Indefinitely [Darsidian]

[Malice MacArran]

It was dark by the time Malice reached Darsidian's abode. The poor horse had to be exhausted, as she was also. Dismounting, Malice looked around. The house was two stories, which surprised her, but when she let out the horse and went inside, she realized that the first floor was for Darsidian's work. There was a desk and papers upon it, but he was a scrivner. Somewhere, surely, there was also something to eat. At any other time, she would look around to see what he had and what he worked on, but her mind was weary and she wanted only to find a place to sleep.

Malice mounted the staircase that led upstairs, where she found what she assumed was Darcy's bed. With a paranoid glance about the room, which was filled only with the light from the stars, she slipped off the top layers of her clothing, leaving her only in a shift. She let her body crumple onto the bed, which held the scent of the man she'd left just hours before. As she pulled a blanket over her cold body, Malice could not help but think about him, the one man who had even made her stop long enough to trust him. How was it that he did that? And moreover, why? Minutes passed, then hours, and she could not find find sleep. She shifted her body but no matter what, her mind would not rest. Finaly, in the hour just before the dawn--the darkest hour, it was aid--Malice closed her eyes and slept.

A sound stirred her and a half-concious Malice whispered gently, "Hello?"

She pulled the blanket up closer to her chin, instinct once more holding her. It took a moment but her mind registered what must have been going on, and she turned her face toward the door. "Darcy?" she asked, eyes still closed and her voice sounding very much as though she was in a sleepy trance. She had not dreamed but at least she'd had no nightmares. Her lips drew into a smile and she heard herself say, "Welcome home, Darcy." And then she yawned. She could not tell if he was back to being his normal self or not, but she hoped that not too much of the beast remained.

Something, some part of her, wanted to wake to greet Darsidian but she was terribly tired. She hoped subtly he might join her, if he was enough himself to not hurt her, but just as her mind was put at ease, something awoke her.

STATUS complete TAG Darcy ATTIRE link to outfit
LYRICS Falling Slowly; Glen Hansard WORD COUNT 519 NOTES notes here
COPYRIGHT Flik of Roleplaying Extras

[Darsidian]

Darsidian had to get home. He couldn’t be found like this. Not when his hunting had gone so horribly awry. People would question his nudity, and he would be found out. Even as the beast held on to the last few moments he had as the dominant form, he used his strength to cover as much ground as he could. Blood covered the foreleg of one of his paws. He had been so wrapped up in thoughts of Malice and what would happen, that he had not been as aware as he should have been. The beast had let his animal instincts rule. And as a result, Darsidian had fallen prey to a hunter’s trap. Darsidian had clawed and bitten his way out of it, but the damage had been done. He was injured and it was his own damn fault. He had to get home. Now.

The first rays of light peeked over the horizon and the beast stumbled with the sudden beginning into transition. He snarled viciously as the pain began to wrack his body. Transforming itself was hard enough, but doing so when injured made the pain a thousand times more unbearable. It was as if his whole arm were on fire. He hit the dirt in front of his home with a hiss of pain, retching and throwing up what little he had eaten from the force of the pain wracking his body. He couldn’t stay here. He forced himself to his feet, ignoring the stars that swam in front of his eyes as the light increased his headache and the pain served to push him towards the blissful state of unconsciousness, if only for a brief respite from the pain.

After a considerable amount of effort, he pushed open the door to his home and stumbled inside. His feet shuffling, his head heavy, he tried with all his might to avoid everything in his path. But the darkness that beckoned him so welcomingly had also impaired his senses further. He heard a voice from above, and he knew that Malice had found his bed and was currently residing there, if he was even close to understanding his spatial awareness properly. He couldn’t process the words, he was too far gone for that.

His hip checked the table and he let out a hiss as his body overcorrected for the touch. He stumbled backwards and fell back over the bench at his table. With a clatter, he fell over the bench, taking it to the ground with him. He moaned as he landed on the arm he had already injured. Damn it all to hell…Malice didn’t need to see him like this, but he couldn’t summon up the words to reassure her he was fine. Instead he closed his eyes and lay, toppled over the bench, praying for some sort of relief, but not yet willing to give in to the blackness.

