"She was a very kind girl... I remember … little bits of it... She always wanted to make friends with the other children. I married Hilma. And Yusufa... was the only good thing to have come from that union... That woman! May venom run in those veins! She had our child sold!"
As they walk, Sadiq's momentary lapse of clarity loosened his lips a good deal. While he half cried, Primrose coaxed him to talk, relaying bits and pieces about his daughter. Therion remains largely silent, listening to them talk of reminiscence.
The dawn creeps up slowly and the green fields around them buzz with life as they awaken with the light enveloping the realm. They had wasted no time escaping the desert, and the catacombs luckily seemed to deposit them relatively close to the border of the Riverlands. Most of the time, Primrose and Sadiq relied on the thief's sense of direction. With the red markers, it was not such an arduous task of navigation. For the first in a long while, Primrose steps foot onto grass.
The Riverlands are much more forgiving than the harsh terrains of the fiery Sunlands, rocky Highlands, or predatory Woodlands. Waters here are famous for their clarity, such that they seem to look like still glass even when running. This meant much fatter, bountiful game, but also attracted monsters who flee from larger predators. The frogmen are a common sight, usually gathered in bands. They claim rivers as their own territory and attack those who venture near. Travelers usually travel during their mating season, when territorial wars among themselves is most common, providing for safer passage.
"…but you weren't there for that, were you, Sadiq."
"Aye... T' was a curse of the gods if anyone had ever been sure," He nods sadly, "I was a prize fighter among man and beast. One day had blasted fortune mine strike astray landed. I had mine mind and eyes struck, such that I wandered in the dream lands from whence. I could not tell a man from beast, nor object from creature. Tis truly a cruel trick of fate, to have had me moored in that town, so close to my daughter I could not see..."
"You fought for a living? As a prize fighter?" This explained his prowess in combat.
"Aye, and I am not ashamed, for a man does what he can to earn and provide for his home. But Hilma always disapproved," He shakes his head, "She had eyes for easier earned funds. Not all scrupulous. I had thought to quit fighting after that fateful match that had me robbed of mine senses, to find other labors. Once I was out of the picture, Hilma had reign."
Primrose remains silent, listening. She would not let a limp be seen in her gait. Therion absentmindedly would scratch a bit at his wound. Gods, it feels like it is starting to swell...
"Whilst I was incapable of right or wrong, the woman remarried... worse ilk, no doubt. For who would assent to such a plan to sell a little girl...?!" He growls under his thick whiskers, gripping his polearm, "Would that I could find them both...!"
"Let's go wash some of this blood off... and maybe cool your head a bit too, old man," Therion points to the nearby streams, "Watch out for lurking frogmen."
Primrose slowly lowers her leg into the water. The color around the puncture point is a bit greenish, with some dark veins. She barely winces and sighs, letting the gentle current wash off the maroon dried blood. She feels a heavy cloth fall over her head. After she quickly pulls it off, she sees that it's the dirtied poncho cloak Therion always wears. Sure enough, it smells of sand, blood, and whatever else he's tracked around. She turns to him, a bit annoyed.
He unwraps his scarf and unbuttons his white shirt and tosses those on her as well, showing his rather toned body, "I'll keep a watch while you wash."
"I am not anyone's servant," She hisses. Her eyes quickly look him over like a scan. His body is as she expected, wiry and able. The complexion seems to suggest he likely spent a lot of time in the sun, given the combination with his hair. There are small nicks on his skin, like grazes and scratches that left their marks permanently. The largest scar is on his torso, but it seems rather well concealed with the surrounding skin. Looking from her vantage point, she also glimpses a scar on his face, probably what his hair hides under his other eye.
"Don't think you'd be happy being caught unawares by passerby either."
She scowls and dumps his stuff in the river. It floats down the river a bit before getting caught on a rock. Now it's his turn to growl. He grudgingly goes to fetch his things, fishing them out.
"You're buying me new ones if they get lost."
She just smirks and takes out her daggers to clean. The water by the blades and lapping at her dress turns red. He looks with slight interest only at the weapons. They are the same ones with the odd make that can return after being thrown. The blade and handle are curved oddly that they wouldn't stick a landing much but could tear a nasty gash.
