Completed Oh, For One With a Soul as I

[Ninus Aurellius]

The Prince of Rats 31st of Winter, 513 AV Ninus settled quietly against a tree, staring off into space. He'd been staring for days, watching the sun rise and fall. He ignored the cold in his bones. He was wrapped in the canvas of one of the spare tents he had taken from the highwayman camp. He was lost in thought, ignoring the gnawing in his stomach, the slight scratching of Cricet's paws on his leg. Silence stretched out all around him, and it was silence where he took comfort. Summer had come and gone with him in the wilderness, eating only fungus and roots that he knew from his knowledge of plants. He knew not how to set a snare, but knew to drink only from running water. He had mourned deeply through Autumn, swallowed in grief and lonliness. The lover he had taken had disappeared and slipped through his fingers. His family, butchered like cattle after saving Ama, the supposed guardian of the Syliran woods. He had no more tears. He had no more regard for the three day limit on which the knights had set upon him. They would never find him deep in the woods, more still than the grass. He breathed quietly, poison kit rested by his side. His house had probably been looted by the knights. Good luck to them selling anything; everything he owned was soiled by rats. That in itself was a blessing, he supposed. His close family, buried up on the heath after hours and hours of hauling heavy bodies while barely able to breathe for the sobbing. Would Novus ever return? No. He had gone to seek his father; he'd gotten what he wanted. Should he give up and die? He let his head roll against the bark to look at Jack. The horse had never left his side. He was looking at him, draped in the rest of the canvas, shivering a bit in the cold. Ninus chuckled with a throat as disused as reeds in still wind. His lips were stained; he had taken refuge in poison, spending what he wasn't mourning in hallucinations. He could see Novus this way, see his mother and father, dipping in and out through the trees and vanishing like ghosts. Alone. The trees rang with it. Alone. Alone. Used and forgotten by a lover. Betrayed by the bitch of the woods. Witness to his own family's death. The black marks on his soul went deeper and deeper. He felt something in his lap stir and worm up through the canvas. Cricet put her paws on her master's chest, staring at him intently. She'd seen him move. She'd barely seen him blink for hours now. He would put a dab of poultice mixed from river water and some horrid fungus on his tongue and slip into visions. She'd tried to stop him, and that had been the only time he'd raised his hand to her. They had to move away from the road. She knew they had to move...but her dear friend was hurting more than she could imagine. He had been so happy with the half-widow, to see that dashed on the rocks had saddened her. She gently bumped his nose with her own. Ninus looked down at her. His pupils were slackened and slowly narrowing. His breathing wasn't the high-fevered one of a man struggling to fight through to life. When he was hallucinating, his very sweat was poison. Cricet struggled out of the warm canvas and bounded the few hundred yards to the road. Jack turned his head to look at her, up on her haunches, looking for help. For someone, anyone. She looked at the horse in desperation and dismay, but Jack snorted and turned back to Ninus. The rat was wasting her time. Ninus seemed determined to rot here. Cricet glared at Jack. Useless old farm horse wasn't good for anything! She bounded down the road a ways, trying to find some scent of civilization. Her fear was that the Knights would traipse down the road and find her master. Even then...would a some squire out on some scouting mission even know the Prince of Rats by sight?

[Sigrun Dominic]

Continuation of this thread.

All that she could let herself hear was the sound of her own hoarse breathing. Everything else fell away before they could hit her eardrums. The sound of her boots stomping across the arid land beyond the citadel was muted, and even the flapping of her coat as it billowed against the wind current remained silent. Paying their respects, all of them. She imagined the world standing still as it mourned the departure of a once-living being. Not a bird did chirp, not a leaf did fall; but it was winter, and not a grievened loss, that was causing the pregnant pause in the region.

Her lungs had begun to hurt. Her knees had started to buckle. The tension she had been meaning to release from her chest through her sudden burst of speed towards the Wildlands was transferring, instead, to her aching legs. Her throat dried out and so did her tongue, and soon the pain she had in her chest for the loss of her best friend had instead become the pain of lacking breath. But no amount of exhaustion could stop her from her sprint, which began to look more and more like a flailing mess of wobbly limbs rather than a uniformed run.

