Fantasy Gifts From A Moon God

[unais]

His growls rumbled under her skin as she held him in her hands. A soft, warm tremble. It was pleasant. It pulled her closer to his reality as it tugged, something, in her heart. To draw nearer to feel his protests, his affections, in these soft rumbles from his throat.

One of these snapped the name from her mouth. It was not a romantic intention that she spoke of. Any companion of his... lover, platonic, comrade... She would want them to exist. She didn't want him standing there, with his back turned, a hard light obliquely cutting across him as he stood alone with his history. She had wanted to breach the gap between them.

It seemed they had begun to.

A shiver made its way through her lips as he laid her down on the bed, her eyes cast to the side. Many things of trepidation appeared inside her. She made herself look at him. He kissed her chest, above her heart. Where she had marked him in kind, with a knife in a candled light. Touching her neck, her mind could not ignore him. It could not flee to its scattered places. The press of his lips, the way they peeled away from her as the skin stuck with their moisture. The softness of the touch. The shiver breathed out.

Always. He would be here with her.

 

[Malhyanth]

The time passed sweetly, as he doted upon her. Lying happily with her spread across his bare chest, the werewolf listened to her even breathing, her occasional snore, and just let time eek by; it was something he quite enjoyed. Allowing time to slip by unhindered, like he was in a semi-meditative state, listening to the sounds around him. Her breathing, and her pulse. The bunsens and dripping sounds of her laboratories. The open window clinking every now and then on its hinge, the birds and crowd noise beyond. Below them, the rumble of chatter from the Tavern; he noted with a slightly mischievous smirk they were likely to have heard the exchange. Heck, the way the girl had keened, people outside would have heard her.

The meditative state continued, eyes following the slow progress of sunlight across the ceiling, as it refracted through the room. The different smells that entered his conscious mind, and drifted away again. The tastes upon the air, which reminded him of the food within the room. Prodding at the girl's arm, he found Panyin to be particularly heavy sleeping. Using the crook of his arm to keep her in place, he used his strength to lean across the gap and grab some of the cheese and bread he'd ordered, now pleased he'd done so, as this was the perfect snack, whilst he waited the sleeping lass to awaken.

Outside, the walkways were quietening, but a singular odd individual, covered in scales, and a reptilian faced stared at the open window, and then the note within his hands, with strict instruction not to harm the two. A sly grin spread across his flat face, splitting his face wide, with the expanse of mouth. The explosive wouldn't be harmful; it was like a very smoky firework. But it would get the point across. He'd wait. At least until darkness...

 

[unais]

She woke in the musky heat like a summer night. The colder wisps from the window that made it through the miasma told her otherwise. It was just the air of the room, hot with dew, breath, showered clothes, and the radiated heat of the werewolf below her. She struggled to rouse herself from a firmly clutching sleep. Light was hard to find here, it was a darker evening than she had expected, and her eyes had not caught up with it yet. It was Wy'Ziot's skin, that reflected light more than it caught it, which made it easier to see him. Golden light was staring to eke in from the angle over the city. The high walls would make it dark in due time.

He stared down at her placidly, finishing chewing. She blinked, and reached up to wipe crumbs from his face, before leaning in.

She didn't hesitate, but two minds frazzled, one desire and the other of caution coming again, like a sickly pain. Her eyes trembled as she did this, but the touch indulged her, allayed her fears. She fell into it.

She kissed him. She dragged herself upwards where she could be over him, and kissed him again. And there were more after. Her hands worked over his hair. She stayed there for a time, resting her head against his, her eyes closed, before slumping back over his side, letting an exhaustion have her for a moment. She thought it was that she hadn't yet woken, but she noted that it was something she couldn't quite shake. She had felt short flashes of awake and asleep. Was orgasm really such an exhaustion? She doubted that he would show the same malady, but time would tell.

He handed her his sandwich, which she took gratefully and bit into, but rolled over from him as she held it. "After all I've done for you..." It was obvious to what she referred. But the food was there. She suspected they would eat soon.

With considerable preparing, she set herself at the window, and lent against it as she enjoyed her meal. "Do you think the tailors are still open? I left some orders there... and other things..." To shop for. All left behind in a temper. "Maybe if I leave now I can still make it...?"

He readied himself to get up, and offered her means to help herself up as well. A chuckle choked in her throat, as she looked at them, bare naked and delicately stepping about in this little tavern by the edge of the city. It was not befitting them. She was ready for clothes, but there was no way they had dried. Panyin pulled a shirt from the chair it was hanging over. Still damp. She laid it over herself, despite how Wy'Ziot may be looking at her, and sat back on the bed. She invited him three times, it felt like; she was now going to eat only when he invited her.

 

[Malhyanth]

As she crawled up his chest to kiss him, the sandwich was quickly swallowed that he'd been happily chewing on, and he cupped the back of her head in his hand, and returned it in kind, deep and gentle. His chest grumbled at her stroking of his head like a happy dog, and he grinned on her lips, as she pulled away and rested her forehead against his own. His free hand stroked down her back from the back of her head, and he let her do as she pleased with him, accepting her ministrations and enjoying them.

As she tried to drag herself away, he couldn't help but chuckle at her troubles. Was she so unused to such an event as theirs? He rolled up to a seated position, drawing his legs up as he leaned towards her, giving over the remains of his sandwich to Panyin, the smile continuing to play about his lips. "My, a little rusty are ve, beautiful?" He nudged her, mottled eyes flashing as he watched her sluggish movements. He drew a knee up closer to his chest, he leant an arm against it, watching her move. Admiring her, and smirking. "I vas tempted, to taste the food vizhout djou, but I could 'ardly do zhat." He tilted his head, admiring her curves, as she looked out at the world beyond.

"Zhey might vell me, Panyin. I shall prepare for a meal 'ere if djou vish to go and see for djourself?" Wy'Ziot indicated the hearth in the room. "I'll speak vizh the Tavern keeper. See if I can get a few of zhe pots 'eated again." He smiled at her, and stood, taking the damp cloth off her as she tried to warm it using her skin. "Do not do zhat djou fool, let's look for some clozhes in zhese drawers and chests. Zhere vill be clozh at least!" He started to pull drawers open, finding strips of cloth that were meant for patching, or wrapping things. She was so small, she'd manage to work them into a way to cover herself if she so desired. Whatever he found, he flung at her, face a mischievous smirk as he did so.

 

[unais]

"Rusty," he asked. "Yes." Not the word she would use. "Extremely." It embarrassed her to reveal it was the first time under… these circumstances.

Not painful.

Wonderful actually. Fertile ground to sow better memories. She was not keen to dredge up what lay beneath, not yet. Perhaps it was not even important, and would not ever need to be mentioned.

She shifted as he watched her. A beautiful creature. She had heard him. She saw the eyes that held her as he nudged her body and smiled. She knew it wasn't getting through. It hit the forefront of her brain without penetrating it. She wondered with a start if that was to be a new nickname for her. That may be harder to handle.

Her eyes flicked up and she held him in her gaze. She watched him, watching her, the way one admired a desired piece.

No. Something a little more profound. Her eyes unfocused. Her pose unchanged.

It was the way one watched a lover.

It just occurred to her. Perhaps, even then, when he had looked at her before, there was a gaze like this ... She hadn't noticed.

The casualness. That she were naked and he looked at her. It was meaningless then. An amusement and a moment that passed uselessly for both of them. But now… it was not meaningless at all.

Her head turned slowly to the window. A flush crawled in flourishes down her spine, curling her skin into the prickles. Her body arranged as well.

He began to get up, starting into an awakeness.

He wouldn't start a meal without her.

"You can--I permiss you. Eat." This was starting to be a trend. He wouldn't eat without her in a position to eat as well. She didn't see herself persuading him from this. "I would be happier if you ate."

He had snatched away her damp clothes. She was apparently a beautiful fool. Her frown a pout as she observed him, while he rummaged the room. She frowned, detangling odd cloths he had tossed at her. Somehow she was to puzzle this into a set of feasible clothes. She puzzled over this, a heavy frown as she thought. There was a cloth that could pass as a large scarf. The rest of the scraps were so in pieces she could hardly picture the result not being such as a loincloth. With her soft body and complexion, that such outfitting was absurd. She hadn't the skill or callous, trim fit for it.

He tossed her something else she could make use of. Oh.

She unfurled it, a long sheer sheet of scarf someone had likely packed in and left behind. A shame. Or perhaps a tablerunner for more festive times.

Wy'Ziot's weight crossed the threshold of the door and Panyin turned too late to see him go downstairs; missing how he had covered himself for the tavern, if at all. She would see when he came back. Supposed he still had one new tunic. But she didn't imagine he lacked the confidence to go downstairs without.

She squinted at the task at hand. She'd no thread and needle she wanted to break out for a short stint down the cobblewalk. And she didn't want to. She made it harder for herself.

When he came back she was still trying to figure this out, and when he had well started into heating the food she was still at it.

Knots tied and untied, her hands pulled through strange loops. Awkward, loose shapes draped over her and made her heavy and billowy. Cloth piled over her sides and arms and yet covered nothing. When he looked at odd moments, she stood quiet; in deep, serious thought.

When the smell of roasted meat steamed the room afresh, and she had managed... something. It haltered her neck and closed between her breasts in a small, tight knot that at the end of the deep plunge down her throat. Another knot closed the back, tightening an underbust. The short rest of cloth dangled freely below her bust, framing a revealed stomach. Her back showed from the base of her neck to the base of her spine. The other long cloth wrapped into her belt, with other scraps laid in under it to give it some form of opacity, if only between her legs.

She stared critically into the small mirror, trying to find a sense of community in this clothing--any region this was common.

It was not. Terrible. In design. At least the upper half of it. It was not an unfamiliar design. It did not leave it all as a shapeless mass. And the skirt billowed in a passable manner that if not looked at directly, it seemed like a skirt. Her shoes were the same as she had, and did not match the loose, summer look. But the lack of apparent seams or stitching; the mild disharmony of color, a rusted red and violent blue, screamed how it was just things thrown together because she had nothing to wear--or was just robbed and unwilling to admit it.

"Is this really better than what I had before?" Perhaps a wet, white cloth was preferable. A hand came to her face. She was going to make her way to a tailor's in extremely makeshift clothing. It was so mortifying she felt a pang of need to wait till her clothes dried by morning.

But at his behest or teasing she would do it immediately. She was terrible like that.

He had given her leave to see how long the market was open, and she shrugged, starting out, her feet taking her to the door. And as she crossed there, she stopped as if he had held her back. As if there were a hand grasped around hers. She settled with herself, laying a hand on the frame as the awkward moment came in. Knowing and hardly acknowledging what she knew and wanted.

It was painful that such a dissonance of her mind and body stopped her fully. She came back inside.

Stopped before him and stared at him. And he at her. Her wrist was held, as if she could twist the bones like a bracelet. A moment passed, and they relaxed, as did her mouth.

"I don't want to leave you here." She looked surprised to have spoken her thoughts. Her fingers snapped to his lips, embarrassed for herself, cringing; afraid of what he was going to say. She allowed him to make her relinquish her fingers, and came in to lean her head against his chest. She stared down.

"...I don't need... to stay by you all time." Her fingers curled around his. She felt the flicker of a shudder in her breath as she spoke. "...But I want to... for now..." It ended.

It wouldn't always be like this. She was afraid of transforming into something else she didn't recognize. She watched people who clung to each other in her mind. As if they could not let go. Is that what this was? Her mind dropped into a dark mass of fear. But her mind escaped this trapping, as it turned outward, when he started toward the hearth, to plate for them. To finally begin eating. Her hand held his until he was able to slip away. Panyin's breath came back in a huff, as if her self had returned, and she swiped the skirt aside.

She had escaped for now.

They sat on the floor where she set the meal before. She ate.

But now he would have begun to notice. Panyin ate like it was a task set upon her. She focused as to get it finished. She peeled meat from the bones with her teeth and sucked the marrow from its hollows, pried out with the take of other bones. Nothing was wasted or picked out of her meal unless burnt. Whatever was put in front of her, she ate, without complaint or compliment.

When she noticed him looking at her, she paused, her glance flickering back and forth. At him and the food. She turned her head. The flush grew at the base of her ears.

She topped her meal with water, and seemed to check her satiety at the end, rather than a sense of happiness to what she should have enjoyed. It was a finished thing, and she seemed satisfied to do it. Now she would not faint. She passed the time by scrubbing out her nails with a scrap that they'd found, wetted from the other room in her own weirdness. The room was certainly... something. It smelled of alchemy, laundered clothes, and sweat and breath. And half a goat. With leeks, and carrots, and beets roasted until they popped. The chefs seemed to take her request seriously, and had not neglected her meal with their seasonings. How surprising, for the city.

Panyin noticed him enjoying the afterglow of his meal, and stretched, going to stand. She held her hand out to him. She'd no delusions she could help him up, but she didn't topple over as he almost set some of his weight into her. He had to stop her from dragging him out of the room without the rest of his clothing, and she was impatient, laughing. She had no words. There was nothing for her to say. Time passed oddly now. It snipped by, in short, sweet, exciting moments. Embarrassing, awkward, and stupid, but...

She was happy.

They broke free of the tavern's impassible heat, and the cooling stones welcomed them. Wind swept down into the streets with feeble grasp. She noticed her own hand enfeebling as they walked. It was perhaps better not to be greeted by so many eyes. But she was not sure. Hesitance, and her hand fell away from his.

She made them take the streets with a renewed vigor. A short hum even crooned in her throat as she thought through to where they were. She stopped shortly. She was not musical, not lyrical, and it embarrassed her to be so. Night was falling, with the last vestiges of titian light staying in the sky until its hold would be ripped from it in a slow, sweet sunset. A sunset they could not see from within the forted walls.

"Oh, there." She grabbed Wy'Ziot's arm, pointing to the sign held out over the shop which was, now admittedly packed in. "That was the one." Panyin proceeded forward as if it didn't apply to her.

She rapped on the window. It was a wooden shuttered one without panes, the slits of light coming through the slats growing stronger, in the encroaching darkness. The bustle inside paused, and she knocked again.

A woman opened it. She was a full woman, her auburn hair curling out of its ties that'd been left up all day. "Oh," she started, with Panyin's hair coming into light. "Oh!"

"Sorry for the wait. Could I pay for my order, now?" The jangle of coin pulled up with the pouch from her waist.

"Good to see you're not dead, dear. Yes, of course." They inside seemed not to be overly fussed. She appreciated people who were not overly uptight. The man went back to preparing their meal, what seemed to be a soup of vegetables and a meaty broth with cream. The other lady went to the back while the one before her retreated to retrieve the ledger. They brought the clothes folded into a neat square, tied over and across with a thick string. The auburn-haired woman in front of her looked over her books and a crook of a smile cracked her expression before she resumed her bookkeeping. "Beautiful top."

"Please." Panyin retained her smile, but her eyes shuttered with the mortification.

"Eight gold?" Extremely steep, but Panyin expected as much and tried to remember the quality of the cloth they had worked with. She prayed it was that, and the transport of materials, the beautiful dyes, and the demanding custom order.

"Here you go." And handed it to them.

"Tell us if those stockings don't fit, will you?" Panyin was not sure if the woman was serious or just being polite. People had quite a grasp of time in cities, and hated to spend it on others for free.

"I may." Panyin smiled. The woman smiled back at her.

"You have a goodnight, dear."

"Thank you." She closed the window.

There were people passing by them, lighting lanterns in the street. Panyin held the clothes to her, feeling the chill, but not wanting to acknowledge it. Her back looked completely bare from behind. A laugh huffed from her throat as she looked at the two of them again.

"...What would you like to do now?" She held her clothes out of his reach, thinking they were going to be a surprise. "I'm not going to change now." There was no point.

 

[Malhyanth]

Wy'Ziot smirked at the way Panyin started to flush with the way he looked at her, and turned away to avoid his gaze. Before she could get more agitated by his watching, the way she moved fascinating to him, he stalked to where he'd thrown his trousers, and slipped them on, lacing their front with ease, and smirking at her as she rifled through the cloths he'd found. He took up the wet shirt he'd snatched from her and carefully refolded it, bringing the random things around the room he'd draped the damp clothes on closer to the hearth. Satisfied she wasn't returning to her damp items, and was instead working with what they had, he left, still shirtless, and headed down to the Tavern proper.

The staff behind the bar were happy to be of assistance, passing him wood and lighters to start the fire in their room; clearly a job they were happy not to have to attend to. They also provided a cast iron skillet, large and round, with a stand, to place over the flames. He thanked them, ignoring the stares to his back and sides where there were more scars than unmarked flesh, and returned, finding Panyin in a very fetching arrangement of clothing. He set up the apparatus whilst she fiddled, stealing the occasional glance to the curve of her back, the flow of the cloth against her body. He struggled to not pick her up there and then and take her all over again! There really was something about this girl in clothes that excited him. Perhaps it was due to being wild for so long, alone, and forgetting the grace and enjoyment one could get from the feminine figure in the simplest of accessories. Maybe he just had a bit of a thing about the way cloth hugged the form.

