the glow of widened watering golden eyes.
I yelp and drop the damned journal as if was heated coal, the book smacking against the ground harmlessly as I pull away, taking some time to calm my nerves and gasping lungs. Jesus Christ, what the fuck was that? That wasn't a quote from anyone, that was a full fledged mental image burned into me! Who was that meant to be anyway? The golden eyes is the only thing I can remember from the face. I hesitate, but I finally muster up the courage to pick up the journal once more, shutting it and re-seating myself on the bed, placing it next to me and rubbing my face over again. I guess all that's left is to check out the book case.
I stand up with the journal in hand, detouring to place the thing on the desk, maybe I won't run the thought of losing my arm mid sleep if I put it there, and face towards the book case. I don't feel the same revulsion as before, just begrudging acceptance. I kneel down, there's nothing up above after all, and examine the books, running my fingers over the spines of them. It takes a bit, but I finally find one that feels that little bit different, and remove it from the case. Its face is blank, as is the rest of the books, but an urging pushes my forward. I take in a deep breath and open the book, its glowing and thrashing pages continue its rage as I drop the thing to the floor, gritting my teeth, thankfully I'm already on my knees, holding my hands to my head and squeezing at my skull, break through the pain Zeke, break through it, we got this, fuckingpleasehurr-
The torch crackles as I swing it around, illuminating the area around myself as I turn look backwards, the tall stony Templar Tower looms over us all in this town. Despite my best efforts, being in their for too long always brought an.. uneasy feeling, I know full well of its importance to us however, and of its power. I return to my march, the Captain has given me a mission for a reason after all. The stone is soft and cold on my bare paws, the night chill warded off by the torch, thick robes and the bandaged strips around my ankles, the sword is my only company for tonight, and the only one I'd be needing. The journey is uneventful, the crackling of the torch is the only sound as I walk down the streets of this town, but it's a short trip, the stone pathway turning into dirt as I approach the outskirts of the town.
The house's gate is shut, a singular armoured man standing guard in front of it. He seems unfocused as I approach, he wears the standard guard armour for the town, at least he has the decency to wear the helmet, even if his awareness is lacking. Perhaps I ought to speak to the Captain about the guards for this town, they're both dim witted enough not to know what they're doing and to manage to be in the way. The guard finally seems to notice my approach, a surprise mumble coming from his lips as he faces my way, a hand already to his sword hilt. I'm surprised and thankful he doesn't have a spear like the rest of them, it gets dull after a while.
"Halt! What purpose brings you here, creature?" He seems rather boisterous, his gesturing and body placement is strangly spirited for a man sleeping on the job.
"Templar business, it's none of your concern guardsman, now move it." I reply to the man, a finger tapping at my chest piece, the torch illuminating the Templar emblem. He takes his time to look over the chest piece, the irritation inside of my mind growing as he continues to waste my time, he finally scoffs and sneers. So it's going to be one of those moments, then.
"Listen here, just cause you hold the rank of Templar doesn't mean you're given free reign over here, the Duke of this estate is under our protecti-" His needless prattling gets on my nerves, I finally cut him off with the swift toss of my torch into his face, his words stuttering from his mouth. I close the gap between us swiftly, a palm striking his face upwards, his helmet flying along with the motion. He grunts and stumbles backwards into the gate, his body weight forcing the gate to fling open, falling onto his back. I grab the mans helmet from the dirt and hop atop the mans prone body, my knee digging into his chest, I raise his helmet and bring it down onto his face, again and again. Each strike forces the mans skull to swing from side to side, a delightful cracking noise coming from him with each thwack of the mans own uniform, gurgling grunts of pain is the only noise coming from the mans lip.
The final strike onto his head finally renders the man unconscious, his breath is soft and low underneath my knee. His blood splattered across the dirt path, face covered in bruises and swollen, nose hanging at an awkward angle with a steady stream of blood from it. I lift myself from the prone body, dropping the helmet next on top of it and collecting my barely alight torch. These fucking guards, they really need to learn to stay out of Templar business, it'll never end well for them
I march upwards to the house, the dirt path ending in a circular are, I assume to be for visitors in their carriages. The house is large and imposing, as is most noble houses in this area, I approach the doors, they loom above me, large and oaken. I rap my hand against the door itself, and I can hear a small commotion behind it. The door opens after a few seconds and I look down onto a small keidran slave, clad in a plain but well maintained brown robe, a deeper tone than her fur. She seems to be a wolf one, too, they're not the most popular choice around here. But, given why I'm here, it makes sense.
"H-hello? W-who are you?" Its voice is soft spoken and polite, their head and ears twisting to the side as they ask the question. I continue to gaze down them, their innocent visage falters as they whimper and recoil away.
"Templar business, where is your Master?" I ask the slave coldly, its lips trembles and continues its whimpering.
"I-I don't know sir.." It trails off, looking anywhere but at myself. I 'tsk' under my breath, asking it is merely a formality at this point, I'm tired of waiting, and if this slave isn't helping, then it's in the way. I force the door open myself, the slave falling onto their ass as they're pushed away.