In her arms was the body of her lifeless dog, his silver hairs popping out from between his thick, gray fur. Lifeless, bobbing up and down in time with his master's erratic movements. Sigrun sobbed, her arms growing more and more sore from holding Snowe's heavy, stiffening body. It was impulsive of her to have ran out of the city to bury him, but it was too late to turn around now. She needed to find the right place for him to rest in peace.

Her tears fell upon the canine's soft fur in intervals, one after the other. She had cried violently when she had first found herself outside of the Syliran gates, when she was far enough from the knights that stood by the entrance, and now that she had found herself along a road where she could not even register a face from the castle behind her, her swollen eyes had tired out. She let out another sob, another sniffle, another betrayal of weakness. Nobody was there to see it, anyway, and the only one who was allowed to, could no longer open his eyes.

She finally allowed herself to slow down. The winter air was destroying her breathing, destroying the warmth that her coat was meant to provide by invading her lungs instead. It hurt her throat to swallow. It was only when she had gone into a walking pace that she realized her nose was stuffed up. It was not a good feeling.

She neared the edge of the Wildlands, her mind fixated upon finding the perfect spot to bury Snowe. In her contemplation, she recalled the days when he was still alive and well, still young and playful, still very much there for her.

Her thoughts were cut short at the sight of a brown creature bounding its way towards her along the road.

"What the petch..." she mumbled, her eyes squinting. It looked like a large cat, or a small dog. Her grip on Snowe tightened. The creature didn't look threatening, but it certainly appeared far too foreign for her to feel safe.

The creature drew closer, its thin tail and round ears giving her the clarification that she had needed.

It was a large rat.

"What the shyking petch," she said shakily, a little louder this time. Alarmed, she embraced Snowe and halted before taking a few steps back, stumbling slightly as she went. Her eyes were fixed upon the approaching vermin with large, alert eyes. It was getting closer. She was too weak to run or to even defend herself, and if she tried to do the latter, she would have to drop Snowe.

She was even more lost than she had been when she left her apartment.

[Ninus Aurellius]

The Prince of Rats Cricet stopped short, just out of kicking range of the girl. She raised up on her haunches and looked at her. To her, this frightened-looking thing had simply brought a meal with her, and Ninus could probably use the meat. They'd both eaten dog before, when times had gotten desperate. She knew her master needed help, and was willing to risk a kick from a human to get it. At least the girl's arms were occupied, so she couldn't draw something nasty like a sword or bow. The rat closed the distance and slowly, gently put her hand-like paw on the girl's shoe. She looked up at her. Cricet was well-fed, clean (well, somewhat), and wasn't at all aggressive. She looked back somewhere in the treeline to where she knew Jack was, hoping he would help her out. Indeed, the horse smelled the girl and nickered loudly. He was also sick of standing about in the cold while Ninus drowned in grief. Cricet turned and bounded off a few steps, looking back at Sigrun. Gods, sometimes she wished she could speak. She proceeded with the same odd behavior; running up and touching Sigrun, then bounding toward Jack, looking back at her, and repeating if she didn't follow. The horse eventually plodded quietly up to the treeline, peeking out onto the road at the girl. He was still in his tack, the canvas draped around him, chewing idly on his bit. The old black horse stared at her and the rat desperately trying to get her attention. Ninus heard Jack shift and begin to walk back up toward the road. While his body was much too weak and high to move, some part of his mind screamed at him to go grab the horse. Moving limbs, however, seemed much too hard of a task at the moment and he let out a groan he hoped sounded something like Jack's name.

[Sigrun Dominic]

Shykes, it's gotten closer. The young blonde's eyes widened even more as the large rat paused before her at arm's length, its beady eyes gazing up at her face intelligently. A lump in her throat grew, and with every nervous swallow, it stayed.

The rodent took a step forward, and then another. Sigrun mimmicked each movement only backwards, until the rat managed to get close enough to pat the tip of her boot. The woman jerked slightly, and watched with tensed shoulders as the rat then pivoted about and ran towards the trees, halted, and then turned to look at her expectantly. When she did not move an inch, the rodent did it again. It ran to her foot, tapped it earnestly, and then did another roundabout towards the wood. It wanted her to follow it.

"Petching shykes," she muttered, her jaw slackening, "I'm hallucinating."

