What in the hells was he doing? His days of messing with the Ciannos are over, aren't they? All he wants to do is survive. Leave the messes to other people. But what about when they have what he wants? Like his pride back?
Maybe he still wanted to get back at them, in truth, for what they did. And what Darius did…
Nevertheless his motivations, he finds himself having trailed the dancer through the dark and quiet back alleys of the city. Beggars smoking from conjoined hookahs, some two peasants humping like animals in some hay, kids searching through the trash…
You have to love Sunshade.
After leaping down a bit of some limestone stairs, he finds himself before the crumbling gateway into the city catacombs. There is a draft of sandy air from within, smelling like musty old breath as it billows past. He covers his nose slightly with the folds of his scarf. His sensitive ears pick up the faint steps within and he espies slight imprints in the sand leading inward. They definitely went in there.
He takes a few steps in, running as silent as he can. Once sure no one saw him, he dashes on in, past the flickering sconces lining the ways of the place. Luckily, sand and limestone aren't very loud mediums underfoot to alert those possibly ahead, and he wasn't called a fleet-footed thief for nothing.
This entire place is rather dark and crumbling, a mere shadow of whatever grandeur some lost civilization left behind. Weathered motifs of ionic columns and fiery wings grace some of the cracked walls where bodies were carted into the carved hollows within the stone walls. These were eternal resting places, no longer sanctified. Time had not been kind to those in their rest here, as whatever respect may have been intended has been worn away by neglect and maybe grave robbers. The skeletal feet of those lain in eternal repose peek out from behind some of the cracked sandstone, and a skull or two might look out as well. A hand occasionally hangs out, looking ready to grab at the passing thief. Don't look, don't look…
But he does hear something behind. Someone trailing. Quickly, he draws himself into a crevice along the old wall by a lit pillar. They're not very heavy steps from how they sound. Very rushed though, accompanied by the sound of heavy breathing. Ah, and something, a second noise, is following it quickly, with unnatural steps. Actually, it sounds more like the skittering of claws…
When the initial noise nears, he leaps out, dagger aimed at where the neck should be.
"YEEEK!"
He violently stops, the dagger inches from Yusufa's face. The girl looks at him with scared eyes, arms raised.
"M-mister…"
She's harmless. But what was she running from? He quickly looks behind her for the source of the following sound. A large, magenta assassin bug with green eyes gleaming leaps at the two of them, mandibles snapping with a rabid hiss.
"Tsk!" He shoves the girl out of the way reflexively and fends with his shackled arm. He feels those mandibles sink into his flesh where the bangle didn't cover.
"Ah!" Yusufa yelps slightly when she's pushed. Upon seeing him bitten, she grabs a rock without thinking and smacks the insectoid on the head with it, so hard that a crack is heard. She drove in the rocks pointed edge, cracking some of its head's carapace.
Hiiissss! The monster reels, forearms rubbing its head in annoyance. Its ugly little feelers wave in the air as it regains its bearings. Mandibles snapping, it rears its head at the two of them and takes an offensive stance with its razorblade arms.
These kinds of creatures have reinforced joints that make it hard for daggers to pierce. Better to smash it with a heavier weapon. Therion quickly swaps to his sword before the bug recovers, bringing it down on the thoracic exoskeleton. The damn thing doesn't hold still and dodges slightly, but he gets a portion of its abdomen and one of its legs.
The thing hisses and limps slightly, now wary. Therion holds his blade in reverse and rushes in again. The bug seems to anticipate slightly, and lunges, two of its clawed appendages raised. Then Yusufa throws her pointed rock at the thing.
By some miracle or Aeber's luck, the rock lands where the first hit had been, on the head. The insect misses its lunge at Therion as its wound is aggravated. Taking advantage of that diversion, Therion severs the thorax in half, spraying green insect guts on the floor. The thing still wriggles when bisected, now trying to crawl away. After a few long seconds, it curls up and dies. And it is quiet again.
Therion gives a sigh and swipes his sword at the nearby wall, flinging the bug's blood off. Beasts and insects are no problem. But he still preferred not to fight if he could help it. You never know when they can call for their many little friends. Yusufa's legs shake a bit as she takes a deep breath to try and calm down.
"W-whew… t-thank you, mister… I heard these things infest the catacombs but…"
"No more 'm'lord?' What are you even doing here?" He sheathes his weapon and looks to her pointedly, "Aren't you supposed to be working in the tavern?"