"It's a special kind of dagger," She sees him looking and curls her fingers, feeling the curvature of the unique blade and hilt, "A Sunland specialty. It has history as a ceremonial object the dancers in palaces of old used…"
"Huh," He averts his eyes, "Bet they don't come cheap."
"They don't... but Helgenish thought it cheaper than replacing ordinary ones that the unruly customs stole. As I was the one who used them the most, he was open to my suggestion."
As if to demonstrate her skill, she throws it with ease at a nearby shrub. It clips the top fringe of leaves before flying back around. She catches it expertly with a single, swift motion, like the retraction of a whip hand.
"That is dagger slinging."
"And this is stuff to be cleaned," He dumps his clothes on her again, much to her ire, "I told you I need to keep watch on the roads."
"I'd sooner shred these to ribbons," She says to him flatly. Her tone is not joking.
He sighs and pulls his clothes off her hands. So much for trusting her with that. Good help is impossible to find these days.
Sadiq stands nearby, waist deep in the stream, with his upper body exposed as he scoops water onto his body. Despite his age, his build shows roiled knots of pure muscle, a testament to his strength and expertise. Lighter colored scars are scattered across his body, proof of countless battles.
"... So, he just happened to decide to come with you?" Therion says quietly as he cleans his clothes himself.
"... Yes."
"You're not going to wash? I took you for a bit of a princess type."
"That's a luxury we can't afford given the schedule we're on."
They don't continue that conversation further. The old man has lapsed into a brief bout of loony songs as he scrubs himself. The wound on his back doesn't seem to bother him very much.
Primrose slowly washes her legs of the stray spattering of blood. When the cold liquid splashes on her own wound, she suppresses a slight wince. After wringing out the bottom half of her dress, she lathers water onto her exposed midriff where blood stains along her upper body. She takes out Yusufa's handkerchief, lightly soaking it before wiping down her face of makeup and stray droplets of blood. After she washes out the cloth, she sucks some water from it to moisten her dry lips and cool her throat. She had no waterskin. Therion glances at her cleaned face for a moment before focusing on the sting in his arm. From what he saw, it was almost as if she hadn't used make up.
"Clearbrook isn't far from here. Should be there by tonight..."
"Have you been there?" She glances at him from the corner of her eye as she applies some of her face back on, "You were traveling to Sunshade, that much was obvious."
"Gee, says the pale one. You were just stuck there too, weren't you."
"... Yes," Primrose thinks for a moment of something else, "... So where did you come from."
"None of your beeswax."
"Aren't you just a ball of barbed nettle," She scoffs lightly at the flat rejection.
"Hmf," He pounds the thick wool of his cloak hard with his fist, sending ripples of red into the water. It's gotten more absorbent from when Marta first gave it to him. That means the smells he's passed have gotten a bit mixed. But for whatever reason, no one in these times carried soap for him to steal, and he wasn't about to buy any.
"That!" Sadiq points at the Fool's Bangle half submerged in water, "Is a pretty bracelet!"
Therion feels the stab of that offhand comment. He angrily pounds the cloth harder in silence, ignoring the old man.
"... That's a Fool's Bangle, right?" The dancer says casually, "A mark upon spies and thieves as a show of failure and shame."
"Well aren't you a well-informed civilian."
"I suspected you were a thief when I first bumped into you."
"And I saw you for the slut you were."
That drastic escalation leaves a wide berth of silence following. Perhaps it was the lack of sleep fraying at their nerves, or the shock of carnage wearing on their sanity. They begin sniping each other verbally like children.
"Coward," She hisses.
"Whore," He shoots back.
"Fool."
He doesn't respond to that one, instead letting his frustration fester as he grinds his teeth in silence. His poncho is already mostly clean but he keeps right on pounding.
The tension can be felt hanging heavily over them amid the splashes of water and babbling of the brook. A sudden brush of a spear cleaves the space between the two, startling them. Sadiq is holding on the other end.
"What's the big deal-" Therion starts, before looking over his shoulder.
