LIRO || completed

• 2.1 •

Dressed in all black, he studied her. His hair was pulled back, revealing every sharp angle of his face. Malice was absent from his eyes, though suspicion made a home there. Liro's eyes went wide and her mouth opened slightly, disbelieving.

She hadn't expected to run into a human this deep in the woods.

"Who are you?" he growled, his hand readjusting on the handle of his crossbow. His muscles couldn't be tired already.

She stayed silent, searching his face for answers. Her head cocked, a purely animal and predator gesture, and every muscle in the mans body tensed. Liro repressed a grin; in her old body, her precious, battle-ready form, he would have been nothing. A mere itch in her immeasurable lifespan.

Yet now, completely at his mercy, she knew that it would be entirely the wrong move. That arrow could have pierced her heart by now, yet it hadn't, meaning that he was soft. He didn't want to hurt her, even though his stance said otherwise, as did his mouth.

"People don't spring up in the woods." His eyes narrowed, making them out to be mere slits on his face. She continued to stare, silent and immovable as ever, hoping to see something inside his soul. "What are you doing here?"

"I was being hunted."

The sound of her voice was surprising. It was soft, like the sound of rain against the sill. Low and pleasant, as if honey were being poured over her senses. It was entirely unfitting for her body; slender and pale, her face filled with ominous eyes like two round saucers.

"Who was hunting you?" The hunters crossbow lowered slightly. The mud and grime on her body spoke volumes; she wasn't lying to him, even though it was clear that he wanted her to be.

Liro's words died in her throat. She couldn't tell him it was her sisters. Couldn't reveal what had happened. People like her were burned, the gold flecks on their arms scraped off with blunt knives. Their sight and knowledge extracted and recorded in books and given to unworthy humans.

She let out a small snarl. "People."

"Being unhelpful isn't playing in your favour; I'm currently the one holding the crossbow."

Liro leaned forwards, her dark hair spilling over her shoulders and onto her knees. "Then perhaps you should lay it down, so our odds are fair."

Wether his shoulders shook with anger or amusement was a mystery to her. "I'd rather have the advantage and walk away, than play fair and be dead."

"How strong a moral code. I know few who would disagree with you."

He arched an eyebrow. "And you?"

She licked her lips, her eyes searching his face. "I think it is better to survive any way you can than die undeservedly."

His crossbow was up again, aimed at her heart. "You think I'm going to shoot you," he said. It wasn't spoken incredulously, more or less stated like the fact that it was. "You think you don't deserve to die."

Her mind screamed. Did anybody deserve to die? No matter the crimes, did anyone truly deserve to have their heart stopped unwillingly, to have the light drained from their eyes?

No one could ever be that horrible. No one was that undeserving of life.

"You think I do deserve to die?" she mocked. Struggling with her tongue, how to work it in this uncomfortable body.

"I think you're sly," he remarked, barely giving it a second thought. "Willing to survive and rob, just to secure you come out unscathed. This conversation has given me that much."