What Lies Beneath the Lies

Chapter 3 - Elderberry Bushes Containing Deadly Weapons. Who would've known.

'NO! ERIN, ARE YOU SERIOUS?!? YOU CAN'T JUST WALK OUT LIKE THAT. NO, WAIT! STOP, WAIT FOR ME!'

'Get lost, you halfwit,' Erin snapped curtly. 'I'm going. Get over it. Since when did you give a damn about me?'

'Since ages ago! You've just never noticed!'

Joel had no clue what had came over Erin. It was understandable that Joel had driven her out of her wits, but how scornful she had only recently became, was a wonder of it's own. Brutally stalking out was one change, even ranting rude remarks was definitely... Something. 

'I'm not leaving your side, y'know,' reasoned Joel, trying his hardest to intellect her.

'What ever you're doing, Joel, it's not working, so can it.'

Joel became instantly taken aback. Why is she doing this? he thought, stopping abruptly and watching her trek along the cobblestoned path, her trunk rumbling behind her.

Joel continued to stare at her storming away in confusion for a while, when a glint of light caught his attention. A partial glimmer feebly shone throughout the elderberry bushes. Slowly, Joel approached the bushes, and ruffled the leaves with the back of his hand. A tingly sensation traveled into his veins, causing him to shudder slightly, also giving him a distant urge to pluck of a moderate amount of berries, and direct them to the back of Erin's head. It's a sibling thing. His hands pursued to explore the bush, halting at the touch of distinct cold metal. Joel's eyes grew large. Hastily, he clasped his fingers around what he expected to be a handle of some sort, but winced when a jolt of pain stabbed his hand, and removed it from the bush. It was a sword. Blood was gushing from his palm, as he tried to wipe it off on his pants. It didn't exactly work, despite making his jeans all bloody. Hesitating, Joel lurched his other hand back into the elderberry bush and took ahold of the hilt of the sword, retrieving it from the growth. 

It seemed pretty legit. Made from slightly rusting steel, the swords handle had a Sinclair Hilt, encrusted with various jewels and stones, that glinted feebly in the dawn sunlight. The blade itself was tarnished, yet it still had a modest flicker of light every now and again.

Joel's eyebrows raised absent-mindedly, as he gently brushed his slashed hand across the severely sharp blade, grimacing in pain, once again. Taking it in his other hand, he brandished the sword childishly at Erin's fading silhouette, making crude faces unnecessarily.