[Malice MacArran]

The night had been a long one, sure, but Malice had spent a lot of her time thinking about Darsidian. He filled all the things she did, it seemed, and as she lay unable to sleep, the scent of him all around her, she sighed. A part of her wanted to find a knife, to stab herself blind for being so unlike herself. A killer she was, not a lover. And now, with her tired mind thinking thoughts it normally did not, she was feeling almost suicidal. This, along with the lull of crickets outside, finally put her to sleep, as she could no longer bear to be awake with herself.

The noise that woke her up wasn't that loud, but it had been enough. It sounded, in her half-awake state, like the opening of the door downstairs, and she tried to wake herself to the happening. Usually, she could. Her training as a highwayman normally allowed her to be awake in seconds, with a weapon in hand and a mind as sharp as the point of her dagger. But something about this place was keeping her from being so on edge, something in the security of Darsidian's home was making her feel comfortable. She heard no response to her questions and opened her eyes. No one was in the room with her, she noted as she looked around. If Darcy was not here, then he was below. But what if that was not him?

Malice bolted up from the bed and rummaged hastily through the pile of her clothes on the ground. She found among them her shiv, barely slicing a finger on it in the dark and letting out just a bit of a gasp. Picking it up, she cursed and then sucked on her finger for a second in an attempt to stop the blood flow. After a minute, she took a deep breath, and just as she was about to leave the room, there was a crash downstairs that caused her to catch her breath. What if it was a man much more dangerous than Darcy?

It was likely that she was mad for doing so, but Malice left the room to descend the stairs furtively. She listened for something, anything, but heard a vast emptiness instead. Then, from the breaking darkness--the sun would be coming soon--she heard something. It was a soft sound, but a forced one. Breathing.

This could be no one else, and Malice knew that should it not be Darcy there was a chance for violence. But she rounded the corner with wide eyes, only to see in the faint moonlight that it was indeed Darsidian, laying atop his bench. Malice cried out in shock, at the sight of him that way, and she was frozen for several seconds before she thought to go to his side. "Darsidian... Darcy, are you alright?" She reached for him, hoping that he was just tired as she had been and that there was not something wrong. "I thought..." Malice could not finish her sentence, for she thought she felt a cold liquid on her hand.

STATUS complete TAG Darcy ATTIRE link to outfit
LYRICS Falling Slowly; Glen Hansard WORD COUNT 519 NOTES notes here
COPYRIGHT Flik of Roleplaying Extras

[Darsidian]

OOC: Sorry it's really short. I've been feeling a little poorly the past few days and I'm getting over a really bad headache but I know I'm not going to have as much time as I'd like to get this done coming up. I promise my next one will be better.

Darisidian inwardly cursed himself when Malice came down the stairs. He knew that she would find him lying in the middle of the room. It wasn’t as if he was exactly hidden. Sure enough, Darsidian knew when Malice had found him because he heard her cry of shock. He made a soft noise of exertion as he tried to move himself, but his body felt too heavy for him. He forced his eyes open, though the world spun and looked at her.

“M…m’alright…”Darsidian managed to get out. His voice was low and was beginning to lose the gravel in his voice that always accompanied the early stages of his change. “Go back…to bed…” Each word was torn from a world of pain, but he had to assure her that she had nothing to worry about. She wasn’t responsible for his care and he wouldn’t make her care for his carelessness. She touched his arm and he hissed slightly. “Candle…need candle.” He had to see what was going on, though he knew the light was going to hurt his eyes. He needed to know the extent of the damage. And he had a feeling she knew that he was injured even if he tried to hide the fact from her at first. And the longer he lay here, the harder it was going to be to get himself on his feet again. He took his hand and laid it over hers, which covered one of his wounds, gently trying to reassure her with what little strength he had.

[Malice MacArran]

Not remembering that she still held her shiv, Malice had gone to Darsidian's side. When she felt the weapon in her hand, Malice gasped in realization and dropped it, not caring if she lost it or not. Something was not right here. His eyes opened, and that was certainly a relief, but there was still something wrong with this scene. Darsidian had not returned to her so weakly last night; something had to have happened for him to be so exhausted.