"Uhh, oh, it's closed this late, mister…" She smiles nervously and scratches her cheek lightly. She's definitely suspicious now.
"… You following that red one? Primrose-or-what's-her-name?" He recalls how she had looked at her dancing.
"Y-yes…" She hangs her head at being found out so easily, "I… I was worried when she ran out so suddenly…"
Ran away hm? Can't blame her given the conditions of the situation. Therion looks nonchalantly at a splatter of bug juice on the wall, "She had someone with her. And she seemed to know her way around a knife. Should be alright."
"T-Then might I ask why you're here, mister?" She tries to peer at his face in the dim underground, in the flickering light of the old sconces.
He doesn't answer, instead shrugging slightly.
"I-I have some ointment for your arm..." She flusters slightly and pulls out a small clay capsule, looking at the injury on his shackled arm, "I'm sorry about … that."
He couldn't tell whether she meant the injury or the shackle. The wound wasn't too deep that his arm was unusable. He also didn't want her touching him. "... It's fine."
"…Uhm," She looks down the path of the catacombs, where the musty air whistles from a probable opening further in, "I-if it's alright with you, we seem to be going the same way. So…"
"You want an escort," He sighs bluntly. Why was he always getting dragged into things?
She looks down with some embarrassment, "Well… you're right… You're not … involved, right… so I guess you wouldn't ..."
He wasn't. He should never have. But he found himself not turning back for the inn.
"… I'm this far down," He shrugs again, "May as well see the rest of this."
Yusufa's face brightens. He has to look away as she profusely thanks him. Gods, she sounds like that damn Ravus woman, Cordelia…
"C'mon they went this way. We wasted time already," He says brusquely, running ahead.
"R-right!" She follows as fast as she can, "O-oh, m-might I have your name, mister…?"
"…It's not important."
You don't let them know your name or face. Got it? Anyone can use it against you by tracing or whatever.
That Darius in his head is still lecturing him.
"Alright…" She says a bit quietly, brushed off.
"…Any idea what she's doing?"
"Ah, she's going after someone she spotted in the tavern… I'm not sure for what… But it was serious, I'm sure."
Splendid. Just what is he getting himself into?
"You know if there's some way out of here other than the way we came?"
"Er," She thinks a moment, "These old passages predate a lot of the town actually... so, maybe? People don't always know their way down here... After a few missing persons, people stopped coming entirely. We don't bury the dead here anymore... Then it got infested by monsters... So, I guess it must lead outside the city, to the desert. That's where they should come from, I think..."
They come to a split in the paths, where one way led down some darkened stairs, another way goes on into darkness, and the last path turns around the bend. Therion plucks a torch from the holder on the wall.
"Missing persons hm."
"Yes... they say the labyrinthine ways are notorious for trapping people," Yusufa swallows a bit, "They don't need burials then..."
"Cheery thought," Therion sighs and looks down the paths with an appraising eye, "Alright... eeny-meeny-miney...here."
He takes the path around the bend. The girl follows hastily.
As they take the turn, the thief nimbly dodges the messy swing of a stone hatchet aimed at his face. He backs slightly into Yusufa, who is startled a bit. A lizardman staggers out of the shadows with gleaming red eyes. There are cuts littering its body that bleed red blood. It seems to be on its last legs, persisting.
"Hrrssss..."
With a slight growl, Therion yanks out his dagger and retaliates with a small cut at the reptilian's chest. It sprays a bit before the thing finally seems to give up and collapses forward onto its knees and sprawls on the floor, dead.
"Eh..." Yusufa looks down at the corpse, "It was already hurt...?"
"Well, looks like we're going the right way."
"Prim did this?" She breathes in disbelief at the notion.
"I told you they'd probably be alright."
Yusufa falls silent. Therion shrugs slightly and runs on. She follows, picking up the hatchet first from the slain creature. As they run through the darkened halls, they see other lizards felled prior their coming, as well as some speared bugs, guts oozing.
"Prim..." The girl retains a tone of some worry as she looks around briefly.
Therion rolls his eyes slightly. What a trail this is.
There is a blast of warm air felt as they forge ahead. A draft from the desert maybe. They are close to some kind of exit. There are crumbling pathways here, as well as the remains of some lizardmen camp. Among the shattered crates, Therion luckily sees movement from the corner of his eye. With the reflexes of a cat, he parries with his dagger at the incoming strike. The sound of the metal clashing rings throughout the corridor.
