Crimson Rays of Sunshine [Private/Katherine]

"What if the grass is greener on the other side,"

It had been a week and a few days since Ahote had last visited the settlement due to the incident. The murder of Angus, a fate brought upon the older man by Ahote. Even after his talk with Famine, even after his doubts and qualms had seemingly had been resolved and his confidence in himself restored, it didn’t make it any easier to return to the village after his sudden disappearance. The boy worried about whether the villagers had planned to attack him or not, and became afraid that he may not be able to defend himself anymore than Angus could against him. An understandable worry most would agree to, but Ahote had been unusually calm for the situation he was so sure about for reasons unknown to him himself. Maybe it because he now knew he was capable of killing a man or that he was able to defend himself when he knew he was being picked on. As gross and upsetting this realization may be, Ahote came closer and closer in realizing that if you can’t change the world, you must change yourself. These thoughts stuck close to the boy, but he was nervous that maybe he hadn’t changed and that this was always a part of him.

The thought wasn’t as disturbing to him now than it had been during his isolation, and became more like food for thought than a qualm. It wasn’t this that disturbed him, no. It was a deeper, darker revelation that shook his core. A question than rang in his ears, that woke him from his slumbers and left him frightened when facing his parents. Did he enjoy it? The copper smell of the blood that covered his fingers that day, the pleasant struggle breaking bone and the almost erotic feeling of power over Angus’s life seeping out of his old, decaying body and into the snow. When Ahote reimagined the scene during daylight and relived the murder in his nightmares, his cheeks became hot, nose and ears becoming red with blood, and felt his gut sink. But were they really nightmares? Ahote pondered this every day since the murder, and felt unsettled since. He didn’t know why, but he despised himself for feeling the way he did about the murder. He despised himself for shedding no tears and vomiting only once. He hated himself for worrying more about his mother’s forgiveness over the actual crime he committed, and was left thinking he was less human than he was before this whole mess.

Ahote sauntered down the snowy hill in long, tiring strides. It had occurred to him that the item he meant to retrieve on the day of the murder was never taken, and left to collect dust for the last week and a half. As anxious as he was to enter the settlement again with judging, prying eyes and scowls of disgust, he did have to eventually come down to get his products and get jobs from clients. He pushed himself to confront the inevitable as opposed to hiding in his room with his books and thoughts, but that didn’t stop him from being reluctant about it.

The chilly winds blew past him, kissing his cheeks and making his nose and ears red with blood, as they usually did when he was cold or flustered. In the near distance was the settlement, lanterns lit and cabin fireplaces burning even brighter. It was a cozy settlement, a warm place from the looks of it but welcomed few. Well, from Ahote’s experiences, welcomed no Basilisks, or mages for that matter. He never talked to any of the settlers enough to understand why this was or talked to his parents about it. It became a quiet, unspoken rule that persons of that nature were not welcomed, what a small world.

Ahote took deep breaths and stalked through the deep snow and into the settlement, the usual old man who patronized him no longer sitting on the crates that never moved. Although the blood that dyed the snow was no longer visible underneath a fresh blanket of snow, the disgusting odor of copper remained. The boy would pause and stare into the white, icy flakes of snow, sighed, and continued to move forward towards a tavern in the center of the settlement.

As usual, the tavern building radiated heat from the fires and wreaked of alcohol, specifically vodka and beer. - Really strong stuff. So, knowing this, Ahote always asked for his requested products to be placed in a storage building on the outskirts of the settlement, but because it was nearing its limit he had make do. It didn’t help that the men and women who normally hung out here were tough and ten times bigger than the barely five-foot-six teen. Despite this, he knew that the faster he got his stuff, the faster he could leave. Knowing this, he walked up the creaky steps and into the tavern he his thick, wool coat, long pants and leather boots.

Ahote closed the door behind him, and nobody glanced away from their beer, their conversations or their women. Luckily for Ahote, he had appeared to have gone unnoticed. He had only been in the tavern a few times, those times being swift and brief. He never got a chance to actually look around and take it all in, not like this anyway.

The boy walked over to the counter, behind it was a shelve of drinks and glasses. The man attending it was named Rufus, a stocky, bearded man who spoke very little. Both he and Ahote seemed to get along like any other guy, but wondered if his opinion of him changed since the incident. With that in mind, Ahote tapped the wooden countertop to draw in Rufus’s attention. “Can you hand me an item I requested? It’s a white flower sent here about a week and a half ago. . . thanks.” Ahote sputtered in his usual quiet, soft voice.

”Oh, that? Yeah, wait here one second. Gotta find it among other things, might take a minute or two” Rufus responded in his rough, guttural voice as he stomped off to the back room, which Ahote assumed to be a storage room, to retrieve his plant sample.