Sadiq looks past them, a look of frenzy on his features. The thief and dancer see behind them a band of frogmen some paces away. They are led by one larger frog with ropey kelp hair. Each one is outfitted with a short sword and armored greaves, red eyes fixated on the three by the river.
"Kerrrroook..."
The leader croaks with a low tone, his air sac inflating and deflating with the noise. It was a prelude to a battle cry.
Therion swears a bit and hastily gathers his weapon, stowing his clothes on the bank. Primrose stands beside him, cleaned daggers at the ready. Sadiq steps out of the water, spear tip bristling with energy for battle.
"Frog legs tonight!" The old man bellows.
Therion rolls his eyes, "...You're nuts."
Frogmen are less dangerous here in the Riverlands compared to their Flatlands counterparts. They are squishier and prone to being slashed open easier by swords. The leader, though, seems a bit more resistant, but it should be about the same. Without waiting for the other two to act, Therion runs forth with blinding speed, holding his sword with two hands.
Of the five frogmen, two rush at him, their own sabers raised, long tongues trailing. He feints, darting back when their strikes swing forward. Then he slams his foot on the backs of their blades, grounding them. With a quick stroke, he slams his blade down on the head of one frog. Translucent, greenish jelly spurts out along with its blood and it gives a loud, drawn-out croak of pain. Its companion moves to headbutt the thief, with its weapon jammed.
To Therion's surprise, an oscillating wave of dark magic blasts that frog away from him. He glances back slightly to see Primrose come into range. She moves pretty well granted her injury.
"Sadiq!" She calls out.
"HURRAH!" The old man rushes forward, spear jabbing past Therion, at the frog whose head he cleaved into. With a swing, he thrusts the body of the beast back at its brethren with considerable strength. It scatters the amphibious creatures and lays motionless on the road.
"Krroooark!"
The leader and his remaining two followers dart forward in an erratic manner. They jump leaps and bounds around, trying to encircle the three as they remain outside the reach of the spear. Their weapons are drawn, at the ready.
"Tsk..." Therion readies his sword.
Primrose traces a circle in the grass with her feet, dark energy blossoming where her toes touch. She hums a low beginning to another tune, her fingers slowly tracing the air with dark wisps trailing their touch. Like her normal dances, it is entrancing to watch. This time, instead of an area filled with enemies, the darkness gathers like snakes after a kill, slithering along the ground towards the frogs and seemingly connecting with their shadows.
"Hrah!" She slashes her hands down, crossing to her sides.
The dark energy erupts from the shadows of the creatures and buffets them from below, stopping them in their tracks.
"KRROOAAK!"
"Now!"
The three dash forth, each going for one of the momentarily stalled frogmen. The dancer narrowly slides past the edge of her opponent's blade. She augments the dagger she wields with dark energy, coating it so it slashes through the rubbery amphibian skin with ease as she passes. The thing's innards fly out as it is vivisected, landing with loud final croaks of distress.
Sadiq's eyes have a certain crazy light to them as he draws back the spear and suddenly lets loose a flurry of jabs at a superhuman speed. The frogman he confronts is stabbed innumerable times all over its body, blood spraying from the multitude of punctures. With a final thrust, he runs its ratty body through, where it remains motionless until he lets it slide onto the ground in a mangle of flesh.
Therion, using his two-hand technique to compensate for his bad arm, makes a move to stab at the leader frog. The damn creature blocks with its own blade, grabbing the thief's bad arm. He lets out a slight growl and kicks at the thing's belly. The frog throws him into the nearby current with an annoyed croak. He luckily avoids breaking his neck landing in the crook of the riverbed, legs sticking out of the water. Unfortunately, the big frog leaps right onto him at the next half second before he can resurface. It's not a light creature, and so its weight squishes all the breath out of him on impact, leaving him dazed. He takes a big gulp of the cold water and feels his chest burn and maybe a rib crack.
"GLUB-"
"Hang on, boy!" Sadiq charges forward and makes a wide thrashing sweep at the frog. He gets it to jump off Therion at least.
