Summoned so the Soviet Conquers! (GATE Fanfics)

Chapter IX - Drinks.

"Greet the banks of the Jordan, the landed towers of Zion..."

--

Ianthe regained lucidity sometime around the time that she was being pulled out of one of the green men's carriages. She stumbled like a new hatchling on unsure legs, every movement a new kind of torture to her battered body. She was only dimly aware of what was happening to her as she was led down a hallway that was like stone, but wasn't and far too clean. More of those lights overhead that used energy like lightning. She didn't know what was going to happen to her, but what did it matter? The man who had hired her, given her a contract, a fresh chance at a life she thought was gone forever was dead. A man that she was supposed to protect with her life and had failed to do so. Then had failed to avenge him. She was nothing but a failure in the eyes of both men and gods and it weighed heavily on her soul, making her feel as if she was but a hollow vessel. "Ianthe?" The voice was familiar and the mention of her name made Ianthe look up and to her disbelief, see Feliks walking the opposite way, next to a man who looked like an officer. Ianthe had been told that it was her elvish blood that made her so temperamental. Whereas elves felt emotions much more strongly and deeply that humans, they also had a restraint and thoughtfulness to keep it in check whereas humans had impulsiveness and passion that amplified their own emotions to a heightened degree. Ianthe had gotten traits of both of her parents races, the deep emotion and feeling of the elves, with the impulsiveness and passion of the humans. Needless to say, it led to some varying results. "Volkin, you're alive!" cried Ianthe gleefully, joy making her heady and warm before spreading to the rest of her body, making her feel as if she had done nothing more strenuous than go for a mild run. Giggling like a girl, her elvish heritage making it lyrical like water tinkling atop of crystals, Ianthe practically launched herself at the young Soviet officer, wrapping her manacled arms around him and kissing him. Laughing merrily in the way only elves can laugh. "You're alive! You're alive!" Cried Ianthe joyously. "You're ali-you're alive," said Ianthe, her demeanor changing immediately as she realized that she had tried to kill an apostle of Emroy, the god of war, death, and other unpleasantness to avenge a man that was still alive. She glared at him, her two ice chip eyes turning as cold as the ice they appeared to be. "You're alive. You fucking idiot."

--

It took some time and smooth talking, but Feliks was able to explain that Ianthe worked for him as a scout and had most likely just been concerned about him and come looking for him. Apparently she had threatened several people in town and gotten into a fight with the freaky little girl that was apparently almost a thousand years, which explained her current battered state. He had had to swear up and down that she would not cause problems so long as she was with him. They had agreed, especially after Ianthe had proven quite violent when they had tried to separate her from Feliks, choking her marine escort with her cuffs until Feliks had gotten her to let him go. Needless to say that had not gone over well.

That had been yesterday though, when she had first arrived, bloody, battered, but seemingly overjoyed to see him like she had found her long lost friend, hugging and kissing him, laughing while doing it. And that laugh, it had been something that wasn't possible in the human capacity to make. A type of joy that could not be merely conveyed by sound, or at least not thought capable to be able to convey. It had been musical, almost magical in its quality even. At least for the few moments she had been happy to see him, before a switch had flipped in her and she had become entirely displeased with him and he wasn't exactly able to ask her why.

Looking back now though, it would have been batter if he had let them throw Ianthe in a cell, because she would not leave him alone, wouldn't even leave his side for a moment and it wasn't like she understood him well enough for them to have a meaningful conversation. Or for him to ask her why she wouldn't leave him alone. Regardless there were certain, benefits to having the mercenary around that Feliks's less gentlemanly nature approved of, even if it did make him flush at her proximity.