In the firelight, he sees those brown eyes again. At initial light, they looked reddish. Primrose looks back at him with slight bewilderment, their blades locked. Her blade point is inches from his chest. His own knife is a hair's breadth from her face.
"What... are you doing here..." She snarls slightly, not backing down immediately.
"... Might ask you the same," He replies cooly.
"Prim!" Yusufa sighs with some relief, poking out from behind Therion, "You're ok..."
"Yusufa-?!" Prim gawks a bit at the girl's presence before looking pointedly at Therion, "You brought her here?!"
"She came after you herself. I'm just here...," Therion says levelly with some thought, "...Making sure she didn't get chewed up by a bug, I guess."
With a slight scowl, Prim loosens her grip and disengages with his blade. A bearded man with a turban pokes his head out by some standing barrels, holding a bloodied polearm. With a somewhat clueless and friendly expression, he waves to Yusufa and Therion.
"Ah, good morning!"
"W-what's Sadiq doing here too?" Yusufa gasps.
"I asked him to come," Primrose says simply, "Why are you here..."
"I-I was worried after you ran off like that, Prim... I told you, I'm on your side."
"... I'm fine. You should go back," Prim's eyes seem to slightly avert away from the other dancer's, "While you still can."
"I'm here as it is, Prim..." Yusufa steps forward and suddenly grabs her free hand, "We may as well run away together!"
Prim stares, a bit dumbstruck at the sudden proposal. Therion's visible eye widens slightly with some surprise. Was this really the right time for all this mush?
"... Tsk," Primrose clicks her tongue in slight annoyance and exasperation, pulling her hand from the hold. She turns to continue into the darkness, mumbling slightly, "I can't waste any more time trying to dissuade you... If you come, I'm not responsible for what happens."
Yusufa practically glows at that. She turns and bows to Therion deeply, "Thank you for your help!"
"... it's nothing..." He hadn't expected that kind of reaction after she was sort of just brushed off.
"You shouldn't go back the way you came... it could be dangerous! Come with us too, mister... mister..." She realizes he never told her his name.
"..." Therion sighs and acquiesces, "Therion."
"Mister Therion!"
"Just... just Therion is fine," He mutters, eyeing Primrose, "What is it you even plan to do?"
"He's still ahead of us..." The dancer in red says only that before rushing ahead. She doesn't even need a lantern in this poor lighting?
Sadiq glances at Yusufa before following after Prim, "Come on then, Yusufa."
"Eh...Eh?" Yusufa blinks after the old man, "Sadiq?"
"You coming?" Therion moves to pass her with the torch in hand.
"Ah, yes!" She seems to shake off the previous feeling and follows after them eagerly.
They run through the dark, only dimly lit by Therion's torch. The crumbling structure seems older here, with dust spilling from the ceilings and some skeletons lain on the floor, robbed clean of anything they might have carried. Not all are human.
"So, what plans do you have for after this," Therion says to no one in particular.
"None of your business," Prim says curtly.
"Great," Therion rolls his eye.
Ahead, there is dim moonlight streaming in from a gaping hole above a portion of collapsed wall. Bricks torn out of the structure form a haphazard hill to climb up to the opening, which seems wide enough for monsters to get in and people to get out. Without hesitation, Primrose starts climbing up the jumble of stones. Therion extinguishes the torch and tosses it aside before following in suit. Sadiq, seeing Yusufa struggle a bit, offers her a hand.
"Thank you, Sadiq..." She takes his hand and a perplexed emotion crosses her face for a moment before she clambers up after them.
They exit the hole to face the night air... and see the light from the torches of waiting predators.
Surrounding the party fresh out of the catacombs is about ten men, dressed in metal armor with helmets and scimitars drawn. Their faces are shielded from the billowing sand by red scarves. But their eyes show hardened, cold gleams. They did not see people; they saw cockroaches.
"Helgenish's lackeys..." Primrose curses under her breath.
"Indeed, my dear."
The voice sends a violent shudder through Yusufa. Prim herself conceals her surprise well. On a slightly elevated rock, Helgenish steps forth with two personal guards bearing lanterns. The light illuminates his ruddy, grinning face as he sneers down at the four.
"Why, kitten, this is far enough. Whatever possessed you to come out here, hm?" He chuckles, "Thought you could escape?"
