“Lle maa quel…” he said quietly as he turned his gaze out over the city. That brought her eyes to him finally.

Did I hear him correctly? Surely not for there was no scorn or teasing in his voice.

And if he did say it? And meant it?

But he didn’t…

I think he did. I think he did, and I think he said it because you look like an elf in that. Just the way he wants you.

Nyx had moved on though, hidden in the shadows of his cloak again. Lips twitching she scurried after him until their feet fell into pace with each other again. Silence brooded like the swollen underbelly of thunderclouds. It threatened to break, but at the moment it let them take solace in its peaceful shadow.

Before reaching the imperial nesting grounds he guided her west and then whispered to a stop just past the little stone cottage wherein resided the newly appointed caretaker of the cemetery. His gaze flitted over the place for a moment, swept the surrounding landscape and scanned the necropolis beyond the cottage warily before finally coming to rest on Cayrimsa’s face… “Perhaps you should wait here.”

She let her eyes met his and gave him a bob of her head a reply.

A cemetery… by Prien himself I should have guessed. You would sleep amongst your victims…

She did not follow but instead leaned against one of the stone pillars just at the entrance as the flutter of his cloak melted into the shadows of the death place. He had given her this same courtesy earlier and she would return it. Besides, cemeteries bothered her. They evoked a jealous hatred that tried to eat at her soul and only starved. The comfort of death had overcome those who dwelled there. They all had been acknowledged enough by someone to warrant a memorial to their death in stone; and now the earth was slowly taking them back. It did not matter what blood had pumped through their hearts, it did not matter how much wealth they had acquired or what they had accomplished with their life, it was all reduced to worm fodder.

How I envy them… she thought as she let her eyes pass through the gates and upon the hewn stones pressed into the death enriched soil. A dark flutter caught her eye and she turned toward it, and found herself disappointed with the vision of a raven taking flight.

You envy him as well…

“Yes…” it tore from her breast as the raven moved into the tree above her.

Why Cay?

Her fingers graced the stump that remained of her left ear through the silken material of the scarf. “Because he belongs somewhere. Truly belongs there… out on the plains under the stars, with his people… he has people… his not being with them is his choice… and even in that choice he has his God…”

And you?

“I belong nowhere.”

What about to him? What if you could belong to him?

CAW! directly above her the raven seemed to mock this question. Pulling off the pillar her arms sweep the air between them. The bird took flight in a flurry of feathers.

“Hush you! Get out of here before I do something nasty!” She shouted before her voice dropped into a low whisper. “I know full well that would never happen. Half of everything I am is something he despises… he covets my elven qualities but could never accept the round eared qualities. And humans despise me for the qualities he covets. I shall never belong, to him or to anyone else…”

The snarl curled around her lips again as her brooding frame settled back against the pillar. A laugh coming from behind her finally pulled her attention from her own thoughts. Her head turned toward it and her mouth opened about to spill something at Nyx for mocking her but instead found that the laugh belonged to a grimy Halfling who was walking through the cemetery with an equally unkempt elf. Shovels were slung over their shoulders.

“I’d be willin’ to put t’ree silver down dat the ‘ole we jus’ dug twas meant for Sen’tor Olsta, an not ‘is wife.” The Halfling grinned.

“Ehh… you’d have te have three silver first!”

“Ye knowin’ what I’m sayin’. W’od want dat lady dead?”

“Who said it being a murder? No one twas arrested far as I knows. I heared it was that she chocked while eating.”

“Pshhaww. Gooseberry puddin’… I dun believe it. De word is dat she twas… poisoned…” the word caused the Halfling to waggle his eyebrows and grin.

As the elf leaned down his shovel switched shoulders, “And you should be careful what yer saying der little friend. We bury em… let de legionnaires worry ‘bout what puts em here…”

“Come on! Ye gotts te admit it’s supscicious. Sen’tor Olsta starts sayin’ ‘e’s gonna put up curfews an make t’ings ‘arder on folk like yew an all o’ a sudden ‘is wife drops inte her cobbler?”

“Ye mean suspicious” a roll of the eyes corrected the Halfling.