The large amphibian lands on the riverbank. The thief momentarily flails a bit in the riverbed before at least lifting his face out of the water, sputtering and coughing harshly.
Primrose rushes in at the retreating frog before it can counterattack, her blade poised with dark energy. Pain in her leg suddenly flares, and she feels sudden fatigue. Oh no. Had she ever performed so many waltzes and odes without rest? That pita from last night just evaporated into thin air. Weakness staggers her step, and the frog lunges at the opening. Her dancer reflexes manage to just allow her to avoid being disemboweled by the monster's strike.
"Ngh-!" Not quitting, she digs her nails at that slimy, cool skin, and thrusts her dagger into the red jewel-like eye.
"KRROOAAARRK!"
The thing lets out a roaring, pained croak, flinging her away with its flailing. She leaves her dagger lodged on its head, barely landing on her feet a few steps away. Her fingers tingle a bit, feeling strength leave her body. Dark magic has quite the drain. Shame she had forgotten that bit in the rush of recent events.
"Ugh…"
"ROOOOOORK!"
It cries out in a rage, and Primrose can see its muscles bulge a bit. It's just gotten madder.
"UOOOH!" Like a madman, Sadiq charges at it with his spear raised.
"Ngh…" Primrose musters the last of her drained reserves to perform an empowering dance.
Wavering as her step is, her trained self will not let her make a wrong move. The dark energies swirl once more, turning into a visage of a leonine shadow. It pounces with a soundless snarl, and envelops Sadiq momentarily. The old man's eyes light with fire and he lets out a roar with the tones of a majestic beast.
The frogman, not to be outdone, goes to meet his strike with its own empowered charge. Sadiq's expertise kicks in, and just before they would kill each other, he shifts just off to the side. The frog's blade grazes his ribs. With a sweep of the polearm, the spear tip crushes into the monster's head from the side, embodying the force of a pent-up tidal wave. The sheer force applied allows the shaft of the object with no edge to blast through the frog's head as though it were a blade made of force. Frog brain matter and flesh spatter for several feet as the body drops to the floor before Sadiq's feet.
"...ugh..." Primrose sinks slowly to her knees, now letting the fatigue wash over her. Gods, it feels like a labor even staying awake now. She looks tiredly to see Therion struggle to even haul himself out of the river. When he slides back in for about the fourth time, she staggers over to help him out. Due to both of them having no strength, he just lapses on top of her, knocking her over when he gets out. She can feel his wet body shaking a bit as he coughs, trying to regain his breath while lying on her.
Sadiq limps over a bit, holding his new wound slightly. He looks down at the two in a pile before giving a slightly goofy grin, without any sign of pain.
"Frog tonight, kids?
The two groan a bit in response. It takes a few minutes to get unjumbled. The thief finally gets some luck, feeling no actual broken ribs. But the beginnings of a nasty bruise already show in a dark, blotchy form on his chest. He wheezes a bit still as his breathing painfully improves. Sadiq happily goes off the begin butchering the frogs. Primrose limps over to the dead leader and retrieves her dagger. The eye oozes as she pulls it out.
"... We might... have to just rest for a bit..."
Therion clears his throat and fetches his wet clothes from the bank where they had been cleaning. Now there is a slow-acting burn on his bad arm. Annoyed, he sheathes his sword.
"... I'm going to make, kff, a fire."
He walks over, a bit unsteady to a patch of dirt amid the clean grass. Sitting down with a heavy thud, he scrabbles around his proximity for twigs or dry grasses and clears the dirt patch. There isn't much, and he doesn't find a lot of stones to line the fire to keep it from burning out of hand.
Primrose plods over and sits down, straining slowly. She tosses a small handful of sticks she had picked up. Therion takes those silently and makes the little teepee structure. Taking out his dagger from his sodden boot, he strikes the flat of its blade against a stone. No spark. Again. Zilch. After about five tries, he doesn't get much further than some pitiful puff of dust.
"Rrgh..."
With a fierce, low growl, he strikes the stone so hard it breaks. The little fragments of it light up like plasma as they fly and land on the tinder. Smoke ensues as a kindling flame is lit, much too small to really keep either of them warm. Primrose glimpses the blade in the thief's hand glow red hot and fade quickly.