"Master..." Prim adopts the timeless façade, making herself sound surprised and servile, like nothing is wrong, "What might you be doing out here at this hour?"
"I had the sneaking suspicion you might try something like this after that performance at the tavern earlier... and luckily, I only needed to see that stray over there sneaking out to affirm myself," He points accusingly at Yusufa with a sneer.
Yusufa pales, "Wh-! I-"
"Tsk..." Therion looks around at the appalling odds against them while barking a bit at Yusufa on the side, "You didn't see to it that you weren't followed?"
"I-I did! I must've… Prim, I-" She looks to the silent dancer pleadingly, voice begging, "I'm sorry, I didn't mean-"
"Enough, now," Helgenish refocuses his sights on Primrose, "Why don't you come home, kitten? Maybe I'll even consider being nice if you return..."
Primrose's hand hangs at her side, clenching into a fist slowly. She doesn't even look to Yusufa, whose bottom lip quivers a bit.
This is all I have.
"Of course," Helgenish grins as he strokes one half of his mustache with smug satisfaction, "This other riffraff will be dealt with accordingly-"
"Enough."
Primrose's voice cuts her master off immediately with her tone. She sounds dangerous, like a venomous cobra, drawn taut and ready to strike.
"…What did you just say?" Helgenish narrows his eyes at the dancer in red. His hand on his mustache freezes, nearly pulling a hair off.
"You will not stand in my way anymore... I've gotten what I want from you... So, stand aside," She slowly looks up to him with an icy glare, "Or I will cut you down."
"You DARE take that tone with me?!" Helgenish barks, spittle flying, "After all I've done for you... I OWN you, you stupid whore! If it weren't for me, you would-"
"You've done me no favors, master. You have given me nothing," Primrose's dagger hand tightens and raises to point at the rotund figure, "I saw you for the swine you were from the day I laid eyes on you. I have gotten what I wanted from your stage. And now... you're nothing to me."
"You BITCH! You'd best put that impertinent mouth of yours where it belongs!" A visible throb can be seen at Helgenish's temple, "You'll have to pleasure me a good deal for me to forgiv-"
"Master, go pleasure yourself."
Therion resists a full-on laugh, but he lets out a snicker at her well-timed counter. Helgenish's face is that of pure fury. She's not afraid of him at all. Her eyes are clear and sharp like the blade she holds steadily, pointed at him. Him, the master, of all people! But he will not be humiliated, not by mere property. With a slight growl, he takes on a menacing, lower tone, like when he used to threaten her.
"Wrong answer, kitten..." He snarls, completely livid as his nostrils flare, "You know what I do to the little cats who bite back?! I put them DOWN!"
His men dart forth at his signal, swords raised. Therion feels his stomach flop a bit and wishes he never bothered listening to that conversation that spurred him out of bed. For now, his trained body keeps its wiry figure out of harm's way, dodging the slashes. Sadiq suddenly gives a loud bellow of strength and sweeps in a wide arc, keeping Yusufa behind himself protectively. His polearm catches a good many of the lackeys by surprise, flinging one against a rock and cracking the helm open. That one falls in a pile onto the sandy ground. The others now steer clear of that spear.
Many of the forces seem to focus on Primrose, encircling her first. One is stupid enough to jump at her alone, blade swinging aimlessly with a far cry. Her feet daintily spin on the ground, allowing her to twirl past the slash by mere inches. Her dagger hand digs into the red scarf as she passes with grace, only a hair's breadth parallel to his body. A strangled noise comes from the lackey she stabbed in the throat and the body flops to the ground, twitching. Tis a dance of risk and death.
But Therion didn't have time to stare. He was the second biggest target. The pain in his arm from the bug earlier stings a bit as he draws both his sword and dagger, dual-wielding to fend off the attackers. He kicks one in the chest as a springboard and knees another in the head after jumping into the air, avoiding a clumsy slash. But he still avoided cutting them wide open, aiming instead to sever their joints and armor. Disabled, one lackey cries out in pain as he crumples to the ground. Therion had slashed out the tendons in his arms and legs.
"D-AAGH! GODS WHY?!"
"Come ON, just kill them already!" Helgenish screeches from his vantage point. His two personal guards have their hands to the hilts of their blades, ready.