His attempt at assuring her was a bad one, and she bit her lip as she tried not to cry; it sounded so pathetic. When he told her to return to bed, she could not hold in her words. "No, Darcy, I'll not--and you're not alright. What did you do? What's wrong? Please..." Now she sounded pathetic too. Mentally she scolded herself for being such a woman, but she had to turn her attention back to Darsidian. He was trying to be strong--typical man, he was--but she was not buying a word of what he was saying. Every time he spoke she could feel a thousand knives in her chest, as his pain radiated to her heart. No, she would absolutely not leave him alone.

The blood on her finger seemed like nothing now, as she could tell from his tone that he was not alright. Was he hurt? The substance on her hands was, from the smell and feel of it, blood. She heard his call for light and looked around in a frenzy. Not seeing anything in her immediate area, Malice wiped her hands on her shift and stood up, going to the desk for assistance. She found a candle, and in her haste was able to make it out the front door to light a small fire. Her hands worked furiously at it, and when she had the candle lit, she blew out the extra fire and returned to the house. It had been several minutes, but she offered the light to Darsidian.

Now she could see his face clearly and the expression on it worried her. She held the candle, looking for what was wrong with him, until she saw his arm, and drew in a deep breath. "Oh, Darcy!"

STATUS complete TAG Darcy ATTIRE link to outfit
LYRICS Falling Slowly; Glen Hansard WORD COUNT 519 NOTES notes here
COPYRIGHT Flik of Roleplaying Extras

[Darsidian]

Darsidian laughed weakly, though the action hurt his head. “Do you ever do as you are told, Malice?” he asked, his diction becoming better by the second, despite the desire to just sleep everything off. He couldn’t tell if that was the blood loss or his normal exhaustion. “I’m fine…” he tried to reassure her, once again trying to use his arm to push himself up but he sucked in a breath at the pain he felt. “I was careless is all.” It wasn’t a lie. He hadn’t been paying attention to where he was going, and it was his own damn fault that he was in this position.

He winced at the pleading note in her tone and looked up. She bit her lip and her eyes watered as though she were holding back tears. Darsidian, though manipulative and in general unsympathetic, didn’t like to see those he cared about cry. “Malice, do not trouble yourself. I got myself caught up in a hunter’s trap is all,” he admitted softly. “Tis nothing that won’t heal in due time.”

She got up from his side to find a candle, and Darsidian took the moment to use the bench and pull himself into an upright sitting position. The world spun and Darsidian could feel the contents of his stomach rising as the world shifted unnaturally around him. He groaned and used all the willpower that he had to keep himself from vomiting again, since there was nothing left in his system to purge. Malice returned with the candle and he closed his eyes even against the small amount of light that the candle gave off.

“Oh, Darcy!” Malice said, and Darsidian forced his eyes open, assessing the damage to his arm. It was torn open from just below his elbow all the way down to his wrist. He was lucky to have missed the major arteries, though with the amount of blood on his arm one might think he had hit them. He forced a smile through the pain, gritting his teeth.
“See, Malice? It’s nothing but a scratch,” he said, though he knew that he was not well at all. A thought ran through his head that he had injured his writing arm, and he prayed that he would still be able to hold a quill when he had patched himself up. He had to make his living somehow, and he couldn’t do that if he couldn’t write. He looked up at Malice and the concern in her feature troubled him. He shook his head, attempting to reassure her once again. “I’ll fetch myself some bandages and some herbs. It shouldn’t be too much trouble to get this wrapped.” He shakily tried to get to his feet, but his strength gave out as he tried to put his weight on his legs and he pitched forward, reaching for Malice to steady himself, though he was almost positive the force of his dead weight would bring her down with him.

[Malice MacArran]

Malice knit her eyebrows at his laugh, noting the incongruency of the whole situation. He need not laugh. He was injured. Nonetheless, his comment did add a bit of lightheartedness, and Malice couldn't help but conjure up a pained grin. "No, sir, I do not." she answered, and then let that be the end of it. There were things besides her obedience to worry about, like the fact that Darsidian might be losing blood and therefore conciousness. Malice did not know much about the human body, but what she did know she had learned from countless accidents within her gypsy band. "You are not," she said with a sigh. Sometimes she hated men for their inability to be cared for.