Her heart skipped a beat at the desire to be speaking to Snowe. She wished he were there to experience the bizzare moment with her. She ached for him to wake up. Holding the canine's stiff body close, she took a few cautious steps towards the rat, her eyes trained towards its long tail and the path ahead. A rustle in the trees caught her eye.

A horse.

A horse? She squinted. It was a deep ebony, nearly camouflaged by the shadows of the thick branches, but was given away by the bit and bridle it had on, as well as the large canvas draped around it. She suddenly felt more alarmed than she had been a few moments ago. Was there someone around? She wondered, was this a trap of sorts?

A young man with dangerously pale skin and dark hair struggled with his footing as he moved into plain sight, his hands gripping upon the nearest tree bark for dear life. Injured, perhaps? Was the rat his?

Sigrun gasped softly. Her instincts kicked in. Clutching Snowe's body tightly, she bounded towards the young man, surpassing and nearly stumbling over the large rat in the process. "Are you alright?" she called out as she closed the space between them. She winced at the pain that shot through her sore legs after the brief burst of speed that she had done.

After gently placing Snowe underneath a large tree, she went towards the young man and held him by the shoulders, offering him more support.

"Who are you, what's happened to you?" she asked swiftly as she examined his features. Beads of sweat covered his forehead, and he was more short of breath than she was. His eyes appeared swollen and weighted down by dark circles, and whites in his eyes were flushed in an unhealthy pink. Sick with something, she thought with a concerned frown. She knew nothing about medicine.

[Ninus Aurellius]

The Prince of Rats Cricet looked relieved when the girl went into the treeline and settled the dog in the snow. Jack plodded back and sniffed at the freezing body, snorting into the dog's fur and going to try and strip bark from some of the trees. There was piteously little grass, and Ninus had warned both Jack and Cricet off a lot of the poisonous, colourful plants that were in bloom this time of year. Cricet shivered and settled on her master's legs. Ninus had lost a lot of weight on a diet of pine nuts, mushrooms, and edible algae from some of the streams nearby. Herbalism had saved his life, but without survival skills he had reached the end of his rope. The drugs didn't help. He looked at Sigrun with eyes that were slowly contracting to normal again. A dry, hollow chuckle erupted from his chest at the questions, startling Jack into trotting a few feet away and looking at him reproachfully. "What hath happened? You find a corpse, family slain, abandoned by a lover like a shack in the woods." Ninus cackled. Cricet sighed and looked at Sigrun.

[Sigrun Dominic]

"What hath happened? You find a corpse, family slain, abandoned by a lover like a shack in the woods."

The young blonde's eyebrows furrowed with confusion. "I'm... sorry?" was all she could muster, her grip upon the young man's shoulders merely tightening at the sound of his unabashed cackle. All she could feel were his bones, pressing against his skin in an almost abnormal fashion. She was no doctor, but clearly the man needed more sustenance.

"How long have you-" she cut herself off and sighed softly. There was no point in asking him any more questions, as he was clearly in a delirious state. Glancing over to Snowe's body, she thought of what had become of her true purpose for going into the wild. The rat was gazing at her expectantly.

She didn't have much with her. All that she'd deigned to bring were her sword and her pouch of mizas, as they were already attached to her belt. Apart from that, all she had in her backpack was a dull knife, a half-empty waterskin, and a bit of food rations.

Food rations, yes. Sigrun had the habit of keeping a few necessities in her backpack, but not the habit of ensuring that everything was kept stocked up and fresh. It's all probably stale by now, she thought, pondering over the hunk of bread, slices of cheese, and bits of meat, all a good few days old. But it'll have to do.

Observing the measly camp before her, Sigrun found a large canvas wrap lying on the ground, looking much like a flattened tent. "Alright," she muttered, resting the young man down on the cloth, wrapping it around him tightly. She removed both her backpack and her coat, and seeing that the young man's temperature was quite high, she draped the latter over the his shoulders. "There."

Sigrun knew next to nothing about illnesses, in spite of having cared for her sickly brother when he was still alive. It was probably my lack of knowledge that killed him, she thought ruefully. Fevers, clogged noses, dry throats; those were the things she often saw in Sigmund, but could not do much about. She briefly recalled Ronan Dugal, who had fed them soup once, and who had helped Sigmund's fever during that one winter night.