Primrose murmurs something, an incantation of sorts, as she dodges past the many attacks clumsily swung her way. Where her feet touch and where her fingers trace the air, darkness ripples in space and forms opaque wisps. Channeling dark energy, she dances faster and faster by them until she's woven a net of dark matter around the men. A devilish grin forms on her lips and her eyes glow a dark scarlet as she comes to the end of her spell weaving. It sounds like a song from an older time, almost in a different language even.
"...where mine weary feet landeth in dark, blessed be to the guiding moonlight; Where mine enemies doth trot, o'night ode, bring your shade."
As the last syllable falls and her steps touch down to the last beat, the men suddenly feel an immense force grasp at their bodies and twist at their souls from within. Darkness threatens to crush them, a force unseen. Screams of the damned fill the air as they cry out in pain from the dancer's dark ode. Primrose merely takes advantage of their temporarily immobile state to weave her blade about them, slitting their throats. One by one, they fall to her blade, blood pooling and bodies twitching their last.
Therion's eyes widen a bit. She's a complete temptress. Not to be outdone, he incapacitates one lackey by knocking him in the nuts, then smashing his sword pommel into the helmet. The body jerks and goes slack before rolling harmlessly onto the sand with a soft thud. He's probably alright. Onto the next one.
"Arrgh! No, no, no!" Helgenish's eyes bulge as he watches his lackeys fall like flies. His antsy hands twitch and then direct his two personal guards at the group, "Kill them! That is an ORDER!"
The two guards rush in, throwing aside their lanterns and brandishing their long scimitars. Therion is occupied blocking one lackey as it is. Before the guard can dig some bloody furrows in him, Sadiq makes a perfect strike from afar with his weapons reach, catching the attack and forcing it away from Therion.
"Careful now!" The old man hollers.
Therion can only nod, knocking the guard back with an elbow to the chest. The guard recovers and makes a fast strike at his torso with a kick. The thief manages to pull his body back, avoiding a heavy hit, before ripping into the leg with his dagger. The guard curses loudly before smashing one of his sword hands into Therion's face.
Therion turns his face away slightly to avoid a direct hit, but his head still gets knocked by that incoming knuckle. He reels back some steps to see the guard stumble a bit on his posture, one leg now nearly useless as it bleeds out onto the sand.
"Damn bastard…!" The guard growls at him, brandishing his blades, "I'll KILL you!"
Therion smirks a bit. He doesn't feel the small trickle of blood from where the skin on his temple split a little after that hit, "You hit like a girl."
"Keep talking!" The guard, incensed by the thief's taunt, rushes forward. The thief meets him in a furious clash of whirling metal.
"Let's dance, girlie..." Meanwhile, the other guard rushes at Primrose with razor focus, twin blades whirling.
The dancer pulls out another dagger from near her waist, clashing with his advances fiercely. The strikes are strong, however, and he isn't letting her get anywhere out of the way to perform any more magic. In a battle of pure strength, she is slowly pushed back. A lackey, still conscious, kicks at her bad foot. She curses mentally as she stumbles slightly, a fatal mistake in battle. Her stance falters, leaving her wide open to an incoming slash.
"Prim!" Yusufa runs in, dodging Sadiq's watch and ramming the guard on the shoulder with the stone hatchet she had picked up. The blow seems to stun him for a second, allowing Primrose to recover her footing. She promptly fells the prone lackey who struck her with a swift foot to his neck. His body jerks and tenses up before foam arises to his lips and his eyes roll back into his head and he relaxes. Primrose skirts back some steps with Yusufa behind her, eyes on the guard. He has reoriented himself and snarls at the interruption.
"I'll take both you bitches on!" He roars.
"Yusufa, get back...!" Primrose grips her dagger tightly, not realizing her hand shook just slightly. She doesn't thank the girl quite yet.
"You don't have to fight alone, Prim...!" Yusufa looks nervously at the fray around them, hatchet poised to strike.
"...Stay near me..." Prim murmurs just loud enough for her to hear before slinging her daggers at the guard.
Sadiq supports Therion from a slight distance, blocking hits that come his way with gusto. He occasionally glances at Prim and Yusufa's direction.
"Argh, what's with this old man?!"
The small remainder of enemies does not seem so interested in him, focusing more on the thief still. Therion feels his bad arm numb slightly as the battle wears on. He barely notices it's been bleeding all the way down his shirt by now.
