We Solemn Few

Chapter Twenty-Four : Step After Step

Marrow took a deep breath as he tentative kneeled beside the still Rhiss, their only movements the occasional rise-and-fall of their chest. His leg ached, the distant sting of his thighs a grimm reminder of the creature's claws who nearly tore him in two, now wrapped in but a few layers of simple bandages. He would be limping for some time, he was sure, but that was hardly at the forefront of his mind. It was the boy-soldier before him that, despite all rationel, he could not deign why their presence stole but all of his focus.

In a way, that made him feel guilty; in what world should he care any more about this man than any other guardsmen he'd ever met? Especially so vividly. There were much more pressing concerns. Samson, and his revival. Zenrin, and wherever the hell he was. Veyha. His home. Whatever that... creature is, and if there may be more. He shuddered at that thought. Judging by Rhiss' swiftness with dispatching it, alongside Thelladon's dismissiveness of it, these creatures aren't anything new. He let his breath escape him at the thought. The world he knew but three weeks ago was one peaceful bliss; the world he fell into was one of demons that lurk in the shadows. And yet, still, he could not keep his thoughts from lingering back to Rhiss.

Unconsciously, his hand found its way into his dirty blonde hair, calloused fingers curling their way through silk-soft locks of hair. He had half the mind to scold himself for such an action, but the other half was simply entranced. Rhythmically did his hand work its way around the fluff that covered his head, a gesture which he quickly found to be quite soothing. He could see why Zenrin was so fond of Veyha doing the same, now. It was an odd serenity in this increasingly chaotic and worrisome environment he's found himself to be sinking within. A very brief break away from everything. It was... nice.

Until Rhiss then began rousing, in which case he half-yanked his hand down to his side while a wave of embarrassment flushed through his face.

The soldier went from unconscious to dauntingly alert in but a moment, but Marrow was simply glad they didn't catch him tangled within his hair. That would have been... he shook his head and sighed. He didn't even want to entertain such a horrendous situation. Especially since the forest green eyes of Rhiss were staring into him as if he knew Marrow's every secret. He swallowed cautiously, near-frozen beneath his gaze. It was not fear that kept him still.

"How are you feeling?" he managed to eek out with surprisingly baited breath. Mythos, something must be wrong with him.

"I-..." the boy-soldier rose to a sit slowly, grunting, "...I've been better." He chuckled. "Been worse, too. I'll manage."

Rhiss' voice was surprisingly steady, but he could see aches run through his body, small spasms and grunts signifying his injuries. Pain was hardly something one could cover easily, and though most of his injuries were already half healed - he could only guess at what Thelladon must've done, and none of the guesses were pleasant - Rhiss was still struggling himself. It was almost painful to watch, so much so that when Rhiss moved to stand Marrow couldn't help but stand and act as a support, the likes of which Rhiss didn't protest despite his prior claims. Marrow's own thigh burned as the extra weight pulsed down his leg, but he swallowed it down. A couple of cuts hardly matched multiple claws through the chest.

They were already half-stumbling out the door when the soldier spoke once more, his voice curling on hints of pain, "You going to carry me the whole way, or should I expect to be dropped off somewhere?"

Marrow merely shook his head and suppressed a chuckle.

The laughter faded quickly as they passed by the intersection of streets where the bloodshed had occurred. The smell of death hung heavy in the air still, even if all of the bodies had already been carried off to be buried, and blood still stained the cobble streets where they had once laid. The distant reminder of the air-piercing screech rang distantly in his ear forcing a wince from his throat, his leg nearly buckling beneath him; he leaned against Rhiss for but a moment to steady himself.