“Puddin’! Ye understood. Dayrned suspicious if ye’r askin’ me…”

“Too bad nobody is…”

There was something about the tone of the elf that narrowed Cay’s eyes and made her watch him a bit closer. The conversation had died though, the Halfling resorting to a series of grumbles that eventually turned into a hum as the two passed into the garden behind the caretaker’s cottage, seeming to miss Cay completely.

“Come on Nyx…” she muttered as the two disappeared out of sight and she went back to waiting.

“I…”

What is this? A civil conversation? And after he just insulted you and made you remember?

A slight flick of her head to wipe out the voice and she continued.

“I should have something at my place. Been awhile…” quickly she shut her mouth.

Why am I explaining things to him? I don’t need to explain anything to him. Is he closer?

Her eyes, still burning with the tears uncried, drop to her feet, catching the tips of black boots out of the corner of her vision at the same time. Silence overwhelms then. She does not ask if her place is closer than his, no doubt it is. Few but sailors call the wharfs their home, and Nyx is certainly not a sailor.

In that silence she takes the most direct route back to her place. The door on the first floor is cracked open now and inside a few voices can be heard amidst a wet slop noise. Fish being taken from the storehouse to be sold at market. Before reaching the front of the building, however, she skirts into a narrow alley and lets it wind to the secluded safety of the back of the Vergel Sea Port warehouse. In the narrow darkness of the alley she holds her breath again and works harder to focus her eyes on her feet and even then she can sense his closeness to her. It crawled over her like the miretse used to, making her itch.

It was not until they reached the foot of the ancient stairway that she paused and finally brought her eyes up to him.

“Wait here… I’ll bring your cloak down. I’ll be just a minute…” The bite was missing from her voice still. She knew it was, and quickly she tore her gaze from his and bounded up the stairs without awaiting his response. The hallow tinkling of bells announcing when she enters her apartment.

Just inside the canvas she stopped. Two things immediately gathered her attention. First is the black cloak huddling on her chair, casting its material across her floor in a rather insolent fashion, proclaiming its right to be there. Second is the tapestry he had complimented the night before. Sunlight now tickled the branches with the white lines crossing them.

Amen Hira Effa the phantom whispered.

They pulled her off finally. Threw her to the ground. Rocks bit into her hands and spilled her impure blood into the dirt. She scrambled back to her feet though and ran after Pyrodia. He stopped her though. The massive form of… Bittan Bolstoii… blocked her path, his eyes raging.

Cay screamed at him, but knew that the elven curses that passed her lips would not be understood by his blunted ears. It didn’t stop her from screaming.

“Quiet… half blood!” She understood what he said though. The slap across her small oval face helped to drive the point in further. In the distance Pyrodia’s eyes turned away.

Cay brought her fingers to her cheek, it was wet but when she pulled her fingers back it was tears and not blood that had caught on the tips.

“Cayrimsa… get a hold of yourself.” The backs of her hands rubbed out the tears that had spilled out of her eyes. “You’ve come this far. Don’t let that bastard elf… or… a Bolstoii get in your way.”

He only gets in your way because you let him. Did not even remember that your precious Pyrodia was a Bolstoii because you were so wrapped up in prodding at the elf…

He started it…

Childish Cay

“Hush…” she muttered as she made her way to a chest that huddled in the corner behind the loom. A few moments of digging into it and she pulled out a few items. As she had last night she began to peel her clothing from her body, but stopped with her dress midway up her thighs, eyes narrowing.

How long had he been watching last night Cay?

Scowl deepening she looked around the room and then cocked her head up to her skylight, searching for those pointed ears. Dropping her skirt she decided not to take any chances and pulled the pulley hanging from the ceiling and the flap of canvas pulled over the opening. Shadows fell over her and in them she changed quickly.

The tinkling of bells gave him warning that she was coming back down. Before she comes fully into view the black fluttering of his cloak fills his vision as it is tossed at his head.

“Be more careful about where you leave your things…” the bite returning to her voice.

The bite has not returned to her eyes, which is easy enough for him to see as the hat is missing, in its place is a purple scarf tied bandana style over her head with her ears carefully tucked under it. Knowing how exposed her eyes are, and how red, she keeps them fixed on some distant point instead of looking at him as she speaks.

Don’t you want to look at his face when he see’s you in that dress though?

No.