Winter. The young blonde scoffed silently. Why does everything happen during the winter?

Opening her backpack, the young blonde took out a dark cloth bundle filled with food. "It's old, but it's not rotten," she said, unraveling the twine and quickly noticing a bit of mold on one of the cheeses. Discreetly, she picked the molded area out and threw it on the ground, hoping it would please the rat somewhat.

Shrugging, she placed the bundle in front of the young man and gave him a curious look. "Can you feed yourself?" she asked him, "or are you in need of assistance?" She casually turned away and grabbed the leather waterskin inside her bag. Uncapping it and sniffing the top, she gave another shrug and brought it to the man's lips.

"Before anything else, drink."

Briefly, she recounted the words the man had said earlier. A corpse, a family slain, and an abandoned lover. Like a shack in the woods, she remembered. She felt more than interested to hear his story a little better, but clearly the man was in no state to even hold a conversation.

"Dominic," she referred to herself by a wave of her hand, "though you can tell me your name later."

[Ninus Aurellius]

The Prince of Rats Ninus felt the delirium swimming around him. Hearing the breathing of another person sounded like it came from all directions in the woods. He felt her bundling him up, and tried to sit up somewhat to help her. He rolled his dizzy vision over to see Jack stripping branches. At least the horse had no qualms about eating pine, though it was clear by the way his lips flapped about he didn't like it in the slightest. Cricet ate the bit of mouldy cheese, which might have sustained a rat half her size. But like them all hunger gnawed at her like the cold. The poisoner drank deeply, the water hitting his gut like ice. He felt a bit better, certainly more aware of his surroundings. He lifted a hand from inside the bundle of canvas and ran it down over his face, feeling his sensation return. He was aware of bitter, bitter coldness leeching into his bones from the ground below, but he nibbled at the food she gave him. Slowly, drunkenly. Cricet made sure none of it went to waste, scouring his lap and chest for crumbs. Ninus cleared his throat and took a deep breath. He counted himself lucky that he had already been coming down from the high, otherwise he might have reacted poorly to the sight of another person. He looked up at Dominic. "Thou art an angel in the snow." he said, coughing a bit and finishing the meager meal. He didn't feel good enough to rise, but at least now he felt good enough to speak. "Thy hands will find tinder gathered by me on my faithful companion." he nodded toward Jack. "Flames shall chase away this hideous black cold."

[Sigrun Dominic]

She watched him eagerly finish half the contents of her waterskin with a relieved look on her face. Clearly he had not had a decent intake of water in a while. She brought out her hand to wipe away the bit of water that spilled past his lips but paused as he did it himself. Sobering up, I see, her lip gave a slight twitch with amusement.

She fed him anyway, deciding not to wait for his response to her question earlier. Gingerly, she brought slices of meat and cheese to his mouth, which he ate weakly and sloppily. The large rat bounded towards them and hopped upon the side of his lap at the sight of crumbs falling from the man's chin. Sigrun gasped and moved backwards slightly, her eyes gazing down at the creature with surprise.

"Yours, I presume," she mumbled under her breath with a wry smile, before continuing to feed him. It didn't take much time for him to clean off the bundle completely.

"Thou art an angel in the snow."

He speaks! The young blonde sighed with relief and raised her eyebrows at him as if it were nothing. Though rather strangely.

"Thy hands will find tinder gathered by me on my faithful companion," the young man gestured towards the black horse, "flames shall chase away this hideous black cold."

Strangely indeed, she thought with a nod, listening to his choice of words. Rising from her place on the soggy ground, she turned towards the horse and grabbed whatever unshapen bits of wood he had gathered.

"I didn't catch your name," she tried, glancing towards him before setting down the bundle of wood pieces, arranging them close to his body. "Don't suppose you have anything with you to light this with?"

Seeing a pair of large rocks nearby, she picked them up and brought them to the pile of wood. She made a feeble attempt to light the fire with the friction made by quickly rubbing the stones against each other, but nothing would come out of it.

