The earth had a peculiar smell after it rained. There was a purity behind the musk it possessed with spring rearing the corner. The nights were shorter and the days longer – funny how time worked like that, wasn’t it? Ekosha thought so. “You can stop here, sir,” she beckoned the carriage coachman upon the entrance of the city streets. Cobblestone lined the roads, while bodies moved to and fro. A difference a year or so had made since returning to Crue Efros – Vufrien realistically, after taking time upon herself with a little bit of what rumors claim as self-reflection when realistically, she was just wandering to nowhere in particular, discovering places out of exciting chance. “I suppose I could venture to the wilds again tomorrow.” she mumbled under her breath to none but herself, feeling the slight shift of the carriage as it came to an easing halt. Or, as easy as one could with two hungry horses. Bright frosted blue eyes gleaned at the sight of her clinic. Eagerly, she stepped out of the carriage but not without tossing a bag of crescents to the coachman. “Thank you kindly for your troubles, sir. Hope this fares well enough for you.” The two exchanged their brief goodbyes. She took the several stacks of newsprints left at the door as she unlocked the door, sweeping off the collected dust upon entrance. Everything was left untouched as she had kept it. The stacks of prints were placed upon her desk before she began to sift through what news was made, when it was made in hopes for something to catch her eye. "Oh, looks like I'll be travelling to Dunmeath tomorrow instead."

Jahi

Hell Is Wrapped in Darkness. . .

His searches had not been without their setbacks.

It seemed as though he had run into opposition at his every turn. The information he had been commissioned to find had not come without additional price, one he would be sure to charge for. In the end, the scroll had been tucked away within an inner pocket of his jacket, concealed from prying eyes. He had taken refuge within the abandoned house, one that luckily housed some bit of mending supplies. He needed very little in way of suturing himself, rather simply something to carry him over until he could make his way back into the church.

It wasn't until he heard the beginnings of the disturbance outside that he would shudder the lid upon the lantern. The roll of cloth slipping from his fingers and back onto the side table he'd found it on. Was the place not abandoned? He assumed by the pile of prints at the door, let alone the abundance of the cold air that the owner of the domicile had been shipped off to this war camp people spoke of.

He became one with the shadows as the door opened, the only evidence of another's presence left in only the trail of blood in the wake of his visit. One she didn't seem to notice the moment she walked in. It didn't take long for him to make his move either once she closed the door. He would meld back into being behind her, flicking the lock upon the portal as he listened to the carriage pull away. Despite if she noticed him then or not, he would seek to close the distance between them, to silence her with his palm as his chilling gaze watched her from beyond the veil of the fox's mask. "Not a word." His vocals were low, soft as he eyed her. "Are you the mender here?" Should he have found success silencing her with his hand, he would add. "Yes or no with your head."

!

. . . And Even the Flowers Don't Bloom

She was oblivious to her surroundings, invested with the papers of the many yesterdays she had missed in her absence as she placed the hefty stack – with a bit of struggle given the weight – upon her desk. Frosted blue eyes merely caught the glimpses of the mentions of the fallen countryside that had managed to pique her curiosity. She wondered what things she could discover beneath fallen rubble, or if there was any sort of odd artifact she could add to her collection. Never mind the potential dangers that could easily linger. Surely, she could just venture during the day, right? Delicate digits combed through the mess of pristine white locks following a weighted exhale. That would be a challenge for tomorrow’s task, needing to focus on re-opening her clinic. Ekosha turned only to immediately be halted. A palm clasping over her lips, hushing the startled gasp that threatened to escape. There was a struggling war between confusion with a glimmer of immediate fear as one hand unconsciously went to grab the intruder’s wrist. Not a word. Frosted gaze blinked, as they slowly lifted to see the mask in the shape of a fox, newly perplexed. Never mind the potential threat at hand, her curiosity was drawn to the craft. What was it made out of? How did he become of the mask? The historian in her wanted to trace the pads of her fingertips along the structure and her mind began to swell with a million questions. Are you the mender here? Attention was drawn back to the stranger, it was then the iron-tang of blood caught her attention. Her expression drawn puzzled albeit blank. Yes or no with your head. It was then she hoped to pull his palm away from her despite being cornered between him and the desk behind her. In hopes of her success she would reply, if not nod all the same. “I am, this is my clinic.” Her attention trained briefly on the mask. “And to whom am I speaking to?” She did not like dabbling into her magic while inside closed spaces. It got messy and she didn’t exactly have a full grasp with it despite the temptations that festered under her skin. She was willing to be civil, despite the circumstances., though. “Are you wounded?”