Helgenish sees it, however. He also sees the blood coming from Primrose's leg. There is a murderous glint in his eyes. While the others are embroiled in the fight, he slips quietly from where he stood. Primrose, seemingly invigorated by Yusufa's presence, presses against the guard, who deflects her daggers, trying to make his way closer to her with his blade. Even if he hits the daggers off course, they spin backward with odd aerodynamics, landing near enough to the dancer that she can sling them again with ease, like an unending volley of blades.
"Damn... bitch!"
Yusufa smacks down a lackey who reaches for his sword on the ground, "Whew...!"
She turns to Primrose in time to see their master gone from his place. She espies him nearing Primrose, pulling a blade from behind himself. Primrose seems to see him too late, and her foot at that moment gives out a slight inch. The guard dashes past her last thrown dagger, letting another one clip his helm harmlessly. Grinning with bloodlust, he charges for her, blade raised. As the two of them seem ready to pincer Primrose and send her to the afterworld, time seems to slow down for Yusufa.
No...
She throws aside the heavy hatchet, running for the dancer in red. Every step seems to be an eternity as flecks of sand spray from under her soles. The blades inch ever closer, but she mustn't stop, not for a nanosecond. Her arms reach for Primrose, like a lover's rush to embrace. Her mouth is open in a soundless scream.
Please...please let me... let me make it!
Prim, cursing inwardly, feels a rough shove on her side. She barely turns in time to see Yusufa's desperate face, her small body ramming into hers with all its strength to push her out of the way. Her voice catches in her throat as she feels herself fly backwards through time, which slows to the flow of honey. The blades are too close now... too close to Yusufa... and Prim reaches out her hand in vain. Her voice bursts out in a single cry, unblocked.
"YUSUFAA!"
There is the sickening sound of metal entering and ripping flesh. A spray of crimson erupts and stains the sand. Therion and Sadiq turn a bit too late to see the moment occur, only prompted by Primrose's subsequent scream. The thief's eyes grow wide at the spectacle.
Yusufa, having knocked Primrose out of the way, twitches, caught in a cross stab between Helgenish's dagger and the guard's blade. Her body seems limp, blood running down from the two opening wounds on her torso. To Therion's immense relief, she shudders and sputters. But it Is a short-lived reprieve, seeing as the girl is still bleeding to death.
"Ngh...!" Yusufa trembles and coughs, suspended from her impalement. Her lips stain red with blood, and the same crimson runs down her dangling arms, dripping onto the sand.
Primrose, knocked about two feet away, is back on her feet before the guard can react and pull his sword out to face her. She thrusts the dagger straight under his chin in a single, smooth, savage motion. There is a crack as the dagger pierces his palate and enters the base of his cerebral cavity. The body spasms for a second as a thick bout of blood pours from the knife entry, and he is ultimately still. Primrose relentlessly pulls her blade out, letting the body fall. She directs her murderous gaze now onto Helgenish, eyes alight with a fiery and hellish hue.
"H-Hiieee!" He pulls his dagger out of Yusufa and darts back some distance, startled by the demonic glare. The girl drops listlessly to the ground. "K-kitten, don't do anything you'll regret!"
Therion finishes the last of the guards with a furious flurry of dagger strikes, slightly cursing under his breath. Sadiq runs to Yusufa's side first, ignoring a shallow slash across his back. He looks at the girl with a loss as of what to do, and hastily unbinds his turban to try and truss her wounds.
"The only thing I regret, master..." Primrose advances towards the man, a dark aura swirling with each step, coalescing into the image of a great dark beast. It growls, though the noise may as well also be coming from the vengeful dancer, "...Is that I did not do this sooner!"
"K-KITTEN-"
With a snarl, she blurs past him in a flurrying midnight waltz. The dark energies envelop her form and make a series of dark scythes in the air. As Primrose dances circles around him, with movements faster than the eye may track, the dark blades slash Helgenish in many places, turning him into near ribbons. Like a pig being slaughtered, he squeals in pain at the barrage of cuts, his blood spewing like a sprinkler.
"GYA-K—P-PRIMROSE-!"
He is torn this way and that by the magic as she relentlessly assaults him from all angles. The way the blades batter him left and right make him look like a dancing puppet with its strings being snapped, one by one.
"S-STOPP-"
Wordlessly, she weaves past and ends her dance behind him. Therion's eyes widen as the dark energies begin to abate, unable to look away from the gradual de-escalation of the enthralling dark crescendo. Helgenish freezes, only sniveling pathetically as he feels the cold steel of the dancer's dagger at his throat. It presses against his sweaty, bloody flesh of a neck. He squeaks, pleading feebly and blubbering as his sweat and tears mix with his blood.