However, she does smooth out the full floor length purple skirt that graces her legs now and then tugs at the lighter purple top that has replaced the burlap dress. She still wears the billowing white shirt but it is pulled in snuggly to her curves under the sleeveless bodice. A high collar edged in delicate elven knots splits at the hollow of her neck and plunges down to the swell of her bosom. Around her middle a simple grey belt hugs her hips before giving way to the skirt. The dress is old obviously, the material wrinkled and bearing a few small stains, but still flattering.

“To your place then?” she asks as soon as he has refastened his cloak around himself.

“Dina! Dolle na lost, e llefea nan’eleaya ten’tavua!” He said as he pulled into close to her and shoved his pointy elven finger in the small space between them. Once again she pulled in her breath and held it in her chest not pulling back despite her initial instinct to do so.

I did it this time didn’t I?

Her back foot did slide a hair backwards and she locked her knees preparing herself for whatever assault he might bring upon her this time. It didn’t come though. Instead she watched as he took a breath and paused those yellow eyes taking on a look she couldn’t place. It lasted but a moment in reality, long enough for a fish to jump in the dark water behind them, for the wind to catch a lock of her hair and twist it up and over her shoulder, for the early morning light to catch on the waves and cast a sparkle across the bay, and no longer.

It was gone as he threw his arms and “Pach!” into the air between them and finally headed off.

But what was it? she asked herself as she stood there for a moment watching how his long black mane caught the light off the bay. Lust? Desire? No… well… yes… but no.

Dolle na lost… rang through her head along with the look in his eyes. Then the memory her dreams were trying to surface for her came back.

Nyx’s narrow golden eyes changed into the twin pale blue moons of Pyrodia. They were filled with water, spilling over and cascading down her plump face. She was speaking but little of it made sense. Only two things made sense. The first she said slowly and not completely correctly despite her practice: Amen Hira Effa. The second she whispered as she reached up and touched the gentle swoop of Cay’s pointed ear with the hand not confined in the sling: Beautiful.

Pyrodia was not the only one crying. Cay was screaming as she was pulled from Pyrodia’s legs, those unfortunate enough to get this duty were met with kicks and gnashing teeth…

With his back to her Cay’s face dropped and for a moment it looked as if she might cry, curled fingers went to her lips and behind them she whispered softly, “Raika. Feamin na lost.”

It was the flutter of her hair that brought her back she made a disgruntled noise with her breath and turned her expression back to stone. Wrenching her hat from her head. The soft pink light of the rising sun washed over the tresses as she pulled her fingers through it. The next moment the hair is twisted up on her head and disappeared under the hat as it is pulled back down low on her brow.

“I’m coming with you!” She calls after him and begins a brisk stride to catch up.

“Do as you will,” Nyx replied, waving a dismissive hand but not bothering to look back as he strode for the inland end of the Grey Arm. “See that you manage to keep up, though,” he added, a condescending grin besmirching his lips as he turned and looked her up and down once more, “if we plan to get you through the Imperial Quarter looking like that, we’ll need to move quickly… and keep to the few shadows that remain…”

Again she met his eyes as he looked her over and gave him a disapproving frown.

“You know I am not the only one who will have difficulties getting around the Imperial Quarter without raising a few brows.” Her voice retained very little of the acid it had only moments ago, surprisingly enough. “With ears like yours you should be in some cheap livery in that district, not running around with weapons strapped to your back and the symbol of Prien blazing off your belt. They would likely consider me simply some beggar… I might get shooed off, but you could be hauled off… Perhaps we would both benefit from a change of attire?”

She prayed that the expression on her face was void of any emotion and that her eyes were not red from the tears she had just kept back.

“Report to Dmitrova? Report what exactly? That you assaulted me in an alley and are out killing legionnaires that have nothing to do with our current task? That you’ve gone off on your own to scout on the little Bolstoii princess? Is that what I am supposed to go tell Dmitrova? And am I supposed to trust you not to finish the job and then run off to Dmitrova and make a report of your own, taking not only all the money for this but also all the honor? 

“I told you last night, adanedhel, that I do not trust you. You think that your little trick this morning has made me feel any differently to you? 

“I’ve had plenty of sleep. I do not need any further rest nor do I need your pity, or your compassion. Any compassion you might feel is only your confusion over the lust burning in your pants. Perhaps you would have benefited by finding a whore to thrash around with yourself last night. 

