vicious [d.m]

fourteen: dragons & arrows

Irvene looks like Death reincarnate.

Her deep red hair sticks to the sides of her angular face, sticky with blood and dirt. Her eyes, golden and gleaming, more intelligent than Radna's, pierce into Khione's and her teeth bare in a predatory smile.

But there is grief there, lurking behind the rage, behind the thirst for revenge. Khione understands that at least, if nothing else.

"You left him there," Irvene hisses, advancing a step forward — and her followers mimic her, stepping out from the foliage and into the clearing. There are six of them, faces Khione doesn't bother to try and remember. "Did you think you'd get out of here alive?"

"Stand down, Irvene." Malfoy's voice is cold, his body tense beside Khione's.

Irvene's eyes flick to him for only a second. "Defending her now, are we? I thought you were out to kill her."

Malfoy ignores the jab. "You knew he was going to die. He was always short of brains."

Irvene makes a sound akin to a snarl and her followers bristle in the foliage. Khione's muscles go rigid on instinct. "Watch it, Malfoy."

"Or what?" His smirk is slow, the glint of white teeth catching in the rays of sunlight streaking through the trees.

But despite his nonchalance, Khione knows better. They are severely outnumbered — and weaponless. They don't have the element of surprise like they did with Radna either. Even with both of their skills, she doesn't think they can get out of this alive.

Irvene steps forward, her shoulders heaving with a staggered breath. Tears glimmer at the corner of her eyes; tears for her brother — a vindictive, evil man who deserved worse than what Khione gave him. But somehow, Irvene weeps for him — and somehow, Khione pictures herself, standing at the window of their little cottage, watching her father leave with tears in her eyes, her torso still bandaged from his act of cruelty.

"We had a deal," Irvene hisses, golden eyes fixed on Malfoy. Khione can feel the despair rolling off her in powerful waves, filling the air around them.

"Oh, I deserve no credit, unfortunately. She killed him," Malfoy responds, tilting his head at Khione. "Don't blame me."

She can barely pay attention, her brain working overtime to try and find a way out of this that leaves both her and Malfoy alive. But it's looking extremely unlikely, especially with the expressions of the witches and wizards creeping closer.

Malfoy? It's a loud enough thought, a desperate way to communicate with him. It shouldn't work — but his eyes dart to the side like he's heard her.

"I will kill you both." Irvene advances, rolling her shoulders back, her glare piercing. "And I will fucking enjoy it."

The next moments happen so fast, Khione barely registers them as they occur. The nearest witch lunges for her, Irvene sprints for them and Khione tenses into a defensive stance. A voice, so loud in her head, Cover your ears! — and she does, purely based on the urgency in his tone.

A loud screech pierces through the air then, so ear-splitting even with her hands over ears. Her eardrums throb with pain. Long fingers close around her elbow — and for a second, she nearly jerks away until she recognises the cool, smooth texture of that palm and lets Malfoy pull her away.

Her ears are still ringing as she stumbles after him, blinking spots from her vision and there's a strong, powerful wind ripping at her hair and her clothes, billowing leaves into the air and giving them some cover. Not that they need it — most of Irvene's followers have collapsed to their knees, hands over their ears, blood leaking out from between their fingers.