Jahi

Hell Is Wrapped in Darkness. . .

The sudden movements must have been enough to reopen the gash along his side, for already the cool sluice of blood dripped down the breadth of his hip, pooling within the cloth that cloaked him. The dog's teeth had been sharp, but his claws quicker than his bite. In the end, regardless of his speed and ferocity, he had met his end. He had died without knowing the face behind the smiling fox, like so many others before him. The wounds he left behind would heal. The first time his lips touched the afflicted ichor of another the weeping lacerations would seal and fade to naught but another scar. If they even left one.

For a brief moment, his stare would affix to the point of her jugular. One where he could briefly see the flicker of her pulse as she glanced up to him. His gaze narrowed beneath the cover of his mask, even more so as she managed to wrench herself free from his prison. “I am, this is my clinic.” It must have been the blood loss, pulling more of his energy and vitality than he had assumed it to. “And to whom am I speaking to?” At that, he would smile, a feature well hidden behind the already grinning mask of the fox. Briefly, he would lick his lips. "If I told you, I'd have to kill you."

Though the quip was playful, there was a serious thread within the intonation. He did not step back, remaining close to the woman who claimed ownership of where he stood. She must have been gone quite some time, as there was no afflicting anguish that came from being within the space, no otherworldly force trying to force him out. Perhaps it was because this was a clinic and not a wholly personal space. Whichever the case, he did not have any intention of giving her the benefit of space in which to create trouble for himself. “Are you wounded?”

A low, thoughtful hum bled from his lips, head tilting lightly upon its axis. "Do soldiers come here often?" he inquired instead, caring not that she could very easily put the facts together that he wished to avoid being under their detection. After all, no matter that she seemed outwardly to have no qualms with his presence, he knew that beneath the surface she must know. Know that this brittle understanding and peace between the two of them was as delicate as spider's silk, able to snap at a moment's discretion.

!

. . . And Even the Flowers Don't Bloom

If I told you, I’d have to kill you. Her heart was drumming in her ears. Was rushing adrenaline of fear or the kindling curiosity burning through her to tug at the strings of invisible boundaries? Was this the first time her life hung over her head? Her brows merely rose slightly, contemplating her next choice of words with care. “You could, but that would be easy. Wouldn’t it?” Her own head tilted slightly, allowing a loose strand of her alabaster hair to fall away and sweep against her freckled cheeks. Her gaze then trailed to see the sanguine drip from his side, following her inquiry. It was a safe assumption, given the stains of blood that initially went unnoticed. Did it matter though? Do soldiers come here often? Frosted gaze glanced back at the mask, just as curious of the artifact and its craftsmanship. “Sometimes.” she answered plainly. “Once I reopen, perhaps, can't say until it happens.” she then shrugged, only to assume she was not the only one to run a clinic in the area but she was located just outside the capitol. It was broad day light outside – a time that she could only assume was not in this ones favor given that the space remained dark and her shutters concealed the light from outside. Aside from a breaking and entering, the stranger hadn’t done anything wrong yet, or to her current knowledge. “How long have you been in hiding here?”

Jahi

Hell Is Wrapped in Darkness. . .

He could hear it, that slight acceleration of her pulse. It gave rise to new temptations, those he was both a slave to and yet in some moments he could resist better than any other. Though Haru was not present right now. For this reason, he didn't need to hide the monster he had become. This was also a stranger, one he had never crossed paths with, and likely never would again. “You could, but that would be easy. Wouldn’t it?” He would tilt his head, a slight trickle of laughter echoing from beyond the cover of the mask. The smiling demon. The smiling fox. One in the same. Amused. Treacherous. "You say easy like it's a deterrent. Like it's a bad thing." If she did not shy away, he would take another step closer to her, the rattle of the chain enunciating the motion. "Easy can be fun too, don't you agree? Only boring people make things dull." He didn't miss the way her eyes trailed over him, fixing to the savage tear through the side of his kataginu haori. Playfully, he would gesture upwards with a duality of his fingers. "My eyes are up here. Unless.... you want to fix me."