“Come to think of it… I know a few around here. Perhaps I should find you one and let you ‘rest’ up while I go and investigate the Bolstoii manse. 

“Or perhaps…” she smirks, “perhaps you are trying to get rid of me just so you can get the little Bolstoii princess on your own? Hoping to get a taste of a human yourself? Is that it?” 

This spews out from her even as the color rises slightly into her cheeks and she inwardly curses herself for allowing herself to lose control of her temper once again. 

“I’m going with you.” She finally ends without much room for discussion in her voice. 

Turning to head toward town she caught sight of her hair sliding over her shoulder and made a disgruntled noise. Her hat is wrenched from her head. The soft pink light of the rising sun washing over the tresses as she pulled her fingers through it. The next moment the hair is twisted up on her head and disappears under the hat as it is pulled back down low on her brow. 

She itched. Naken miretse. Little red naken miretse all over her body. Once she had tried to remember a time when she was not covered in them, and couldn’t. She had always itched, and in the spring it was always worse. The cold snows of winter melted and just as she felt that her own limbs had begun to thaw they were overtaken by the miretse. 

Scratching at her arms she crawled out of the little tent and found herself again assaulted by the smell of estolad nuarea. Around her the camp had begun to stir. On the far edge of the camp a small blue tent sat huddled in the mist. No one from that tent yet stirred but that was the tent she focused on. 

Pyrodia was in that tent. Pyrodia was the most beautiful woman Cayrimsa had ever seen. Everything about her was round something that Cayrimsa found intriguing. Her figure was a soft oval, her eyes were like the moon, even her ears were perfect half circles on her bulbous head. The ears were not as good at holding back her hair as elven ears were, so the golden locks would fall across her eyes constantly, and she would laugh and push them back vainly. Sometimes Cay would reach forward and push them back for her and they both would laugh.

The round woman had promised Cay that soon she wouldn’t itch anymore. A ‘tub’ would fix it. Cayrimsa was not sure what a ‘tub’ was or how it could stop her from itching, but she wanted to find out. She desperately wanted to find out. 

Soon… so very soon…

Laughter erupted around her prodding into her skull with jagged points. Before the taunts even began she had started to cry.

“Amin miqula he avari…”

“Laiwa earendil…”

The elven children taunted as they tossed pebbles at her.

“Waen agar!”

A rock hit her calf as the anger began to boil her waen agar…

“Wake up,” 

Groaning she opened her eyes and before truly allowing sight to enter them sent out a prayer that she would see the beautiful rounded woman before her. Instead her eyes took in the black angular form of Nyx standing above her and she groaned with distaste. His image blanked out for a moment by a great orange sun that landed in her lap. 

“Breakfast,” he said simply, his eyes scanning the rippling waters of the bay for a moment, finally sought out the amber eyes of the witch and, once having met them, flicked a meaningful glance at a damp-looking black bag that sat on the other side of the pylon against which she had been propped. “That’s for you, as well, yes,” he said, turning away and strolling a foot or so away as he feigned interest in finishing his orange. “We’ll talk business when you’ve finished eating and opened your gift, perhaps…”

“I’m not hungry…” muttering in a nearly healed voice as she plucked the fruit off her lap and tossed it over her shoulder into the dark waters. 

And even if I was I wouldn’t care for your handouts.

Her ‘gift’ was close to her and at this distance she could smell it. A heavy metallic scent that she knew all too well. Cautiously she pulled the strings of the bag and leaned over to peer at its contents. 

Out of the darkness a blue eye stared up at her from the palm of scarred hand. The fingers of the hand had curled up around the lidless eye and she could see the cheap gold ring with the ‘D’ engraved on it. The same ‘D’ that had been imprinted into her own flesh on more than one occasion. 

“Ehhh…” the sound escaped from her before she could stop it and she struggled to keep her eyes on the contents of the bag instead of lifting to the elf who had brought them for her.

Dugan. So he did watch… followed me last night like the bloody assassin that he is. And apparently didn’t like what he saw. 

Or maybe he did…

True. Perhaps the sight of me pressed up against the wall crying out into the darkness turned him on. No better than your human counterparts now are you Nyx? Jealous that you didn’t make me scream like that… unable to comprehend passion without pain. You are nothing special Nyx… so stop pretending you are.

You also will not get a rise out of me on this, not again… you want to hear me scream? You’ll have to try harder here on out.