A trap? She tried to catch the tears in her eyes before they came, but it was of no use. Two slipped from the wells of her eyes and she wiped them away with no second thought. She did not want Darcy to see that. "That doesn't sound like nothing, Darcy," she said quietly, now even more worried. She could not have him getting hurt, because she did not know how to care for him.

When Malice returned, Darsidian had managed to reposition himself, much to her approval. At least he had either the strength or the willpower to do that, and maybe he would not pass out on her if he could do that. When she shone the light over his wounds, she could not hold in her terror. To see what she had done to men sometimes was one thing--it had been her fault and she had hated them. But now that she could see what fate had done to Darcy, Malice was feeling sick. She did not like to see blood, and never really had, and this did not look good. It was suddenly different from the last three years that she'd been a killer. Now she seemed to have a responsibility to Darcy. "Not but a scratch--Darsidian, look at that!" Malice placed the candle to the side. She had stood to go find him some cloth but clearly he had his own intentions.

"No, I'll--" but she was interrupted as Darsidian got to his feet and tried to walk. He pitched forward and Malice braced herself to stop him from hitting the floor--but she could not. She'd almost had him caught, but her fragile figure gave way and he fell on top of her. She struggled to move him off of her, and tried to sit him up. "Let me," she said, and got up to find bandages. She returned after a minute with cloth and whatever jars of herbs she could carry. Placing them on the floor, she asked, "What do I do, then? I need to wrap it and then... And then we need to get you to bed." She sighed and pushed some of her hair out of her face in slight frustration.

STATUS complete TAG Darcy ATTIRE link to outfit
LYRICS Falling Slowly; Glen Hansard WORD COUNT 519 NOTES notes here
COPYRIGHT Flik of Roleplaying Extras

[Darsidian]

Darsidian felt a little better when she forced a smile. At least her sense of humor was still intact, as well as his own. Darsidian thought better of shrugging when she told him he wasn’t alright. “Whether or not I am alright, Mal, is entirely my own doing. I should have been more careful. You needn’t be worried about me.” He really didn’t want her fretting. This was something that happened to him on occasion and he had learned to patch himself up best he could, as well as find plausible excuses for his injuries. It was what had kept suspicion from him for so long.

“It’s nothing to me,” Darsidian said. He was adamant that this was no different from any other time he had come home injured. “It is not my first time stepping into a trap, wittingly or unwittingly, and it certainly will not be the last time. Just was a bit farther from home when I hit it.” He had been way out near the teeth when he had fallen victim to the trap.

Darsidian watched the color in her face slowly become paler. He could tell that the situation was making her nauseous. He had never meant for her to see this. “Have you eaten?” he asked, trying to take her mind off the fact that he was bleeding out over the floor. The question must have sounded mad coming out of the blue, but he had to do something. Trained by his mother to become a healer, he knew what he had to do, and he knew that she would feel better if she had something in her stomach if she was going to be sick.

“It is naught but a scratch. I clawed myself to rid myself of the trap. You needn’t look so concerned,” he said. The truth was that he had bitten at the trap to get it to release, and had torn open his arm because he had panicked at the thought of dying in a hunter’s trap now that he had found a friend.

Darsidian’s full weight brought them crashing to the floor, and he used both of his arms to brace himself so he didn’t crush her with his weight on top of her. He yelped, the sound almost akin to an injured dog, as his injured arm took his weight. The pain that shot up his arm had him seeing stars. It took every ounce of willpower he had to not let himself collapse on top of her. He felt Malice struggling to move him, but couldn’t find the strength in him to help her get him off her. Once she was out from in underneath him, she sat him up again and then moved to find the bandages that he couldn’t begin to search for.

When she returned, he watched her as she set down the load of supplies, reaching with his uninjured hand for a jar of the herbs to read what he had labeled them. “In the…” he started, but then paused, forgetting what he was going to say for a moment. Clearly, trying to read and talk was too much effort for his failing system. He shook his head to clear it. “In the other room, there is a basin with a pitcher of water. Will you wet one of these cloths for me?” he asked, setting down the jar he had picked up to study and selecting another one. One of these had the herbs he needed.