“Sometimes.” She answered in regards to his other inquiry of the soldiers. “Once I reopen, perhaps, can't say until it happens.” The last was followed by a dismissive shrug, yet she didn't immediately call for any aid, either. Perhaps she simply hadn't gathered the time and space to do so yet, or she was better at listening than others. He wasn't sure of her reasonings, and he couldn't be bothered to fathom her next course of action in premeditation. In truth, he was growing weary. He had already taken past his intended timeline to retrieve what he had sought, but he had been unwilling to halt his search or return empty handed. After all, one blunder was all it would take to ruin his reputation here and sully his ability to gather work as fluently as he had in recent days. His services were at an all time high, as was the amount of coin he could charge for each transaction. All that was needed now was for him to get the precious intel to the church and make contact with his employers once more to retrieve it. “How long have you been in hiding here?” "Only since dawn. Figured the owner must have been swept off to the military. A bad habit of leaving your mail uncollected?"

!

. . . And Even the Flowers Don't Bloom

With her experiences of trial and error, easy was not always be the best course. It was not the wisest of decisions even if it made the illusion. You say easy like it’s a deterrent. Like it’s a bad thing. came the strangers muse. Pale ears merely twitched ever so slightly as if one could hear the smile beneath his mask. The space between them only narrowed further following the taunting rattle of chains. Easy can be fun too, don’t you agree? Only boring people make things dull. Ekosha digressed, “Short-term challenges often provide long-term gains.” she retaliated with underlying mirth. All the same, she was calculating in her head the suture work she could easily do to stitch the open wound. My eyes are up here. Unless… you want to fix me. The physician chuffed hoping to slip between the barriers of her desk and the stranger, idly scrounging her office space, gathering the bare minimum of supplies needed to clean wound. “Are you not so capable of fixing yourself?” She asked him then, “Or do you simply revel in your injuries?” Ekosha had not decided whether or not to seek the safety of a guard, to drive this stranger out. There was that conflicting notion of providing care versus the alternative. …Figured the owner must have been swept off to the military. A bad habit of leaving your mail uncollected? “Guilty.” She mused harmlessly. “But I have been away for some time.” she admitted to her absence. “I’ve only just returned today.” If there wasn’t mail at the door step, it could easily have been spotted miles away.

Jahi

Hell Is Wrapped in Darkness. . .

The more he thought about it, the more enticing the opportunity was becoming. Morality was nothing to consider, to question for him. Only the mask and the darkness knew the atrocities he had committed for less and for more. If he made the decision to remove the cover of the mask, or if she did considering her glances toward it, his hand would certainly be forced. He couldn't have a witness. Not one that knew his face. The implications of his own trouble did not cross the path of his musings, only those details involving his sister came to light. If they knew, then they may interrogate her - perhaps none too civilly either. Regardless, injured or not, he would not be quite so sloppy. “Short-term challenges often provide long-term gains.” His shoulders rolled in a light shrug. "And some just take luck where they find it."

At least she was somewhat pleasant company. While this was an uncommon situation he found himself in to begin with, there was a part of him entertained by her. If she was among those flighty beings who panicked immediately, his blade would have already been unsheathed. “Are you not so capable of fixing yourself?” He would snort slightly, the jackal's switchblade grin still ever haunting the curve of his lips. “Or do you simply revel in your injuries?” "I very much could. I would revel much more in fixing it than not." The comment was a lazy drawl as he sought to remind her of what he was certain she had very well pieced together by now. "Much more effectively than just wrapping it, since you're here." His stare followed her sharply as she had moved away from him. Instead, it was his turn to lean against her desk.