Deliberately she reached into the bag and plucked out the hand with the eye still balanced in its grip. Eyes finally reaching up toward Nyx she rotated her own hand so that the blue iris of the eye fell upon him, almost as if allowing Dugan to have a final look at his killer. Still holding the hand she eased her way to her feet. The motion was not as graceful as she would have liked as her muscles ached and fought against her.

“I see you do not approve…” She glanced at the hand once more then tossed it after the orange. 

She allowed a small moan to peel from her as she stretched out her shoulders some, watching his face as the sound hit his pointy ears. 

“There are others of course. Will you do this to them all?” Slowly she took a step closer to him as she raised her hand up between them, giving him a good look at her blood streaked across it in explanation.

“Will you? Because it won’t matter. You could kill every one of them… and still you would not taste…” she paused and moved her palm to her own lips. Her tongue slipped out and trailed over her own skin from the point where her thumb met her wrist to the tip of her index finger and let her eyes lid slightly as the thick human blood filled her taste buds, “as sweet as a human…” 

The blood stained tip of her tongue disappeared with a lick of the lips that curled into a snarl again. 

You know that is lie though Cay... Elves do taste sweeter than humans. Don't you remember? Even through the screaming you could not help but to savor that sweet taste now could you?

Shut up you elven bitch! You told me to move on... I'd really rather not remember. Thank you very much...

But you do...

Ignoring the battle within she cleared her features as she watched Nyx.

“Now that you have that out of your system. We can get to work right? You said you knew where to start…” the taunting sultriness in her voice faded to a firm snap. The blood stained hand rubbed against her thigh transferring the stain onto the already well soiled dress.

Alone… she sighed after his presence had been gone from her space for several minutes. But am I really? How long had he been on the roof before he came down? What did he see me doing? How can I be certain that he isn’t there now? Watching… lusting perhaps… like some fetid animal…

Carelessly she swabbed the salve out of the vessel and across her battered neck. The little grey leaves… covered in his spittle… she snarled at but then popped into her mouth with a disgusted look upon her face after she coughed again. With a great hatred she noticed that they worked. Leaving them in her mouth she drew the blankets up over her head and buried herself in them on the pallet. Darkness consumed her vision and she closed her eyes desperately trying to will herself to sleep.

Should you allow any of them to harm her, Captain, then you’ll also need to turn them on me…

Even in the dark his words came back to her. She rolled over to her side and tried to wipe her mind clear. On this side of the bed his breath was upon her face though.

You on the other hand, arwenamin, seem to be keen on undermining anything that may be placed within your reach for no other reason than to sate your own self-loathing and unreasoning hatred towards the points of ears which you have long since carved away from your fetid little head…

Groaning she clutched the blankets up to the nubs of her ears, even through the blankets she could feel the scars where once graceful points had held her hair back. 

Something for you to think on.. the phantom elf whispered out of the darkness. She rolled to her other side, her lips pressing tightly against her teeth against the memory of his kiss.

There are no others of my kind, Cay… what remained of my clan I dispatched to their end with my own hands after your beloved humans had killed or enslaved the rest…

Finally she plopped herself onto her back and tore at the blankets that now twisted around her. They bunched at her feet and she took a deep breath opening her eyes and half expecting to see his yellow eyes gleaming out of the darkness, that smile on his lips as he examined her bare figure in the starlight that drifted through the skylight. Instead the branches of her blood red tree spread themselves over her.

Your weaving is exquisite. You’ve really quite captured yourself in that piece over your bed…

“Aaarreeegggggggghhh!” She cried out in frustration and pulled at her hair as the final whispered words drifted over her skin.

I may have to touch you…

“No. I won’t let you.” Finally she sat up, giving up on the thought of sleep. Her impure blood coursed through her veins quickly. Desire and hate burning across her flesh and her mind until she could stand it no longer.

He is nasty to you and you lash out at him… when he is trying to be civil and decent… perhaps even nice… you lash out at him. What is it you want Cay?

“I just want to be left alone! I don’t ask for his hatred, his pity, or his kindness!”

What do you want? the voice repeated.

“You know damn well what I want!” The next moment she was across the room, tugging her clothing back on, snarling as that elven scent drifted back up to her as she did. 