Ladelling the food from one pot into the deep skillet and reheating was easy once the fire was just right. The smells were even better than he'd imagined, and Wy'Ziot was soon salivating. He looked over at her as he started to dish up, and nodded approvingly. "Djou should use zhat design more; it looks vonderful." He watched her cross to the door, as he gently stirred the food, preparing it to keep it going till her return. When she turned back at the door, he frowned at her a moment, her expression lost. "Are djou ok?" He commented, and was shocked as she made her way back, a level of shyness suddenly coming around her. He smiled, kindly, placing his hand over where she grabbed at his and raised it to his lips and delicately planted butterfly touches to the palm of her.

"Djou can stay vizh me for as long as you vant, 'Ot 'Ead. I am 'onoured djou vant me by djour side." He grinned at her, before taking leave of her, to return to ladelling some more food into the skillet to heat for them both now. It didn't take long to heat through, and he plated for them both, handing it to her, and settling himself down too, cross legged. The meal was simply wonderful, and he spooned it in like a ravenous beast. An almost constant rumble of appreciation rolled around his chest as he ate, the Wolf within exceedingly pleased with this offering, like it was something specific for him. When he looked up long enough to see Panyin's expression around the food, he tilted his head; she did not seem to be enjoying anything about this meal as much as he was. In fact, it almost seemed like food was a task she could barely be bothered with. Wy'Ziot wasn't sure he could understand that; to him, food was one of life's great pleasures. When she caught his watching, she ducked her face and flushed, and this troubled Wy'Ziot somewhat, but it was definitely not something he was going to raise with her now; he would ask later, when she felt more like talking.

Once satisfied, he set his plate and spoon aside, inspecting the bones for use in other ways, and stretched out his long torso, muscles bunching and flexing as he moved, beneath the pale pitted skin. As he went to rise, Panyin offered her assistance. A mischievous smirk passed over his lips, and he took her hand and pulled, himself shooting up to his full height, and catching her as he went, lips colliding with her own in a stolen kiss as she was yanked into his bare chest. He laughed, and let her go quickly, though she tried to drag him out half dressed. Dragging himself into the new article, lacing bits here and there, his midriff on show where he hadn't placed the tunic underneath, he admired the way it looked bare underneath, and raised a cheeky eyebrow at Panyin, holding out his hands for her to admire the look, all scar and toned flesh. She didn't pass comment, only pushed him out the door, which they locked behind them, and out into the street, a few comments passing around at the sight of them, barely even registering in their happiness with each other.

Her excitement at the idea of new clothes was almost infectious, and Wy'Ziot followed her, chuckling at the way she beat the pathways and roads, humming away, but stopping before she actually burst into song. He would have to ask her to teach him the words; he knew the tune, but was unaware of the lyrics. Or at least, the lyrics as she might know them. He knew lyrics from his homeland, but she would not understand the language. Wy'Ziot let her storm forward to where she had ordered her clothing, seeing bright lights within the store still. Wy'Ziot listened to the chatter from where he stood in the street, bowing his head to the woman, but one of her comments brought him up short and his eyes narrowed at her. "At least you're not dead, dear..." What an odd thing to say? Mottled eyes started to flick about; new travelled fast in this City, despite its size, and suddenly, a knot formed in his chest, and his Wolf was pushing at his skin. What had the woman meant? Such an odd comment to pass. Panyin didn't seem to have noticed it, so Wy'Ziot pretended he hadn't been affected, but his lines were suddenly tense.

As he noticed her shiver, he wrapped himself around her back, leaning over her, to kiss her bared shoulders and neck, but also as an excuse to be closer to her for a moment; feel her as reality. He indicated the direction from which they had come. "Let's 'ead back. Somezhing doesn't feel right..." He let her go, and kept her in front of him. "Go slow. Ve're being vatc-----"

"Indeed you are, Wolffffffie." Wy'Ziot twisted, grabbing the bicep of Panyin and holding her behind him, as he came face to face with a long blade, held by a scaled hand. "The bossssesss are impattient. You know that, dog. You alsssso know they know you're up and about thankssss to your new little piecccce." Graak twisted the blade in Wy'Ziot's face with a smirk on his wide mouthed face, rows of little sharp teeth clinking together around his serpentine lisp.

"Get zhat out of my face before I run djou zhrough vizh it." Wy'Ziot stepped back, planting himself more readily, forcing Panyin back further. Graak laughed at him.

"You, mutt? I'd like to sssssee you defy the Contractor covenantsssss." The blade was withdrawn, however, but not sheathed. Graak stepped back once, twice, and then waved a little. "Watch your back, dog." The snarl that rose from Wy'Ziot had the reptilian man laughing, and he melted back into the buildings, and the shadows. Lifted lip revealed his teeth as Wy'Ziot turned, and indicated they get back with a curt wave of his hand. Sending that lizard out to them, after Mina had already given him a written note. No need to have Panyin read it, then. They'd clearly demanded his attendance. His face was hard set as his long legs carried him up the street.

 

[unais]

He leant over her, pressed his lips to her shoulders; giving her warm shivers instead of cold.

Something had caught him, and he was worried.

It was time to head back.

A voice. Wy'Ziot wheeled around, blocking her.

Graak was skilled, it seemed. More than it seemed he would be. Neither of them caught onto his approach, which should serve to be worrisome. She even had her eyes closed.

Panyin could barely see him from behind Wy'Ziot, as he held her in place. She only saw as they stepped back, that he had already brought weapons to the table. Certainly the unfairness was not something that bothered him. She listened to him bring them back to the underworld wrapped around the werewolf in front of her. Felt its cold grip coiling fully around him, etching at her ankles, beginning to drag her in.

She was not afraid. But she perused a seed of noted disappointment as she heard this. She realized that an odd thought had taken root in her, and now was to be weeded. Somehow, that what they had made together was something that could shield them from what was to come.

Wow. Love was as stupid as literature made it out to be.

She watched Graak disappear, melting bodily into the shadows from whence he came. Panyin leered into the walls, knowing he was much more dangerous than she gave him credit.

Wy'Ziot stalked back the way they came, holding fast onto her, as if she would be wisked away by the darkness if he let go. She tugged her arm twice. "Wy'Ziot. Are we. going there now?" Her clothes. "Like this!?"

He wasn't answering. She let herself pass up the opportunity to be upset, as something else was scratching at her.

What was it about that that struck her. Something she couldn't ignore.

The bosses are impatient.

That was a reminder.

They also know that you're up and about. Her brain squinted at what was said there.

That was not. It seemed like a fresh statement.

Something odd about it.

"Why did they say it twice?" Her brain muttered through her mouth, and she caught herself in the odd speech, tugging her arm from Wy'Ziot, who would not let go. "Wy'Ziot, what did Mina say when she delivered the first message?" Had they wanted him to come when he was unwell? Alone? Without her? Something like that.

They neared the inn, a twilight dusk having fallen all around them and blanketed the city as the curtains closed on another day.

 

[Malhyanth]

The way he melted into the darkness always put Wy'Ziot on edge; the Lizaar was nothing but a dirty sneak, but that was what made him popular with the Contractors, just as making a gory mess and leaving very distinct messages was what made Wy'ziot of value to them in other situations. However, it did not stop the werewolf wanting to rip the little monster limb from limb; he also accepted the irony of considering the Lizaar a monster, when he, himself, was the thing of legend across the world, something believed to be unreal, fake, fiction. Lizaar were rare, but they were an accepted race in this world. Werewolves were not.

Her quiet voice, and the tug at his arm where he hadn't realised he still held him pulled him up short, and he looked to where he gripped her, suddenly letting like he was burnt. He cursed, and shook out his hand, and shook his head at her. "No, ve do not go zhere yet. Ve go back, and get zhat vhich zhey asked djou for. And djou change!!" Her further questions as he started to stalk onward made him snarl. He should have asked her to read the note initially, and now it was too late; they'd had a second summons. He lifted a shoulder at her question. "I do not usually make zhem vait. Vhen zhey say jump, I usually ask 'ow 'igh. Zhis time, I vas not zhere straight avay." He growled at his foolishness, and released her arm, his hands flexing, claws pushing at his nail beds, as his Wolf showed his dislike for the situation.

He avoided her last question, by pushing her through the door to the Tavern, and through the dwindling crowds within, most of whom her blind drunk. The keeper simply nodded at them, and Wy'Ziot eyed him with suspicion; probably keeping tabs on them for the Contractors. There weren't many Innkeepers whom weren't on their books, and Wy'Ziot realised a little too late he'd not checked for the sigil within the door frame to identify this was one of them. He pushed the girl up to the stairs and indicated she go and collect her things. How he wished for his blade. Graak had clearly re-armed himself in the underground sanctuary. They did not deal in bone however, so Wy'Ziot would not find a replacement blade; he had other weapons, yet to be truly released down there.

He trotted up the stairs after Panyin, and stepped through the door, to see the room had been entered, and the bowls and pan taken for cleaning, the bed remade, the bathroom tidied and cleaned, the clothes had been strung from a ceiling rail that he hadn't noticed could be unlocked from the wooden central wall. He looked about for Panyin, realising she must have gone into the bathroom. "Panyin, come on. Ve must 'urry. I do not trust zhat Lizaar to not return sooner and prove 'imself more dangerous still."

 

[unais]

She watched him as he slipped back into a long trodden path that she could now see as he tread it now. An obedient mode. Shouting as to what they had to do to make it right. Afraid of what would come around with the hand that pointed. She watched him eager to allay and attend to these masters.

Something in her stirred. A dark, slinking thing that coiled inside her; an old darkness surfacing to meet the new one.

The blindness and lack of clarity. Her questions burning dark ashen things, left to smolder. A sickness and aggravation that pulled her tongue inside her throat and tied it there. The nerves were not hot, not cold, yet burned within her, saturating her with a saccharine poison that beat in her veins. She felt it all decocting inside her. Not anger; not yet. Not frustration. But a black pitch that would fill her fingers and guide her hands. A slow tar with her mind at its strings.

She stared at the back of him. His caution raising all his lines. His tension strung tight enough to strangle them both. A tight hand around her arm, burning her with pinched skin and bruises that that ached in some body she was inhabiting.

Was it all for her sake?

The tavern was dwindlingly empty. The keeper silent at their approach. She knew he certainly wasn't an ally. But was he an enemy? His gaze aligned with hers, and she could not feel the evil, the anger and coldness that should have alarmed her. He could be one of those in-between. Those who had their own goals, but worked within the web spun round them. It simply remained to be seen if it was a beneficiary goal to their own ends.

Wy'Ziot rushed her up the steps to get ready. He was pushing her without touching her. She controlled the parts of her that wanted to push back. The room they came to, as they found it, was not the same. It was moved and their things touched and she could smell the prints of fingers that left curious marks on their possessions. She could not look at these walls and her lab and see what she had to do. There was something ahead and it felt like a path of destruction with nothing else left.

But it was possible for it not to be.

She had a bad feeling that would not leave her.

But she could not think with him staring at her back. Her skin went tight and warm and her mind left its places of comfort when it contorted into a soft, wanting thing as she looked at him.

So she closed herself into the bathroom. The floor was cold, its hard stones holding her steadily as she walked toward the sink. A blinking, dark fatigue wobbled over her, and she grabbed its edge. As she reared back from it, the one in the mirror stared at her. It had soft eyes which could not be mistaken for their worry. She stared at it. Waited for it. Felt the pads of her feet sinking into the rough mortar; its cold working its way up into her heels, and her bones. A wet, unlikable sensation. Her hand twitched on the edge of the sink. The stone cold etched her to it. The uncomfortable wetness glued her. The world ticked by behind her. Without her. She was alone.

Though she was not.

Here was close. It was enough. It was not warmth whose security she was reluctant to leave.

She could think now. In scraps and beats.

The reflection settled. A mechanical gaze, as the noise went on behind her. She stared into the mirror, wondering what she was prepared for. What she was willing to do.

The cloth a noose around her neck.

The gaze faltered into the pail in the sink, her reflection only in the peripherals now. Knowing the softness of the melted amber was growing cold. She did not look at it again. Her eyes closed.

This was not her first time traveling with a murderer of some coalition renown. Nor was it even the second.

She imagined the room behind her, the table; innocent concoctions bubbling away and oblivious to what was happening to their master. A wrap of canvas, bottles within pounds of cloth, fiber, and glass. Eight months of work and money. She should be taking everything with her. But she couldn't. Not feasibly. Not being able to convince Wy'Ziot.

He bade her to come out. She backed away from the sink and stopped with her back to the door. The wax polish stuck with her skin, warmed with her touch. He felt her there. Her head was low. A hand snuck behind her, picking at the knot.

"… I want to wait."

The cloth around her neck fell forward. His balking tension felt in the silence. She unlatched her belt, the pieced clothing falling to her feet. Panyin peeled the scarf from her throat, herself from the door before he barged into her foolishness and dragged her out. She opened it and brusquely made her way to the clothes on the wall. "But we aren't going to."

She didn't hear his protests to her now. She slipped on her old shirts. The shoulders were damp as she felt them. The strings of the vest were wet and ground against their fittings as she tightened it. The tunic, the mild sepia, went over it. That color always reminded her of dried blood. The pants were slipped on. The belt resumed its place on her waist.

As she latched it, she realized some sense of pitying him, as a third mind looked their situation as if apart. That she wasn't laying plans at his feet. She wasn't saying anything. That all her threads and paths were too tangled for her tongue, and something she'd not the faith for him to have patience and mind to comprehend. It was a ramble of half-thoughts, notions, and muses. Nothing concrete except for what she knew and what she didn't tell him.

He waited for her.

She went to the table. Half the glasses were emptied by her hands. She unwrapped the long bag, and mixed those concoctions within. Poured them. Efficient, unhurried movement. Silence from her mouth. He paced. Watched the windows and doors. He saw the woman across the way. The stranger stared steadily now, and only broke her gaze as wanted; disappearing from her window.

One of the bottles were unlatched from Panyin's side and was replaced with another. In the side bag, she tucked in two bottles. Three phials. She pulled two to the lip of her bag, staring, before replacing them inside. She washed the kitchen knife from the table. Barely a paring knife. Some of her new clothes were hidden in that bag, the rest tied to the back of her belt, like a simple pack. She looked like she was going somewhere. But with her bags, she always did. It was night; she would always look strange leaving the inn with a loaded kit.

She proceeded to the door as if they were to leave in a flurry now. But she stopped. It had stopped her. She allowed something to crack as she stood before him. And the softness bled through.

She lured her gaze into him, and looked up at him. He was concerned. She didn't know if he was there with her... or already where they needed to be, with his mind. She looked in his eyes to try and find out, but her own vision blocked her, she did not know.

Panyin huffed, and tilted her head forward. Leant into his chest. It was a tired motion, but as she touched him, the distance to reality cleared, and a nerve penetrated her stomach. Eyes became hot. She took the breath back, giving herself a moment, exhaling, her hand crawling up his chest. She let herself melt into his warmth. Felt his hand on her. Allowed herself this moment, short, and dared to look up at him again as she retreated from it, before she parted from him and proceeded through the door. She felt her pulse had risen, anxious that he could hear and feel it, and for a time she stayed a step ahead. Her steps shortened, as it slowed, with the coolness of the unwelcoming night enveloping them.

Hard salt was tasted as the sea air encroached.

The alcove was dark, the torch on the wall near it burned to a smolder that held no flame. A purposeful touch. It looked cold, though someone had ran the fire over it in a

She let herself inside, though could not surpass Wy'Ziot as he approached the ledger keeper.

"Big man…" she heard from behind Wy'Ziot. A voice that snaked out from the dimness. No doubt Wy'Ziot signing them in again.

They turned to continue, the werewolf slipping an arm around her to have her walk beside him, shield her from anyone who would pass. The half-breed didn't wholly move from his space.

"Not yet, Wolfman..." A long finger, one still attached, pressed a sharp, dirty nail on the paper where the werewolf wrote plus one. A gray liquid wet his teeth as he smiled in a sneer. "The bosses want a sign of your little friend as well..."

Wy'Ziot seemed none too happy. Panyin felt the coldness fall across her face. The Contractors were getting her name. The goblin's hand touched hers as he handed her the pen, her thoughts preoccupied. Her arm flexed, but she resisted the urge to snap the hand back and give him the satisfaction of her flinching wholly.

His tongue ran over his teeth, his lips, as he leant closer, as he watched her, and her breath went shallow not to smell him and she pushed this peripheral from her mind.

Her name.

Her hand hovered over the line he pointed. The plus and the one.

With it, they could chase her all over the world. The only name she knew. By now they already had something of it. Now she could sign away any doubt. Or lie badly; let them know already how much her distaste ran. Alert them to her intentions.

She wrote a loop into the line Wy'Ziot had marked last. Then paused. She could stop there. It would not be dishonest.

What she was willing to do.

Her half-lidded stare at the paper. wy'ziOt scratched deeply into its surface with hand that knows not the strength it takes to write hazarding the task. A crooked plus beside it. And a P.

She finished the word.

The doorkeeper reached out to take the pen from her. Reflexively, she dropped it before he could touch her. Glanced down at the happy accident. It had rolled into the wet, dank dark.

"Oops." Continued into the tunnel.

She let him resume his place in front of her, and as they walked, the long way, his steps were still hard. It bled through her cracks again. She ventured, a hand, to his wrist, where she could touch him more easily. To her relief, his hand encircled hers, twined their fingers. Her breath was warmer at these times. She made sure to pull away her grasp, as they approached the doors.

