Bonds Don't Come Cheap

The pain was blinding. There were a solid ten seconds where she couldn’t see anything but blackness, couldn’t hear anything but the ringing in her ears. She hadn’t even processed the fact that Xiuhcoatl had starting attacking the strange girl. Serilda fought past the pain that was coursing through her body, and turned to watch what was going on. Mythal knocked the real Lexa out of the room -- it was the real Lexa, right? The second Lexa was staring her down, but Mythal’s body cut the glare off.

Refusing to let the man fight this battle alone, she tried to push herself to her feet, but the run through calf immediately seized and it was back down to the ground she went. She was growling through the pain and her head was throbbing, but she wasn’t going to give up. Serilda gripped her scimitar tightly, furious that she could only sit there and watch as Mythal faced off against the creepy clone, who still had her sights set on the injured woman. The girl let out a shriek that shredded her ears.

The man and the girl fought viciously, but the little freak had one advantage that was difficult for either of them to keep track of. The girl disappeared again, teleporting back over in front of Serilda. Fear was clawing at the walls of her mind but she gripped her sword and prepared to defend herself -- until another portal opened up. Serilda knew what was coming, but before the attack could strike, she felt a pair of hands grab her under her arms and toss her to the side. Serilda rolled across the rough ground, shrieking in pain as the weapons embedded in her got jostled and pushed deeper through her limbs.

It was once again Xiuhcoatl that came to the rescue, appearing out of nowhere while the woman was distracted with her spell. The wolf jumped up and slammed her body into the girl’s with the full strength of momentum from her superior speed. Lexa stumbled to the side and shot a glare toward the pup, but by then it was already too late. Mythal had recovered, despite having several daggers poking out of his back. His fist was completely ashen in color, a move that Serilda had only seen him use once before, very recently.

With a single punch, he sent the clone flying. Serilda dared to hope that was the end of it, but then the girl spoke a sentence that put another shiver down her spine and disappeared. The wolf was standing protectively in front of her, muzzle dripping with whatever passed for blood in the abomination they’d just fought. Only once she was sure the clone was gone, given that her scent and everything had disappeared, did the pup turn to Serilda. Whimpering, she started trying to lick the wound on the woman’s calf.

“Xiuh, stop,” she groaned, the command not a very forceful one. Serilda pulled the hound to her body and hugged it tight, trying to reassure the animal. Xiuhcoatl turned to lick her mistress’s face, big eyes worried. “I’ll be okay, it’s okay,” she whispered, soothing the hound.

Though she was holding to the animal, her eyes were on her partner where he swayed. The man stumbled over to her and she immediately caught his shoulders to keep him from falling forward. “Careful!” she told him. In the desert she’d been concerned about an infection growing on his back. Right now, she was fully worried for his life. Serilda tried to look over his shoulder at the weapons embedded there, even as he eyed her own. “We need to get you out of here…”

Stubbornly, he stayed focused on her. Warning her ahead of him, she gasped when he slipped his arms under her and pulled her up. “Wait! Stop, you’re going to make your own injuries worse!” Serilda insisted, though she couldn’t really do much to stop him. She winced at the pain when the injuries got jostled again, biting off another pained cry. Her free hand gripped the front of his shirt tightly in an attempt to mediate the pain, and he’d feel her body trembling in his arms from the effort of fighting it back.

Xiuhcoatl whimpered again when Mythal asked her to take the lead, wanting to but uncertain about following a command that came from someone other than Serilda. The woman looked down. “Go, Xiuh. It’s okay.” The hound moved through the door ahead of them, eager to get out of this strange place.

The man walked after the animal, and Serilda turned to look at him, her face etched with frustration as much as open worry. “Mythal, please,” she told him quietly, making an effort not to yell into his sensitive ears. “You don’t need to carry me, I can manage with a little support. You’re going to kill yourself if you do this..!”

Serilda honestly had no idea just how strong Mythal really was. As a Slayer, he could take a lot more damage than post people, but she had zero exposure to Slayer in battles. All she could see was a man with several sharp instruments protruding from his flesh, trying to use his reserves of strength so she didn’t have to get hurt even more. To his credit, he did explain that his new clothes had helped him a lot -- supposedly it was reinforced with his magic, meaning the blades hadn’t injured him nearly as badly as it looked.