This isn’t what you want… the voice mocked her with a laugh.

“Enough!” She spat and with a jingle of bells left her space to enter the darkness of the night once again. Through the mud of back alleys along the wharf she wandered, pulling her hat down over her eyes to hide the stars from her vision. Reducing her vision to the tips of her boots did not impede her progress though, the path she took no doubt embedded in her memory. 

Mud gave way to wooden planks and her footsteps made dull echoes along the dock. A few feet of this and another set of footsteps moved in behind her. A smile began to curl at the corner of her mouth.

So predictable…

Is this what you want?

Yes! 

When the arms finally wrapped around her she jumped for but a moment before being spun around in them and finding herself looking up into a familiar face. The human had a long scar running down through his left eye and seared it shut with the unforgiving tissue. The other eye, a brilliant blue, gleamed down at her in the moonlight as a smile cracked over jagged teeth. 

“Been awhile…” the voice was rough and solid, just like the body that was now pressing against her own.

As Nyx had pressed against me… 

She returned the smile to the human and turned her face up. “Very true. It has been awhile. But I see you have not forgotten…”

A laugh, “Forgotten you?” A hand slid down her back to the swell of her bottom and gave a hard squeeze even as his hips shifted against her. “No… I couldn’t forget you.” 

“Not too busy protecting the docks tonight then?” a teasing tone to her voice.

“Seems you are the worst that could happen to them, now doesn’t it Cay? Perhaps keeping you occupied is the best way to protect them.” The face disappeared a moment before she felt lips upon her bruised neck. 

“ummm… seems so…” she whispered through a slight wince at the pain his nibbles caused.

“You hurt?” The man pulled back and took a look at the flesh he had been teasing. A look rippled over his one good eye. “You’ve been with someone else…” The voice dropped into a dangerous growl.

Cay did not pull from his arms though, instead she looked up into that eye until stars clouded her vision as the fist she had been anticipating crashed into her cheekbone. Even expected, it took her a moment to recover from the suddenness of it, and the pain. It seared through her like wildfire, consuming everything else just as she had anticipated it would. The desire and hate she had been feeling when she left her space was eaten by the pain that now burned in her core.

Opening her eyes finally she stared up into that human face while she grabbed the collar of his shirt and pulled him closer. Their lips met in a violent kiss that consisted more of teeth and raw passion than anything else. Arms curled tightly around her before dragging her into the shadows created between a building and a mountain of crates…

…ten minutes later the shadows let go of the large man first. Throwing back his brutish shoulders he refastened his belt and grins with satisfaction. Still adjusting his uniform he wandered down the seafront without a glance back. 

As his footfalls stop reaching her ears Cay herself stumbled out of the shadows. She wiped her lips with the back of her hand and drug the blood it drew against her thigh. A rose madder blossom already blooming across her left cheekbone. 

Well you don’t smell like him anymore now do you?

“No…” she whispers between deep breaths. Commerce and mortar… “Exactly…” 

With the scent of the human still fresh on her and the memory of his hands pulling at her skin while he took her she walked toward Gray Arm Dock. Going back to her space for a few hours of sleep would be a futile task and she knew it. The space no longer seemed completely like hers anyway. He had invaded it. He had touched her things, breathed upon her things, cast his sickly yellow eyes upon her things. It would reek of him still. It was better to simply go to the dock and await the coming day there. 

Once at the dock she took little care to look around the shadows for Nyx. 

He could be there… still watching. Perhaps he has trailed you this whole time. Perhaps he even saw what you did.

“I almost hope he did…” she whispers into the sea as she melts down against one of the heavy logs. Black waves washed in toward her and pulled back out into the great ocean. Above that the sky spread out in every direction. Stars winked at her and bounced their luster off the crests of the ocean. 

Long ago someone had taught her about the stars. The stars each had names and most of them belonged to a constellation that had a name as well. Constellations belonged to greater groups of stars that sometimes also had names. Each revolved in a perfect harmony around the others. If one took the time to truly study them the answers to the universe could be found. No matter how many times she gazed upon the stars, though, the answer she sought never appeared. 

Silently her swollen lips began to name the stars she saw above her. One by one they were named and still they brought no answers… only sleep. 

Her face hidden under the brim of her hat as it rested between her knees and her chest Cay did not notice when the stars began to fade from the sky and the first streaks of light played across the horizon.