[Malice MacArran]

Malice dropped the smile and held a gaze for several seconds. Even if he was not too seriously injured, she was going to state her position, lest he forget that she had nowhere else to go from here. "Darcy, it is my concern now. I consider myself... Well, Darsidian, I live with you now, don't I? I will care for you." She said it softly, with concern taking the place of what had once been a harsh bitterness. Her heart was soft and, for a minute, vulnerable. It seemed like being in the presence of this man had done something to her, and she was not yet sure what her opinion of him was. At least for now, she had somewhere to live without the pressure of getting by herself.

She sighed, because she knew why he was so far away. He wasn't going to risk being too close to her, because--and she hated to know it--he was trying to protect her. Malice wanted to cry at the thought, but she reigned in her emotions and bit her lip in despair. Her eyes showed a loose apathy as she attempted to hide her worry from Darsidian, and she looked as far away from him as she was able.

As she tried to ignore the feeling of her stomach overturning, he tried to divert her attention, and the awryness of the question was not lost on her. But Malice welcomed the aversion and answered with a short smile, "I've been far too tired to eat." She wasn't going to tell him that she had not slept but for an hour yet, or that he was the reason she had not been able to get to sleep. That kind of worry did not need to cross his mind. Another, possibly better question was, had he eaten before he'd gotten trapped?

She nodded and after she was able to sit him up, she left to fetch supplies, and when she returned, she almost scolded herself for not thinking to get water. Of course. She bent over and picked up one of the cloths, doing as he asked and returning promptly. "Here," she offered it to him, as he'd made it clear he could do it all himself. She waited patiently for him to finish, feeling the intense beating of her heart slowing as he cleaned up the blood, and felt herself let out a breath she didn't know she had been holding. As he wrapped it, she knelt at his side and placed her hands gently on his shoulder, allowing her fingers to caress his skin. Her eyes could not mask the pain she'd just felt, nor the relief she now felt, and she knew that if he looked, he'd be able to see her heart on her sleeve.

The thin layer of fabric that clung to her body suddenly sent a shiver through her spine, and she wanted to have him laying down so that she did not have to fear losing him to disease. She stood hastily. "Come on, Darcy. Come upstairs. You can sleep as soon as you make it to bed." She did not mention how tired she was, as she was certain he could tell if he cared to. "Please?" she said it with an innocence she thought she'd lost.

STATUS complete TAG Darcy ATTIRE link to outfit
LYRICS Falling Slowly; Glen Hansard WORD COUNT 519 NOTES notes here
COPYRIGHT Flik of Roleplaying Extras

[Darsidian]

Darsidian nodded at her insistence in caring for him. “I won’t argue with you. I’m starting to understand when it’s not going to get me anywhere,” he said. “Be concerned if you so desire, but it’s really not as bad as you think.” He cocked his head as her sentence trailed off. “You consider yourself what?” he asked, too far out of his normal element to even care about the lack of tact the question showed. What’s worse, he knew that she would pick up on his lack of poetry in his words, even having known him for such a short while.

He had to protect her. He knew what he was capable of and he was not about to let her pay the price for his inability to control the beat that lurked within. It may seem that they had worked things out, that there was a symbiosis, and maybe there was to some extent. But Darsidian would never again trust the beast with something that he cared for or about. He didn’t want to hurt her like he had his family. He noticed the apathy in her eyes and lowered his gaze.

“You should find something to eat, darling…” He frowned, shocked at his own daring. His senses must be really addled if he let that slip. The way she talked to him reminded him so much of how his mother talked to his father, that he reacted as he knew his father would have. He cleared his throat. “I’m…uh…sorry if that was too forward.” He nodded toward the area where he stored his food. “Please…help yourself…”

Darsidian accepted the cloth and hissed as he cleaned the wound. He was sure that he had gotten most of the dirt and grime from the wound. He opened one of the jars that she had brought over to him and sprinkled the powder over the wound as well, letting out another hiss of pain before starting to bandage himself. He heard her let out her breath as he wrapped his arm and looked a bit confused as he tied off the bandage. Was she really so worried about him? It was…refreshing actually. It reminded him of Aislynn and what she had done for him.