But he was still beaten pretty badly. With their faces as close as they were, she could see the places he was starting to swell, even in the dim lighting in the tunnel. For a brief moment, her hand moved on instinct to reach out and touch one lump that was already forming on his cheek, but before the limb had even moved an inch it was vividly reminded of the dagger pierced through it. “Ah..!” Serilda winced. Relief flooded through her, though. What had brought that on? Hopefully he’d just taken the movement for being jostled in his arms a bit.

Either way, he insisted that he would be fine and explained that if he let her walk it was going to be much worse for her than it would be on him if he carried her. Shockingly, she didn’t argue. “Okay,” the woman told him quietly. How could she argue? Honestly, that would have just made her a hypocrite at this point after everything that had happened in Desierto. So for once she bit the bullet and let someone else take care of her instead of the other way around, though she certainly didn’t stop worrying the whole walk.

When they got outside, they were alone. Both Lexa’s had disappeared, it seemed, and probably for their own good. Even in her current state, Serilda wouldn’t hesitate to drop that bitch underground and let her try to breathe stone. The view ahead reminded her that they weren’t exactly close to any place that would be able to give them sufficient medical care. But as he was gearing them up for the travel, they sensed the approach of a vehicle. Mythal tensed up, and Serilda brandished her blade with one arm, holding on to him with the other, determined to fight in her current placement if she had to.

The vehicle screeched to a halt in front of them, and Xiuhcoatl had placed herself between the car and the wizards, snarling a warning that backed up Mythal’s demands for information. When the two explained that they’d been sent by Lexi, Serilda shared a look with Mythal. Ultimately, she shrugged, knowing they really couldn’t afford to say no.

He set her down gently, and she bit back the dizziness that came over her from moving too much. Serilda soothed her hound, commanding her not to attack the men as they approached her slowly, not wanting to agitate the animal further. It didn’t take them long to realize they were going to need more than just bandages. “We have a healer back at the village,” one of them explained. “We need to get you back there. I’m sorry, miss, we have to leave these in just a bit longer. Don’t want you bleeding out..”

She waved off the explanation. “It’s fine. I can handle it,” Serilda told him, her voice sounding much more affirmative than she felt.

Not long after that, they were finally given a chance to rest. Removing the blades had been excruciating. Serilda almost passed out the second time, half fainting where she sat as her vision turned gray. The healer the town had wasn’t nearly as skilled or trained as ones they’d fight in the larger cities, but she had enough talent and knowhow to at least save their skins. The wounds would heal fully over time, but they would be sore for a while.

The two of them were put in a small room that served as an infirmary, each with a bed. The Voidmage had fallen asleep before being placed in the room, Xiuhcoatl nestled across her. The pup would stay awake for some time protecting the woman before getting some shut eye as well. Both the wounds and the healings had taken their toll on Serilda’s strength; she was asleep for most of the day before finally stirring back to consciousness.

The first thing she saw was the hound, who eagerly got in her face and started licking it affectionately. “Yes, I’m okay,” Serilda told the wolf as she slowly tried to sit up and take stock of where she was.

She hadn't felt Mythal's presence in the room just yet, mostly because she was a bit groggy as she awoke. It wasn't a surprise that he was there, though. She glanced at him, taking in his condition with her eyes as he explained that Xiuhcoatl had stayed with her the whole time she'd been asleep. Serilda pulled the wolf up against her chest and snuggled her closely, fingers splaying into the animal's thick black fur as she closed her eyes and nuzzled her forehead against the pup's.

“You're such a good girl,” Serilda told the hound softly. A tired and relieved, but honest, smile spread her lips as she held the animal close. It was like she was a completely different woman in that moment, as truthfully her relationship with the pup was more than just a mistress. Mythal had only seen them together while actively on jobs where Serilda had to reinforce the training and be stern and attentive, but when they were at leisure she was openly affectionate toward the smaller creature.

Xiuhcoatl's fluffy tail whapped heavily against the bed, and she practically flug herself at the woman's torso, leaning against her and demanding pets like any common house dog with an open mouthed grin on her face. Serilda laughed quietly and rubbed the hound all over. “I’m so proud of you! Only one ignored command in two jobs. Your training is almost complete, I think.”

Once she had given the pup some much earned attention, she once more turned to Mythal. “How are you feeling?” the woman asked him, her features fading back into sober concern. He was absolutely covered in bandages, more so than she was. Guilt rippled over her for letting him carry her out like he had. Not to mention the fact that he had stayed until she was taken care of, and then hadn't been able to stay away through his turn of healing.