The light, the noise flooded in with the heavy doors moved. Mina was, by coincidence, serving by the entrance. She saw them in their appearance, and the look that flashed over her features for but a moment; Panyin realized something was wrong.

Panyin let that same amount of time pass over her face, and resumed a stoicism as Mina approached, and threw her arms around the wolf.

 

[Malhyanth]

Wy'Ziot could not still himself as he waiting for her. Panyin took her time, and as the lights eked outside, and the darkness deepened, his body grew more tense, his jaw setting harder, his Wolf clawed at him, and he developed a slight twitch, his head snapping to the side a moment, chin up and out to the side, and then circling around to neutral once more, like something gripped at his head, clawed, his lip lifting and twitching, trying to keep himself controlled. He was thankful for her locked away state, hidden from his struggles. He gripped at the frame to the bed, white knuckled as he breathed deeply, his Wolf not liking the situation at all.

His ears pricked at her words, and then the door unlocking, and her stalking out. His brows furrowed, his eyes narrowed. He went to grip her, and stare into her, seek her preferred option; if she stated it, demanded it, he would follow. He was her's, as much as he was theirs. But she needed to assert herself over them to him; show she wanted that level of control. She clothed herself in the old items, and a few more times he twitched, turning himself away from her, checking the windows once more. She fiddled with her glass vials, bottles and other various apparatus. He didn't pay close attention, paced from window to window, until movement caught his eye. He stopped, staring. The growling was completely unconscious; he wasn't even really aware of it, other than a gentle rocking of his body as he breathed out each growl. Whoever it was decided to disappear, and another twitch gripped the muscles of Wy'ziot's neck, shoulders, and jaw. He snorted, a harsh huff, and stalked to the door to check the coast was clear.

And she stopped.

Her amber gaze, her fiery hair, her beautiful complexion. She stopped, and so caught him motionless as well as he stopped to admire her a moment; his brow furrowing once again as he looked down at her. She fell into his chest, almost as though trying to fall into his very body. His Wolf leapt forward, a thick heat engulfing her, a twist of his head as he fought the beast back, his arms encircling her petite frame, pulling her as close to himself as she was able to be. "Oh Panyin..." He murmured, his eyes closing, nose breathing deep of her so familiar scent now, surrounding him so much, engulfing him like a blanket of safety, and the familiar. She pulled away from him, taking strength, it seemed, and walking with her shoulders back, her head high, and exuding power. He followed her, a giant protector, face set against any that looked upon her. She didn't fool him though; the night rang with her heart beat and pulse, heightened and a little fearful; he scent sang to him with it. He wanted to wrap her up, collect her into his chest, and carry her out of there, out of that damned Capital.

Instead, he followed her deeper, the saltiness of the sea enveloping his senses as they neared the entrance Panyin knew. His Wolf continued to press, push, and prise at the edges of his resolve, seeking to wrap itself around its chosen mate at this time. The little disgusting grey creature sat, as usual, at the entrance. Wy'Ziot signed for them both, but a thick wooden rod was slapped against his chest as he went to move on. The snarl that had been bubbling in the pit of his chest finally surfacing, a ghost of a shape change flowing over his face as he turned to look at the little Goblin. "Not yet, Wolfman... The bosses want a sign of your little friend as well..."

The snarl continued to develop, but Panyin stepped forward, gently brushing his arm. Silence fell over the giant albino, his mottled ice-and-dusk eyes hard gems as they stared at the little creature. He shrugged, giving her the quill. She seemed to take nearly as long as Wy'Ziot to form the letters of her name, though Wy'Ziot was more than aware she was far more literate than he; she was contemplating how much she could get away with giving them. Smart, but she decided not to press her current welcome, gave the name. His lip lifted into a crooked sneer as she spilt the quill away, and the werewolf pressed a large finger to the greasy skull of the Doorkeeper. "Fetch."

Taking up the position in front of the young woman again, protective and hulkingly intimidating to any that set eyes on him, he stepped through. A gentle touch at his wrist, seeking comfort, let his fingers intertwine with hers for a moment, before she pulled them away, leaving him lost in space for a moment. He started to stalk forward, destination in mind, and was stopped only when something slapped into his chest. His first reaction was to grab it tightly about its shoulders, not registering what the thing was to begin with, before he realised it was Mina, her blue eyes large with fear as she pressed into him, reaching around his neck, pulling him close to her voluptuous body.

"What are you doin' here?!" She hissed, before backing off, her features lost, saddness etched into every line. He frowned, before looking around. What was she talking about? She'd surely summoned him first? That's what her message was? He could not think about it for long, and noticed the waving arm of the Crucible Guard, and he headed towards it, hand drifting to Panyin's side, brushing it carefully, seeking comfort from her for a moment. As they neared, the spear was levelled at his chest.

"Not you, Wolfman. Just your Alchemist." The Wolf was losing his cool, and again, a roll of a foreign shape seemed to ghost over his face; beads of sweat gathered on the werewolf's brow, and his lip lifted into the twisted snarl.

"No, Carlito." The words reverberated within the growl. "Ve go togezher. Zhat is zhe pact." The guard shook his head, swallowing hard.

"I'm sorry, Wolfman. It's their command. You go in when they have spoken with her first." The werewolf stepped forward, but a hand at his wrist again stopped him. His mottled eyes flicked to her only once, before he levelled his gaze once more at the man before him.

"Djou're lucky she 'as more sense zhan to allow my killing djou." Wy'Ziot stepped back a moment, before he knelt before Panyin, his head bowed to her, deep red caked dreadlocks falling forward. "Panyin... please be careful. Just call me, if djou need. Nozhing can stop me getting to djou, if djou need me."

 

[unais]

What are you doing here.

His confusion and Mina's despair apparent. A coldness sank down into Panyin, rotted her insides.

Panyin hadn't time to figure out what it really was. The universe pushed them forward, towards its gentle, gnashing maw. And a warm touch grazed her from outside its depths, and she looked to his hand that touched her, pressing the back of her fingers against his.

The weapon at the door was leveled. She paused from stepping forward, from pushing it down with her hand. Another part of her started to recoil, to stand down. That they were being captured.

But no.

"Not you, Wolfman. Just your Alchemist."

Panyin stared. The ire rolled up Wy'Ziot into words delivered by a growl. A tenseness nurtured in him since they'd returned to their lodgings. She noticed now that she could look at him. Allowed herself to see him. The tense jaw. A twitch in his pulse. A twisted anguish within him and him stepping forward into the knife.

She could feel the swallow of the guard. Her eyes shifted back to Wy'Ziot, as a drip of sweat fell from his brow.

She reached out to touch him, to stop him from twisting the knife deeper in.

The guard was afraid. Fully housed in heavy plate. Yet he was afraid.

She was relieved. That meant Wy'Ziot could kill him. The others in turn were standing back. Afraid of Wy'Ziot with no armor. It gave her no smiles.

She reached up and brushed the sweat from his labored brow, the wetness drawing onto her skin. He knelt before her, reverent. Head bowed to her being.

She felt the moment apart from herself, as she lifted her hand, but she pulled herself in, back into her body. Tethered by the corporeal sensations of him. The curls of his hair close to his skull, the wetness seeping through his scalp. The roughness of his hair between her fingers. She traced the sweat from the hairline of his head, until she could stroke his head back to look at her.

Her fingers curled, gently. Thumb running over his forehead, clearing it of sweat. Taking her time. Her hand traced down to his face, and he leant into it as he talked. She stared. Waited for her self to come back. Her mind to return, as it resided in her hand, lingered there, where she could touch him.

Panyin leaned down, touching the edge of her forehead his. Her eyes closed. "I will."

Nothing will keep you from me.

She let the breath feel long, though she could not stay.

"And…" she pulled three things from the bag at her side. A bottle. And two vials. "These. For Mina." Her words lowered to a wisp of noise, her head lowering as well. "This, what she wants," her the side of her finger pressed imperceptibly against the bottle. Then it pressed toward the other two. Kept his eyes there. These words barely made a sound. "…these. If she's in trouble. Immediately."

They went into his hand, her fingers grazing the nerved warmth of his, and the bottles disappearing in his grasp. His eyes, released from her impelling, looked at her.

She felt the trepidation. Where she had paused before him. There, he wanted to kiss her. She hesitated, before she stood.

The guard opened the door for her, and stood pointedly aside, as she walked inside, candlelight lighting her steps. She resisted, and failed, to not look back. He watched her until the doors closed.

 

[Malhyanth]

Her touch calmed him, and his rolling growling breath stilled, as she made him look up at her. His Wolf stalked just below the surface, and his eyes glowed with it as he looked at her, pleading with her to stay safe, so he didn't lose it. She took up his broad hands, and placed into them bottles and vials, identifying them to him to pass to Mina; she was trying to take his mind off of her visit with the Contractors. He nodded slowly, comprehending her instruction and standing as she stepped forward, watching her enter the Crucible. He stared at the guard, whom just smiled weakly, watching the huge man turn his back on them, and headed towards Mina's bar.

Mina watched him coming, serving the few Contractors that were in the bar, whom had come in to see what the werewolf was getting himself in to; they'd heard through the grapevines that something was happening, and as it was 'Wolfman', the perfect little criminal that never got in trouble, was the one causing issues. Mina came out to meet with him, and he revealed the few things Panyin had given him, indicating they needed some privacy. Leading them out to her private quarters, she hugged him again.

"Oh Wolfie, darlin'! Did you not get Pan' to read my note?" Wy'Ziot turned his face away from her, and she dropped it with a little worried face as his growling returned. She held her hands up, and smiled. "Ok, ok, I'm sorry, darlin'. What's that you got?" Wy'Ziot handed her the larger of the bottles.

"Panyin said zhis vone vas somezhing djou vanted." The woman clapped her hands together, and took it carefully, unstoppering it and smelling it. She read the label carefully, and squealed a little in excitement. Wy'Ziot simply raised an eyebrow, unsure of what it all want. He then offered the smaller pair. "Zhese, zhese I'm not so sure about. She said zhese are for vhen djou are in trouble. And to use zhem immediately." He shrugged at her quizzical look, and indicated their re-entering the bar. He paced like a caged beast, and Mina went back to her clientele, trying to ignore the monster in her bar.

 

[unais]

Her feet carried her through the sand and sawdust, the soft crunches impalpable in the audience of silence. She saw droplets at the far edge of the arena that had not be swept out after their latest prey. She could smell the blood, and her eyes traced the drags left in the sand that was not swept back into the arena.

Panyin stood in a silence, listening to their stirring. The murmurs of breathing seemed to be a number more than before, but she could not hold that to be fact.

Another beat. Her foot scraped over the soft grit, her legs balanced apart. She glanced the room hidden from her by the lights.

"… I'm here." Did they expect her to bow?

"…yes." Was the first terse answer, by the woman with the scathing voice. Panyin imagined her mouth, pulled to the side with its harsh lines.

"You've brought what we asked of you?" Another voice, cutting to the chase. Panyin's favorite type of talk. Yet somehow it annoyed her.

"What you asked of me..." Her hands braced on her hips, her head dropping forward like before. "Yeah… about that... I didn't quite understand your meaning..." She felt the air shift, the held silences. Savored it. Drank in the suffering she could eke out of them. "You wanted me to recreate…" in one hand, she held out a bottle. A long stoppered neck, nearly full. "The cure? Or…" Her other hand came away with a vial. "The poison?" The liquid splashed with a tinkling sound. Half-full.

A murmur of movement beyond the curtain. A man in plate made his way to her, glinting as he moved forward from the shadows. He held out a hand for the things she had brought. And gave them to him. Knew she was being robbed of expensive glass, so stuffed her thumbs into her belt, staring down.

"You've done well to conjure these concoctions so readily." Words hesitant to be a compliment. "So long as these are not a ruse, we'd like to officially extend to you our offer to join The Family." A short pause. The silence was tight.

"…Are you accepting?" Another inquired. A calm, smooth tone belying the nerves.

She exhaled through her nose.

A dark smirk was coming back. "Ah. Yes. About that." She stood to one side, her stance relaxing. "That depends. Is it really an invitation?" She felt them tightening in their darkness. "Or an invitation with a knife over the hand may retreat." The shift is uncomfortable. Perhaps angry.

"...Is that a no?"

Panyin thought for a moment, "Hmm... become part of the toybox; one of the little puppets that the dark shadow masters get to pull all the strings to. Have at their fingertips. And at their beck and call." She looked into the dark. "Sounds like an appetizing proposal."

"You are pushing your luck, girl."

"Oh," she raised a finger, "and no talking back as well." Her hand lowered, pretense beginning to shed. "…Just come be our little toy, indentured." She stared hard out into the blackness, feeling the edges of blades sharpening at her.

The pause was painful. But she felt comfortable here. Smug, and wrapped up in this discomfort, like the spider string had been spun around her like a cocoon.

Someone finally spoke. "...Alchemist. You will have connections the likes of which you have never seen. Our contracts will pay you in rare reagents you have never even come within sniffing distance of."

"I don't need them." The noise behind the curtain was balking. "I'm well enough on my own. And. Indenturing myself to you... seems to insure a mark of danger will always be on my back." Then she paused and ... chuckled. "Or maybe that's just how it is going to be from here, by entangling myself here?"

"That is correct."

She smiled, wry, hiding her eyes for the anger within.

"Well. I think we've made a case." Her head tilted back. "I am not going to be a Contractor." She held a hand halfway to interrupt their shuffling. "Under these conditions."

She was glad Wy'Ziot was not here. She had planned to tell him that the ruse of not saying anything stupid was gone. That she had tried to talk their way, and they had laughed; and now she was going to do things her way.

Yet more things had changed since then.

"What is it that you think that I want?" Her head lilted again. "That you think you can offer me in agreement joining you?"

There was silence.

"You wanted me to break my ties to Wy'Ziot, which it turns out I cannot, and I don't plan to." Her stance was casual, the thumbs at the sides of her back. "You heard what I want. And it's very simple. For Wy'Ziot to stay by my side and protect me. I am not interested in a substitute." She inhaled, head down, tired. Someone interrupted her before she breathed her next words.

"And our assessment of the situation has changed. We... apologize for our initial treatment of you... as a thorn in our side to be excised and discarded. We had no idea the boon of skill the werewolf had incidentally delivered onto us. And as you can tell... we protect our Family. And you were then an outsider." She stayed quiet. Her eyes slid to slits.

"And I can assure you, you would be just as protected coming under our wing."

She released her stare but remained implacable. Her head tilted, gaze slumping, "And I would stand to have knives thrown at me when you're feeling mildly test--"

"You will not endure the same treatment as the beast." A younger woman's voice. Hard with impregnable authority.

"You have no idea what that Wolf was like when it first came under our employ." A man.

"You have seen him. You must know." Another young woman.

"He is a thin skin of sentiment housing a monstrosity of violence." The older woman.

She was surprised to have all these voices coming at her. Her eyes half-lidded as it went on.

"He needs our control. A figure of authority to follow."

"Wolves obey a hierarchy of power. He is a creature of barely held carnality."

"Like this, he is kept sane, girl. The world is modern now. Where does a creature like that belong? He craves violence. A challenge of his physicality. You know this."

"But where would this be sated in the city? Populated with humanoids surrounding him like little insects. Our Contracts make use of his skills. He is provided a hand to guide him, and steer his wandering maw. If you were to take away his outlet to dispense violence… Where do you think he would go? What do you think would happen to him?"

She stared without expression.

"It's been this way for a long time. For good reason."

"That poison wasn't developed for a sadistic pleasure to watch him squirm… Think, Alchemist. Imagine. What was it that necessitated that concoction for control?"

What do you think happened. Immovably still, she waited for them to finish without her input. Her eyes were glazed, allowing her to charade boredom. Her mind buzzed with what it was invited to imagine. What the kind of behavior was that required a poison that put him down within a few minutes.

And the only reason, possibly, that it was not faster was... because they were not as good as him.

"It was for his own good, certainly, and likely for the good of you too, girl."

"Discipline. Discipline only. A beast like that. Do you think it can lead itself?"

Eyes winced. It was possible. It could be pictured that after all those years, decades or a hundred years of torture; a source of discipline may became a reminder and a tether to his humanity. She could accept this as a possibility. She felt nothing about it. Perhaps it was what gave her the luxury to be softer than they. But she did not have to like or agree.

She was quiet for enough of a time.

A clearing of a throat. "Yet... he has been slipping recently."

The jerk of her chin told more than she wanted them to know. But she didn't feel smugness shift the air in response.

"We. Were thinking how it may behoove us and him that you do not break your ties. Perhaps what he needs… is you by his side… to act as a second sense of reason when his slips too unnecessarily."

Panyin's pause was too long, and they filled it with more of their talk.

Another voice. "You have seen, haven't you? How he can fall into his habits of killing at the drop of a hat?" At the door. Panyin swallowed with a wince. And the woman continued.

She could not tell this voice. The soft woman's voice from before. The kind that left no impressions on the air as it spoke in vernacular. She couldn't tell a liar in this voice. Either it was not. Or the most dangerous.

Panyin was quiet. And quiet. Quiet. In return.