[Ninus Aurellius]

The Prince of Rats Ninus stroked his hand down Cricet's back, patting her quietly as she cleaned herself. "The only servant left to this deposed prince of rats." he said. "My subjects mourn me softly on the streets of Syliras, for the one who protected them from the iron-shod asses and ignorant butchers is starving in the wildnerness." He scratched Cricet under the chin. He silently thanked her; Dominic couldn't have seen him where he laid a hundred yards or so from the road. She would have had to go and get her. He turned and opened the wooden box next to him, taking out the tiny knife that he used to free herbs and fungi from their perches. "Perhaps this may coax a strike against the stone?" he offered it to her handle first. "My name?" he debated telling it to her. He was a wanted man, and this was still Syliras. If she was oriented with the knights in any way, giving her the knife might have been a very poor decision. What else did he have to lose...she'd treated him with kindness thus far. He took a deep breath. "My lady, thy eyes meet Ninus Aurellius." he watched her carefully, trying to see if the name sparked any recognition. He moved to close the poison box, ashamed to see one of his bottles loosely screwed on. It was a shameful thing, for someone to see him hallucinating and half out of his mind. His revenge would never culminate here, dying in the wilderness. He had to live, to see at least the wolf who betrayed him die. His eyes glanced toward the dog, which Cricet was now displaying a vested interest in, slowly pawing her way around the corpse and sniffing at it. "Thy companion?" he asked Dominic, nodding his head toward the dog. "My lady, come from there. That is no back alley mongrel that served our stomachs well in winters past. Look at him, a sleek hunter laying in his eternal sleep. Let him be." he chastised the rat, who was opening her mouth to take a bite of the dog's ear. Cricet gave him a look. It was a dead dog, and a fat one at that! How dare Ninus speak to her in that reproachful tone when she was just as hungry as he was. She bared her teeth at him but he didn't back down his glare. She ground her teeth and trundled away from the dog, looking at it wantingly.

[Sigrun Dominic]

Sigrun struggled with the pair of rocks, their course surface irritating her palms. The young blonde winced.

"The only servant left to this deposed prince of rats," the young man said. Sigrun looked up from what she was doing to catch him rubbing the large rat's chin lovingly. Petch, she thought, her lip curling upwards for a moment. The prince of rats? What have I gotten myself into.

"My subjects mourn me softly on the streets of Syliras, for the one who protected them from the iron-shod asses and ignorant butchers is starving in the wilderness."

Sigrun turned away from him and continued on with her futile attempt to light a fire with rocks. She heard the rat scurry away and assumed she was off to gather food for herself. It was a relief to have the creature out of her sight.

"Perhaps this may coax a strike against the stone?"

She looked up once more. The young man shakily held out a knife to her. Gingerly, she took the blade by the hilt and striked it against the rock. It did not work.

"Petch," she growled, striking it harder, three more times, out of anger. Finally, by the fourth, she managed to start a reaction.

"Almost," she glanced towards the man before making a few more strikes at the stone with the blade. Her muscles tensed from the effort, and finally, she produced enough spark. The small orbs of ember fell towards the mound of wood and started a modest fire.

"My name?" the young man said as Sigrun blew softly at the flame until it grew. She awaited his response, but only recieved a heavy pause.

"My lady, thy eyes meet Ninus Aurellius."

She was warming her arms and hands, rubbing her reddened palms together gently. Looking up towards him, she gave a quick nod. "Ninus, a pleasure to meet you."

A soft rustle from behind her stalled her next question. "Thy companion?" Ninus gestured towards Snowe's body. Sigrun swiftly turned around to gaze at her friend's body. She jerked forward at the sight of the fat rat prodding its long fingers at the canine. Before she could make any movement to shoot he rodent away, Ninus interjected.

"My lady, come from there. That is no back alley mongrel that served our stomachs well in winters past. Look at him, a sleek hunter laying in his eternal sleep. Let him be."

Sigrun breathed out heavily. She eyed the rat as it moved away from Snowe with a disappointed look on its face. My lady? She thought funnily. What an odd fellow I've happened upon.

"Th-thank you," she managed, eyes watering for reasons other than the harsh weather, "he was my dog."

She reached out for Snowe's body, which had now become colder and stiffer than before, and was frosted lightly with snow.

Cradling him in front of the fire and watching the snow melt off his fur, she smiled softly. "His name was Snowe."

"I came here to bury him."