Understanding that it would take some time knowing Rufus’s organization problems, the raven haired boy slid onto a stool and leaned over the counter, waiting patiently. Looking around, he never noticed the tavern’s little details. Like the wood the tables were made out of and how the rugs were actually bear hides. That the tavern was lit mostly off of lanterns as opposed to candles, and how beneath the smell of booze was the odor of sweat and bad breath. It was an unpleasant place for Ahote to be, he thought, but was unusually warm. He kept his hood on in order to conceal his face, and wished to speak to no one as he patiently waited.

"Because it's always raining there,"

Rufus's promised minute became several minutes as Ahote waited patiently at the bar's counter, twisting left and right in his stool to physically occupy himself after realizing that Rufus was more disorganized than he said he was. But the boy did not mind, as he did enjoy getting out of the fortress for some fresh, icy air.

Ahote had been here at Basilisk Fang for years now, spending most of his childhood under the supervision of his adoptive parents, Sol and Famine. Since his arrival, he wasn't allowed to leave Mt. Hakobe, much less the fortress, without consent or some sort of escort. Frankly, the boy tired of that silly rule, for his hunger to explore the world was stronger than the respect he had for his mother's decision. Of course, he felt relatively bad about going behind his parents’ backs, but in doing so he was able to relish different parts of the world that would otherwise be unknown to him.

He peered over his shoulder to take a better look at people who were drinking and eating, realizing that most of them were unfamiliar faces and were all quite fit. It was more of a surprise that none of them seemed to recognize him, which he supposed was a good thing. Regardless, he didn’t let down his guard. If anything, observing everyone drink and laugh left Ahote feeling rather thirsty, but decided not to ask for anything since he would only be here as long as Rufus would be looking for his flower.

Ah, this sucks. . . and here I thought I could rest easy for once. I guess I’ll have to come back here whenever I’m accepted. Sitting down for some food besides bread and rice sounds nice. . . He thought to himself, disappointed in his only option was to remain idle. It wasn’t like Ahote purposefully isolated himself, but “his kind” wasn’t appreciated anywhere, even if his guild did own the settlements. Really he wondered if most of his problems would go away if he informed Famine on the matters and concluded that they most likely would. But as shy and soft spoken as the boy was, he did have some dignity he wanted to maintain. He didn’t want to be known as the boy who scrambled home in tears to his formidable mother.

With that in mind, thoughts similar to it followed. I really am a wimp, huh. . .? Ah, man. . . Ahote ran both hands through his hair, leaning down and beginning to sulk. I’d ought to make myself out to be a man, not a boy. . . it’s about time I think like an individual and not a kid for once, hm. . . The boy pondered, realizing that maybe he wasn’t so independent as he thought. - Not independent, just alone. Because he was always alone, he often had to make decisions for himself. But it was always the little things, like what he was going to eat, wear, where to go on Mt. Hakobe. But as far as he was concerned, it was the adults that confined him to the fortress, to this mountain, told him what to think and how to think it, and didn’t lie to him but withheld information. Ahote held no malice or ill will towards his parents or the adults associated with them, but detested their intention of keeping him ignorant. He was determined to unveil the truth, even if the veil itself was thorny and dangerous.

Rufus eventually returned to Ahote with a glass jar containing soil, water, and a rare flower in his large hands. ”This is what you wanted, right? I almost dropped it.” Rufus grunted, sliding the jar over to the raven haired boy. On that note, Ahote smiled and dipped his head in thanks to his friendly acquaintance, taking the jar and stuffing it into his bag, which was obscured under the many layers of clothing he had worn, tucked it back into his coat and began to exit the tavern without so much a word and into the snowy mountains.

As usual, Ahote’s footprints seemed to instantly begin to be covered by a new layer of snow, knowing how quickly the process took action in this area. It was always something interesting for the boy to observe, but also strangely saddening. The idea that your presence disappeared as quickly as they appeared, leaving you and you alone knowing who walked these mountains. How many other have walked these roads before him? What stories would their footprints tell? Sometimes Ahote had felt so alone with his thoughts that he started wondering about the history of trivial things, hoping it’d provide some food for thought and occupy his mind before he moved on to the next thing.

The boy began to follow the same trail back home, before something of interest became apparent just ahead of him. A woman with bright, red locks had the hands of brute holding her by that same beautiful hair. Ahote paused and stopped sauntering through the snow, trying to figure out what the situation was and quickly came to an answer as she screamed. But unlike most hero-wannabes, Ahote did not rush into the situation blindly. He continued to walk in their direction with tired, dark eyes and his head down but eyes locked right on the two. His pace was faster than before and his body trembled just lightly, realizing the size difference.

Ahote stopped in front of the much taller, buffer brute and looked up at him with an indifferent expression. ”You know, it’s kind of low to attack someone without so much as a reason, much less if said person is an unarmed woman. . .” He began, eyes drifting to the woman who struggled to break free. ”You need to let go of her and get going, sir. . .”