Behind him, she could see the sun lowering in the horizon through the window, and she realized she'd been asleep for a while. Ushering Xiuh off the bed, Serilda threw back the covers and examined her own bandages. They'd changed her clothes completely at some point, taking them to be cleaned and fixed. She was wearing what amounted to a hospital pajamas: thin sweatpants and a tshirt.

Pulling up the pant leg, she checked her calf. The bandage was clean and looked professional, at least. Same with her arm. Slowly, she swung her legs off the bed and attempted to stand. Her injured leg seized a little, causing her to wince and teeter for a moment, but it was nearly as bad as before. Just very sore. Carefully, she moved over to the window. Xiuh followed her the whole way, tail flapping wildly in excitement for her mistress being up and moving.

Serilda looked out the glass at the fading light and the town that lay beyond the building. “Any news on where Lexa ran off to?” By her tone, she was asking about the real one who had hired them, not the abomination they'd fought.

Mythal took the time and energy to assure her he was just fine, promising that the fiasco in Desierto had done far more damage than this incident. Serilda couldn’t tell if he meant it or was just trying to keep her relaxed, but he did seem to be okay. He did seem about as frustrated regarding Lexa as she felt, however, grumbling over the fact that she was nowhere to be found.

She absolutely shared his sentiments. The woman wanted nothing more than to put everything that had just happened behind them, but deep in her heart she knew they were going to need to follow this through until the end. They couldn’t let whatever that thing had been just roam freely among innocent people. As she looked out the window, images of the young girl flashed through her mind, the vats of oozing liquids exploding, holes opening out of nowhere to shoot weapons at them, blood curdling screams, empty eyes…

Serilda realized she was trembling. She clenched her hand into a fist and took a deep breath to steady herself. Nightmares were probably going to plague her for a bit, after all this was over. She was not a woman easily intimidated, but many things that fell in line with the supernatural scared her more than she liked to admit.

Luckily, Mythal shook her from the thoughts by asking about her own state. “Don’t you always look like that?” she asked when he mentioned how badly he looked in comparison to her, despite that she’d been the worser injured. Sapphire eyes flicked over to him with a small hint of amusement; her second joke ever. The tiniest of smiles pulled on the side of her lips before she looked outside again. “I’m sore,” the woman admitted, shifting her weight a bit. “My pride is hurt more than anything else. Seems to be a recurring theme with me, lately.”

Being hurt to the point he’d had to carry her out, having a woman try to make out with her in front of dozens of people on a mission, sleeping with a man that had barely been more than a stranger at the time after having a screaming match with him… Needless to say, her life had been a bit more unpredictable than she usually preferred it recently. Her discipline was being tested, and she was failing more often than she liked.

Turning, Serilda looked at him again, this time with a curious expression. “You were in a monastery..?” she asked. He’d mentioned he had martial arts training, which was evident in the way he fought, but he’d never mentioned being a monk before. Not that he really talked about himself all that much, of course. Eighty percent of their conversation since they’d met had only been about work. It was hard to picture him as a monk, particularly given his affection for liquor.

“Oh, shut up,” she told him, rolling her eyes. Serilda sounded annoyed, but the tiny smirk hadn't quite left her face.

He did try to comfort her regarding the pride thing, and she took note of it, but he didn't quite seem to realize everything she'd been implying when she talked about sore pride. That was fine by her. A part of her realized that her life had become more complicated when she'd met the rough man, but she didn't want him thinking she was trying to blame him for her own faults. Not to mention, he didn't really know where she was coming from. He was trying though, and she took that for what it was.

“That doesn't come so easily to me,” she admitted to him honestly. Pride was a must for a woman of her station, as was her sense of duty. “But thank you.”

Mythal watched her for a long moment when she asked her question, and during that time she thought that perhaps she’d touched on a subject she shouldn’t have brought up. It seemed like a small thing to her, but perhaps it wasn’t to him. She was about to tell him he didn’t have to answer when he started speaking again. He talked about how he’d been picked up by Midians as a kid, saved more like. Despite his original intentions, he’d stayed and learned much from them for a decade or so, ultimately deciding not to commit to their ranks due to a difference in world views.

Serilda listened quietly as he talked, her gaze holding him with her full attention. By the end of it, she nodded her understanding. A part of her wanted to ask why he was so married to booze, but she had the tact not to. Her experience with people who drank was that they typically did so for a reason, and usually they weren’t happy ones.

