In Blackened Maws

vii // explanations

There was a lengthy period of silence, disrupted only by the babbling of the brook and the dull thrum in Archer's head. 

For as much as Archer convinced himself that Xena was dangerous, that her inky flesh was concealing a very deadly and mysterious creature, it was peculiar to see anything of it. In his eyes, when he saw Xena, he saw Xena. There shouldn't have been anything more to her, if only because there was already so much, most of which he still had yet to comprehend.

Xena, for her part, didn't seem happy about being caught. Archer, no matter how hard he tried, could hardly read those crossed eyes. Her body was still dripping that black ichor, and it smoothly stained the grass a black that matched the sky above.

The two stared at one another. It was reminiscent of when they first met, though rather than being haloed by the sun, Xena was cast in darkness.

Archer swallowed. After a brief moment of hesitation, he called out again: "Xena?"

The voice that responded was hollow, a breeze in the wind. "Archer."

Archer flinched. At that slight movement, Xena moved as well, though she took a step back. Her form shuddered, and more of it dribbled down to the ground.

"Are you okay, Archer?"

Archer, feeling the buzz of anxiety in his bones and the sure-to-be-formulating bruises on his arms, could do nothing but laugh. "Okay? OKAY?! What do you think?!"

Xena's form shuddered again.

"And...and you?" Archer felt his heartbeat pick up. "Xena, what...what are you?"

"Archer, I already told you, I'm an ink," she said, the hollowness of her voice fading.

Archer scoffed, exasperated. "Like I'm supposed to know what that is?!"

Xena's form seemed to solidify a little, and she straightened her back. "Archer, I'd advise you to calm down," she murmured, voice steely.

"Not until you tell me what the heck is going on," Archer snapped.

Xena shifted, swaying a little. "I-" she paused again, instead looking beside him. "Your...your pack."

"My-" Archer snapped his head to his right. It couldn't really be called a pack, at that point. If anything, it was a conglomeration of wet fabric, dusted by snow-like paper, shredded wrappers, and anything else he had stored in there.

"My pack," Archer echoed, feeling the heat momentarily leave his chest.

He just...he wanted to go home.

In the corner of his eye, he saw Xena take a step forward. Her voice was soft. "It's alright, Archer. I-"

"Don't." Archer was shocked at the sudden hardness of his tone. By Xena's stutter, he could tell that she was as well. "Don't come near me. Not until you explain what's going on with you."

"Archer-"

"Xena."

Xena shook her head. "You already saw, Archer."

"And? If anything, you should just fess up because of that." When he didn't get a response, he sighed. "Tell me what an ink is, Xena."

Xena fidgeted, and her form began to drip again. "Well," she started, white x's looking towards the brook. "If anything, inks are shifters. We're creatures that can shift our bodies from humanoid to canine-like." She didn't continue.

"And?" Archer asked, his voice shockingly meek.

"Archer, listen," Xena stepped forward, and Archer took a step back. "I do not intend to hurt you. If I do, it isn't on purpose. I seek to let you leave this forest as much as you most likely wish to."