Closed Chain Breaker

[Fallon]

55th Spring 514 AV

She still had not been found.

Fallon stalked. Her form was hunched in, her eyes looking and searching. Bare fingers traced, touching, feeling sensing. A desperate snag to find a lead, anything that would give her an answer. To chase whispers until the end. She had no other choice. Even as her present target, made himself and his allegiance known. It was the enemy, the ones who created the nightmare to begin with.

Pressing her back into the alley wall, Fallon released a hiss. Her body still ached, but the bubbling rage beneath fought it back. Not that she could understand why. Was it her pride of refusing to bend to defeat? No, of course not. she was beyond that. Anger, a want for revenge? Possibly. But even then was that the main drive? Her chest tightened in response, of course it was not. It was that gnawing guilt from within, that heavy weight that she had let her down, mixed with that ever present wanting desire.

Fallon had failed, there was no two ways about it. And now, she was going to right her wrongs and seek redemption. There was a press up onto solid feet, the cold sweat clinging to her neck. She knew she was not at her best, but she had no choice by that point. It was fight or die.

It was blood Fallon could taste in her mouth. That rich, coppery liquid that ran between her teeth and from her lips, forcing her to spit on occasion. She gave a hiss, a low crack of her throat as it awoke into a deep throated growl. Her chin tilted up, the blue-green orbs staring through the haze of brown and red, before focusing on the dark shadow looming over head. Cracking a grin she stared on up, defiant to the end with her eyes blazing at him. Her voice dropped, rough and husky, "You want something?"

She felt her back slam into the wall behind her, the hot breath upon her face, "You little bitch."
Wood groaned, the hard surface being met by a gasp. Steel pressed against her cheek, the sharp glint in the dark light. Her toes gave a wiggle, straining to reach the ground as she was held there her eyes locked upon the bigger man. Bruises began to prickle, forming and swelling up. The side of her face throbbing, she gave a wince, "Got no manners? Ya Mama never teach you to say please and than-"

Her entire head snapped to the side, the ringing noise chiming in her ears. The dark shadows gave a twist and a turn, shades swirling in and out of the light before she swung her vision back up to him. Wolfishly she stared back, those eyes locking upon his - stuck and refusing to budge, that deep, dark look into his core. The hiss continued, a rumbling growl as she held it. Wicked, sharp, teeth flashing as she held it. The man spat, "Where's your petching wolf, woman? Want to know where your little bitch is? Made her squeal. Gonna make her more. So weak! Answer me you-"

It was convoluted feelings that commanded her, the twisting and turning emotions that flowed through her veins, suffocating and confusing. Anger, lust, worry, care, wrath, passion. It all existed at one pivoting moment, and it was the lack of control that frightened her the most. She knew what she was capable of when smothered in such a raw instinct - and she knew who the only one was capable of pulling her out of such a state. The chains trembled, angry and baying for blood.

Fallon bit him. Jaws snapped, her entire head lunging down upon the arm. Releasing a shout the man gave a scream, surprised by her sudden swift movement, her teeth sinking in. His fist clenched, the crack across her head his screams crying out across the city. Teeth ripped at him as she staggered away, the loud ringing reaching her, the mingling of blood in her mouth. And that strong, overpowering lust.

It was her chest that heaved, adrenal pumping loudly and the shadows dancing before her. He came at her in blinks, the flickering focus as she swayed on the spot, her hands clawed as they tried to grasp upon her weapons. He wanted to play rough, he wanted answers, and there was no way she was simply going to play along. The coiled fist met her gut. Taken off her feet, the mercenary staggered fighting for breath and consciousness, her foot arching as she dug her toes in. She could hear the deep beat from within, the ensnaring of the senses roaring up and consuming. It pulsed, it rose, and it came out as an inhuman snarl of thundering rage, "Tell. Me. Where. Zandelia. Is!"

The tulwar came rattling out at that point, the back of her free arm smearing the blood that had gathered within her mouth across her jaw. She grimaced, tulwar slicing round as it approached, her gaze cold as she sprung upon him tip pressed against his throat, teeth bare as she met his charge. He paused when he felt the tip scratch into him a sure fire sign of intimidation against him. She pressed, a slow march forward as it sliced through flesh and the words repeated themselves, "Tell. Me. Now. And I will let you live. Weak."
"The warehouses! They have her there!" he answered back, "But you have to get through me first!"