"Please, continue, Alchemist. What was it you were suggesting as a suitable position to our family?"

She stared warily, wanting to see the eyes, the face that talked to her with a subtle, nascent authority these other voices lacked. "I was saying. Being that I don't know what it entirely entails to be under your contract.... it would be unwise for me to agree to be one." Her head hesitated in its lifting, and continued. "But you cannot kill me. And I am not going anywhere..." She paused, disliking the words from her throat, now, "I thought the compromise in the middle would be that I am made an associate of your family. And I am allowed a trial so to speak... of what benefits this could provide me if I were part of you." The shift again, as the air prickled. "I am not asking for free things. I pay my debts as I see them to be debts. But I am not eager to put myself under your heel, whether you say I will or won't be."

"Then an associate it is." She spoke before the others could intervene, their rankles raked. "An associate that keeps our dangerous monster under control. I'm sure you will come to see the Contractors could be of great benefit to you. And some services will be made available to you now… Alchemist."

A silence waited, held. Sat. And Panyin realized it was not wholly uncomfortable. It was patient.

That was it?

Panyin stood, wary, awkward, waiting for the backhand to come. But the doors behind her scraped as the large locks were rolled off their hooks, and the men waited for her approach. She back looked into the dark that spoke to her

"Then... until then." Panyin took herself from the sanctum, feeling neither a win nor a loss as things had it. It took effort for her not to seem to leave quickly, running.

Outside, things went on as if nothing happened around them. The doors began to close behind her, only to a slip. She was not paid attention to for her aloneness. She looked quickly.

Wy'Ziot, by the bar.

Stalking, pacing, his breath unhinged, heaving his chest in hot exhalations through his nose. His fingers uncurling and curling in their forms; a marble chiseling of flesh that would be cracking.

Her feet took her across the floor, unhindered, and as he saw her approach, she threw her arms around his neck.

Her head hung to his chest where she could reach him, and she breathed with relief. Inhaled and signed with it, long. His heat broke a hard wave over her skin, and she hummed unknowingly to the warmth of it.

It was not that she was fleeing the audience chamber. The Contractors did not scare her yet. But there had been a chance of him not being there as she came out. Not by his own volition. Panyin raised her head, a smile on her, but before the unformed words could cross her lips, saw him needing to look elsewhere.

"It's you next, Wolfman." The crucible guard gestured firmly.

She hadn't gotten to say one word to him, and her hand clasped gently over his that touched her, and she allowed it to slip away as he moved to make himself known to them.

Panyin slumped into the bar, taking a seat. She had a lot to think about, and as she watched him slip behind the slit in the door, she was grateful for him not to be there as she masticated her thoughts.

 

[Malhyanth]

The time ticked by so slowly, his pacing was only serving to make everyone nervous. The twitch that seemed permanently present, flicking his head, punctuated by a fresh set of growls, had killers all around the giant reaching for weapons that had either been replaced within the Contractors halls, or where weapons should have been, if, like Wy'Ziot, they had preferred habitation outside of the halls. Mina touched his arm at only one point, shaking him from his pacing, and indicated a seat by her bar. He sighed, and nodded, taking the seat, though his rife energy only served to change his pacing to further head-jerks, and a restless leg movement, his fingers idling on a glass of lemon-water she passed him, sweetened with honey, and a little calming chamomile infusion. He slowly started to ease, natural remedies usually being the most effective with the large man, his very primal link to the natural world in his blood, in his very bodily make up, making these natural remedies effective. Mina had noticed it when a natural remedy to help him with energy on a particularly long job he'd resulted in an almost euphoric high, whereas in other users it simply kept them alert.

His leg never stilled completely, but he did start to focus less, and his head-jerks became less violent. Mina leant across her bar, her very flowy, revealing halter dress doing little to hide her shape, as had been noted on their previous visit. She smiled sweetly at the werewolf, though her eyes held a slight pang of something almost akin to jealousy, and hurt, that the young red head had been chosen over she, his longest living friend. She laid a hand on his, and tilted her head a little as he looked up at her with eyes that revealed their concern. His pale skin was a massive contrast to her tanned, golden olive. Her bright sky blue eyes blinked at him with their heavy lashes, trying to show comfort. "Do not worry, Wolfie." She purred low, patting his large wrist, as he took her slender fingers into his palm, holding tightly for a moment in thanks. Mina had little concern over the safety of the cute red head. Panyin was feisty; but she was extremely useful. Not only was she skilled in Alchemy, she was able to control the werewolf without a deadly weapon. Somehow, she'd walked in with the Wolfman on an invisible chain, almost without knowing it. Mina had only dreamed of ever having him under her control like that; it was why she'd wanted that aphrodisiac, but now she saw she couldn't use it, not whilst that woman lived, and shared her time with her Wolf. Mina was patient, though. And she knew Wy'Ziot was sent on some of the most brutal missions, which if the red head got her way, she'd be following him into; only time would be needed, to see her ended, and Mina could step in to comfort the giant, and take the place she'd always wanted by his side.

Wy'Ziot was oblivious to all of this, however; his mind was battling its own demons. Inside, his Wolf prowled and stalked, so close to the surface, barely contained. He'd never show the true extent of his... condition... though certainly stories of it had circulated, and it meant that the other assassins and murderers that used the Contractors as their safety blanket for sating their obscure desires for killing, stayed away from the twitchy and dangerous albino. That was, all bar one, whom decided now was a perfect time to push the buttons on the beast a little more. Mina saw the danger before Wy'Ziot, and pushed at the albino's large, scarred arm as the Lizaar approached, his flat, wide face a razor sharp grin.

"Ssssay, you didn't give me chancssssse to ussssssse my new toy." The reptilian man said, as he twisted the strange glowing crystalline ball around his scaled hands, eyes boring into the side of Wy'ziot's face. The werewolf stared at Mina for a moment, and she shook her head, full lips pressed into a line at him. He returned the look with a flat smirk, the twist from his damaged lip the only reason an expression was formed, as he slowly turned in his seat and leant against the bar. Eyes from across the hall watched the interaction. Graak was getting brave. He didn't even have his cronies.

"Vhy vould I give djou zhat satisfaction?" The werewolf questioned, an eyebrow raising at the man before him. The crystal ball of obscure potions and magic was danced across the Lizaar's nimble fingers a few more times before being dropped into a padded pocket. The werewolf knew a perfectly timed strike to that pocket would blast a hole in the killer's chest with little issue. It was an explosive, after all; just because it was more for show, smoke and mirrors stuff, didn't mean it wouldn't cause serious damage. The Lizaar sneered, his many rows of needle sharp, small teeth glinting. The werewolf smirked back, turning his back on the man. "Don't vaste my time, Graak. I am not interested in djour stupid games." The Lizaar sputtered and hissed, and jabbed a clawed finger into the werewolf's padded shoulder.

"Don't think I won't get you, one day, Wolfman. The rulessssss of thisssss organissssation won't keep you ssssafe forever." Graak snarled, but the look passed to him as the werewolf looked across his shoulder to the man was nothing but pity, which took the Lizaar aback. "What issss that facsssse for?" The laugh that came from the werewolf sent chills down Mina's spine.

"'Onestly? I am over 500 years old, Graak. I vill outlive djou all. Just as I 'ave the previous Contractors, and all zhe killers and assassins zhat vere 'ere before djou." The Lizaar's face worked around words that couldn't be found, as he looked at the giant as he stood, towering over the reptilian man. The smirk spread into a slanted, sharp grin. "Trust me, Graak. I 'ave dealt vizh mightier men zhan djou, vhilst djou veren't even a zhought in djour fazher's loins! Befor even djour fazher vas squirted into some whore voman to birzh." The vicious words made the Lizaar's mouth twist as a hiss was wrought from him, but the werewolf just laughed. "Run 'ome, reptile." Graak spat at the floor by Wy'ziot's bare feet, turning stiffly, and leaving, pushing some young lass, with a shaved head, out of his way, as he stalked out. Mina giggled a little behind the bar, glad it hadn't erupted into a full blown fist fight. She'd managed a month without having to replace chairs and tables, and she wanted that streak to continue!

Wy'Ziot looked over his shoulder at Mina, feeling a little better for releasing some pent up aggression, and drained the drink she'd given him, when the sound of the doors to the Contractor's Crucible turned his head. A flash of fiery red streaked across the pathways, leading to the bar, and the tiny frame of Panyin launched up, wrapping strong arms around his neck, burying her face into his chest. Startled for only a moment, his arms wrapped around her small chest, taking her weight easily as he straightened, her feet dangling close to his knees as he held her to him, nose buried into the point just below her ear, into the skin of her neck. Her sweat revealed fear, but relief and endorphins were flooding her system now, making her warm in his arms. His Wolf pressed forward, directing almost an arrow of targeted heat from his bared skin into her body. Mina watched with a face void of emotion, her shoulders rigid, though she watched the approach of the guard with a small frown as he prodded at the werewolf, perhaps a little too bravely. The albino did as he was told, however, and lowered the red head down, so her feet were once more on the ground, and he took her hands from around his neck, holding them for a moment, before nodding to the guard to lead. "Vait 'ere vizh Mina. She vill look after djou." He looked at Mina, with trust and kindness, and he melted the stoic look the bar owner wore, and she nodded, touched he trusted her with something so precious to him, even if she did very much envy the woman.

Wy'Ziot stepped from the bar, and followed the guard. He didn't need to know what agreement had been made for Panyin; she was still alive, which meant they'd made a decision on her staying, and it had been agreeable to Panyin. Whatever it was, he trusted Panyin made the right choices for her. Wy'Ziot would wait until Panyin told him what had been agreed. As for what lay in store for him, he would handle it as he always did. He stepped into the darkness, his senses picking up the scents of at least two dozen Contractors in the darkness, more than he'd ever experienced. Clearly, they had gathered all the leaders to decide on the fate of the Wolfman and the Alchemist. The werewolf dropped to a knee, more slowly then usual, once he hit the inner circle of light, blinding those that sat in the gallery from his vision. But he heard them. Could smell them. So many, passing judgement on a beast that could, easily, kill them all if he so chose. They were as aware of it as he was. It was a stalemate that had yet to be breached.

"So, Wolfman. Your companion has proven to be a very useful asset." The voice was that of the elderly woman, the authoritative tone making his head bow a little lower. "What say you?" The werewolf sneered a little, whilst his face was covered by the clay-clad dreadlocks. Why were they asking his opinion? That wasn't usually how this went. He pursed his lips, unsure how to answer. What were they seeking?

"She is a marvel vizh 'er chemistry kit..." He ventured, falling silent, the quiet filling the darkness as they waited for him to say more. He chose not to, waiting for them to continue, chose to speak no more of Panyin. There was a slight shifting of cloth, a soft breathy laugh.

"Oh Wolfman. She is something to be marvelled at." This voice was that of a younger woman. The tones were languid, little effort being put into sounding authoritative, but every muscle in the albino tensed at hearing it. This was a dangerous voice. One that had nearly ended his life many times. Had he known this voice was amongst the crowd here today, he would have insisted on entering with Panyin. The breathless laughter once more, as the voice noticed his terse shift. "Yes. She is something special indeed, but... I suspect you've already tasted that, haven't you." It wasn't a question. It was a statement, and heat rose up Wy'ziot's neck. More shifting, and whispers. Was that how she controlled him? Using her body? Her feminine wiles? They hadn't got that feeling from her from their meeting, but whom were they to know her, truly. She was still a new conundrum to them. That would soon change.

"Enough talk of his bringing us a useful entity. She provided what was asked, and now we have a task for you." This masculine voice was harsh, clipped, and to the point. Wy'Ziot rose, knowing he was about to receive his duties. He looked up into the darkness, scarred face impassive.

"Ahh, yes. The new task for our massacre artist." The soft feminine tone sent a wave of goosepimples over Wy'Ziot's pale skin. His smirking lips deepened into a twisted sneer at the description of his killing style.

"I only do as I am asked." He commented, the first time in a long while he had talked back. This caused a ripple of annoyance and shock to surround him, pressing in on all sides. "I serve zhose as I am requested." That breathy laugh seemed to come from all directions.

"Quite. Well, Wolfman, you are in luck. We have need of your... unique skills... once more. And this time, please do release the monster that you are. For unlike that last job, where you revealed quite spectacularly your inability to carry out subtle jobs, it has, inevitably, provided us with requests for your assistance..." A soft growl came from the werewolf's chest as his technique was criticised. He knew he should not have taken the last job, to enter a Lord's castle took tact, and that was not something he had to his toolbelt. He was a massacre artist, as they said, and to try and kill with subtlety was not his forte. He remained silent, however, beyond the growl that seemed to echo the chambers.

"A request has come in from your homelands. The West has the startings of a civil war coming. Obviously, our interests lie with those that provide us with a future. The individual whom has requested your skills wants it to look like the battle took place; so feel free to paint the very fields of war with their blood." The elderly male voice seemed to take great pleasure in describing what was required. "A young upstart, a bastard to the Western High Lord, has decided he wants to have a shot at leadership. He is honest and good. What the people need. But he is not... understanding... to our needs, and killed our envoy to reason with him. So, Wolf, this had some significance to us. Make it brutal. Make it violent. But most of all, make sure the young bastard is strung from his army's camp walls for all to see if you defy us, we will not hesitate to retaliate." Wy'Ziot nodded his understanding. He knew the Contractors had a representative in almost every Hall of Lords across the entire world. To repulse their advance was certain death.

"And 'is followers?" The werewolf queried.

"Ensure none wish to continue the uprising." Was the answer. Wy'Ziot bowed his head, and he raised a balled fist to his forehead. His show of accepting the contract. The lock to the heavy metal door was slid across, and opened.

"And Wolfman." Wy'Ziot stood still where he had turned, facing the light to the exit. "Do not threaten your comrades again. Or we will be forced to take measures you will not like." The breathy female voice held a note of pleasure at the idea of bringing harm to the beast, and Wy'Ziot simply grunted, as he continued to step out of the darkness. The guard at the door looked up at the giant albino as he exited, holding out the written instructions of his task. Taking the scroll, mottled eyes hard as gems as the gaze was returned, a questioning look cast to the man. The armoured man simply bowed his head at the werewolf, before closing the door, and taking his stance of protection.

Wy'Ziot made his way calmly through the Contractors that still milled around, acknowledging a few whom he'd known for a while, whilst looking over new faces with some skepticism. Panyin was where he'd left her, and a small smile played across his face as he saw her, standing alongside her at the bar. "Vhiskey, please, Mina. Ve leave for a battle tomorrow."

 

[unais]

She had been prepared for a fight.

Her nails rapped along the glass that Mina had provided. Yet, as they had not fought her, it took the wind out of her sails. She didn't know what to do with her preparations, though they were going to sit in her inventory until next time. It wasn't the disappointment of a fight that held her expression. It was the tangle they ravelled her with.

"Something else for ya' darlin'?"

Panyin's eyes moved up from their position. "...I'm good with this."

"Not with that face you're not. C'mon, let me whip you up something real quick." Mina sashayed as she leant into the bar.

If Panyin had seen Mina, had caught a fragment of her stare as she looked at Wy'Ziot alone, as she looked at the two of them reuniting; Panyin would have known. But Panyin had watched the werewolf, and seen nothing else as he left. And as she turned to the bar, she hadn't looked at Mina. And now she saw only softly that it would be rude to deny her a third offer. "Whatever you recommend, then." Her eyes resumed their forward stare. The nails clicked one by one.

Think about it, Alchemist.

Her tongue pressed over her teeth.

What happened before? What do you think necessitated a poison that could steal his strength from him without killing him?

Words did not come, but images, a white beast flashing through her mind with the blood that ran beneath their bodies, in its footsteps. And in an instant, blood ran beneath her body.

A round tankard tapped in front of her, and she acknowledged it, taking out a few coins and laying them on the table. The cup turned a few times in her hands, mind not quite present as she found the handle, slowly, and lifted it. It crossed her lips like poison and she smacked her tongue, the burn immediate and raw. It was very sugary as well. Tasted expensive. She hadn't expected the woman to give her something so strong. From the smell, some kind of whiskey bourbon with something fragrant on top. She took another sip, to be polite, her eyes impassive and removed from her thoughts, and sipped as she continued in her ruminations.

What do you think would happen to him? She tilted her head. Of course he was a killer that needed to kill. Many were like that. Those who would subscribe to a group in order to carry out such doings, even more so tended to need blood to sate their demons. It was not a foreign concept to her.

It was just the idea there was something more.

But how deep does his lust for death go?

It was the thought that touched her brain so lightly that she pretended it hadn't surfaced. So her ruminations continued. What concerned her, really, remained the same as before. Why he chose them--seemingly chose them--for this sake of killing.

Her head tilted the other way. Why he obeyed this master. Tolerated a disrespect that insulted his mind, and an abuse of power that struck his body.

Something else was happening as the alcohol seeped her system. She blinked several times as her vision blurred and reoriented. The walking. The adrenaline. Fear and worry and aggravation. The fatigue released itself into her system, coming again, and her vision wobbled into blackness for a moment before she blinked it away.

She placed down the tankard, quietly, and reached for her glass. Water followed down her throat.

What do you think will happen without this?