“Your dagger.”

The ever-present grin almost faded completely from the Twilight Elf’s face, then, and his moon-colored eyes narrowed suspiciously. Inwardly she grinned as she watched the conflicted emotions play in his eyes. 

Weren’t expecting –that- now were you dear? No… no you weren’t… 

“You may never trust me completely, Cayrimsa Etellenya,” Shyndyn said in a hushed tone as he took hold of the weapon’s cold blade, the bloodruby set in its pommel pointing at the half-elf, and laid it gently atop the yawning gash that marred her hand, “and for that I cannot blame you… trust is not a thing easily found in either of us… but let us hope that this, perhaps, imparts enough to, at least, allow us to work more efficiently together, yes?”

She was somewhat surprised when he relinquished his blade to her.

Not what –you- were expecting either now was it?

Her fingers curled around the hilt and she found the cold metal stung the wound across her palm. As he slowly came closer she found herself looking at her hand, at his dagger with the beautiful gem in its hilt, again losing her breath. It was very…

intimate…

Unexpected. When he edged close enough she pressed the dagger to his throat with her trembling fingers. “One wrong move mith’ganni…” she whispered quietly but firmly.
I almost hope you –do- move. I wonder what you would sound like screaming. I wonder if I –could- make you scream…

“More familiar with spells than steel, yes,” he noted aloud, wincing a bit but elsewise ignoring the tickling sensation of the tiny stream of scarlet blood that trickled from the edge of the blade to disappear under the collar of his padded coat, “Carefully, arwenamin. The blade is poisoned and I should not care for my corpse to be dumped in the bay.”

The smile on the mith’ganni’s lips was a curious mix of nervousness and wary confidence in the fact that she wouldn’t kill him just yet; “I may continue, yes?”

Her eyes had simply narrowed on him at that even while thoughts of him screaming in a puddle of his own blood entertained her thoughts. It was his touch that shattered these thoughts though. The slender fingers that played against her skin were much gentler than she thought they could be. It did not hurt though she took a raspy breath as if it did and held it again. A light, almost drunken, feeling wrapped around her head as she found herself all the more aware of what she was not wearing as he kneeled so close. For the second time today she could feel his breath upon her. Her nose twitched slightly as she took in his scent. Elves smelled so differently from humans. No matter how long they had lived in an urban setting something to their smell recalled memories of campfires and running through the woods on a spring morning. Humans smelled of the city, of commerce and mortar. 

And what do I smell of?

“You have herbs as well as books on that shelf, yes?” he asked, his hands moving slowly and staying within her sight as they moved from her neck and jaw, “feer’apsa, arnica, and perchance a bit of lavender?” 

Very slowly she nodded her head. The dagger moves from his throat half an inch, giving him the leeway to move again. The sudden civility that was occurring between them made her itch. At the shelf she directs him to a few of the items, small boxes, jars and vials contain what he is looking for and more. There is even a mortar and pestle on the bottom shelf, a bit of some bluish dust in the bottom, which she asks him to wipe out before he uses it. 

While he prepared the unguent she held onto his dagger. The dark blade that still held a thread of his pure elven blood was interesting. Poisoned, he said. Carefully she caressed a finger along the flat edge of the blade. Her head was still feeling slightly light from the… intimacy… unexpected turn of events. 

Why are you so confused about things Cayrimsa? You are half elven. Denying your blood does nothing to change it. 

I swore… never again. I meant it.

Ohhh… that. Cayrimsa, that was ages ago. When will you let it go?

Never.

The sound of a scream rang through her head and the taste of fresh sweet elven blood coursed over her tongue. Elven blood… elven blood… her eyes flicked to the dagger in her hands. There it was that thin line of dark red against the ebony of the blade. With a muffled cry she leaned forward and buried the blade into the floor boards with a heavy thud. 

Nyx’s yellow eyes rose up to meet hers with her sudden movement, as expected there was some satisfaction in them at her sudden outburst. Before he could make whatever comment was coming to that snide smile upon his lips she once again held out her hand to him.

“Give me that. I’ll tend to my wounds from here. I appreciate your assistance and I’ll see you in the morning. And… there is a door…” her voice taking on a slightly acidic tone to it again as she cocked her chin toward the canvas covered entrance to her space.