The brute glared at Ahote, ”Get outta here, brat. This ain’t none of your business, ‘less you wanna get hurt too!” the man pushed him. Of course, Ahote returned the glare and continued to maintain his position.

”Don’t touch me. . . now please put her down, sir. . . I’m not leaving until you do.” Ahote’s voice became more demanding and agitated, his guard becoming tighter as the man would pause.

”Guess I’ll have to beat ya too, you brat!” He shouted, lunging his free hand at what would look like a helpless boy. Ahote knew how this would go. He would brawl with this man and suffer an inevitable defeat, but said brute would lose interest and leave the two be. This is how fights always went in his mind, since no one he knew was so cruel that’d they kill a kid. But was the kid cruel enough to kill a man? Ahote winced when feeling the man’s knuckles press against his left cheek, but what was surprising was that he felt very little. Only a quick jolt of a stinging pain, but not quite the physical impact that brought him to his knees.

Huh? This is strange. I knew that he punched me, and yet. . . - . . .!!! Ahote’s thoughts were interrupted upon opening his orangish-gold eyes and seeing the man engulfed in magenta flames. The same flames that consumed his left arm long ago and was replaced with a metal, prosthetic arm. Ahote’s eyes widened in horror in watching the man quickly scream and rolled on the ground, having released the woman, distracted by his own agony.

”GYAAAAH!!!” The brute cried, feeling his skin succumb to the heat and melt away like wax did under a lit wick. Ahote froze, and realized what he had done. No blood had been spilt, no weapons had been pulled, but he knew what the man was going through having experienced it himself. He knew the pain and horror he was enduring. And yet the boy shed no tears, offered nothing to vomit and instead watched in a silent horror. He knew that he would not stop suffering until he would eventually die, until the flames ate him whole. It would be a slow, painful, vocal death until he could no longer scream and the overwhelming heat of the flames would evaporate his tears before he could shed them. Instantly, a rush of memories were recalled. Memories of the incident when he was seven, and only then did Ahote begin to hold his stomach uncomfortably, and felt himself beginning to hyperventilate.

I did this. . . he’s going to DIE because of ME. He’s going to die. . . because of me. . . I told him not to touch me, he deserved this, all of this! He needed to suffer the way he intended to make her suffer. . . but. . . I. . . I. . . Ahote felt the horror settle in, the grief, the anger. It didn’t hit him as hard as the first time did, but the grim reminder and abrupt awakening of this dormant terror left him feeling ill and frightful. He needed to tell Famine about this when he got the opportunity. Of all things, he didn’t want this to be kept secret. He was far too afraid of what may happen to him should he keep them, wizards, in the dark of something magical.

Ahote mustered up the strength to look away from the now silent and burning man on the ground, turning to the red headed broad. ”Can we talk?” Ahote spoke in his usual quiet, soft voice, his eyes full of regret and sadness. But like Angus, this, what Ahote would call another murder, felt strangely pleasant to him. The idea of a cruel and dirty man paying a painful price for what he was about to do felt just to him. The boy had hoped he wasn’t developing sadistic tendencies, but one could only hope for so long.

"Where the ones who never fail to give,"

Ahote couldn't quite pin down what had happened between the woman and the ruffian and frankly spent more time than needed in hopes that he could figure it out. The conclusions he came to was that she was either a mage or provoked the ruffian. Of course, he wasn't going to request a chat with her to satisfy his curiosity. She was clearly freezing, tired and witnessed something horrific. Ahote was more concerned with her well being if anything.

He walked over to the barely conscious woman who laid tired and helpless in the snow next to a burnt and charred corpse with magenta flames cackling on its burnt skin, leaning down and cupping her cheek in his hand. Ah. . . she's an icicle. I guess it's only natural that someone would become like this if you weren't used to it. . . well, there's only one thing to do. Ahote thought to himself before he unbuttoned his thick, woolen coat, lifted the red headed woman to sit upright and wrapped it around her. "Everything's gonna be just fine, okay? Lets get you warmed up. . ." Ahote mumbled with a weak smile, though felt very little joy in the moment. If anything, he was relieved in the fact she was okay and was capable of recovering if she was warmed up quickly.

"You can barely move, huh? Alright, lets go. . ." Ahote insisted, wrapping her arm around his shoulder and dragged on most of her weight as the two slowly faltered through the snow and into the outskirts of the settlement, away from prying eyes and any other ruffians who may have been lurking. Eventually after several minutes of walking and limping, the pair arrived at a lone, smaller cabin covered in snow with a group of stacked crates and barrels on its side. Ahote had been quite familiar with this cabin and quickly made way inside, escaping Mt. Hakobe's treacherous, chilly winds and even chillier snow. His cheeks, nose, and ears lit up red upon entering the building's darkness.