“Guilty.” He would incline his head in obvious agreement. “But I have been away for some time. I’ve only just returned today.” He would find half a distraction to his growing appetite by glissading his fingertips over the top newspaper discarded onto her desk. How much longer could he wait? While he was capable of withstanding the sun's rays for a time, it was still well before the winter skies devoured the flaming chariot that dwindled overhead. He was not quite willing to chance his odds. More times than not, he was the unlucky soul he mentioned moments ago: one that took luck where he found it. "What caught your eye to head to Dunmeath tomorrow?" The inquiry was innocent enough as he noted the print she had been looking at when she'd made the comment previously.

!

. . . And Even the Flowers Don't Bloom

Some would have called her mad for finding an individual, an intruder in her clinic to be somewhat amusing. It was dangerous – deadly. But then, so could her adventures when it came to finding old artifacts tucked away underground or within the peaks of dangerous mountains with obstacles and traps to deter those curious such as herself. However, it was her stubbornness and defiance that forced her perseverance. She did not have enough fingers and toes to count just how many times she’d nearly slipped on the wrong rock, or stepped in the wrong path. …Some just take luck where they find it. Eko merely shrugged with a shift of her brows, he had her there. Instead, she redirected towards the obvious wound dripping from his side. It was ironic, she considered. How someone who, she only assumed was capable of accelerated healing, was seeking aid. Even if it was not verbally communicated. Otherwise, she could only gather that he wouldn’t have been leaning against her desk, bleeding all over her floor. I very much could. I would revel much more in fixing it than not. She sifted through her supplies. Needle and thread, gauze, ointments to subdue any inflammation or potential growing infection. But was the latter necessary for a vampire? Much more effectively than just wrapping it, since you’re here. “Well, you wrapped it rather poorly.” She teased him with a genial smirk. Eko waved her hand towards his garments. “I need a better look and to clean it, so strip.” The physician gathered a ceramic bowl, magic coaxed water and warming it before soaking a cloth and setting it to the side. What caught your eye to head to Dunmeath tomorrow? Her frosted azure gaze lifted, an impish smile tugging her lips, shrugging as if to feign innocence. “History.” She answered simply.

Jahi

Hell Is Wrapped in Darkness. . .

He watched her shrug, the raise of her brows, though she said nothing in direct opposition to his statement. Perhaps she could no longer argue such a sentiment, though its meaning and the danger behind it seemed to evade her. Maybe it didn't, either, maybe she assumed that by ignoring the nature of the creature she entertained, it would in turn soften and morph to civility.

But a tiger still had claws.

He wasn't exactly discreet as he watched her busying herself with gathering her supplies. All the while, his hand lifted, fingers drifting over the concealing threads at the bottom half of the mask. They came away in silence, the carmine rope first, followed by the soft click of the hinges unsettling. Despite what the initial display would have one believe, the piece was actually two, a specially made ornament for just such a time as this. Hunger gnawed at him, only hastening, growing in fervent need for each precious drop spilled. “Well, you wrapped it rather poorly.” He couldn't help the soft roll of dark laughter that bloomed from his lungs, louder without the cover of the smiling fox. It still concealed the upper and most recognizable portion of his features, but left the viper's grin clear to sight. His footfalls had been light, a habit rather than true intent as he had once again closed a large portion of the distance between them while she had busied herself. "Because I didn't." He purred, and even from under the cover of his face guard, it was quite easy to tell his attention swept her. "Because you're here now." The words would drop in volume with intention, and despite the relaxed posture he held, each and every bit of sinew reverberated with the intent to strike. A cobra with its hood concealed. For there was no more warning within him.

She gave him a smile, gesturing to the torn fabric of his shirt, a command leaving her. “I need a better look and to clean it, so strip.” He would shake his head in denial, instead if she did not retreat or otherwise move, his index would curl under her chin, a glimpse of cold sapphires given from the otherwise dark of the mask. A faint pulse of magic given in an attempt to snare her will. While he didn't want to bring her fatal harm, and how he loathed to make a mess of things, this would perhaps be the most kindness he was willing to offer. "I won't kill you." A promise, one sincere, though followed by, "So long as you don't make a scene." The remnants of her preparations lay ignored, as his mind focused keenly on one thing and one thing only.

!

. . . And Even the Flowers Don't Bloom