She blinked the flashes away, a step back and a broad slash as he rashly rushed her. There was only the sickening moment of respite, the catching of breath within the waking of death. There was a spit, her fingers reaching up to grab the hood of the black cloak and to pull it over her head. So that was the way it would be. A quivering rage beneath the skin, the turning of something wild and uncontrollable reaching out to claw and grab at the air. Her steps would not stop until she reached her target, her search would not cease until she reached the end. Until she knew she was safe. For all the pain, for all the faults and snags, the emotions and intimacy, it was her that kept on going. Besides, they had come so far together now - to turn back was impossible. And as she closed in, the lips parting into that wolfish gripping tightly onto her core did she allow herself to embrace it.

"The warehouses it is then."

[Zandelia]

There was little but the beating of her heart, ragged and uneven as its managed somehow to still keep up its rhythm. It’s tempo rose, fell, flickered at times. Ragged it was, so tired and beset by that which was intent only upon grinding its resistance into naught but dust. It had been days she knew, though exactly how much time had passed was unknown. It had felt like a lifetime, there were no two ways about it. Beaten, bloodied, half-drowned. Flesh had been sliced in various places and through it all was the knowledge…Fallon was dead. The kukri was still where it had been left, caked with gore and rammed hilt-first into the small table that was ever present before her. A constant reminder, a breaking torment. She was close to breaking now, they knew it. It had taken but a handful of days but she was cracking.

“Why do you resist, daughter of mine?” came the sickeningly sweet tones, all too reasonable and pitched to appeal to self-preservation. He was a true bastard, not of the stock of legends but comprised of pure, ruthless efficiency.

“You. Are. Not. My. Father” she managed to hiss through battered lips. She held onto the hate though it was fading now, there was not enough energy for it anymore.

“Yes you are, you are me. I have looked, seen, heard. You cared for only one thing beyond yourself. Now it is gone. Why not just join?”

“You bastard! You stole her and then you tell me to join you! Petch. You” she managed a faltering snarl.

“But I give you a future. Father and daughter. Working together. We could be great y-”

“You mean that I could be great. You…you just want easy pickings! Nothing from me. Nothing. You’ll get…get…”

“Your mother would want us together. Not fighting” the words snaked out, calculated.

The juddering of breath, the tearing up of the eye already so red from the weeping. Blurred gaze flickered to the prone kukri, weighing and measuring. How much had she lost? She had not had much in her miserable life to weigh it against but it seemed too much. Much too much. Fallon…gone. Wolf made into a pelt. The very idea caused revulsion, that she had led her into the mire and the only one who was still alive was the poorer one. The bitch. The shadowy one whom held no true ideals. She sobbed, defenses trembled and she held into that last thing she had left - that which she had found within the torment. Pain throbbed as she sagged at the bindings, tied to the chair and helpless.

Almost helpless…waiting. Needing that one right moment. They forgot the legs. But why bother? Even if I got out what would I gain? Some crusade that would kill me before long. This city needs more than my kind…it needed… she all but retched.

“You know it is the right choice Zandelia”

Silence but for the drawing of deep breaths, terse and echoing in her ears. The precipice. Whether to jump, to stay. To agree or stand, one last time, for what was right. A blaze of glory, Dira’s embrace. The vision flickered up, the ideal that for all that had occurred there would still be the fighting. She had made the promise to herself, to her dead partner. She would seek out the corruption, the darkness, and would end it where she could. There were no illusions. She was a poor champion for the decent but if she had gained anything within the losses it was the knowledge that there was something better, something beyond herself. Once, perhaps, the words would have worked, but now…they fell flatly and were exposed for the pitiful machinations they were. She grinned, chuckles rippling pain but ignored. The phrase of her mentor came up unbidden, altered for her own ideals.

“No”

“And if I said you were to die if you refused?”

“Dira smiles upon us all, I can only smile back”

“Final answer?”

“Go fall on your sword” she spat back.

Silence once more as the air became smothering, claustrophobic, as the response was taken in and dissected. Emerald gaze pinned her and even through her swollen brow she stared back - sullen but determined. She would die here but before she did she would rip his throat out and teach him the meaning of his life. Pointless cruelty. She would fight fire with fire and she was good at that. Brutality, ruthlessness. Had there ever been a vigilante so willing to sacrifice everything? She embraced the wolf she had been shown as the tip of the broadsword stroked her jaw, smiling at his intimidation. He really didn’t understand, she didn’t care. Her life was but one of many thousands and the world would not suffer to see its ending.

“You mean it don’t you? Why?

She laughed richly, deeply. From the pit of her stomach up through her mouth and without reservation. The flat of the blade slipped her temple and forced her to stop with a curse.