Inside the wooden building would be several shelves holding an assortment of jars, boxes, bottles and other items all labeled and organized, an unlit fireplace with chairs and a wooden table surrounding it. Ahote sat here by himself and read books far too many times to count and was excited to be hosting a guest.

Ahote sat the woman down on a chair and went over to a drawer, scavenging inside of it before pulling out a box of matches. "If you're awake, we're in the storage room.
I'm the only one who really comes here, so you're safe. Wait just a moment and I'll get the fire running." He affirmed, flicking the match's tip against the side of the box and into the dry logs settled inside the fireplace. With deep and heavy blows, the fire was quick to light and soon shared its heat with everything inside. Following that, Ahote went around the room lighting candles, some smelling of pine and other being standard wax candles and began to rummage through cabinets, grab tea leaves and began to prepare it.

Minutes of silence came and went as the boy did his best to warm his guest up, lots on his mind. There were times he forgot she was there from her quiet breaths and the overall silence between them. Sometimes he was far too used to being alone with his thoughts that it was unusual to feel the company of others.

Ahote wrapped a pair of metal and fleshy fingers around the hooks of two teacups and made way back over to the woman, placing the hot and aromatic on the table in front of her, the boy taking a seat on the opposite side of her. "Oolong tea. I'm no tea expert, but it's hot and you need to drink it and warm up." Ahote mumbled, sipping his share of the beverage before placing it on a coaster in front of him.

"Are you feeling any better. . .?" Ahote raised his head and looked at the woman, fascinated with her extravagant locks. She was quite fair, but he was more curious than fascinated.

"Hardly have enough to spare,"

The raven haired boy would quietly observe the woman revive from his state of numbness and distress, letting his mind wander. He stared at into his hot beverage, unsure if he enjoyed it’s toasty and grassy flavor. He wasn’t quite sure how to correctly prepare tea, well, not this type anyway. It was a topic he would have to ask Yuiisai about, since he seemed much more well informed when it came to these type of beverages, or maybe being a proper host in general. The boy pressed his lips against the teacup’s edge and let the hot tea slip into his system, warming his cold cheek and making him feel warm inside. Personally, he was more of a coffee person.

Ahote slunk back into his chair and sighed, averting his gaze from the woman and into the cackling flames resting on the hearth. The heat pressing against his red cheeks, an orange, flickering light reflecting in his orange-gold eyes, and looking into that dangerous pit of ember did Ahote find himself reflecting. He did his best to distract himself with this most recent incident, and felt himself slowly become guilty in knowing he’d have to tell Famine about it. However, he wasn’t nearly as frightful of this than he was before, but did feel an anxiousness swell up in his chest understanding that his previously dormant and dangerous magic was the cause of this murder, which only seemed to be a foreboding harbinger.

Those flames. - My magic. I suffered no injuries or any physical difficulty, for that matter. . . other than minor burns. I feel them on my chest, my wrist. . . otherwise. . . I. . . Ahote thought, only discomforting himself in the epiphany of his magic destructive power., if it was his magic. It had been dormant for so long and one of the scenarios in which he did use it resulted in amputation. It was an incident well known by all who attended his spar with his Father, Ahote shocking himself in his calmness. But was he really so calm? The boy slowly began to diverge from the idea that he may’ve been developing sadistic tendencies and instead. . . didn’t feel horrified in the act of killing, and felt more disturbed in how and why he did so. Ahote’s deep and thorough analysis of his own actions only created a foundation of paranoia for him, he knew this. He did his best to distract himself with the woman and would bring this up to his Mother at a later date.

Suddenly, Ahote’s own train of thought was interrupted by the soft and quiet words of the woman who sat across from him. Ahote lifted his head and and stared at her with tired eyes and a weary expression. ”You’re welcome. You should be more careful, you know? The men around here have the souls of jackals. . .” Ahote scoffed, knowing full well of what these men did to people outside of their circles. It was no laughing matter, but it was the only way he knew how to cope with the emotions he felt during those times within a conversation. The woman continued on about the situation, Ahote listening attentively with frosty ears. So she’s a mage? That’s. . . neat! I better ask her about stuff like that, may not get another chance. Ahote convinced himself, a weak smile cracking his face as he was fascinated with wizardry and magic and everything associated with it.

”Well, now that you’re awake, we can talk, right? I don’t mean to come off as impatient. But allow me to introduce myself, alright? I’m, uh, Ahote.” He jabbered, unsure of how to treat guests. He may’ve came off as patronizing with the strange reassuring “alrights”, but did his best to contain his excitement. Ahote’s eyes darted between the woman’s and the teacup, always having an issue with eye contact. Despite these quirky behaviors, he solemn attitude remained. He would like to have the first word with her for once aside from his parents, and was determined to make an impression.