Instead, she decided to ask a different one. Leaning against the window to take some of the pressure of her tender calf, Serilda told him, “Feel free to tell me if I’m being too inquisitive. I just… am confused, I guess.” She paused, trying to figure out how to word her next question. “Since I’ve met you, I’ve seen you throw yourself into a lot of danger. You’ve risked your life several times, taken the brunt of attacks meant for others, carried me out of those ruins while fighting your own injuries…” Serilda touched on just a couple of things she’d observed him doing. It wasn’t with the intent of praising him -- she wasn’t the praising type most days, and she already knew he was uncomfortable with such things anyway -- but they were things that confused her about him.

“If you dislike people as greatly as you do, why do you keep helping them at your own expense…?”

He didn’t say anything for a long time, his eyes looking at her without really seeing her. Mythal was locked somewhere in a memory, she knew. Serilda was all too familiar with that kind of look. After a minute or so had passed she thought to speak up and tell him not to worry about answering, but stopped herself. She had already given him an out if he truly wanted it, and reiterating that wasn’t going to do anything for either of them. So she waited patiently, giving him the time he needed to decide if he wanted to talk or not.

Decision made, the man rose to his feet and joined her over at the window. He looked outside, where the light was all but faded. It wouldn’t be much longer than a few minutes before the sun was gone completely from the horizon. The flickering candlelight on the wall was all that illuminated them, now. When he spoke, it was with the words of a man that knew he was jaded. He told her how, while his reasons for hating humans were more than valid in his own mind, he knew that not everyone was responsible for whatever had happened to him. Some people were truly good in nature, and even he with all his hatred and resentment couldn’t deny that.

But he absolutely had a problem with anyone that tried to better their own lives no matter the cost to those around them. It was a sentiment she wholeheartedly agreed with. As a woman of privilege, she’d had more than enough exposure to men and women that thought so highly of themselves that they didn’t give a damn what happened to the people around them, so long as they profited from it. Serilda had been fortunate enough to have been raised in a strict but kind environment. She had a lot of expectations on her shoulders, but many of those expectations were that she do the right thing by herself as well as by others. To do otherwise would stain her family’s name in a way that would be irredeemable.

Serilda had been looking down for a moment as he spoke, her eyes lost in the dim shadows that had swept themselves across the room, when he cut himself off mid word. A slight frown of confusion furrowed onto her face as she looked back up at him. She hadn’t missed where he’d almost gone with that comment. The woman though he was going to stop himself there or awkwardly shift himself around the slip, but instead she was surprised when he decided to finish the statement. Mythal explained that, despite their butting personalities and past arguments, he saw her as someone that was actively trying to make the world a better place. And that was something he valued more than his hatred: hope that maybe, someday, things wouldn’t be so shitty.

He finally looked at her and explained that he didn’t want others to have to wallow in that darkness like he had. By that point she was so caught up in what he was saying, and confused by the emotions smacking her brain around in circles, that all Serilda could do was just look up at him. She wanted to comfort him, somehow, but didn’t know how. Her family had always been so formal and subtle with one another that she’d never really learned how to encourage someone in a way that wouldn’t come off as cold or pragmatic.

Cautiously, not even truly aware of what she was doing until it had already happened, Serilda, reached across the miniscule distance between them and gently took her hand in his. Manicured fingers nestled themselves between his calloused ones. There wasn’t a whole lot she could say. She had grown up wealthy and respected, and had never wanted for anything. The woman honestly couldn’t even begin to fathom just what kind of horrors he’d lived through to reach this nearly contradictory state.

But she knew, now, that there was a lot more to him than she’d originally thought, and more than he liked to lead on. Anything she thought to say just sounded… insincere in her head. Serilda didn’t want to offer him meaningless platitudes, nor did she want him to feel like he was being pitied -- a feeling she would resent, in his shoes. So instead, she offered him her hand, honestly not sure if he would take it or pull back in stubborn disgust. It wasn’t really something she was thinking about in that moment. Her eyes felt like they were glued on him, and her chest was pounding in a way that she hadn’t felt for years.

Luckily, right about the time she was inkling with the idea of moving even closer to him, she sensed the approach of someone outside the dark room. The person opened the door, and both the sound and the light snapped her out of her current mindset. Like a teenager caught by her parents with a boy in the room, Serilda immediately pulled away and tried to stand upright again to put some space between them.

Instead, her tender calf seized. With a yelp, she dropped to the floor. The light from outside flooded fully into the room, and there stood the healing woman. She blinked at the two of them, but whatever thoughts she may have had she chose to keep to herself. “Well, since you’re both awake and moving…” the lady said, putting a little stern emphasis on the latter word since they were both supposed to be bedridden. “Would you like to come have some dinner?”