Ink Forged

~Something Questionable~

The reaction was instantaneous and, to Maevus, rather chilling. As soon as the guild-members got a glimpse of Voron's green uniform, they went dead silent. Vraylor adjusted his grip on Voron, jostling him in a way that made Maevus flinch.

"Your Imp is heavy," Lorn gritted out, tossing the comment over his shoulder.

"He's not mine," Maevus muttered, ducking her head and stuffing her hands in her pockets. Briefly, she wondered if there would ever come a time when her passage through the main hall wouldn't attract every single eye in the place.

Then, the muttering followed. Vraylor looked up, making eye contact first with Maevus, then whoever happened to be nearest. None of the gazes he met seemed particularly welcoming. He inhaled, then shouted, "No reason to get excited, boys and girls. Please hold all questions, comments and testimonials until..." He looked down at the unconscious guard he was carrying, then shook his head, looking suddenly exhausted. "Until I get this shit sorted."

There was another collective murmur as everyone turned to whisper with their neighbor, watching the group's progress toward the stairs. When they reached the base, Lorn asked, "Infirmary?"

Vraylor shook his head, again struggling to get a better grip on Voron's torso. His hand slipped and Maevus swore as Voron thudded to the ground, head smacking off the first step. 

"You did that on purpose," Maevus said, kneeling beside Voron. The guard groaned, but didn't wake up.

Vraylor huffed. "Yes, Maevus. I dragged your Imp all the way in here with the intention of just dropping him on my stairs. I think he'll make a nice carpet. How 'bout it, Lorn?"

Panting, Lorn leaned back against the wall, brushing his hair out of his eyes. "I think he clashes with the drapes."

"Very funny," Maevus grumbled. Looking up, she blew a strand of hair out of her face. "Why aren't we taking him to the infirmary? That seems like the place we should take him."

"No locks," Vraylor said, stepping over Voron and shuffling back and forth as he tried to decide how to pick the other man up. 

Maevus shot him a furious glare. "He doesn't need to be locked up!"

Both Lorn and Vraylor flinched as her voice shot through a few octaves. Maevus shook her head, red hair whipping back and forth. If Voron's experience in Iressa had been anything like hers, being locked in a room would be not just unbearable, but soul-breaking.

Vraylor sighed. "Maevus..."

"No." She would take him somewhere else if she had to. "He doesn't need to be locked up."

"He's an imperial guard, Maevus," Lorn said, voice low and hard. "We can't trust him. There are kids here."

"He's not gonna eat them!" Maevus cried in exasperation. "He's not gonna do anything. He can't bloody do anything." She turned toward Vraylor, desperation beginning to curdle her stomach as Voron's breath grew more strained. "He can...he can stay in my room. Or—or..."

"No." The one word seemed to rattle the air like a commandment. Even Lorn flinched at the power that suddenly snapped around them.

Maevus' throat tightened, her mind scrambling as second-hand fear grabbed hold of her.

"We'll take him up to one of the dorm rooms," Vraylor said. He rubbed a hand down his face, that icy gaze falling on Voron, who was still laying at his feet. When Maevus opened her mouth to protest, Vraylor held up a hand. "We're not locking him up, Maevus, but he's not gonna be allowed free rein in here, just as much for his safety as everyone else." His voice rose when Maevus tried to interrupt again.