"Where the people with the broadest smiles,"

Ahote was rather surprised in hearing that the woman’s name was Katherine, a name that seemed far from anything native to this area. Or, at least, he hadn’t met anyone with such a strange name. Following that, she reassured him of her comfort in answering his questions. The boy nodded and stirred a teaspoon in circles in his tea, staring into the ripples, ”Alright then, Katherine. What was that man attacking you for? I wouldn’t like to assume anything. . .” He queried, wanting to address the most recent situation before his other matters.

There was a lot he wanted to ask and knew what was in store for her if she were to stay around on the mountain beyond welcoming hours. If she sticks around for too long, perhaps Father will make way to her. There shouldn’t be any harm in restoring her health for the evening, however. . . all things seem well, I guess. He thought to himself, knowing that Sol did take pride in knowing all who visited this mountainous terrain. Ahote labeled him as a control freak and knew that he would eventually catch wind of the woman, especially since the murder occurred and a charred, black and bloody corpse lie there in the snow. Ahote felt himself grow weary in knowing he would eventually would have to confront Sol of his recent mental and emotional phenomenon that would drive him to murder on two occasions. It seemed that Katherine and Famine were the only ones aware of it, it seemed.

The thought boggled and filled his head, now questioning his own view on these violent acts. He couldn’t associate it with a feeling he experienced in the moment, but instead a deep drop in his gut that wouldn’t let up for days. His recent and first murder left him in tears, sick to the stomach and horrified, driving him to the point of shutting himself away in his room for a week. But even then, he was more horrified with the guilt of confronting his mother than the actual act itself. He didn’t stress over if it was the right thing to do, but if his mother would be able to accept and love him regardless of the murder, of the sudden change in her child.

But now? Now, Ahote was still quite horrified in watching life pass through a body, or perhaps the sight of coppery smell of blood, but wasn’t nearly as distraught as before. The drop in his gut remained in this incident, but he shed no tears, threw no vomit, or mourned the man’s painful and slow death. He didn’t quite know what he was feeling. Guilt? Sadness? Anger? Satisfaction? Horror? Shock? Indifference? The feeling deep inside his gut settled, and the boy was left in discomfort in trying to understand his own self. Softly and full of sadness and disappointment, Ahote smiled staring in his tea. Ah. . . what am I turning into?

"Have pillows filled with tears,"

Ahote listened carefully to the woman's replies, giving her his undivided attention. She spoke of her travels, and how she sought out mages of Mt. Hakobe. Ahote instantly thought of the mages of Basilisk Fang, seeing as they were the only ones on this mountain, including himself, who had such abilities. But what reputation? It wasn't surprising that the boy didn't know of his parents' and friends' infamy, having been sheltered his entire life. Unable to connect the dots, Ahote continued to listen in hopes that she would connect them for him.

Ahote pressed his right index finger and thumb against the shaft of the teaspoon, swirling it clockwise into the Oolong Tea which remained hot to the touch. Reputation? What reputation? Mother and Father haven't told me anything about. . . what they do outside of the mountain, or on their jobs. Though I've had the suspicion they haven't been doing anything that different than what I've done as of late. . . it just seems that way. Ahote thought to himself, staring blankly into the aromatic beverage.

Katherine continued on about her whereabouts, not underestimating him from how she spoke, before she concluded with her own concern of the boy. Shocked, Ahote raised his head from hanging low and simpered, nodding weakly, "Am I alright? Well, I guess you could say I'm alright, miss Katherine. Nothing to worry about, anyways. But I do have some more questions, if I may?" Ahote acknowledged, "How much do you know about the mages of this mountain? Have you come to see them?" The boy queried, mainly to satisfy his own curiosity. He wasn't quite sure who Famine and Sol were besides his parents, whom he loved dearly. But as mages? They were strangers. His simper remained friendly and warm, but felt quite solemn. He had hoped that she would answer honestly, as it was not a time he wished to be lied to again.

"And the bravest ones you've ever known,"

It was an interesting experience to converse with Katherine, really. Most times when Ahote had a chance to meet someone new, his mother and father always seemed to be in the picture. Someway, somehow, they were there. Not that he minded his parents' presences, he just never had the opportunity to enjoy conversation with a stranger without there being some violent trial or interrogation. To others, those sort of events seemed exciting and twisted, but to the raven haired youth it was simply another day at home.

Ahote asked his question, but even after several seconds passed, silence remained between the two. Words did roll off her tongue and slip past her pale lips, but in fragments, never connecting into a full sentence. He now understood that the subject was a troubling one for her, and she was going through a number of ideas of how to handle the situation. Ahote knew this well, as it was a similar reaction he had experienced when on a difficult subject he didn't want to share his feelings on. He knew she was going to lie, and lie about it consistently. Surely, in her mind, there was no danger in doing so towards a stranger who was a younger boy. Ahote studied her thoroughly as she spoke, ready to decipher her next comments; but to his surprise, it was anything but a lie. In fact, she was rather blunt about it. Ahote couldn't find the words to talk for the brief silence in between.