"... You can use fire magic," She remarks lightly as she wipes her dagger clean of frog goo on the grass.
He grunts, "... If you call that magic."
Few can use even what limited degree of the elements he just showed. There are legends of how once, back when the gods and dragons lived among men, magic was abundant in the air and thick in the blood of people. Now it seems all but gone, lost to time like a fairy tale. He didn't like using whatever it was anyway, since it was always too hard to use, and too weak for any real utility. Marta's gang said it was supposed to be a sign of one chosen by Aeber, Prince of Thieves, who controlled flames. He couldn't care less, seeing as it was a chore even lighting a stove. Some blessing that is. He'll just stick with his acquired skill set.
But this one here... His eye glances at Primrose for a mere second. She is probably one of the first he's encountered able to use magic to this kind of extent of control and magnitude. Dark magic, nonetheless. That's nearly unheard of these days. He'd only heard of the powers of clerics being this powerful, but their whole spiel was with "faith" and "light" or whatever. They didn't like to call it magic, whatever it was they used.
Sadiq walks over to the two silently brooding by the mini flame. He has the butchered legs of a frog, thigh and all. Needless to say, his lower body is covered in the amphibian's blood. But he doesn't seem to mind one bit.
"Gotta get some food in those bellies!"
Primrose sighs, "That's a bit big for a tiny fire... Here, I'll cut it up..."
She cleans her dagger on the grass, mentally cursing a bit when her hand trembles from weakness. When Sadiq brings the meat over, she begins to cut that rubbery skin open, separating it from the muscle. It has a slightly rank odor from its slimy byproduct, but the clean waters here certainly help from making it smell worse. In general, the wildlife in the Riverlands are well kept by the pristine nature, allowing for cleaner smells and tastes. These frogmen were obviously not starving. The leg alone seems to be over half of Primrose's height, and very meaty.
After she's cut off a sliver, she spears it with her knife before holding it over the flame, which has grown a bit thanks to Therion sheltering it from any wind. When the meat begins to curl, she holds it up to Sadiq.
"Here. This was your idea, after all."
He chomps down on it, "Ah, hot! Taste like chicken!"
Doesn't seem toxic then. She makes another cut with the blade and cooks it the same way. When it cooks, it lets out a bit of its swampy smell. But her growling stomach was not picky. Once she blew on the cooked game a few times, she eats it tentatively. She then hands Therion the leg to carve his own piece.
He makes a bit of a face when he takes it. Hunger was indeed coming onto him. This would teach him for only having stolen some fruit and a candy, and drunk ale on an empty stomach. He cuts off a slab of the thigh and uses his sword to skewer it over the flame. As his piece slowly cooks, he realizes he's cut it too big and would take forever to cook.
He could just hear Heathcoate gloating at him all over again...
"You should have seen it coming... and that makes me grateful for your lack of foresight..."
It conflicts with another voice in his head. Darius.
"Always take the biggest share for yourself. Never know who else's going to want it otherwise."
If he could just sock them both on the face for good...
In his deep thought, his bad arm falters a bit and nearly drops the meat onto the flame. Sadiq, with reflexes of a cat, catches the slab before it can squash the small fire. The meat, which was cooking, sizzles against his hand.
"S-Sadiq, don't do that!" Primrose yelps, a bit alarmed.
Therion quickly uses both his blades to take the thing off the old man's hand. Sadiq's palm is now blistering and red from the juices sizzling from the flame.
"But we finally got a fire!" The pain does not seem to faze the old man and he looks blankly to Prim like a confused child, who sighs exasperatedly, "Plus, that's a waste of good meat."
"... Just go cool your hand in the river..."
"Aye, lady!" He bounces off towards the river.
Therion stares a bit as the old man goes before refocusing on his steak, "...That guy is some kind of monster."
"He saved you from that frog."
He ignores that quip. After his arm gets tired, he gives up and hacks off the perimeter, which is fully cooked, discarding the raw part. He wolfs down the dry meat and realizes he never refilled his waterskin.