“Why?”

“Why”

“Because you’ve taken everything from me. Mother, lover. Past, future. You think I care what happens to me? Go ahead and see how much I care. Do it. Kill your daughter. Go on. I’m right here. Helpless…” the flicker of satisfaction. He couldn’t do it she knew, she was too important to him despite his actions.

She had seen it. He had told the guards she wasn’t to be harmed beyond necessary. None had touched her for raping. None had even hit her without his consent. Somewhere, deep within him, he was still a decent man. Dying in the fog but still there.

“Can’t do it can you?” she tainted him bitterly.

“You think so?”

“I know so”

“Shut up”

“Oh, now you want me to be quiet? You wanted me to talk before. Have I unmanned you?” she laughed bitterly as the sting of wounds untold seared through her.

The answer was the blade, edge slicing her cheek as the knives had slices scores of patterns across her already. Stitched back of course, pain was useless if death followed.

“Do that again” she was ready, Dira called.

“What did you say?”

"I said…do that again” she snarled at him, teeth exposed.

Time for one last rearing of the wolves without the pack. The baying, the lone assault.

[Fallon]

Firm steps, quick, fast, barely pressing onto the ground as she made her stride - her war path. Hands were constantly upon the hilts of her tulwars. The black cloak flapped around her, a mask of her movement as she stepped on through the black abyss of the evening. The panting growl escaped, the steps marching ever forward with purpose. The dizzy spell lifted, and in its wake it left the throbbing sensation of pain. But, there was no holding back, no time for resistance in doing what must be done. She needed to fight, to hunt down her foes and eliminate them - for her, for them.

As the alley closed in around her, narrowing and restricting her movements; did the mind of Fallon become honed and sharp. Iron will and determination coursed through her veins, the hands drawing the blades and hiding the silver edge behind a veil of black. Eyes burned out from beneath her hood, the lips twisting into that of a snarl, her fangs bared to the world. Those who stood in her way, who sought to stop and slow her down - they received no mercy. There was no time for such things, not whilst a precious life was left in the balance. Her self inflicted crusade, her burning inferno to destroy what ills were before her.

Justice, passion, revenge, they all bubbled violently within - but even beneath that all the other emotions turned. Fear, worry, the scream to care and defend. But little good they would do without her partner, her lover. There was an inhale, the scent of blood filling her senses as a pair of guards stood in her way, eyes burning. They knew she was a threat, the way they had drawn their blades was a telltale sign that they thought her so. Eyes stared, the aching body rolling within the tattered armour. It would be ruined soon, she knew that more than anybody. But before that it had one final duty to answer to.

The final battle, the final march.

She paid no heed to their words, her stride ever continuing forward as she stared them down. The shouts to leave, that final warning to not trespass upon their contractors land. She could almost smell the fear. A long ragged inhale, an increase in pace as she pushed herself along - faster, swifter, stronger. Steel flicked into view, the first of the two approaching down the narrow gap. The tulwar gave a lash out, a clatter in response as steel grinded against steel. Hot breath caressed onto cold, a wrestle within the narrow space of the alleyway between forces.

"Sansom. Tell. Me. Where Sansom is!" she demanded in her snarl. There was a bounce back as he pushed, toes digging into the earth. A clatter, a gleam within the darkness as she struck out upon her prey - quick, precise, there was no time for being slow. The one behind gave a shout out, "You deal with 'em! I'll let him know!"
Teeth clenched, eyes leering up from beneath her brow as the blades clattered once more. There was a flash of a knife, a sharp edge scraping its way down her forearm in a hiss. A growl, a pattered retaliation as she brought the left tulwar thrusting forward. Instinct drove it, the push to eliminate as urgency reared itself. One of them was getting away after all.

"Petching move!" she snarled, the rumbling undertones cracking in places. A swift kick, a gasp of air as she was pushed back once more. Heat, cold, the suffocating sweat as retaliated back, the piercing swing as she struck upon the flesh of his arm. No mercy, no time. She stepped inside of his reach and with a final thrust of the right, did she feel the cooling torso against her cheek and the warm red gather around her hand. Pulling away, adrenal driving its way through did she turn her attention in the direction the other guard had left.

Quick steps followed after him, a walk turning into a stride as she raced as well as her complaining body would allow. Faster, she had to catch up before it was too late. There was a shout of alarm as she saw him look back through the darkness, eyes wide with fear as the blooded image of her bounded after him. Hunting, chasing, a she-wolf upon the prowl. And he was her prey.

