The TwiceBorn

To Deny Or Embrace

"She was three parts devil, and two parts human and what remained--unchained spirit."--Chopra

                                Alora watched Darius as he stalked along in front of Loki.  His puffed up demeanor would have been funny under different circumstances but as it was, Alora didn’t feel much like laughing.

“I’ll walk you to the Inn.”  The stilted sentence floated back over Darius’ shoulders as he marched along.  Alora didn’t reply.

 What she did feel like doing was taking her sword and driving it through his thrown back shoulders.  And let it seesaw across his bones.  And take the time to enjoy that slight but sweet hesitation as the sharpened tip rested against an organ before driving forward and through…

‘I don’t want to stay here without you.”  Islinn’s breath tickled her neck.  “I want to go with you.”

“No,” Alora replied in a firm tone.  “You won’t be safe where I’m going.”

“But…you will be?”

Alora’s voice wasn’t as firm as she contemplated the simple question.

“I should be,” She replied.  “Yzebel will be preparing for her Sabbat, most likely. It’s the season of yielding, not to mention the old moon.  When these two coincide, it’s a profane celebration.  Sacred to the Hags, profane to all others.”

“You should be?”  Islinn echoed.  Alora sighed.  She should have known better than to try and slide anything less than an adamant yes past Islinn. 

“The Hags are lesser beings,” Alora tried to explain.  “They’re beneath me.  I’m one of the Unmerciless, demon-bred.  But the Hags are opportunists, like all of the lower cast.  They’ll do whatever they can to earn favor with those over me.”

“What does that mean?”  There was a tremor in Islinn’s voice.  Alora suddenly realized that what amounted to idle chatter to her was probably terrifying to someone such as Islinn.  She silently cursed and concentrated, once again, on Darius as he marched along, his arms held stiffly at his sides. 

There was the spot…right there…a little below his shoulder blades and to the left.  A quick thrust angled up and darker blood would pool around her blade, heart’s blood…

‘It isn’t as bad as you think,” Alora countered.  “When you and your…well…the other Sentinels were out…walking…wasn’t there a few who wanted to gain favor with JoHan?  I don’t know…beg to be beaten first?  Carry all his whips for him? Something?”

“No.”  Islinn replied, her voice stiff.  “We were in service to Brede.  Not JoHan.”

 “Oh.”  Alora said.  “Well, anyway, it’s like children trying to gain favor with their teacher, is all.  All lower minions are on the hunt for a step up, it doesn’t really mean anything.”

Islinn was quiet and Alora’s eyes, once more, went to that spot in between Darius’ shoulder blades.

“Carry his whips for him?  Really?”  Islinn whispered in her ear and Alora smiled ruefully.

“How am I supposed to know anything about Sentinels?” She whispered back as Loki snorted and eyed Darius.

“You know about me.”  Islinn stated simply and Alora felt the girl’s chin rest against her shoulder as she gazed down the road. 

Did she?

Alora knew as much as she was allowed to know, of that she was sure.  But who was making the rules?  Islinn or Brede?  Or…some lonely lost thing that had nothing save its voice and will?  Many such things wandered in places Alora had heard of but never seen.