Panyin was snide, feeling the answer easy somewhere. She was masterful at navigating grays; so she felt. It was blindsiding that they managed to throw sand in her eyes in a quandary concerning murder; but as she blinked through it, her thoughts becoming clearer, it was not as hard as complicated as they would have liked her to believe. She didn't have the answers now. But she knew it was there. The ramifications of the answers, however…

It was not her intention to steal into his life and change everything from what it was. She had suspected something of a need to kill, something inside needing to be satisfied. His murdering was brutal and sickening to her. And he seemed to have smiled; taken some joy in it. But he was more than a murderer. He had shown her. She traveled long with a murder who had nothing else inside of him.

And Wy'Ziot was not the same.

Perhaps that was enough.

These thoughts stationed a frown on her brow, and with the alcohol beating in her ears, thoughts mumbled in her head, Panyin didn't hear the doors opening. She looked up with a start, unused to not being alert, but he was there. So she started on her drink again, thinking Mina would be disappointed in her wasting it.

They were to leave tomorrow, he announced. Her brow was not impressed. He slid a roll of parchment toward her, which she opened, browsing it . The brow raised again. The language in it was curt. It felt unfinished. She handed it back, and he stowed it among his few things.

She looked up at him, lifting the tankard, threat crooning with a groan. "In the morning?" She had so many things to take with them. Perhaps it was that by morn she would forbid him from making them leave post-haste. She had hardly seen an eighth of the city, and she had so much junk to burn through in practice. And they had just gotten there; it was already a sticky swarming mess of unpleasantness. She didn't want her only memories and visit to the city to be a pox.

The tightness in her chest was noticed as she breathed, still unpleasantness of her thoughts sticking from before. She looked up at Wy'Ziot, knowing that she should not be so agonized; not while he was within touching distance, at hand. She leaned over and rested the side of her head against his arm. Exhaling a sigh, contentedness snatched from a situation where there should be none. After a few moments of quiet, fatigue rolled over her eyes, and her head dipped momentarily, before she righted herself, knowing what had happened.

He was looking at her, and she blew out her air, drinking the rest of what had been given. Panyin stood, ready to leave, holding her hand out on the table. Mina placed her fingers in hers, and Panyin held them.

"Mina..." Her hand was warm, and she grasped it in return. "Breakfast with you tomorrow? We'll see you before we go."

There was some expression that Panyin couldn't quite gauge, before she let go and led Wy'Ziot from that place.

It was Wy'Ziot's fingers she held next, as they retread the long, damp tunnels with just the two of them. He laced his hand in hers, and heard the snuff of her chuckle, holding him tightly in return. She said nothing. Their hands made the silence comfortable, warm, despite the many things were destined to spill forth.

She seemed to wait until they were far past the doorkeeper and into the street. It was fully night now. The darkness of her eyes and night was encroaching, and again she shook free of, and willed herself out of it. She resisted leaning into the werewolf, as she was wont to do, and held onto his hand for strength, trying to be subtle about it. Panyin perused the lights, still enough torches within the city walls to light paths.

"Mmh. It's late. Do you think we can see Bastion? We'll have to know he's alright for tomorrow just as well." His look. "I... th-the horse..." She shied her face immediately. "I was thinking... a name... maybe..." She inhaled, trying to shed the embarrassment. The feeling of naming an animal; like a child, like a pet. "I worry a little that the Contractors... or anyone may have interfered with him." And even more so, naming a creature that could be slaughtered like meat in the city at the whims of any killer around them.

He was amused, likely by her shyness, and took her to the stables.

The men keeping the stable, luckily, were up playing cards, and by the smell of it, exchanging stories and drink. Panyin stood back as Wy'Ziot spoke to them; easing them for their appearance, explaining that they planned to leave soon.

She was comfortable to let him deal with the interpersonal interacting. She had started to become reliant on it. Looking at them, one would think he's the one meant to stay stoic and scowling in the background, being the seven-foot man wearing bodies for jewelry. She'd the face for it, she knew, but every second she was screaming in overly polite communication. At least he seemed to derive some enjoyment from it. Adversity was more her stride. It soothed her rankles when it appeared; because she was broken.

The men permissed the two to cross the grounds to check on their horse for tomorrow.

The stables had a small field of grass within the walls, as the city was so large. There was a worn path leading outwards, likely to larger fields eked out for exercise for the large beasts. The ground was littered with hay to disperse footsteps, though it was soft with trod, horse urine, and water.

And coming into the unlit stable, their horse was, surprisingly, unharmed and unfettered. His eyes weren't wide with horrors endured offstage. He snuffed, impatient, at Wy'Ziot's approach, who soothed his grumpiness with a hand, brushing down his freshly cleaned coat.

Panyin was relieved, and nearly forgot herself against the cold wall, admiring the tenderness Wy'Ziot had within him. It surfaced more times than not, in her mind. And she knew it was something she herself lacked in most ways. Panyin lifted herself from the wooden doors and searched the open baskets on the wall. There she found an apple, and retrieved the knife from her back, paring away the stem and center. A bottle was uncorked and some contents poured into the center, which she carefully brought to him. It seems Wy'Ziot had been trying the name with the horse, seeing how he liked it.

"Here, Bastion... Don't--! Eat it yet..." His lip moved toward the treat, and took ahold of the edge of it, wrestling it from her somewhat. She edged it closer after he took a bite, and he lapped from the center, before taking hold of the rest and biting it down into pieces. She was unsure as to how much he ate, but surely it was enough to see if there were any ill effects by tomorrow. "Good boy." She patted his cheek, which he didn't like, and took his head from her, turning back in his stall. "Alright."

But she was satisfied, and let Wy'Ziot say goodnight as she found herself outside, resting against the outer wall of the stable.

She opened one eye as he arrived, unaware until then that they were closed. "...Are you carrying me?" It was a joke, but of course, he opened his arms and picked her up. "Oof. Are you sure you want to carry me all that way?" She was tired. She couldn't help the words coming out of her mouth. And didn't mean to, but her eyes closed her into sleep for a moment, after twenty steps, and she woke with a start as they entered the tavern again, the wash of warmth dipping her into a sudden nightmare in her sleep. It was embarrassing to be walking through the foyer like a child that couldn't stay awake, but it was happening, so she tried to rob the experience from herself.

They rounded the hall and found someone beside their door. She was still. Hooded, with a dark red auburn hair peeking from beneath a black hood. Her position on the floor was meditative, and she rose quietly, hands tenting together softly in a form of nonintimidating gesture.

Panyin's feet slowly touched the floor as he let her down. They stared, she felt Wy'Ziot tight with wary, and the woman bowed herself; slowly and with little sarcasm.

"...Someone asked to show me your services I'm assuming?"

"My lady Alchemist. I am here to retrieve your things; for it is said that you have encumbered yourself with quite a bustle of reagents. Agents such as I will move your things ahead to your location, and get them to you as you arrive in the city. It was thought that you would be quite encumbered for your journey if otherwise left alone. Do you consent to consigning your things?"

Her head tilted back, eyes falling to slits. "...Two-thirds of it."

"As you wish..." The woman bowed shortly again, before turning and unlocking the door with a movement from her wrist.

Panyin was not in a hurry. She stretched her legs, her wrists, before following. Allowed this woman to disappear from her sight before she walked in on her and would balk at her going through her things. She came into the room, and the woman had produced another bag, and already had things packed away.

"Is this alright, Milady?"

Panyin eyed it, perusing its contents. "That's fine."

She bowed again. "Then I take my leave of you. We will not fail to return your things to you upon your arrival at Ra'Zouketh." The woman now moved quickly out the door and turned right; which was not towards the stairs. Had she been looked for, of course she would have disappeared.

Panyin did not waste time, starting easily to undress, and Wy'Ziot closed the door at this prompting. She peeled off the tunic, unlaced the vest and belts. "I don't want to leave tomorrow." At least she was preparing him for her flighty, mercurial decision, and it would not be sprung on him in the morning. He was probably giving her a look. "How long was that poison supposed to put you down?" Days. Weeks. "But it is only because of me that you are up again. Unless they are fully idiotic: that means they would have planned for this buffer of time before sending you off on this mission." She scooted herself back on the bed, and knelt to close the window, the curtain. A thin sheet, enough to obscure anything from being seen. "It is not as though they received that this contract this morning. That means we have that much more time before the schedule becomes... dire."

She lay down. "They just want to hold your feet to the fire." She was aware. She was aware she was surmising, concluding, and gambling with his life rather than hers. The one at worse risk to their ire: was him. Though everything else served as a risk to her; the world and all the other killers and little things, it was they who could not touch her right now. And it was not that she freely, happily put him in danger--it was that she had pride. And it was a dangerous thing that did not let her bend to those who pushed her too far. She was not subject to the whims of those who placed themselves into high towers. It was collateral causing behavior, certainly. And always bad.

She lay there, eyes staring at him. Softening to something warmer. She eyed him, would not stop, as the room felt like it closed them into an illusion of safety.

She lay supine, and with the smallest curl of her hand, beckoned him over. She touched her chest, waiting for him to come over her. Her hand stroked his hair back, which fell again around them, clacked. Her arms snaked around his head, cradling him, wishing to hold him deeply, but hesitating between two things. She released him enough so that he could look at her. "I'm tired." Her eyes closed. Her head touching to his. Her hand stroked his hair. "Keep me awake." Now it was not like before. She kissed the corner of his mouth, and allowed her eyes to open. "And then let me sleep."

It could be the last time for a long time that they'd be alone, seeming safe, closed off from the world. Quietly, finally in this sanctuary of each other's company. She wanted this and nothing else.

But morning would come and thrust her into the days that followed. So she grasped this as she could.

 

[Malhyanth]

The first shot of whiskey fell through his system like a bolt. The second went much the same way. The third he allowed himself to stew on, as he watched Panyin with an amused eye, his expression towards Mina stating, very clearly, that she was a bad woman. He'd never seen Panyin so glassy eyed, unfocused, and rosy cheeked. Whatever Mina had concocted, Panyin was forcing it down, and was becoming more and more intoxicated. She managed to peruse the scroll he'd been given, but her expression smacked of discontent with his declaration. He smiled, pulled into a smirk by his scars, and winked at Mina, whom sheepishly grinned back. Her wobbling head stated she had certainly had enough to drink, she he removed the tankard from her grasp, and set it with Mina.

"Enough, little lady. Let's go." He chuckled, trying to assist Panyin off the stool. She held out her hand for Mina, whom looked shocked, and took it. The gentle touches of comradeship. Her request for breakfast with Mina was met with a giggle and a nod, as Wy'Ziot directed her shoulders towards the exit, ignoring the looks, unaware of the stares, focused solely on the inebriated beauty in his hands. As they exited, and made their way through damp tunnels and small doorways, she held his fingers tightly, as though not to lose him. He just allowed it, pleased by the touch, quiet bar a gentle huff of a chuckle as she gripped him tighter. As they exited, and headed towards the main drag of the pathways that meandered the Cityscape, Wy'Ziot breathed deep of the salty sea air, refreshing and vibrant. His broad chest filled with it as he raised his arms and stretched long and hard, his muscles straining. Her suggestions to see to the horse, named now, it seemed, was welcome, and he nodded enthusiastically.

"Bastion..." He murmured, as she pressed against him again, and he smirked, liking it, thinking of the broad head, kind eyes, and hulking size, and thinking it was a suitable name for such a grand animal. He lead her through the Captial, through alleyways and short cuts, to get to the walls quicker, and to enter the stables. Stepping away from Panyin, Wy'Ziot approached the men with a jovial grin. "Good evening, gents. Fine veazher for cards and drinks!" They looked at him skeptically for a short while, before starting to laugh at his jokes, and liken to the giant with the monstrously large animal in their stables. They waved the pair off, and Wy'Ziot returned to Panyin, and gentle touch to her jaw line with the back of his hand, before motioning her follow him. Wy'Ziot relayed to her their assurance that someone was awake with the horses at all times, and that no one could enter the small scale ranch without alerting the workers.

As they neared, the giant horse wickered softly, and Wy'Ziot grinned, amazed at how loyal the beast was after such a short period of time. He entered the stall, and gathered a brush, stroking down his neck, withers, back and sides, down his legs, and into his tail and mane. The giant horse stood and accepted the ministrations. All the while, Wy'Ziot was questioning him in his quiet tones, asking his opinion of the name Panyin had chosen, whether he felt it fit. His side twitched, and Wy'Ziot took this as an acceptable answer, "Yes. Bastion it is." He grinned at Panyin, as she approached with an apple and was dissecting it for the giant. The horse was gentle, could feel her apprehension, and was careful by it, so sweet and kind. Wy'Ziot beamed at the woman, and nodded, placing his forehead to the cheek of the giant, and whispering they would be back soon.

As he stepped from the stable, he noticed Panyin fighting a losing battle with sleep. He chuckled, and as he came up on her, she accused him, and so he carried out her own decided fate, scooping her into his broad chest, feeling her relax into it, and chuckling further. "Djou are nozhing to carry, sveet Panyin." Wy'Ziot mumbled, as she drifted off again. The walk was a good 20mins or so, and she snoozed in his arms all the way. He loved it, hugging her close, feeling her reality being so close to his own as she was carried. As they entered the Tavern they'd been staying in, he felt her stir, but pretend to be asleep. The Tavern keeper snoozed by the fire, done for the day, and unaware of Wy'Ziot and Panyin's return. The feeling they weren't alone, however, made the werewolf slow. His chest released a low growl, not recognising this Contractor, and he prided himself on knowing practically all of them. He placed Panyin down upon her own feet as the woman spoke.

"My lady Alchemist. I am here to retrieve your things; for it is said that you have encumbered yourself with quite a bustle of reagents. Agents such as I will move your things ahead to your location, and get them to you as you arrive in the city. It was thought that you would be quite encumbered for your journey if otherwise left alone. Do you consent to consigning your things?"

Wy'Ziot watched the way Panyin commanded the woman, and gave direction. His eyebrow lifted; what had been said to her, what had been decided, when she had entered that Crucible alone? She held a power now, Wy'Ziot felt it palpably around her, and he watched, intrigued, as this new woman disappeared from their lives as quickly as she'd appeared. His eyes narrowed, and he moved to close the door, securely locking it, unsure of the situation, and preferring to shut it out, bring normalcy back to their situation. He stood beside the door a little longer, listening intently to the sounds of the Tavern. Very little stirred, and he could not hear the woman walking away through the building, nor the front door open or close. His frown deepened, as he turned to looked at Panyin, whom had stripped in his absent mindedness and was beckoning he join her. His eyebrow rose again, and he tapped the door a few times, before shrugging out of his intricate pauldron style armour, baring his torso entirely. The knots and shapes of the armour held as they were laid down, but Wy'Ziot did not remove further clothing; his hands remained bound into their bandages, his breeches remained tied in place. He listened to her arguments, and sighed.

"Panyin... it is not for zhem I vish to leave tomorrow. It is for ourselves. 'Owever, if djou command it, I shall not fight it. Ve shall leave vhen djou tell me." He watched her features, the internal war with her own decisions; he hazarded he knew her thoughts. That her decision to stay affected one of them more than the other, and put only one at significantly more risk. Wy'Ziot smiled, however, and sat himself upon the edge of the cot, elbows on knees as he leant forward, fingers laced together. "I am djour's to command, Panyin. I 'ave told djou zhis. I vish djou vould believe me." He looked at her, his mottled eyes holding almost a sad element as she felt she had to persuade him of her decision to stay longer in the Capital. As they watched each other, she softened, and seemed to remove herself from the demanding role, and become the Panyin he recognised. He motioned him, and he placed a hand on the bed on her opposite side, leaning over her, head cocked to listen to her words as she breathed them, felt her touches to his face and hair, the arm snaking around his head to bring him into her embrace, which he acquiesced to. He shifted his weight, so he sprawled along her side, a leg hooked around hers, half his chest and his arm nestled against her belly, his head upon her chest, listening to her heartbeat.

His fingers traced patterns across her side, her stomach, her hip, and side of her thigh. "Keep djou avake, 'uh?" He chuckled, shaking his head a little, his breath teasing the fabric he'd pressed between them. "I zhink little drunk Foxes should sleep before zhe 'eadache starts." He brushed gentle fingers through her wild hair, carefully loosening any knots found, massaging her scalp, where he could reach, and planting gentle kisses to her collar bone, where he could reach it.

 

[unais]

He seemed not to hear her arguments, but he sat, fingers held. She raised her head, seeing the sadness lacing in his skin and his spine. With that smile. Her heart dropped as he reminded her.

I am yours to command. She closed her eyes. I have told you this.

"I'm sorry." They squeezed shut in stricken pain. She was disappointed. In herself. He had lapsed into his servitude toward the Contractors, and she, too, lapsed back to her old self in turn.

You are our family. She felt the breath move in her throat, the disappointment clawing deep. You own me. You own this Wolf.

I know nothing else. And you are what I choose. Air sucked in through her teeth. Once he had flurried at their touch she had forgotten herself. Her… significance.

"I know. I hear you. I'm… hearing you… But it is not inside me yet."

You saved my life. And played their game. Agreed to terms. How much she was playing, she did not tell, but. She had taken his actions as immutable. Unbidden. And that her wishes were of no importance in the face of insinuations which moved him bodily to where they bid; heaved his chest with breath, breathed his pulse with fear. The power they held over him, raw and visceral, left welts as the hand came away; and he turned his head to come closer as they bid.