He felt her hand on his shoulder, caressing the skin there. He looked up and couldn’t help the surprise at the expression on her face. She was certainly not like the other women that he had encountered in his life. “It’s alright, Malice…I’m alright now. No lasting damage.” He spoke softly, as if to an animal that had been spooked. He smiled up at her despite the dizziness that plagued him. “You did well...I thank you for your care.” He frowned when she tried to get him to go up the stairs into the bedroom.

“I don’t know that I’ll make it up the stairs like this, Mal,” he said, but when he heard the pleading note in her voice, he couldn’t help but feel bad. She must be tired, and he had woken her out of a sound sleep he was certain. He let out a breath. “I’ll try.” He pushed himself to his feet, using his uninjured hand to lean on the table to get himself to his feet again. The world swam in front of him but he smiled at her. “I think I might be able to make it up the stairs…” He took a few wobbling steps forward.

[Malice MacArran]

Malice nodded, cracking a smile at his words. If he was so calm, perhaps she need not be so uptight either. She almost apologized, but her pride won out. "As you should," she quipped. But he caught her falter in words and she answered timidly, "Yours?" That was a bit of a questionable response, and though it was what she was going to say, she did not know how Darsidian would take it. It seemed, somehow, that she'd been quick to give her heart away.

She watched him with careful eyes, noting his response to her expression, or rather lack thereof. His next words, however, caused her to raise her head and eyebrows, and she answered without thinking, "I'm fine, thank you..." She did not know what his intentions were, all in that one word. Why had he called her darling? Did he mean it? He corrected himself quickly, if that's what it was, and she answered nervously, "No, no... it's fine. I'll eat later, Darcy. I'm too tired to--" She sighed. She hadn't meant to tell him that she was exhausted. But now it was out, and she could not take back her words.

It was with pained eyes that Malice watched him tend his wounds, and when he was done she was glad. Something about being able to have a hand on him was somehow comforting, and more than that it was something she normally would not be able to have herself do. She was certainly glad to hear his words. "Good," she said involuntarily. "I hope you heal quickly." His soft voice felt good on her heart, as right now in her vulnerability, she was prone to heartache.

She did not commend his thanks, but just smiled quietly. However, she did see his frown, and wondered if he perhaps could not make it upstairs. If not, what would she do? She knew. Malice would stay here with him. She wasn't leaving. His voice was troubled, and she did not know that it was a good idea to try and move him to his bed, but when he told her he would try, she managed a slight smile. He stood by himself, and she was glad to see it. As he grew steady, she went to his side so that he could use her for physical support. She called on every part of her to be strong, just until she could lay him down.

"You're fine, Darcy. You'll be alright," she said, though she was not sure of it herself. The steps came, though, and she finally had him at the beginning of the staircase. Just up, now, and they could both rest.

STATUS complete TAG Darcy ATTIRE link to outfit
LYRICS Falling Slowly; Glen Hansard WORD COUNT 519 NOTES notes here
COPYRIGHT Flik of Roleplaying Extras

[Darsidian]

He let out another short chuckle. “I’ll remember that,” he murmured. He always did. He knew when it was better to back down from a fight. He let most battles go that he didn’t truly need to win. He knew how to keep himself in control of a situation, even when he seemed to be losing control at every turn. “I guess you found out one of my truths.” He cocked his head, searching her face for a moment. He wasn’t sure what he expected to find there, but he searched her face nonetheless.

“You consider yourself mine?” he asked. It was troubling. Not because he didn’t want her to be his, but he was afraid that the gods would use her against him as leverage or as payment for another near close call. But now his feelings were irrelevant. She considered herself his. That meant that she was fair game to the gods. And he wasn’t sure if that meant that he should stay away from her or if he should keep her closer. He wasn’t sure what debt he had accumulated over the years. “It’s dangerous to think that way. You know what I am Malice…” He lowered his eyes again. “Though I cannot help but admit that I would not mind if you were.” The last part was spoken so softly, a rustle of fabric could have muffled his words. He wasn’t used to admitting things like that. He’d never really had anyone who would stop long enough to listen, let alone that he cared enough about to tell.