"P-Primrose, no... no, please, nonononooo..."
"It seems in the end..."
She draws her blade across his neck with a single, brisk action, like butchering an animal, her eyes cold the entire time. The man's blood gushes like a fountain from his carotid and jugular, spraying the sand for several feet. His limbs spasm, trying to grasp his bleeding throat as he chokes on his own blood. Helgenish's eyes bulge wide with fear, zipping this way and that in feral panic, before rolling up back into his head, briefly laying upon Primrose standing above him.
"...You were a bit of a dancer yourself."
There is a gargling sound from the man as the last of his lifeblood drains from him rapidly. It is the sound of a clogged pipe bubbling with muck. Eventually, it stops. There is a final twitch of the extremities, and then the fat man falls completely still on his back.
Therion had not noticed he was holding his breath as he watched her brutally murder the man. He exhales and feels a slight dizziness almost, as his eyes scan the carnage around them. Then, he hears a low groan, and regains his senses. He turns his attention quickly to Yusufa as Primrose rushes back over. Sadiq's turban binds the dagger wound Helgenish pulled out of. The sword remains, lest she bleed out even faster. Her breaths are halting and shallow, and her blue-brown eyes look like muddy watercolor, out of focus.
"P-Prim... You're… alright?"
"...I'm here... Yusufa..." Primrose drops to her knees next to the girl and absentmindedly grasps one of her hands tenderly. Her voice is low, all the venom and bile gone. It's just quiet and timid. Therion cannot see her eyes.
"T-thank goodness… hghk, Prim... I... I'm s... sorry..." Yusufa coughs harshly, "...wanted ...to ...go with... you...unh..."
"...Yusufa..."
Therion doesn't kneel next to her. Even an untrained eye of medicine like his could see she wasn't going to last much longer. He didn't want to be here, but he can't tear himself away.
"Hey... Prim... b-back... in town... I wanted... to say... we're friends... right?" She looks up at the blank and lost expression on Primrose's face, her own eyes shining with glistening tears.
"...Yes. We..." Primrose clasps the dying girl's cold hand with both of her own, voice growing brittle, "We're friends, Yusufa..."
The dying girl smiles.
"I'm glad... hff.. not lone...ly... anymore..."
Then she surprises the thief by calling out to him. He kneels to properly hear her quiet words. He sees her other hand fumble slightly in trying to hand him the ointment he had refused earlier. Brushing against her touch, he grabs it before it rolls in the sand. His eyes are downcast, hiding most of his face in his scarf.
"Thank you... Therion..." Her eyes turn watery. The thief remains silent.
The murk in her eyes seems to clear a bit and she looks to Sadiq, "F-father..."
Primrose looks up at the old man with a start. He is staring down at Yusufa, eyes in plain shock. Their eyes... that same brown blue... But it couldn't be...
"Your touch... I... remember..." She coughs again, "Do ...ungh... you...?"
Sadiq is silent, looking down at her in bewilderment.
"You... called me... by name be...fore..." She sounds hopeful, even as the life drains out of her, "Did you... know..."
"Yusufa..." Prim hangs her head slightly. How painful it would have been if... her own father didn't even know her, and they were both in the same place all along...
"Al...ways... on your si..de, Prim... You...'re free... now..." Yusufa's breath hitches, "You were... an oasis... in this... cruel desert... to me..."
"..."
"..." A slight exhale.
"... Yusufa...?"
"..." And then... nothing.
"Yusufa...!" Primrose involuntarily cries out, unable to catch herself.
"...Tch..." Therion looks away and briskly stands, looking up and away. The sky is dotted with millions of glittering stars. In the distance, the light of Sunshade's night life washes some of the lights out of the sky.
Sadiq's trembling, bloody hand reaches to caress that cooling cheek. He slowly closes her eyes and lets out a shaky breath. A tear, briefly shimmering in his eye, runs down his own cheek and vanishes into his grizzly beard. He says nothing.
Primrose is utterly silent, head bowed, hands still clutching at Yusufa's. There is barely a tremble in her shoulders. A cool wind blows through the desert night, whipping up some of the sand around them into earthbound clouds. It is completely quiet under the stars.