"Hold this, mutt, and stay put." I bark to the wolf, dropping the still alight torch onto the marble floor beneath us. It scrambles to its feet and grabs at it, lifting it in the air. It's far too large for its body, and they struggle to hold it, but their whimpering is no denying of the command. I move past the slave and into the foyer, other alight torches light up the room, the marble floor reflecting the light makes it shine and sparkle. Nobles, I don't understand their need to make everything so shiny and brilliant to flaunt their riches, it's so impractical and frivolous. I make my way up the wooden stairs to the second floor of the manor, even the wood here shines, it almost hurts my eyes to look at the way everything glows so needlessly.
I recall the directions the Captain gave me, his normally carnal reaction to anything, especially with keidran to my disgust, replaced with a commandeering and flat tone, lacking his usual salaciousness. Take a left when reaching the top of the stairs on the left side, then a right, the manors Master will be left unprotected this night due to guard shift changes. I throw open the door, its been left unlocked, either due to forgetfulness or pride, I'm not sure. The target's still at his desk, his nose still buried deep into a book, though his pale blue eyes looks upwards to me.
"Master Ashford, you understand why I am here." I speak out to him, walking to him slowly. The book shelves on my right are filled with books and scrolls, of various topics, and the roaring fire to my left illuminates the room with a glow. Ashford sighs and closes the book, placing it on his desk and rising to his feet. His robes hang off of his bony frame, his creased and wrinkled face shows his old age to the world, as well as the whitened tuff of hair that's hanging onto the sides of his head. His eyes are worn by old age too, blinking slowly, a saddened gleam from them in the fire light.
"Ah... I knew this day would come, I only hoped it wasn't so soon." He croaks, his voice cracking as he speaks, lined with a melancholic pensiveness. He seems willing at least, that's good.
"Come quietly and they'll be no hassle." He hesitates, and then sighs softly.
"I know how you lot work, Son. Do you care to stay a while and listen, as a last request from an old man?" He questions, his trembling body leaning onto his table to stabilise himself.
"No. I'll drag you to the Captain if you won't cooperate." I answer the man, his shoulders slumping.
"Please Son, you have to understand! I helped them for a reason, they're not animals, whatever control we have over them is crude and immoral. You're not a human too, surely you're not so stone hearted to their cause that you can't understand, right?" His ranting and raving is a sore on my ears, I continue to stare over the man and into his eyes, resting my hand onto my sword hilt and clenching lightly. He's not so inattentive to not notice the motion, his eyes looking over to my hip.
"..No, you don't understand at all. There's nothing beneath those lifeless eyes of yours is there?" I've had enough of this man. I stride myself towards him and draw my sword, keeping my sights on the elder man.
"Master Ashford, you are under Templar arrest for treasonous activities, and allowing your wolf keidran slaves to roam free without a slave collar nor mind control spell. Do not resist." His wrinkled face contorts into a deep frown, grimacing as he moves himself off of his desk, gripping a nearby cane and standing up as straight as he can.
"Don't you touch me, you little monster. I'll come quietly." He hisses, coughing afterwards, I can imagine that forcing your voice at an old age him wouldn't help. As much as I want to smack him around for insulting me, I sheath my sword.
"Follow then, stray away and you'll be dragged through the dirt and stones." I turn and move to escort the man out of the room, looking behind myself to keep an eye on him. He seems begrudging and unwilling, but he continues to follow me, it's his smartest move after all. We march down the stairs, the slave keidran still stands next to the door, it's frame is shuddering and their lips are pursed, but they still remain, and still holding my torch too. I'd be impressed if it was a person. I wrench the flickering torch from their hands, lifting it up high.
"M-master? Where are you going?" It cries out to the elder man, their lower lip trembling as they look up to him. The man slowly kneels to the slave, a sad smile on his face, his hand reaching up and brushing their cheek.
"I'm going to be gone with this man for a while, but I'll be back as soon as I can, do you understand, my child?" The keidrans eyes waters as they huff, shoving their face into the crook of the mans neck, a soft sobbing the only further sound they make. He holds them close to his chest, his hands petting at its back.
"Sh sh sh, it'll all be okay, get some sleep tonight, you shouldn't be up so late after all."My eyes twitch as I rest my hand against the door, tapping my claws against the marble floor, a faint clicking noise from it. They finally separate, the slave sniffling lightly, but they nod, giving him a final hug before scampering off into a hall.
"Are you finished, or is there something else you want to do?" I ask the man with a mocking sneer, he's just wasting my time at this point. He finally stands, with a proud and smug look on his face.
"I'm just wishing a beloved one off before I leave, I can't imagine you'd understand that feeling." He responds, despite his slouch, the look he's giving me makes it seem like he's the one looking down on me. I furrow my brows and push open the door. The Templars will deal with him, as much as he infuriates me, I was ordered to bring him back intact after all. The chill of the night surrounds my body as we leave the manor behind, to never see it again.
I can't keep the cruel grin off of my face as we pass the still unconscious guardsman, still breathing lightly, the sound of Ashfords sharp inhale dances around my ears.
"By the Gods... please, allow me to heal his wounds at least, you remorseless barbarian." His voice seethes with anger and disgust. I twist my head to face the man, his eyes looking over my curled lips.
"Unless you want to join him, you will keep moving old man. Do you understand?" His pitiful frown turns into a grimace, I don't imagine he'd like to have his own words thrown back at him. We walk past the gate and towards the town.
He will face his consequences for his corruption, the Templars will make sure of that.