Mother, huh? I didn't expect her to be so honest about it. Maybe that's a disadvantage on her part, giving such details to a stranger, especially after a stranger attacked her without so much a reason. She isn't quite bright, is she, huh? The boy thought to himself. Of course, he was curious and didn't worry for his mother's well being, but surely was curious in knowing the details.

"Vital, huh? Sounds pretty important. What have you heard about Famine? I hardly get a word from those jackals for settlers out there, barely know a thing about the mages who live on the mountain." Ahote queried, insisting that he was just as in the grey as she was. Clearly, he wasn't, being their son and protege. But to some extent, he really did not know anything about his family's business outside of the mountain or their reputations as mages. Even after the talk he had with Famine, he was still clueless.

"Are crippled by their fears,"

Ahote still didn't think of the girl too highly because of her actions, unsure of why she would open up so willingly and so easily to a man she knew only the name of. Though, it did help that she was so specific about who she was wanting to meet, making it much more convenient to move from this point onward.

He observed Katherine in her every move, wandering if she had been completely revived right about now. He imagined that frostbite would melt away quickly with the kiss of the heat, but it was something he never experienced on such a level, so he couldn't quite tell. Ahote began stirring his spoon into the now warm Oolong tea, followed by an exhausted sigh, "Fair point, I suppose. You can deny me information, but a bizarre choice to make towards someone who's saved and hosted you so warmly." Ahote avowed. He didn't particularly care whether Katherine left or stayed, and would continue to host her and provide for her in reasonable means. But he knew better than to be pressured into giving information to a stranger.

Ahote lifted the teacup to his pale lips and let a warm stream of tea make way into his mouth, down his throat and resting in his stomach. His hand descended back to the table, resting the cup there before giving Katherine his undivided attention once more. "Anyway,
I still have more questions for you, so if you don't mind. . ." Ahote began, raising his head to only find a distressed and upset Katherine, "Is everything alright?
Did I say something. . .?"  He fretted, confused by her sudden discomfort. Did he do something wrong? He was never used to this kind of behavior for a person, so he was at a loss for words.

Oh, man. What do I do? I don't think I could sleep well at night for making a girl upset for seemingly no reason! Ahote thought to himself, feeling himself slowly descend into a panic, but remained in a relaxed posture. He continued to watch her, no matter what disturbing behavior she exhibited. He didn't question it and didn't intervene, but watched in awe. She must surely be in pain, the boy thought, knowing the unbearable heat flames bore. Watching the flesh melt off her fingers, he felt himself becoming sick. He felt himself drown in the the memory of his own flesh fry off his own arm, losing it in the end. He knew that perhaps it was no hazard to her, if she could repair the damage. But not everyone could repair the damage, not everyone could magically regain what had been lost. The memory of his amputation and his magical, fiery incident came to like and provoked a fit of ferociousness and fury in the boy.

In moments of her burning her flesh, Ahote stood from his seat with an unprecedented hatred swelling his eyes, a sharp gaze that could cut just by a gentle touch. Never had he felt so disgusted. He walked over the suffering woman, grabbed her by the wrists with his metal grip, and pulled hers out of the flames with fingers charred and burnt. With the same tight, unforgiving grip, he raised her to her feet, released his hand only to let the metal digits smack her across her white, smooth cheeks.

Ahote glared at her, furrowed brows and a pained frown. "Don't you ever
do that again, or at least in front of me." he hissed, taking the same metal hand and grabbing her jaw, bring her face to his, so close that their noses nearly touched, but far enough that she could view his unadulterated anger in full, "Don't try so hard to destroy something I've worked so hard to protect, miss Katherine. I've been far too kind to you to have you disgust me like this." He spoke in his usual quiet voice, but fumed with each word that would pass his lips.

But as a quick relief of that stress, Ahote slowly pulled her into a friendly hug, patting her back before releasing her without a word. He cared for her as much as the next guy, but even without words, without explanation, despite the brief violence that took place seconds ago, he felt that this was the right gesture to do. A friendly hug. He thought that maybe things would experience relief if he did so.

"Sit back down, miss Katherine. We still have much to discuss."

"It's filled with lonely people,"

They both settled into the awkward silence, Ahote returning to his seat, fuming while sipping his warm Oolong Tea. He stared down at his metal hand, shocked at his own actions. That was his first time hitting someone like that, without any provocation whatsoever. He didn't regret it, and wouldn't apologize. He got his point across, and that was all that mattered.

The silence had been disturbed by the soft and silky voice of Katherine, who insisted that she tell him something. Ahote turned to face her with a rather irritated expression, but said nothing. She spoke of many things, her true age, an apology for her disturbing actions, and other this and thats. None of it was particularly significant to the boy, but he did appreciate her quickness to apologize.