"..."
Sadiq seems to be enjoying another shower session in the river, whistling something completely off-tune as he washes off the frog blood. Prim glances to him distantly, then up to the sky. They had dallied enough that soon it would be near dusk. She'd packed so sparingly to travel quickly. She has only her weapons of multiple throwing daggers, the Azelhart house dagger, and a pouch with a sandal strap replacement. There's also some leaves in the pouch and, of course, Yusufa's handkerchief and the map from Helgenish. She had wholly neglected water or food.
There is no vision better than hindsight. She sighs and lays down on her side in the grass and mutters tiredly, "...There's not as much monsters in the day... so we should move later after we rest..."
Her voice drifts off slowly as the tire from the enchanting dances takes their toll. Her hand lightly, tiredly, fingers where the necklace covers the mark on her chest.
Therion looks to the side, glancing at the roads. It's not a bad idea. The crazy old man would probably also be awake. Wait, was he seriously trusting his naptime safety to the crazy one?
After he finishes chewing the tough meat, he goes upstream of where Sadiq is in the water and drinks sparingly from the river. They didn't have vessels to boil their water after all. Then he props his clothing up as best he can with his sword and sheath so that it can dry by the measly fire. He sits, just watching the day slog on in the slowest time ever, even more than a stake out. His head nods slightly. Damn, he hadn't slept since he left Bolderfall, which feels like forever now. Ten minutes. That's all it will take. Just close your eyes for... ten... min...
"...zzz..."
…
Not again...
"Come on, mate!" Darius grins cockily as he runs ahead with the bag of loot, long red-orange hair trailing.
"You shouldn't shout so loudly, you know..." Therion has a rather smug grin nonetheless as he follows nimbly, "We're still in their playground."
"Oh, it's our playground now!"
They run past the dim and dingy cobbled streets. There is no hope here to find, only what one makes of it. That was how they lived as thieves. The rich criminal family of Ciannos never scared him once, not with Darius having his back.
"Cheers!"
They clunk their tankards together in the bar, enjoying their spoils. Darius chugs his down heartily before hollering for another. Therion only lightly sips his.
"You gotta stay sharp, partner. Maybe take it a bit slow. And then we'd have more coin left too."
"Aw, shaddap, Therion! I... I'm as sharp as they get, mate!"
It was probably those times Therion should have seen it. He knew how people revealed their true selves, their darkest secrets, when they were drunk. Darius was always a bit angrier with a bit to drink. He'd cuss Therion out and hate to take his suggestions.
And yet, the white-haired thief never saw that fateful day coming.
"I got a gig in the high up Cliftlands. Ciannos are planning a large caravan delivery, I heard."
He'd come to Therion, a bit more somber than usual. But he had the most exhilarated smirk on his face.
"Let's go."
The Cliftlands were a new experience for him then, a mountainous terrain full of high drops, strong, whispering winds, and perilous outcrops of rocks. They are just a tint darker than Darius' hair. It had grown quite long since they'd met four years ago. Darius liked it because it made him look like a powerful lion.
"Should be somewhere by that overpass..." Darius hands Therion his spyglass. They both stand several hundred feet high on one of the higher plateau cliffs, overlooking the trails to Bolderfall. Below, there are small glimmers from the river that runs through the canyon.
Therion takes the glass and looks through it. What he sees is Darius' sneering face. Suddenly, he's on the ground, Darius' blade digging into his shoulder. The pain is fresh as ever. Darius's boot is stomped on his other arm, and one hand presses on his diaphragm with all his body weight. He gasps a bit in pain, trying to look the other in the eye.
"D-Darius... Why-?!"
"You're a naïve fool mate..."
The ground under him gives away as that cackling of triumphant laughter fills his ears like a roar. He can't grab at anything to stop his free fall. Darius fades away from view, getting smaller and smaller, as Therion goes down, down, down from the cliff's edge.
He still had no idea how he survived. He remembered smacking his head on a rock and blacking out. After that, it was just very, very cold. Maybe he fell in the river by Aeber's luck. It was a miracle no monsters just nabbed him then either. The whole time he was in that dark place, he was sure he was dead.