She could not conceptualize that this power was lesser than her own. She could not grasp what it was she had.

Family. Loyalty. Command. How these could exist In each other without becoming the same power as Contractors. It was too nebulous for her to understand.

She could not even begin to be where she should grasp this. Her breath was started to veer away from calm. She needed to grasp one of the few things she knew.

That she trusted him. She truly knew. And that was inside her. Unquestionable; immutable. She exhaled relief, clenching his skull of hair. She could trust him in this world. He was the only one. It felt beyond good to have that. For the first time. And it was not the trust of keeping her safe. That was an easy trust that many had fulfilled. She could trust that he would care for her. Beyond money, beyond layers of revenge, beyond subversion built up behind her back. He would tend to her. That was what she knew. But where did everything else begin after that?

Why she had a power over him.

You were not afraid when you saw us. Was that truly all? It did not feel like enough. But it had to be. And he gave her something in return. He always acquiesced to her. She felt so close to grasping why. Like man first harnessing fire. What kind of power was it?

What kind of power.

There was type of power she understood. It surfaced as the darkness brought her back. A hard, merciless grip over others. She did not feel it's hot, rankled grip around her as she was with him. That was what it felt like. It was hot, unpleasant, thorny. It held her to its fire until she used it and allayed it. But this was not that kind of power.

"Why command…?" Her voice was quiet. Very quiet. "You are not my slave... Are you my servant…?"

Was it that he wanted to be commanded, like the Contractors said? That he needed to be? He wanted to be at her beck and call? Or else he would fall into something else?

"I don't want that." So she thought. The idea of him serving her. Beneath her. It repulsed her fibre. But it was so close. She knew. Her eyes flickered in and out of focus.

You were not afraid when you saw us.

And winced, wary.

"I am your family... and you own me in kind. What does that mean?" That he wanted from her? What was she to do? "I don't know what it means to have family." She never had before.

Was she to exert her power like the Contractors over him? She didn't want that. Was her power a leash? Was she wrapped around his neck like the rope before?

Her hand ran along the burns beneath his jaw. Smooth from where it was worn, ridges between. Was she a leash where he would not be able to run from her, that choked him until he could only live within a hand of imagined threats? Or was she a chain that encircled him, wrapped round his body, holding him tightly so that he could not even move without her bidding? What was her hold on him?

What was it he wanted of her?

Something warm was trickling into her reality, as something growing at the edges of existence made itself apparent. He was warm between her hands. A warmth that encircled their hands and wrists, connected the two of them; stronger together than apart. That is what it was. The strength he relied on her for. But she didn't know what. How it should be treated. How it should be used. She felt the gentleness of it. But only harsh words were left, and she was reluctant, so reluctant to speak them.

Though she needed to.

"What do you want me to do with you?" Her words were frightful, but she stroked the side of his face in what she hoped was comforting. What she hoped was relaying her attempt to breach this space between them. Though fearful, shaky, she was trying.

She wanted to stay close. Panyin was happy enough to go forward without looking back. They had dipped into so many blissful moments since then. As if misplaced. As if it were happiness that needed to be stolen from the jaws of something else. She crooned when he stroked her jaw in a fleeting touch. Warmed into his hand as he reached back and touched her. When the tunic hadn't covered his midriff, she laughed though the lizard in her brain had liked what it'd seen. It was something she hadn't cherished at the time; not knowing soon they would be thrust back into a dark world that was not so unfamiliar but completely knew.

She was not as afraid now, but the desperation came still in spurts when her thoughts ran too long, as they did now. How afraid she was to lose what she had with him.

Yet she was brave enough to venture forth to what needed to be done.

"You want me to command you?" Her hand stroked his head, grip falling weaker. "Why... Wy'Ziot?" She stared into the ceiling. "Do my wishes supersede yours?"

 

[Malhyanth]

Wy'Ziot was quiet as he lay with her, felt her hand trace along his hair, his skull, his jaw. She was slowly turning over his offer to her; her command over him. She didn't seem to understand, and that was unsurprising. She had mentioned before that their stories were more similar that she cared to admit, however his scars were external, whereas hers were emotional, mental. Bar her dimpled back. He had noticed them, and cherished them. Every time she questioned, a gentle kiss was placed upon her chest, her shoulder, her upper arm; whatever he could reach where he was nestled in under her arm. She did not seem to comprehend the true extent of what he offered, but he wanted her to come to terms with it internally, before he added his own reasoning on top. As her breathing drew raggedly, her concern for what this all meant striking a fear into her chest, his arm snaked around her waist, the other behind her back, to bring her in close to his chest, and hug her tightly, soothing her smooth skin through the thin sheet she had covered her form with.

His gentle hushes seemed to assist her calming breaths, her body's tense lines dissipating as her brain slowly turned over all the information it needed to make sense of. Again, he lay, silently, waiting for her to direct thoughts at him, rather than to the ether. Her query over whenever he was a slave or a servant made him chuckle, and he went to answer, but she continued, clearly forming sentences aloud to assist her overworked brain. Her refusal to accept into the idea he was her servant lead him to raise his head slightly, his eyes a frown. Why did she reject him in such a manner? But further words tumbled forth, and he understood; she didn't understand the way his family dynamic would work; he wasn't asking to be the Alpha in their group.

Her hands strayed, and flowed down his face and jawline to the deep set scar is the leash used to hang him. He raised his head a little, his large hand, from her waist, raising to hold her hand to his scars, and his mottled eyes watched her own amber ones. "Do, Panyin?" He queried. His head tilted a little, like a confused pup, and he smiled at her worries face, squeezing the fingers that stroked his neck scars. "I vish nozhing from djou." His hand encircled her own, and he raised the knuckles of her hand to his lips, where he gently layered butterfly kisses upon the hand. "I understand zhis is tough for djou. But djou must understand; I vant djou to command my movements, atop zhat of she Contractors. Zhey gave me purpose, but zhey did not give me life. But djou, Panyin. Djou do bozh. A purpose to keep djou safe, and vorship zhis body djou dislike. And djou give me life. Zhe desire to explore vish fresh eyes, to 'elp djou traverse zhis 'arsh vorld." He held out her hand, straight ahead of herself, and slowly placed feather light touches of his lips to her wrist, her arm, crook of her elbow, to her bicep. He smirked over her flesh, and released the hand cafeully onto his shoulders.

"I vish to serve djou, my Panyin." He settled his head into the crook of her arm once more, burying his nose into the flesh of her body below her armpit. "I vish to serve djou because djou provide a purpose to my life, and I vant zhat, more zhat anyzhing." He allowed his fingers to brush her lips carefully, softly, before they traced the curve and slowly stepped down to her throat, down to her clavical. She was stunning, dressed so simply in a bed sheet. For a moment, the giant albino shifted himself, and lay back upon the bed. He stared to the ceiling. "I 'ave told djou before I require a purpose. My life is long, Panyin. And djou believe djours could be also. I could see myself answering djou call vizh speed and devotion long into new millennia. And I 'ave seen these eras pass." He rose, and pushed himself up, to straddle her thighs. His hands pressed into the pillow either side of her head. He indicated his new scar, the one she inflicted. "Zhis day, djou made a promise to allow me to keep djou, alvays. Maybe not in flesh, but alvays in memory." He looked away, struggling to make this clear for her without making it all weird.

"Panyin... zhis mark... I took as a silent sign djou 'ad understood zhat I vould never be able to forget djou. Zhat I vished to remain vizh djou, alvays. And if zhat means serving djou, so zhat ve may remain togezher, vizhout question, I take it. Gladly." He lowered, bending his elbows to place gentle kisses to her forehead, her cheeks, and if she close her eyes, her lids. Slowly, he worked to her lips, capturing them gently, questioning, fearful of her rejection now.

 

[unais]

The lips that touched her skin weakened her eyes to flutters that closed her sight. He led her softly through his ministrations and complications. Gently through his reasonings. The skin prickled, cold, assuaged down by warmth, and again up in ripples that caught her breath with what was not fear. He took her hand, and she watched him, unbidden, as he spoke. She forced her eyes closed to listen to him; to make sure she truly tried to hear what he was saying. And the words made her shiver. There was a tremble in her hands that he felt as his lips touched them. She knew the words being spoken. In theory. She understood them. But she forced the cracks open in her hardness to make herself truly the feel them.

It was frightening. Her back tightened at the words, arched her minutely against him. To allow something to touch her so viscerally was new. She pried open something of herself and the cracks in her mind and what may be her soul. She knew his body, and hers, but she had to work, claw with the effort to understand their minds. So he felt her fear. It prickled up her neck and arms where it was cold. Touched her chest above the cloth. There was a tremble breathed between her teeth. She removed herself from what embarrassment could follow for being so fearful, being so touchy at such soft words. She made herself endure this. She wanted to.

You are atop the Contractors. They gave me purpose, but not life. You. You give me both. She held tightly to herself so she would not flee from this. From feeling deeply. So that she would take his words inside this time if she could. His touch against the flesh of her body pressed out another shiver, tight within herself.

I wish to serve you, my Panyin. Her hand tightened softly where it was, holding him. He allowed her a reprieve from what trembled in her body, taking himself aside and laying with her. She opened her eyes, her skin tight.

You give me purpose. I want that, more than anything.

Purpose. The shivers that were minor convulsions in her body of adrenaline had their time and were beginning to stop. The words felt long in her mouth. Panyin, quieter than ever, almost breathless, in a steady voice. "I... see."

She could understand a purpose. Like what alchemy had given to her. Rather, she had become its slave. An unfeeling master which ruled her life, which she sought to mollify at every means and turns of her existence. It came from an insanity in an unhealthy body that led her, controlled her through these things. But it was purpose. And through it she had almost found what could be described as happiness. Almost. It was satiety. A comforting lull. A buzz.

To serve her did not push him beneath her; where such placement struck her as wrong. She was a dredge of society when it truly mattered. And for someone kind, tortured--murderer as he may be--it was not right for her to be above him. But this was not the same. It gave him something. A purpose was something worth spending one's life chasing. She could agree with that.

And he did not make it seem as bad as her mind could imagine it could be.

It sounded like beautiful prose that was worth following. Her skin prickled with an odd feeling, as everything, it felt, seemed to resolve around her.

A purpose...

At his continuance, her heart began to beat naively.

I could see myself answering your call into new millennia. In a sudden start of warmth in her chest. And I have seen these eras pass. The beat ran through her system.

That he had given thought to this--a long look into the future--and had pictured them entangled still with each other.

Always.

But he never failed to surprise her with his earnest, tender thoughtfulness. And it made her eyes hot. The future always had seemed to be schemed by evil ones. Yet he was here. Thinking of a future more realistically than she could. Admiring a future with her, pictured in his mind, in at least little images, or a visceral feeling, in something that had to do with her. It was a slightly different prickle. Still relaxed, with a different tension not of fear. Her eyes felt glossy beneath the lids, with a smile that was almost painful in its inexperienced happiness.

The bed dipped to her sides, and beside her head as he was over her, again, and recalled their story. Her hand touched his chest, splayed over the wound she had inflicted; the one he had scarred. He turned his head, embarrassed for what he was saying. That he had a way to keep her, forever, after a goodbye as expected. What had been intended. Her eyes darkened for a moment, remembering, it had been intended to have been goodbye in more ways than one. Her hand moved to his face, almost unknowingly.

This mark... I took as a sign you understood that I would never be able to forget about you. That I wished to remain with you, always.

She stared into his eyes, which didn't look at her for a moment. And if that means serving you, so that we may remain together, without question, I take it.

Her eyes fell slowly closed, as he kissed her, all over, and graced her mouth with the touch. She allowed it, felt its warmth melt against her, feeling her heart steady in its quickened beats, finding a familiar pace. Yet a question ventured, and she held his head, not allowing him free, as she allowed the kiss to break.

"...From the moment we met... when I left that mark... you wished to remain with me...?" She spoke carefully, edging in for another kiss to leave him open to answer or let it fade silence. And she felt, ebbing away, another thing to say that: perhaps he didn't need to serve her, to be with her, but she felt those edges fade. She didn't need them.

And she ventured further, her heart sinking, fearful of its own ineptitude. Alcohol, exhaustion and a tired, sated mind converged. The words were breathed out in a daze that knew, and let it happen anyway.

"I love..."

She looked down, eyes not meeting his. What else could this feeling be? She could not be mistaken. But she was afraid, all over again, hot prickles of embarrassment and fear.

She felt her hand behind his head. Slowly, it took its grip again. And slowly, she kissed him. "I do want this. Take me again before tomorrow."

There were short term fears playing here. One being that she did not want to fuck in a forest.

 

[Malhyanth]

Wy'Ziot was careful as he touched her, feeling the fear she held as she digested the information he gave, her shivers, her tensing. She listened to his words, and slowly, she seemed to accept them, a simple breathy word releasing the tension she held. Slowly, a smile spread across her features, and her amber eyes locked with his own, though their intensity, he found difficult to look back on. Her gentle touch to his chest brought his own hand up to her fingers, and his eyes back to her. As she returned his kiss, he closed his own eyes, feeling her hands upon his jawline, and pressing his forehead against her own. He smiled a little, and nodded at her question. She captured his lips again, and he acquiesced, returning in kind. She trailed her own kisses away down his neck, before she pulled away a little, as though embarrassed. He hadn't heard her murmured words, so he tried to capture her attention, but she avoided it somewhat. He smirked, letting her; her hand at the back of his head, buried in his dreadlocks, tightening. She pulled him to her, demanding his attention.

-------------------------------

The morning light filtered in, its very early rays should not have disturbed the Wolf. Though he had dozed, the Wolf in him had remained vigilant, guarding over the woman curled within his arms. He leant his back head, one eyebrow raised, which in term pulled open one eye further, and his mottled gaze looked around the room. Panyin wanted to stay longer. He would not deny her that. She had also wanted to see Mina. He wasn't sure that was so wise, but Panyin was clearly fond of the other woman, and Wy'Ziot was not one to deny Mina a friend either; she was so surrounded by men in her work all the time, few Contractors were female. He didn't rouse the sleeping woman, but he did pull the bed sheet closer around them, hoping not to disrupt her.

He thought through the information he'd been given by the Contractors the night before, and sending him back 'home'. He wondered if it was some sick joke by them, whether they knew something he didn't. All he knew was there was a job to be carried out, to his usual standard of aggression. Closing his eyes, Wy'Ziot thought through recent events in the region, but he realised quite suddenly that news of the region had barely filtered through to the Capital. This concerned him, and he wondered if his friend in the market would have any better information. The man travelled to their homeland far more often, so whilst Panyin was set on being in the Captial slightly longer, it was an opportunity he should take.

As the sun continued to rise and flood the room with warmth and light, he felt the woman in his arms start to rouse. He smiled a little, letting Panyin awaken as she pleased, cracking out his own neck.

 

[unais]

He had been charmed since he met her. How funny that was. She should keep that for later. Tuck it amongst the warmth that resided, folded itself into her heart as he had promised something to her. That now she knew he had been charmed, truly charmed... by a Panyin that had revealed part of who she really was. Not the quiet little merchant waif. Something else entirely. And he hadn't wanted to say goodbye. It was something she could imagine.

His head touched hers in return. The smile that made its way out was almost painful in its existence. These small moments. She wanted to hold them to her, capture them. Keep them to her forever. Like scars.

-------------------------------

The sleep was deep and filling; just as he had been. Her blood was warmed by his body and picked away the fatigue that clogged her from innards to skin. Now it would pulse to her fingers quickly, and spark her movements without sluggishness. There were still notches cut into her, from where she had tried too many things at once. Twice a day was demanding. But she wasn't expecting to collect again on that intimacy until she was closed off into walls again. The time was worth it. He pulsed beneath her, in a soft beat familiar to her sleep. That she now awoke into an ardor that blanketed her, complete and encompassing, which held her even as he was woke, were asleep. Fervor that he showered her with, lauded upon her as he felt her deserving. It was omnipresent. It existed so long as he looked at her, heeded her, paid his attention to her. And he always did. She knew. Whether she looked at him or not, he was thinking of her. Maybe most times now. She hadn't the courage to say as such before. But it was not vanity, she now knew.

I wish only to serve you. My Panyin.

Blood pulsed to her hand, moved it over his, dragging him closer to her centre. His warmth pleased her, and raised something in her skin, along her neck, along her legs. She lofted warmly atop this in a dull buzz.

Part of her did recoil as she began to fall into this conceit of comfort. Scared it would burn just to touch these other things. But it was there. That she wanted to be with him. To be wrapped around him. He around her. She was inundated with a feeling so strong, yet it left her lying here, wanting to be in this endlessly. She drank in what she knew was love, yet so many aspects of it she balked and struggled and pried herself from. He scented her changes. Happiness. Longing. Fear. Anxiousness. Her thumb ran over his knuckle, smoothing the skin, moving his tendon over the bone. Contentedness. His words, his voice that melted and rumbled her pleasantly when he talked, growled words in her head. She tried to review it. Etch it in.

Her blood pulsed gently. Fingers crawled up his chest, to his jaw. She looked at him, and took his head in her hands, feeling the lengthened stubble in her palms. She stared, still waking now.