With a quick, weary sigh, the boy placed the teacup back onto the wooden table and extended his hand out to meet hers. "All is well, miss Katherine. Forgive and forget. But I appreciate your honesty and quickness to. . . amend things. It's a well valued characteristic if you plan on meeting the mages of this mountain. They value respect and submission above all else, so tread lightly." He suggested, a smile cracking his lips, "Though back to the point, where are you from and what business do you have with these mages? It's dangerous around here, you know. I'd hate to see someone harm you again, it's not pleasant to watch, you know. . ." Ahote finished.

He had many other questions, but knew that maybe he should ask them in doses. With small outbursts like that, and such questionable and disturbing behavior, he wasn't quite sure what she would or could do next with her stability in mind. The boy could understand that perhaps she may of had a troubled past, a past that involved his parents, and he had nothing to do with it. But his curiosity got the better of him, and was resolved to understand her intent.

"But they're never seen alone,"

Katherine was an interesting woman, to say the least. She clearly had some trouble recalling certain information, or maybe she was completely able to do this but she was simply out of touch with her own time. It surprised Ahote still that none of this came as a shock to him besides her harming herself. After murdering men and sneaking off the mountains and participating in jobs against his mother’s will before, no subject or idea really shocked him as much as it would’ve before. Or perhaps it was subjects regarding mages and magic and other topics of similarity that never clicked with him. Something to think about, he supposed.

It was briefly after this train of thought that she began to discuss her past in a town they both had been familiar with. A visit of Basilisk Fang followed by the sudden illness of her caretakers until death had passed his judgement. It was an incredibly underwhelming way to pass, as opposed to the sort of deaths Ahote had witnessed. He imagined it being a very ill death, perhaps painful, but not as imaginative as the ones he experienced. Regardless, coming all the way to Mt. Hakobe to discover the “truth” behind her caretakers’ deaths seemed silly. If she knew that the Basilisks had done something to the water supply, in which they drank, it already broke down into a small tree of reasons.

Poison, waste, harmful chemicals. . . there is only a small spectrum of conclusions one can come to with such a specific cause of death. Clearly a substance that couldn’t be detected by the average man who drank it through water or some other beverage. That being said, if said substance tainted the entire water supply, it’s highly likely that there were many other reported cases of illness or death. . . so she could do a bit of less dangerous research and just ask officials, medical professionals or morticians. . . when asking the cause of death, you’re more likely to ask the investigator and not the murderer. She claims not to be too unintelligent, so why is she here? Ahote thought to himself, always analyzing little things. At his question, he became more weary in her presence, quietly observing her heat her cup. It was nothing to comment on.

”Miss Katherine, if I may. . .” he began, looking into the flames that crackle on the charred logs resting in its hearth, ”if your caretakers had died through drinking contaminated water, the spectrum of possible cause of death widdles down to poison, waste, harmful intake of chemicals. . . things of that sort. If the water or water supply had been contaminated, there’s a high chance that there had been multiple reported cases of illness or death by the consumption of this water or other beverages. . .” Ahote’s soft voice suddenly became more intimidating, turning to face Katherine, ”local medical professionals or investigators would have the information you wanted so badly. Why not ask them? It’s far less dangerous and far more fruitful than confronting the supposed culprits themselves. So with that in mind, did you choose to travel here because you had nothing else to do or are you lying?” He queried, beginning to question her sincerity.

"Where those who lack real shelter, make you feel most at home,"

Ahote maintained his indifferent expression as Katherine began to become angry in his questions. It was no surprise that she would feel the way she did, being accused of lying. But her actions thus far made her out to look like a fool.

As she brought her face in closer to his, he could feel her hot breaths blow against his pale, white skin. Her expressive, fuming eyes met his topaz ones, an atmosphere much less docile settling in the cabin. Although she did not seem very well spoken, he knew that had intense resolve. She was willing to advocate for herself, no matter the person, it seemed. The boy took good notes of her behavior in order to aid him in communicating with her in the future.

Ahote sighed a long, weary sigh as Katherine would pull away from his face and back into her own stiff position, clearly not pleased with how their conversation had been going. Though, what she had said was rather interesting. Justice? An ounce of love? It was difficult to understand the idea of justice when Ahote has never had a sense of it instilled within him from society. It was jarring to him, and couldn't help but speak on the subject after her clear request of the use of miss. Understandable, the request seemed.