"... We should bury her..." Primrose stands, her voice a bit husky, "And we need to make sure all of these men... are dead."
"Are you nuts?" Therion turns to look at her and sees her dry eyes, "Ever heard of a low profile? They're out cold, so let's just go."
"We can't risk them telling anyone. They know our faces," She takes out her bloody dagger, a familiar edge forming in her voice.
Sadiq slides the sword out of Yusufa's abdomen and tosses it aside. He gathers her body in his arms, looking both mournful and bewildered still. Therion scowls slightly, looking away as Primrose goes to check if there are survivors. That kind of thing just isn't for him. He walks over to Helgenish's corpse and reluctantly searches it to try and break even for all the trouble this night had bought. Thieving superstition ordains that one cannot take money from dead bodies that committed no harm against them. You could take their stuff, but not their wallet. In this case, however, Helgenish had tried to kill them. So the thief was going to pick this one clean.
The clothes are in shreds thanks to the crazy show of black magic. There is a small pouch of leaves and a piece of parchment in a breast pocket, still intact. He pockets the money and unfolds the small piece of paper, finding what looks to be a map. There is a location marked towards the north of the continent, in the Frostlands. At the very bottom of the page is the insignia of a crow next to some scribbled characters in some kind of shorthand, which the thief can't read.
A very bloodied Primrose plucks the map from his hands.
"Hey-"
"Up north..." She glances it over quickly, ignoring him, "That's where I need to go next."
North, over Middlesea, to the Frostlands. It seems she has a similar route to his own possibly, but he doesn't say. He just looks past her a bit to where Sadiq doffs the armor off one of the bodies, using it as a makeshift basket to shovel sand.
"So... he was..." Therion looks away a little towards the dunes.
"...I don't know," Primrose sighs and pockets the map before going to help the old man, "He lost his mind a long time ago..."
The thief stares a bit longer at the moon and stars before going to help them bury the girl. They do so quietly, quickly. Eventually, the bodies all cooled and there is a small mound of sand; the only physical mark of Yusufa left for the world to see.
The old man did not reclaim his turban, instead letting it be buried with her. He stares a bit, lost in reality. With slow, stiff movements, he goes to where he left his polearm and picks it up. As he looks at the bloodied shaft, there is some clear voice in which he speaks, like something communicating from another world.
"My... dear Yusu... fa..."
Primrose feels for the handkerchief the kind girl had given her after Lily and the other two planted that thorn in her shoes. It has a bit of blood on it, which is dry now. She clutches it to her chest.
Therion overhears her softly murmur.
"We're both free now... my friend..."
He assesses the piercing wound on his arm. The ointment probably isn't enough now. The dancer has that bad leg, and the old kook has that big cut on his back. They were also in the middle of the desert, probably without enough provisions. Not to mention that with all the blood, they'd probably be reported to the authorities at first sight.
"We need to get to a place to heal up," Therion sighs, "And I don't think anyone's in shape to climb up the rocky crags to Cobbleston."
It was probably the fatigue, but he had said "we."
"...Wellspring is close. But it's deeper in the desert," Primrose says without looking to him, "The best bet would be … Clearbrook."
Small, quaint place nestled by the rivers. Not a lot of kingdom influence or authorities. But small pockets for the picking. It is a bit of a ways out, but the Riverlands should prove more forgiving than dying of thirst out here. If they hurried, it might not take even two days.
"...I guess."
Primrose looks solemnly to Sadiq, who now looks up at the stars. His eyes are very much like Yusufa's, now that she looks at them. They shimmer with the reflections of the astral bodies.
"Sadiq? Come."
"... I remember her..."
"... You do?"
"Yes..." The old man looks down now and clutches his spear to his chest, "My child... for so long..."
"...Yes," Oh how part of her wished that maybe he wouldn't remember. For all that awaits him now is but heartache. She does not approach him, just rubbing one of her arms out of discomfort.
"Did she... dance happily there... even once..."
"...I … I think so."
"...Gods have mercy on me..." The old man covers his eyes with a hand as he sobs silently.
"...Come, Sadiq," Primrose says gently, extending a hand to the broken old man, "Tell me... all about her as we go. While your mind is clear..."
He sniffs loudly. Therion was afraid he'd let out an unrestrained cry. Instead, he strides towards them and grasps the dancer's hand with a forceful nod, his beard trembling.
"...Good. Now, we go forth."