“I am sorry,” he muttered. “I should have been more careful…I must have woken you when I fell. Please accept my apology for that. I know it’s been a long day and a long couple of nights.” He put a hand over hers on his shoulder. “I heal quickly enough for most purposes. Though it will be hard to start on work today I think.” He allowed her to come to his side and he put his uninjured arm around her shoulders. He was leaning on her for more physical support than he would have liked. He hated being so weak.

He tried not to put too much weight on her, but every step was getting harder and harder to make. Darsidian knew he had lost a lot of blood and that was why he was dizzy. He hoped that after sleeping a few hours, a bit of his strength would return, but he wasn’t going to hold his breath over that. With all the strength he could muster, Darsidian placed one foot in front of the other, lifting himself terribly slowly up the stairs. He took his time, knowing that it would do no good to have himself fall. It might even be the death of him. So he moved slowly, her words of encouragement in his ear.

By the time they had reached the top of the stairs, a thin sheen of perspiration dotted his forehead. The exertion was taking its toll on his body. His brow furrowed as he looked at the bed, realizing that though the bed was big enough to fit two if they kept themselves close, it would be encroaching on Malice’s personal space. And Darsidian, though a flirt by nature, had never crossed that line. He didn’t want to hurt her any more than she already had been, so he hesitated at the top of the stairs.

[Malice MacArran]

Malice had, though unspokenly, been keeping track of those three truths Darsidian had placed before her--so far, she had eliminated that the monks had raised him; he'd said something about their teaching him to write. This was the second thing she had to eliminate--he had the skill of a healer. This made her somehow more comfortable in his presence, and though she knew the third option, the lie, Malice chose to bite her tongue. Firstly, because she didn't want to ask the story, and secondly, because now was not the time. She but nodded in response, her face pale.

Hesitantly, she replied, "I do." She did not know how he felt about what she'd said. But then she saw something cross his face--fear, was it? Or dread? Or what was it? She sighed in concern, wishing that she knew how to keep her teeth on her tongue. If she just did not speak, perhaps Darsidian would think better of her. He did speak again, however, and she looked up at him. "Yes, I know..." she answered very quietly. She wanted to finish, but I don't care. Malice suddenly caught her breath as she heard soft words escape his lips, and for a moment she thought that perhaps only her heart had heard them, made them up. But when she looked in his face, she knew she'd heard right and offered him something she rarely did-a genuinely contented smile. It was more than any words she could say to him.

She raised an eyebrow. "Why do you apologize, Darsidian? You've naught to be sorry for." The hand he put over her own made her suddenly aware of the beating in her heart. She nodded and said, "I certainly hope you do." She was not especially concerned about his work, though he might be, but rather what would happen the next time he took the form of the beast. It was with all the strength left in her that Malice was able to help haul him up the stairs, the whole time wondering how someone so usually meticulous had gotten himself caught in a trap. It seemed very careless for someone like Darsidian.

Malice heaved a breath when they had made it to the top of the flight of stairs, and smiled at him as much as she could. As she tried to read the expression on his face, she saw a reluctance and wondered why, after all the work to get up here, he seemed to regret doing it. "What's wrong?" she asked, but she did not wait long enough to hear him should he respond.

Instead, Malice continued to drag him toward the bed, and insisted with the look in her eyes that he lay down. Between the two of them, he needed the sleep more, and she wasn't about to try anything selfish. She had left that life behind when she had chosen to follow Darsidian where he was going, and every hour that passed found her more justified in her choice and less wanting to return to thievery. "You need sleep," she told him quietly, and sat down on the edge of the bed beside him, letting out a quiet yawn and sighing.