"I'd hardly call what I did patronizing, Katherine. I think what I'm asking are reasonable questions after understanding the context of your situation. But very well." he began, staring into the flames of the hearth once again, "Lets talk about the aftermath of your resolve. Lets say that you do find this Famine character, and you discover the truth of why they made your family suffer tragic deaths. Then what? You kill them? Kill yourself, perhaps?
I wouldn't put it beyond you, given the self destructive tendencies you've displayed already." Ahote began to play with his Oolong tea, swirling his spoon deep within the toasty beverage. "I'd say leave the serving of justice to the men and women who do it for a living,
not some hot blooded girl who says she's serving justice when she really just needs a reason to keep living. I mean this figuratively, of course. We live to reproduce, really. It's an instinct that is shared universally between all things. But a reason to truly live. I imagine for you. . . that there is nothing left to live for with no one to welcome you home, no home to be welcomed home to. But to march into a cesspool of murderers and the supposed killers of your family,
understanding the risks and the sacrifices at stake just so you can relieve your curiosity is fruitless and something only a fool would do." Ahote's eyes darted back over to Katherine, a certain coldness to them. "If I let you up this mountain, and you talked to Famine, and she didn't kill or imprison you, what then? I'll tell you what happens next,
a broken girl walks around Fiore holding onto memories and a dream to be someone who is strong enough to get answers and start a new life when that girl doesn't exist. She's really just an incompetent, foolish girl who's too afraid to kill herself but too weak to move on."

Ahote sipped his tea, gazing into the wooden planks of the table. "This is just speculation, of course."

"Maybe their grass looks greener, Because they've painted on its hue,
Just remember that from the other side, your grass looks greener too."

Ahote found himself hesitant to return his gaze back to Katherine after what he said. He imagined that it had upset her far beyond what the boy could tolerate. He felt himself sink into deep thought, questioning whether he should say any more after that. Maybe I shouldn't have said all that so bluntly. I bet she's pretty upset. Should I apologize? Maybe I should, actually. But then again, it's not my fault she can't handle the truth. Honesty is always the best policy, even if it hurts some feelings. But I should still apologize, I guess. . . He pondered, turning to face Katherine in hopes that an apology would mend the wounds between them.

Abruptly, it seemed as if the apology would never cross his mouth when the crimson locks brushed against his cheeks, her hues filled with flames and warm hands gripping themselves onto his sweater and undershirt. Before Ahote could even think to speak or to process the situation, wide, topaz eyes winced in shock when Katherine's tough knuckles pounded against the boy's white, smooth jaw. A brief jolt of pain went through the boy upon impact, but he failed to react, to speak, to defend himself. Instead, he slid back into his chair with wide eyes and an a stiff body.

Ahote simply looked down at his feet, listening to the woman's ranting and furious tangents. He absorbed the words in without releasing them, but couldn't think of them too deeply while recovering from the shock. But slowly, he raised his hand to the wound and gently rubbed his fleshed fingers across the bruised, bloody skin. It ached, stung and itched, but his fingers descended from the wound and onto the arm of the chair, raising his head to look at Katherine with an angered expression.

"Soulless monster?" Ahote jeered quietly, "I have been kind to you, Katherine. . . when I could've let that man beat, rape and kill you, I didn't.
And I don't need reason to help someone in need. Someone who did nothing wrong.
But despite my hospitality. . . despite everything I've done for you in such little
time. . .' The raven haired man stood up, walking over to the distressed woman with fury in his eyes, "you dare strike me and demean me because you're too weak to accept the truth! It is people like you that need to be fixed, that need their morals and perception adjusted! If waking others up from these silly dreams of a perfect world or unstoppable resolves means hurting them, then my god, I will gladly call myself a soulless monster, you stupid girl!" Ahote yelled at her with a trembling voice. He never raised his voice, much less to a woman.

Ahote took his left hand and grabbed a group of crimson threads, pulling her face close to his. "A broken, foolish girl who can't wake up from her dreams needs someone to help her do that! But to strike me. . . to strike me. . .!" Ahote's tone became more stressed, feeling his metal fingers dig deeper into her scalp before he could no longer contain his frustration and slammed her head into the table.

Silence brushed over the two, nothing but heartbeats and rough panting could be heard. Ahote held his chest, turning back to sit down in his chair with tears nearly swelling in his eyes. He felt like crying, really. He's never hit someone like that and not kill them. It seemed like murder and attacking someone without death being involved felt completely different. The adrenaline coursing through his veins settled, and his heartbeat didn't feel as rushed. Quietly, Ahote's shaking voice passed his lips, "Hey, Katherine. . . I'm. . . I'm sorry.
. ." Ahote stammered, looking over to Katherine's idle body. Worried, he reached over to shake her shoulder with his right hand, "Katherine. . .? Hey. . . you okay?" With no response, Ahote began to understand what had happened.

With an upsetting sigh, he stood up and checked her pulse through her wrist. "She's still alive. . . I need to take her up the mountain. There aren't any medical tools here. . . alright. Time to go. . ." Ahote told himself, wrapping the jacket around her tightly, rummaging through the other areas of the cabin to find a spare jacket himself before he would carry her up the mountain.

The nerve she had to hit me. I'd ought to just leave her out in the snow.
. . but. . .

[End]
WC: 8,501