Her hair shone in the dim firelight as she wrung her cloth out over the ground – it seemed she was trying not to dirty the water she was going to wash him with – before wetting it once more.
“What’s happening here... I didn’t sign up for this. I didn’t join the Demonslayer guild to torture Duskwalkers. I came here because I wanted to kill Demons, to get back at them for taking everything I cared about away from me. But even then...” Once more, she was gone from view as she wiped the scales covering his pelvis and thighs. “I wouldn’t even wish this upon a Demon.”
Funny that. Ingram, despite everything he’d suffered, would gladly do this to a Demon if it would bring back Aleron. He just didn’t want it done to him, especially when, in his mind, he hadn’t done anything to deserve it.
What were a few human meals when he knew they killed each other? He and Aleron had been drawn to such battles between humans when their blood called them closer. How could they justify doing something like this to him for whatever vengeance they believed, when they were no better to each other?
“How...” he softly muttered, feeling his anger and hatred towards her lessening. “How do I make them stop? How do I make them free me?”
As much as he had gained a substantial amount of humanity, it was nowhere near enough. Half his mind and thoughts were still grainy and empty. Although he could understand some things, he didn’t have the intelligence to think his way out of this.
His body and instincts had always been his tool; he’d never truly needed his mind before.
“They won’t,” she answered definitively. “They won’t let you go, and they won’t stop doing this until they know everything about your kind and how to kill you. No guild sector has ever captured a Duskwalker before, so you’re currently the most valued asset we’ve ever had.”
“I will never reveal how to kill my kind, and they will not find that answer inside me.” His tone held the deep underline of a threat.
“So, your kind can die...” she mumbled, slowly standing so she could wipe his shoulders and neck.
His head twitched, causing a rattle to come from him. Then, his orbs flared dark crimson. “If you think your kindness will be enough for me to give you the answer of how to kill me, you are wrong.”
He’d never considered such a tactic before, but was this a new way to get information out of him? Wren had asked him many questions, of which he’d given her silence in return. Were they using this female as a way to lure his secrets out of him?
“I wasn’t asking you,” she stated firmly. “But... wouldn’t you prefer death over this?”
“No.” He clenched his clawed hands into tight fists. “I will not accept death. There is something I must do first.”
“I would,” she quickly interjected, ringing out her cloth before wiping his arms. “I know it’s not the same as what you’ve felt, but I have experienced pain.” His reddened sight grew focused on the scarring on her face. “I have spent many weeks in agony, wishing someone would put me out of my misery. If I were in your position, I would have pleaded for death the moment they put the blade to my flesh.”
“I am not so weak as to allow my enemy to kill me as I sit so helplessly.”
And yet, the idea of joining Aleron in the afterworld sounded peaceful. If Ingram wasn’t so determined to somehow kill the Demon King and find a way to bring his beloved kindred back, he may have allowed them to kill him.
But he wouldn’t.
He wouldn’t give them the satisfaction. He wouldn’t be the reason they were able to destroy another of his kind. He’d rather suffer this for the rest of his life than betray the other Mavka.
“You’re braver than me, then.” She dared coming closer to gingerly dab her damp cloth on his face. Surprised that she would even willingly touch it, he remained still. “Are-are your eyes, or orbs, or whatever, solid? Will it hurt if I try to clean your, uh, eye holes?”
Her asking meant much, even if it was useless to do so.
“No. I cannot feel them.”
She nodded, then proceeded to clean them.
I wish she did not have that marking on her. Her arms were close to his nose holes, and the scent cascading off them was pleasant. It was a mixture of flowers, sweet fruit, and dew. She almost smelt like the aftermath of rain as it wet the earth and cast a flurry of scents into the air when it dried.
It was fresh, clean, and inviting.
Breathing it in, it was the first time since he’d been captured and restrained that he grew drowsy. He was too wary of his current surroundings to actually sleep, but it at least quietened his thoughts long enough to give him a few moments of peace.
Even her wiping his skull was easing the hostility in him.
“You shouldn’t have come here,” she whispered, as she cleaned his forehead and horns – despite them not being caked in dried blood. “I tried to stop them, you know. I told them to stop hurting you.”
His head jerked at that. Was she the one I heard screaming? Someone had shouted he be released from his tortures. It had been so crackly and shriek-like, that it was completely different to the current sweet voice she spoke with now.
“I... wanted help,” he admitted without truly meaning to, focusing on the way she smelled and foolishly allowing it to lull him.
“Help?” she softly gasped out. “You came here for help and we...”
She backed up, robbing him of the tranquillity he’d found, so she could stare at him properly. He choked out a breath, suddenly feeling like he was suffocating as his mind grew alert once more.
“What do you want help with?”
“To kill the Demon King.” When her lips tightened, but she didn’t look surprised, he figured she already knew of him. “I cannot get through his army by myself. He is hunting my kind, and I wish to stop him.”
He was giving her an answer to the question the other humans had asked him, when he had, not many moments ago, told Emerie he wouldn’t.
He didn’t know if it was her actual scent, the fact she’d cleaned him, their conversation, or maybe even the hope that if he revealed the truth, it would aid in his potential release. Perhaps it was even the strange emotion in her icy eyes. Something had urged him to speak, even though he didn’t trust her.
Maybe he wanted to trust Emerie, to trust... someone, anyone.
Ingram was desperate to find a friend here.
“He came here for help,” Emerie stated firmly, while watching Wren write a detailed letter with an ink quill pen.
By the special ink stamp in the top right corner, it was intended for the other head guild sectors. There were two identical ones she’d already written.
“Help with what?” Wren asked, never waving for Emerie to take a seat or do anything but stand on the other side of her desk.