STATUS complete TAG Darcy ATTIRE link to outfit
LYRICS Falling Slowly; Glen Hansard WORD COUNT 519 NOTES notes here
COPYRIGHT Flik of Roleplaying Extras

[Darsidian]

Darsidian sighed. “I know you know it’s dangerous, but I don’t think you understand how dangerous it really is.” How could she possibly know? How could she possibly know that he had been saved by a god. Would she even believe him if he told her? Was it fair to keep it from her? He groaned as the whirlwind of thought made his head spin, and he brought a hand to his head, not even caring if she thought he was crazy. When the thoughts subsided slightly, mainly because he was forcing them into submission, he looked up at her and looked a little confused when she smiled at him. It was a genuine smile, and Darsidian realized she must have heard him. What little blood that wasn’t rushing to his arm raced to his face and a light blush colored his cheeks and he looked down.

“I apologize because I have caused you to wake, if sleeping you were. And I’ve worried you. You have to understand that I’ve been living alone so I’m not used to keeping it down when I come in…” he admitted as she helped him to the stairs. He couldn’t tell her that while he still carried scars from his exploits, he did heal fast thanks to the grace of the god that had spared him. The bleeding should stop soon, and after that within the week his skin should stop paining him. An injury of this magnitude would take a bit more time to heal, but his usual cuts and scrapes healed quickly.

He opened his mouth to protest but she was already dragging him toward the bed. He didn’t have the strength to fight her, not when he was so exhausted and had lost so much blood. He let himself collapse on the bed when she urged him to lay down. He wanted to say that she should take the bed, but he couldn’t bring himself to get back on his feet again. He looked at her as she sat down on the side of the bed. He closed his eyes. “Perhaps so, but so do you.” He pulled back the blankets on the bed and pulled them around himself, leaving a portion of the bed uncovered. “Come, sleep. If I try anything in my bloodless and exhausted state, you can break my arm.” Darsidian was too tired to care that she might actually follow through with that were he a different sort of man. He curled on his side to allow her space and he closed his eyes settling in to sleep.

[Malice MacArran]

There was, Malice sensed, something important that her comrade was keeping from her, and it made her slightly uneasy. She was not going to express this now, though, and decided it best to keep her tongue tied on profound questioning until daylight. However, she did not hesitate to mention that to Darsidian. With a bit of a mutter in her tone, Malice quipped, "Come noontime, you'll have some explaining to do." She said it half out of frustration but said no more. She heard a little catch in his breath and thought she saw him slightly redden, but disregarded the motion so that she could help him up the stairs.

At the top, she anwered him, "Do you know how terrible I would feel should I not have heard you come in? Left you there? No, no apologies." She heaved a deep sigh and thought briefly that there might be one other person in the world that she would ever be this worried about, and that was her brother. But for as much as she regarded him, he was a gypsy and he repulsed her with the way he lived--she could not forgive that. And what was more, he had every reason to find her out and have her dragged back to the band she'd grown up in. If it was but her memory exaggerating so that she could have something fond to think of, it was not doing very well. She liked, even loved, her brother Rousch, but she would kill him if she ever saw his face again.

When Darcy finally had done as she'd wanted, Malice let out a heavy breath, tired from both her physical work and her mental unrest. At least he was home. His invitation caused something to shoot through her body, something that was somewhere between nervous and terrified. But, she told herself, she knew his nature and she knew that he was too hurt to cause her any harm. It was just that the proximity released ill memories... But Malice gave in, trying to see that there was more logic in sleeping. She swung her legs around and pressed her back to his, not daring to be facing a member of the sturdier sex when she was at her most vulnerable. With thought after thought fleeting from her memory Malice had to finally resort to falling asleep, likely an hour after her companion.

---

She woke around noon with the familiar sensation of clouded conciousness to greet her. It took several minutes to register where she was, but when she looked beside her to see an already-awake Darsidian, she remembered, suddenly shying away from his eyes. She had not had male company in far too long--since her gypsy days--and even that had been incredibly awkward for her as she tried to cling to her chastity. But after a few more minutes, Malice turned over and asked gently, "Are you feeling any better, Darcy?"

She offered what little smile she could and wondered if she looked any better than ghostlike in her tired trancelike state. Her appearance had not lately been a priority.

STATUS complete TAG Darcy ATTIRE link to outfit
LYRICS Falling Slowly; Glen Hansard WORD COUNT 519 NOTES notes here
COPYRIGHT Flik of Roleplaying Extras