"...Be patient with me." She brought herself closer. "...When again, I'll need to hear things you have... already told me before." He felt her hesitation, scented her growing fear. Her pulse was hot, spewing the poison of fright into her veins the longer she thought about it. That she would never learn these things he told her; that they would never fully enter her heart. And that he would leave her for that foolishness. She edged closer, quieting her mind by kissing him.

But she knew now he would serve her. That she was his purpose. And she understood that.

I want that, more than anything. You've given me that. Not just purpose. You give me life. That inundating warmth deluged her chest.

She was learning. It was not a cycle of undoing. She kissed him softly, barely touching, letting it deepen until she slowly released them from it. He would not leave her. But the fear was there. The little chances that her life always found a way to get.

A fleck of blood came back with her mouth, and she wiped it, realizing it just then. She looked at him strangely, before laying down her head to slowly ease herself back.

Her eyes closed as she lay beside him, her head close to his. He listened to her painful breath that extracting her from her fear. And calmed herself by touching him, her thumb stroking softly, his cheek as he turned his head to look at her. He did not seem upset or done with her, and she came to smile. She lay there, comfortable. The sun began to slink further down the walls as she was with him, sinking into time here. Caressing into the dreamlike state she desired. To simply exist together, in unbroken moments. Her head came closer to his, barely touching his.

"Li-ttle Fox..." Smoothed over his skin. Crossing the ridge of a scar. Her fingers were gentle. "I like that better than Hot Head..." Though she had a temper since meeting him.

The door knocked. Panyin inhaled, rousing. She moved to sit up, rearrange herself as Wy'Ziot got to the door. He cracked it, and outside was Mina.

"Afternoon, Wolfie. I thought you might have left before I saw you off." She smiled, her sing-song voice came through the room. Panyin stopped herself from rushing out of bed and making a flurry of noise.

He apologizes for them. Says they'll be out soon after getting ready. She'll wait in the street then.

The door is closed, and Panyin in pause, listened to the footsteps padding down the hall before she got up, trying not to ache the floorboards too much. She stayed quiet until Mina was likely outside, pulling other things from her vest pack. The old clothes were folded, the rust red tunic tucked into the larger kit, and the rest of what she wore rearranged into new colors. She put on a new tunic, its color a livened olive green. Observed it in the mirror, seeing how it wore. She did not wear green often. It was very common for her hair color, and the contrast was typically too attractive for her to like wearing it. But things seemed different now, and she bought different colors for the change. Her pants were a darker color, a different leather lining the outside of the legs. It would be warmer than the other one if she so needed it. And bloodstains would not show so easily.

He stops her a moment, unexpected as she was finishing getting dressed. There was something tiny in his hand and took her a moment to realize its form as her brush. She chuckled quietly, turning to the mirror as he took a lock of hair. He was deft, gentle, working his way around her head until her hair splayed out happily, catching light in its surface. She softened it down with a hand. She turned to smile approvingly at him, but she then saw her lab. The state of things was remembered, and she had not even gotten up early.

She looked at him and smiled, touching his cheek, before going to rush. The lab was picked apart to pieces, bottled, stoppered, and tossed into her long kit, wrapped up promptly as if nothing had happened. She finished latching her side bags to her vest, and hefted her bags. Seeing her ready to travel, he picked up his few things.

"I'm not sure if we will leave the city today, but I don't want to stay here, anymore." There were too many bad memories circling this place. It was time for somewhere new.

Panyin headed her way out the door, letting Wy'Ziot check for anything that had been left behind. She bustled down to the desk, and her coin purse jangled hard as she brought it to her hand, a signal the keeper did not mistake. She leant against the bar as Wy'Ziot came down, and smiled at him, finally having paid something. He looked a little cleaned up from a moment ago. He held her hand in his, kissing her fingers, where she blushed with a smile and went toward the entrance where Mina waited.

The woman was basking her legs in the sun, the light shining hazily through the sheer material, her nipples pink and pressed against the fabric. Panyin bent to lend a hand, but Wy'Ziot was there first, getting Mina to her feet. Panyin huffed a chuckle wondering why she had gone to be a gentleman.

Mina dusted her dress, folding her hands into the skirt with carried grace. "So where was it you wanted to eat, darlin'?"

A thoughtful breath sighed, and Panyin gestured for them to walk. Away from there. "Oh, anywhere... Somewhere if there would be less prying ears not... beholden to a payroll we all know and love." She was not one for subtlety in paranoia she did not feel. She knew there was caution to be had, but she could not muster the strength to fear.

"I know a place." With her long legs, Mina took the lead, taking them not too far. A few streets down to a corner bistro, whose lunch rush was starting to build. It had wide glass windows, where everything could be seen inside; quite a new spectacle for passersby, who awed in pauses at its glaring surface, smooth and polished. Batches of bread and pastries were worked in and out of brick ovens, seen straight through to the back, and at the side, meats on a spit were rolled over hot coals. It smelled of buttered, crisping bread, simmered meats and wet, sliced vegetables. Mina played her way into the small crowd, searching for a place with enough seats for them.

Though there was something else, something much nearer, scenting, that drew Pan's attention from her, and Wy'Ziot saw her lifting the edge of her shirt to her nose. She stopped and straightened her collar, averting her eyes with an embarrassed smile. She simply thought that she smelled of him. It was not unpleasant to her; but she should have washed it off. Momentarily she thought that anyone else would know. Those with anthropomorphic traits. Spies from the Contractors. And then women especially. Of any kind. They had a nose for this kind of thing; a sense. Her hand made its way to her shirt again, touching it to her lips.

Signs of him were felt all over her. His teeth on her neck. A bruise on her shoulder. But she was sure that was all in her head. No one had seen or felt what she had, and she was simply being aware of it.

She exhaled, steeling herself through this easily. There should be nothing to worry about.

The three sat at a small table, the noise bubbling around them in an insulating hush. Panyin looked at the board for what they served, and a fat woman whose breasts stacked heavily over her corset came up ask for their order. She'd a glowing smile with strands of dark, kinky hair that bounced before her ears, and spoke with a warm busyness.

Panyin ordered the crescent bread, croissant, with meat, vegetables, and egg, as a sandwich apparently. She required no drink. She sat her chin on her hand, turning her gaze away as they other two decided. There was an illusion of peace here as well. It was not the district of stalls and fresh goods, but a rung of service shops that lined the streets. Finer goods. Ladies and men's clothes. A barbershop a ways down. Goods with fur lining the seams. Cloaks and traveling things.

Her bedroll was old. Not for comfort. Perhaps it was time as well, to renew that piece. Her eyes drifted to Wy'Ziot, thinking of the cost for him. At least he could carry it as well. Her head nudged back, and she saw a shaded area, pulled away for privacy. Ladies happily drifting in and out. She was looking for new smallclothes as well.

Did Wy'Ziot even wear any? A wince.

Left that thought. Her eyes followed the street, converging to the upper rings of the city just beyond. She stared at that castle, an immense fort enclosed in what pealed out to an immense city.

"So." She felt they would see it in time. She hoped not. But she felt it. "Is there something you wish to tell us, Mina?"

She was not watching and did not see the other woman's inhale upon her question. Sharp. Frozen. But she clarified, aware of her words sounding traitorous. "About our collective... bosses. Was there something you wanted to warn us about?" There was, at least at some point.

Mina's shoulders, loosing their tension, presented the picture of grace again. Her spine slackening back to its elegant curve, and the pleasant, empty smile returning. It happened a moment before Panyin's eyes returned to her. And Mina smiled , a little hum, resuming normalcy. She had brought something with her. A small bottle, that had not escaped Panyin's notice. And something else.

 

[Malhyanth]

The sun was really starting to filter through the windows as they remained still. Wy'ziot's eyes only drifted closed a few times, but for the majority, he watched the world outside rouse as the sun rose. It was nearly mid morning before Panyin started to shift and move, only to bring his broad hand to rest on her stomach so she could draw more heat, like a lizard, to get going. He let her quietly gather herself ready for the day. She ran her fingers over his knuckles, playing with the tendons that stood so starkly against his scarred skin. She shifted in his lap, making sure she was looking deep into his mottled eyes. Wy'Ziot tilted his head, inquisitive as she spoke. He steadied her as she moved, his thumbs gently stroking her sides.

"...Be patient with me... When again, I'll need to hear things you have... already told me before." Wy'ziot's mottled eyes softened, and his smile was gentle as he stroked her hair, twirling its crazy ringlets around his finger a moment, before simply nodding. He returned her kiss, hand wrapping around the base of her skull as his other wrapped around her shoulders and pulled her closer, hugging her to his chest, and burying his nose into her scalp. When he saw her pull back, and blood stained her face, he raised his hand to his lip and found his own bite mark. He raised his eyebrows, and licked at it, feeling the raised flesh, tasting it. He watched her cautiously, and he wiped it from her lips; the infection of his blood was only active on Full or New Moons, so he had no concern she would be affected by it. But it was best not to take chances. He let Panyin relax herself, using him as she desired. That was when she spoke again. "Li-ttle Fox... I like that better than Hot Head..."

Wy'Ziot laughed heartily, and ruffled her hair. "Vell, I shall bare zhat in mind." He chuckled, and looked at her with a wink. "Little 'Ot 'Ead." The door knocking made him start up a little, looking to Panyin with narrowed eyes. She scrambled to cover herself, and Wy'Ziot stood, striding across the room and pulling the door open. The bright blue eyes on the other side of the door widened with mischief at the sight of the scarred man whom filled the doorway in nought but bare skin. She pursed her lips with a smirk.

"Afternoon, Wolfie. I thought you might have left before I saw you off." He grinned back, barely noticing her looking him up and down as he gazed back at Panyin, huddled within her bed sheets, trying not to move for fear of giving away she was in much the same state of dress.

"Ah, Mina!! Is it zhat time already? Apologies, please, vait for us downstairs, ve sharn't be long!" He smiled at her, and she pouts a little at not being allowed to enter. She nodded, and turned away, her sheer frock billowing out as she floated off down the stairs. Wy'Ziot snapped the door closed, and watched Panyin scarper around, seeking her clothing and items. As she gathered everything, Wy'Ziot stepped into his breeches and laced up their front. She stood before the mirror, admiring her new choice in clothing, and Wy'Ziot was drawn to the new brush she had purchased. He collected it, and stepped up behind her, catching her eye in the mirror and holding it up. She acquiesced to his request, and he spent his time carefully running the brush through her hair, smoothing it, detangling knots as gently as possible. She seemed pleased with his work, and smiled at him, before finishing off the work, and rushing to pack her laboratory.

Wy'Ziot slowly worked the knots of his new armour, flowing his arms through the threaded sleeves. He positioned the padded plating over his shoulders, biceps, and pectorals. He smoothed his clad dreadlocks, and scratched his stubbled chin as he watched her. She hefted the heavy pack, and as she walked past him, he smirked, and checked the room one last time. He picked up the last remaining pots of goat meat meals, and balanced them over his shoulder. He hefted his cloak over those, and stepped out. By the time he got to the bottom of the stairs, she'd paid their room, and board, and was smirking at him triumphantly. He grasped her hand and leant forward, kissing her knuckles, and smirked at her moment of discomfort, before leading the way out. Finding Mina waiting outside, he offered his hand to her as he stepped down beside her, which she used to pull herself up, falling a little into his body, and giggling innocently. She dusted herself off , and between her and Panyin, a choice was made on their destination. Wy'Ziot fell into step behind the chattering women, and just kept watch, following them as they headed to the bistro.

As they sat, the noise around them swelled and fell, the lunchtime rush of people visiting the Capital, as well as the workers that sought this place for its large portions and good prices. The busty woman looked the giant albino over, and took his order of barely cooked beef steak, and roast potatoes and a flagons of dark ale. Mina ordered similar to Panyin, wanting to be close to the woman; Wy'Ziot could tell Mina was trying to get close to the other woman. Mina wasn't stupid, she could likely smell their activity all over them, just as Wy'Ziot could. Wy'Ziot was drifting in and out of focus, scenting all the meats that drifted around him, salivating in his hunger. Mina was pointedly ignoring him, fixated on Panyin at this time. At Panyin's words, however, an arched brow turned his attention back and he watched the two converse.

Mina's hands strayed to a bottle she had been carrying, and a bundle of papers. Wy'Ziot watched her carefully, and noted her forced smile, waiting for their food to be deposited as the buxom lady returned. Wy'Ziot took up his cutlery, and sliced into the tender beef, its middle bright red and juicy. He settled himself back, looking at the papers. He indicated them with the knife. "Vhat are zhese?" His voice was deep and hard, his mottled eyes like jewels as he glared, speaking around his tender rare cooked meat. Mina looked at him with slight fear.

"These... these are what I meant to brin' you initially. They are correspondence.. I... I shouldn't have taken them, but these are the orders of the Contractors on you, Wolfie." Wy'Ziot raised his eyebrows, slicing into his meal and continuing to eat, listening, but not really seeming to care. Mina flinched at his callousness. She turned to Panyin, pushing forward the Contracts. "So far any that have come up against Wolfie have died, but they want him gone, incapacitated. They say he is too strong. You must believe me, I told him not to come back, to leave with you."

 

[unais]

Panyin held out her hand. The master seemed as impassive as the pet. She crinkled the papers open, flipping through them. She could be assured Mina was literate. But Panyin had learned that literacy meant nothing in the sense of comprehension. She paused little as she perused.

"'He's too strong'..." She said unknowingly. They were contracts, certainly. But they seemed, to her, to simply be that. It seemed to be hunters hiring themselves out in a vendetta against Wy'Ziot. Or perhaps it was that the Contractors were testing him, seeing as these contracts were so long apart. It was apparently normal for Wy'Ziot to have his "family" coming after him now and again; she could see worse.

And the Contractors had many chances. Many. Many. Many. The inner sanctum was private--Panyin hadn't seen anyone exiting out the front who could not walk on their own two legs. They had that poison. They had hired guards who held post at the inner and outer doors. Poison and killing, easy. No one would know the wiser except for Wy'Ziot not coming out.

He was not immortal. Debilitating him with poison insomuch that he couldn't move should be easy enough.

And there was one more. They had said if they were to remove Panyin from this pact he would die as well.

But she had a thought she could not shake. That Mina was not a sneaky one.

Or maybe she was. Hadn't she visited the tavern without apparently tipping off the Contractors? Panyin frowned, worried for her sake.

"We'll keep that in mind." And that was that. She would keep the thought. There was a chance that Wy'Ziot was now worth more dead to them. But after all they had done to keep him around; it seemed redundant to kill him now.

She handed the papers to Mina, who numbly wrapped her fingers back around them. "You're not going to keep these...?"

"I already read them. You should put them back before you get in trouble." That may be better. It would have been difficult to take them, and then to have such things on any of them was a risk.

She picked up her sandwich. It was toasted crisp and flakey outside, with the center soft in buttered flakes; the peppered chicken and northern lettuce pinned together by a wooden skewer. It was a clean, salinated meat, and she ate around the center.

Mina did not seem hungry, and after a few moments, raised anther question. "...Do you think you... you two... You'll be alright... And you'll be coming back?" Her voice had gone softer and softer. Her gaze did the same. Panyin raised her head. A pause.

"...Yes. I think so." She took a bite. "At least once." After that, who would know. At this moment, Panyin did not fully intend to turn tail. Not quite.

"I see..." Mina was quiet. Panyin hadn't noticed her edging closer until Mina lilted her head onto Panyin's shoulder, resting it there as she ate. And when it was time, it seemed that Mina paid just before they sat down. The buxom woman returned her change. They stood together.

"And this..." She presented the bottle, the papers now tucked into her own belt. "A gift from me. To keep you warm at night." She seemed to be talking to both of them but presented the bottle to Wy'Ziot, who took it. She placed her hands over his. Thoughtful. Somber.

"It's time I should head back." Her hands warmly slipped from Wy'Ziot's and she turned to Panyin, who seemed surprised to have her attention. Mina reached up to brush some strays hair from Panyin's face, and leaned in, kissing her fully. Panyin blinked, unmoving until she was finished; hesitating to do anything else after which may be rude in return. Mina then turned to the werewolf. She stood on her toes to press her cheek against his in the kiss that didn't touch. Then followed with one that held his mouth as well. Panyin did move, and held a hand to shield her eyes. It felt intruding to look upon them intimate, and she was embarrassed for having looked. Mina stepped back, watching Panyin softly, with some slight worry.

The alchemist was unperturbed. Her pulse was fine. Her mind already ahead, thinking of where she was going to stop first. Mina said her goodbyes and left them, with the sheer cloth billowing around her, screening sunlight

Free now, Panyin smiled at Wy'Ziot, wondering if he were simply going to follow. The alchemist headed down the street.

Lye and animal fat stirred with geranium, lavender. Fresh night jasmine. Panyin stopped by the shop and asked for two blocks of soap, the plainest there. She supposed now she would be using it more often. Wy'Ziot seemed to have a taste for cleaning, and she suspected their clothes would see more cleaning in the future than she would have ever believed. He would probably attend to her in this way.

Allow me to worship this body you dislike.

She found herself exhaling around a hand that touched her face, and slowly removed it, exhaling out the feeling.