"You shouldn'a trusted anyone, Therion..."
Weren't we partners? Allies? Brothers? Therion never had a brother. He was always usually alone, even in Marta's gang. Grew up on the streets an orphan, doomed to die if he didn't get his hands dirty. Jailed several times... Darius was the same. That's probably why he believed and trusted him. They were two peas in a pod, watching each other's backs.
But he shouldn't have believed.
That's why he won't trust this deceptive woman. Or this crazy old man…
Other than that, nothing else mattered… Maybe there should have been something to replace that void Darius left in him. He had tried to fill it with hate for the man, but those memories remained, lingering at the beginning of all his thoughts. It was annoying beyond belief, to be reliving how allured he was time and time again; how he fell for Darius' small words of praise, only to lose it all.
So, he just hates the world now. Hate those damn snot nosed rich nobles who look down from their mountains of wealth. He'll steal it all out from under them. Hells, he'll steal from anyone, man, woman or child. Hate that damn Heathcoate. Who did he think he was anyway? The way he moved back there in the manor… he wasn't an ordinary butler. Hate this stupid bangle that marks him a failure. Last of all, hate that damn Ravus woman… for looking at him with such sad and pitiful eyes, like he was a sick puppy.
He wants to just scream with the rage bursting. The nightmare grows in volume and intensity, barraging his brain with so many images, images of his failure then, and his failures now. The urge to scream rises to unbearable heights, consuming him like a flame.
"GH-!"
His eye flashes open. He sees the starry night sky. A cool wind passes over and he feels wet still. It's sweat. He's drenched in cold sweat. A coil of smoke rises to the stars. The fire's out. In his hand is a fistful of grass, ripped out from the ground beside him.
He didn't remember lying down, so he sits up and checks his clothes to see if they are dried. Almost immediately, he gets a lightheaded feeling in his head. He wants to vomit. Was it the frog? Or a fever? He glances at his wounded arm, which isn't getting any better.
He hears a murmur beside him. The dancer is curled up next to him, facing away. Her body quivers and twitches, and he hears little murmurs as she sleeps, accented by slight gasps. Was she just having an erotic dream?
"No… f-fa…ther…."
…Maybe not.
The night chill makes him sneeze. Despite how damp his clothes still are, he hastily dons his white shirt. He's about to put on the heavy poncho.
"…"
He ends up tossing his poncho over Primrose and just making do with his scarf. She stirs slightly, grabbing onto the cloth unconsciously. Looking around a bit, Therion sees Sadiq sitting down in the grass nearer the roads. The old man is still half naked, his back towards the two. The frog's blood is washed off. His legs are crossed with his spear balanced across. He seems to be looking up at the stars and talking to himself in an indistinct voice of gibberish.
Therion tries massaging his head a bit to quell the headache. His forehead feels very warm. Crap, a fever. Just great.
He shifts to see if he can stand and is shocked at how clumsy and weak his movements are. He ends up settling back on the grass in frustration. Now he's heavily reconsidering his choice not to take a sleeping bag with him. A hand goes to the straps of his boot, and his fingers go to touch and feel for the hidden amulet of protection he's carried with him.
"… You can sleep, Therion."
He looks up with surprise at Sadiq's gashed back. The old man does not turn. His beard sways in the wind. He sounds lucid for now.
"I will watch the roads."
"…"
For a moment, he wanted to believe that.
"You sure about that, old man…" Therion smirks a bit, "Even when I'm sick, I can see better, I'll bet…"
"…There," Sadiq points up at the starry map of the sky, at a small bluish light in the galaxy backdrop, "That is the star of Yusuf. I named my Yusufa after that star…"
"… uh huh." The thief did not have much ear for frivolous banter as the dancer did.
"Is it not beautiful… Why could you not see it… Hilma…" The old man's voice falls to a slight whisper, "You are beautiful… my Yusufa…"
Therion decides he'd rather chance sleeping normally than be lulled to sleep by a drippy boring story. He lets Sadiq watch.