Hair. Clothes. Everything. He was not lost in these little details that she loathed to spare even the time thinking of. He was attentive to these things which were mundane to her in a fraction of years that he had lived. She held the soap to her mouth, breathing its mild smell. She hated to deal with clothing. And it had not escaped her that he'd laundered their things expertly, once it came to be that they had dried. The first time she had admired such a thing. Because she had watched it. Seen him in these mundane, quiet tasks; felt the water lapping against her skin and the tub. His raw, monstrous hands running the clothes over a simple crimped metal, rhythmic, ritualistic. Yet tearing nothing, breaking nothing. And they had come out clean. Even from blood.

He'd pulled hay from her hair, with those hands. And brushed her clean as well.

He was defter than she, whose hands were three times smaller.

It was not unexpected for him to be more skilled than her. He'd hundreds of years of practice. At anything.

It was simply she who put all her years into one thing.

And she knew so little. But why was it that she was not fascinated with these little details anymore? He had still found life where she thought there was none. And the world, with these details, seemed that much more interesting now that she seemed to walk the earth with him. It was pleasant. Oddly pleasant to find intrigue in the things around her now. It felt like something opening. A long path perhaps before her. A smile, distant in thought.

"Do you have any bedrolls that fit this man?" She pointed. as the clerk almost passed her in the dimly lit store. The smell of cloth and leather was heavy and sharp in the air. And the dust that followed pelts which were stripped from the animals that would have shook them. The woman laughed but said it was not truly uncommon, and began walking them through the cloth and pelts available.
Panyin couldn't tell Wy'Ziot's expression. She knew he slept on the ground often, but it did not seem far-fetched to prepare.

She tilted her head at him. "If you don't use it, then I will." It seemed fair. And... she would not readily admit... they could likely both fit.

"It's just a matter of what type of fur you are looking for." The pelts hung like sets of Eastern rugs, displaying their wealth openly. Sewn already into their canvas backing; ready to be rolled up and taken. "If you're going somewhere warmer? Or colder? But typically it is easier to bear with something that is warm enough, rather than not. I do recommend a thicker build, and if you can afford it, something to outlast lower quality furs. And we have a new selection from the north, lined edge to edge, here. Tough in winter, durable, and very silky and thick as you can tell."

She stood there, waiting for Panyin reach up and feel; but she had stilled suddenly. The gray mass in front of her was wolf.

This was going to go one of two ways. She bit her teeth.

"They had to corral populations up there after all the problems they had through winter. If it's not to your liking, we can take a look at martens, rabbit, sable..."

 

[Malhyanth]

Wy'Ziot ate quietly, his attention more focused on those around them, rather then the two women discussing the written scrawl on the parchments Mina had brought with her. He was disinterested; something about being Contracts on his life, and yet he still lived. He knew the reason; it was rare the others found him in the Wilds, and fulfilling Contracts within the walls of the Captial was punishable by death. It was why Mina kept him home with her after the Contractors poisoned him; stopped him from leaving before he was strong enough to protect himself. The shack was the only shared space, and even then, Wy'Ziot was one of the only ones old enough to remember it; he had yet to come across it with another inside when he returned to the Capital. He still carried out the rituals of declaring his use of it, of ensuring any other Contractor that sought to use it was aware there were others there, but thus far, the home was entirely his.

Chewing his steak only slightly, the meat melting like butter it was so tender, Wy'Ziot just listened to how Panyin questioned Mina, how the buxom waitress flirted with all that sat at her tables, how the kitchens sizzled and roared with flame, how the bar clinked with glasses and tankards, barely covering the noise of the people that chattered all around; no one was paying as much attention to the strange trio as Wy'Ziot was to the world around them. The way Panyin spoke to Mina for a moment drew Wy'Ziot back into the conversation, and he looked between the two women as Panyin gave her back the contracts that were made out towards Wy'Ziot. His left eyebrow raised in its usual skepticism, and he allowed his smirk to lengthen, and he shrugged a shoulder, sharing Panyin's apparent lack of concern. It wasn't that he believed himself invulnerable; it was just he knew the Contracts were old, incomplete. He could see by their black wax seal on their corners, that they were Contracts that had been returned incomplete. Wy'Ziot had either killed the individual that had tried to end him without even realising their intention, or the Contractor responsible had attempted, and failed; perhaps they had never even found him in their quest, and time had run out.

Panyin answers the query over their return before Wy'Ziot could, which lead to a slight frown, and pressed together lips. Wy'ziot's mottled eyes watched as Mina pressed close to Panyin, and rested against her as she ate. Wy'Ziot saw the desperation to feel safe, but ignored it; that was for Panyin to fight off now! Mina had attached to the smaller lady with affection, and it was unlikely Panyin was going to easily shake her off. As the gift was passed to Wy'Ziot, he looked at the label, but didn't recognise it, tying it to a length of cord at his belt for Panyin to peruse later. He dreaded to think what she may have given them. Wy'Ziot stood to pay for their brunches, but Mina was ahead of him, scooting to the bar with her practiced ease of moving through a crowded bar; Wy'Ziot simply helped Panyin to the exit, growling a little at Mina's haste. The kiss to Panyin was expected; much as Mina may be smitten, she wasn't shy to admit it, and the kiss was passionate. Panyin did not respond, and the fleeting glance from Mina stated she was sad there had been no return. Next was Wy'ziot's turn, and she kissed him deeply, to which he responded only to keep breath. The giant albino simply waved as Mina flounced into the crowds, and disappeared.

Looking to Panyin for direction, the woman decided to take the lead with a wicked grin Wy'Ziot was sure she hadn't even realised she'd given. He rolled his eyes, and followed her; he thought they should have gone and fetched Bastion, as he saw their bags becoming laden again. Panyin's first stop was a soap stall, where smells swirled around Wy'Ziot and stung his sensitive nose, but at the same time, he was fascinated by the colours, aromas, and additions to the soaps. Whilst Panyin dealt with one of the stallkeepers, Wy'Ziot entered deeper, and found delicious smelling soaps and waxes, as well as skin oils. He found a few he found delectable; sandlewood, and patchouli. One in a wax melt, the other in an oil, to use on his own body, but also upon Panyin's hair, when she permitted his care of it; the wax melt would tame some of its wildness, if used carefully and worked into her scalp. He hoped she would let him tend to it. He snuck these small trinkets into pouches at his belt, and smiled to the stallkeeper, stepped back into the fresh air, his eyes adjusting to the light. Panyin held a very simple, but large block of soap, and stored this carefully; it looked like it would fit Wy'ziot's hands well, and he grinned.

Again they set off, and headed towards another stall; his eyes sought the scent of animal that emanated from the stall. All around, furs hung. His fingers reached out to lightly stroke the items; fur tickled the pads of his hands, and buried them within their thick layers. Rabbit, ermine, reindeer, all held thick scents of a life well lived before they became items of use. Wy'Ziot looked to Panyin and the shopkeeper as he heard himself mentioned, he looked across, querying her, but she didn't shed any further light beyond her own use of something. He shrugged; he liked to sleep naturally, and she had now seen him in that form, so it was likely to occur more once they hit the road again. The shopkeeper was going in for a hard sell on a beautiful mottled mass of white and grey fur with a thick dark canvas, and a wild smell. Panyin seemed to touch it, and then back away; Wy'Ziot was drawn to it. He stepped into its embrace and breathed deep. In his mind, he could see this Brother running free across mountain steeps; he'd been a fierce leader, large, and bore many young. Fingers buried deep into into the guard hairs, the shopkeeper looking on at the strange giant with curiosity and slight concern. Wy'ziot's eyes closed as the fur told him the life of the beast it had belonged to, and he unhooked it, rolling it to a bundle at his chest, taking two gold pieces from his own belt bag, and gave them, walking out without a word. The shopkeep shouted that he'd paid too much, but Wy'Ziot just walked away; there was no price to put on something like this. He had to own it, and allow the spirit of this fur to return to travelling the wilds with them. He smiled at Panyin, and looked about.

"I am in need of nozhing. Is zhere anyzhing djou require?" With the bedroll bundled together and kept closed by its own integrated strapping and carved ivory toggle, perhaps a tooth from the very wolf whom had given his fur for the roll, this was stored under Wy'ziot's arm, beneath the armpit used to keep the last broths and meal items from the goat Panyin had had cooked for them. He looked about, indicating the stable. "I shall go fetch Bastion. I shall find djou." He lifted her large pack and shouldered it, with a grin. She looked apprehensive, but he held her chin a moment. "Don't vorry. I'll be only a moment. Djou 'ave a look about, vhilst I get zhe 'orse. I'll find djou, vherever djou go." He rubbed his thumb pad over her jaw line with a smirked smile. He turned with a wave, and headed off towards the stables.

Paying the stable hands, he entered, and sought Bastion, whom had only been given roam of the paddock. Seeing Wy'Ziot, the giant beast ran forwards, circling his owner. Wy'Ziot stroked him, grinning, and nudged him get on. The damned bridle and saddle were hooked up, waiting. Placing the bitless bridle over Bastion's head, Wy'Ziot pondered leaving the saddle behind, but it had given Panyin the confidence to ride the huge stallion. It also helped balance out the weights of the bags they had him carry. Wy'Ziot slowly attached it, apologising to Bastion as he did so. The black and white vanner simply snorted and seemed ready to get going. Attaching the bags and belongings carefully, distributing the weight evenly, and clicking with his tongue to move the horse on, taking the reign, being nudged and pushed by the beast's giant head. Wy'Ziot laughed, and nudged him back, the two giants walking out of the stable into the streets. The people parted for them, staring with slack jaws that such a giant man had found a giant horse capable of carrying his weight.

Noses to the air, the two males sought the scent of their missing companion. They slowly meandered through the streets, following her movements as she moved from stall to stall, but always a step behind. She seemed to be heading deeper into the Capital, and higher up the hill. Where was she heading? The albino had realised she's wanted to explore, but they had a mission now, a reason to get out, back to the Wilds! It was then he realised she wasn't really like him. He stopped, the crowds surging around the two as they stood for a moment in quiet contemplation; Wy'Ziot wasn't really one of the hubbub of a city; the Wilds called to him, and with the approach of the New Moon, he felt it more keenly; he was less able to resist the need to shift and run when there was no moon to the sky. He pursed his lips, and looked to the giant vanner, whom blinked his heterochromatic eyes back at Wy'Ziot. "Djou're right, she's 'ere somevhere. Let's vait 'ere, till she pokes 'er 'ead out." The large stallion snorted, and seemed to agree with a nod of his head.

 

[unais]

And it was, of course, another way she had not thought of. He did not anger. Had not gone to disgust. And it was not apathy. He longed for its presence, saw companionship in the remains, and she breathed relief. She exited after him.

He did not allow them to linger on that spectacle from before. "I am in need of nozhing." Of course. "Is zhere anyzhing djou require?"

"In a way..." Her brain was not organized. It seemed he hadn't wanted to meander like she had planned to. Her brow knitted trying to take down a list.

"I shall go fetch Bastion." He took her things as the frown turned to him. "I shall find djou." Truly pouting now. His hand, the fingers hot with rough skin, held her attention. "Don't vorry. I'll find djou, vherever djou go." That rough thumb stroked her jaw, and he released her. She looked after him. And as his backside, retreating, some flutter of apprehension started through her, and she looked away. Continued the other path.

The tarpaulins overhead were arched, heavy. Their rich dyed canvas was new for an upcoming season, and filled with the overheading light, their color dropped down into their shadows. It was hot. Panyin tugged her collar, wondering. The Western Isles... were those not deserts? She had traveled deserts only three or four times; all memorable and disconcerting. A child grazed past her, and her hand went to her side; a movement becoming more practiced as time went on. She didn't want to fancy herself a rogue. She would only end up being disappointed. Her hand relaxed back down to her side, resting her nails atop of the bottles. She checked her coin purse. A knife. She so wanted a knife, and the way the desire clawed at her was growing. Yet she was not skilled. What was it she wante

The perfumed street wafted her in its direction. It was not sharp. It barely had the sting of prostitution, and Panyin glanced up again, to see if the tarps were red. The clothes here draped with lace and small jewels and gold. Further back, she was again perplexed; clothes lined the walls and shelves, but the women stood about in various states of dress. They addressed her bemusement, poised perfectly, staying respectfully at a distance to her.

"Welcome. As you can see, our clerks here advertise our wares. Is the variety more than what you are used to seeing?"

Ah. It was underwear. She was loathe to have him wash those things for her; but she felt it was inevitable for their length of travel. But her skin crawled at the thought of it. She would just buy a lot.

"You can say that..."

They led her easily around the shelves. Allowed her to pass over flash and glamour for plainness, practicality. Comfort. They asked of her way of life, the traveling gear apparent. And gave her something that laced tightly in the front, flattening her breasts against her. But as they had said, it made moving around an easy task. It would be new. The ladies who fought were bringing this into vogue. When they had made these before, they were itchy and unbearable and fell apart at the slightest provocation. Their talk produced coin from her pouch as time wore her on. She hadn't the feel for bargaining here; she was out of her element. They seemed more concerned with telling her she'd certain needs, and she felt enough to give things another try.

Panyin came away with several different underclothes, stockings even, and a chemise. She had gone to the back room to change, throwing her old underclothes in the furnace out in the back of the store as well. The material was comfortable. Somewhat fitting. Not as stiff as her normal clothes tended to be. The world evolved and new things appeared. That was one reason she loved coming to the city.

But she hated staying.

She proceeded out this way and found herself in an even deeper shaded area. Red. Now she was in that district. Mistaken.

Panyin continued forward as if she had business passing through, but her cold demeanor caught more glances than it deflected. She sighed, harsh, adjusting the soft package to her body as she found a path that circled back around to the front.

"Beautiful hair." She made the mistake of turning her head, touching her eyes with the one that spoke, but not the mistake of stopping. His long legs caught up. "Ah-ah, I just wanted to let you know there's something..." She started as a wagon of things; straw and husk dolls for children, passed in front of her, with a train of small followers, keeping her there with him. "...In your hair..." He reached over and delicately picked at something pretending to be caught.

"There. Not so bad, was it?"

Panyin turned her head slowly, letting a smile with stone eyes meet him. With a soft jerk, pulled her head back just enough to yank the hair from his fingers. "You can look. But if you touch again..." She stepped back, fully aware of her threat; unsure if it would carry.

"Oh, come now, I'm not that scary am I?" She stepped back out into the main street, looking around with minor desperation. It allayed a beat.

"You are not." She held up a pinky to an alabaster giant, clad in black armor with a comparably sized black horse. They were coming towards them, towering over the busying crowd. "But he is. Say goodbye."

With few words, little action, he does leave. Panyin tries to smile and mollify any of Wy's aggressions, and touches her hand to his face, turning him to attend to her. Her skin is lukewarm. "...Do you want to pick up more food for travel?" She hadn't had time to make more jerky, so it was an investment. He allows her to pack her newly bought goods in one of the saddlebags, before she tentatively brushes her hand up Bastion's nose, wondering if he remembered her. He did not seem fussed.

She took Wy'Ziot further down, back into the food stalls where she searched for just that. Dried fish and meat was abundant, and she packed quite a bit. Not planning to rely on them for sustenance, rather, she always used them in an emergency fund. They would hunt and forage and trade as much as travel permitted. But the thought of getting stranded, stuck in unfavorable grounds, was a fancy she had the pleasure of experiencing before. The stalls here also held sweeter things, and she took dried fruits with them, some candied and held in waxed bags so that they would not drip and congeal if sat too long in the sun. She offered him a candied meat.

But they were at the edge of the apothecary district, crossing this part of the road, and he could see all her hairs had raised and her pulse had sped. "Oh."

Her gaze at him was sheepish, but he was pacified, or simply used to her quirkiness now. And reminded her. She was the one who held the reins here. It was power she was not used to holding; not comfortable with at all yet. It felt like grasping a baby bird. Sometimes it would be okay to squeeze tightly, for the sake of not letting it fly and fall. It was hardier than it seemed. And yet. She was afraid to squeeze down. Terrified.

She didn't plan to take long. He followed as she, this time, perused more carefully, and as she shopped only picked one or two items from each stall, if any. The sun hadn't moved much by the time they made it down the street. It sank only by another hour. She was pleased with this and raised her gaze forward, aware as they approached Zhaa'kir's shop.

He greeted her with the same jovialness; a kiss to the hand, and a welcoming clap on her shoulder. Ow.

"Aah, I vas worried I vould not see djou two again; vhat v'id your lover's spat." His eyes seemed to twinkle with the good humor. "But it seems djou v'erked it out somehow?" He clapped Wy'Ziot's shoulder as well. "Zhis man; djou can't stay mad at him, no?" She felt another backhanded point about Wy'Ziot's face. He stepped back, allowing Panyin in. "Did djou come to take another zhird of my vares?"

"No, not that much. But the powder you gave him... could I have some too?" A big smile. "Just in case." She smiled at Wy'Ziot as well, probably less cute. Zhaa'kir went to fulfill her request and she spoke. "But please, allow me to... make it. Or try." He hesitated, and she continued to approach until she had to wave him off his own equipment. Standing before what he had weight before, she took a look at what he had used. Saltpeter... yarrow...