A roar, a tackle to the side as another guard leapt at her from the alleyway. Flesh skittered across the ground, body cracking and complaining as the fighting turned to fists. A flailing punch, a scrabble for a blade within the darkness - she needed her weapons to fight effectively. Fingers squeezed around her windpipe, the slow suffocating crush as her fingers stroked upon the hilt of the tulwar. Tendons stretched, a tightening of lungs as she tried to breath, to live. A choke, a grit of teeth as she reached for it, the other hand reaching up to try and pry herself free from the throttling.

The blade was swung up, the last of her air deprived strength going into the blow. Steel met flesh once more, the patter of blood falling onto her as the body above weakened. The hands loosened, a rush of air seeping in, a coughing dirge as she filled her lungs with the much needed oxygen. Her throat ached, the pressure still resting upon there as she fought for breath. Limbs strained, eyes blinked as she felt the urgency of the situation once more take over her, a struggle to push the body off of her.

A shout once more, further away this time - but a sign that there was no time to dally about. A force of limbs, the trickling of blood down into the darkness, the growing of swells upon her body. Fingers grasped upon the tulwars and pulled, her form doubling over as she slunk into the shadow of an alleyway. She embraced the darkness, her form stalking forwards as she followed the runner - slowly, gently, crawling almost as she urged her body to recover from its starved state.

She watched him bang against the door, fist furiously clattering against it to grab attention of the inside, head constantly whipping about in the dull light. Teeth pulled into a wolfish grimace, a flash of white among the darkness as she stopped to take that much moment of recovery. There was a long inhale, the pulling of blood from her face, the ginger touch from where blades had managed to clip her. Even her ribs gave a scream of pain, sharp, piercing, but there was no time for that. No time to look upon hurts, to attend to injuries, or for death. Feet lifted, a steady level of breathing now filling her lungs if not with a strain, and the barely audible growl escaping from her lips, "Not today."

[Zandelia]

There was a flicker as the blade’s edge slipped across her cheek again but there had been that moment of hesitation. He was an evil man but his heart wasn’t in doing violence to others physically. He usually had the others do it so he didn’t have to dirty his hands. They were gone today though, stalking about perhaps or just released from his service as no longer required. He had what he wanted after all, forced into a chair and becoming tired with lack of food and sleep, injuries were not overly large but were numerous and built up the sapping of strength. She hissed as flesh sliced, pulling upon the blade grimly, refused to budge her gaze. She watched the flickering in those eyes, the pulling of the mouth into a distasteful line. It was done, the second scar. Adrenaline began to seep through tired limbs, she needed more to rouse the muscles.

“Again”

“What”

“Do. It. Again”

“Madness” he hissed at her as his arm froze in mid-air.

“Again” she stated flatly without breaking the gaze.

The blade came around and shook slightly in disbelieving fingers, entranced limb moving one more to create a third line. The blood had started to flow now and the rivulets slunk down to her jaw line and she locked down emotions, they couldn’t help her anymore. She focused instead upon the pain, the warmth of the fluid and the slowly rising tide of energy that her body would soon give her in response. She imagined the scenario to try and force the mood to rise up, the heart to begin climbing in pace to pump the required blood through to even her number and bound arms. She was far from a fan of harming herself but if it meant she could try one last gambit she would do it.

Three scars, three marks. Remembrance of what was lost. To try to learn. To build. River defenses! All she wanted was to help and crushed. Snuffed out by the darkness so pervasive in the city. They will pay for the theft if I get out. Every. Last. One she told herself as she tried not to feel the pangs of loss.

“Why won’t you accept?”

“Because that means being like you” she whispered, brow furrowing at the interruption.

“Would that be so bad?”

“You have no idea” she growled, she was ready…now.

The fists hammered at the door and she was ripped from her concentration, surprise flashing and breaking the tensions of the scene. It ebbed away slowly and she tried to gather it back, to feel the moment before the storm again, but it was akin to stopping sand from pouring through her fingers. It had been lost. She sagged forwards and rocked in the chair with a keening of desperation. The legs trembled but held, creaking with their punishments. There would be no fighting, not now, perhaps never. She had had the perfect opportunity - Markus was alone in the room with her. The others were outside or in another building she guessed. Such a choice time…wasted. Silent tears came down to sting the wounds upon the cheek. Surprise that she had any left. The snarl of her father as he pulled back, sheathed the sword and had little chance to get out any words before the outsider shouted.

“It’s her! Markus! She’s here” came the shouting at the barred door as the thumping continued.

She blinked. Who was here? An old friend perhaps? No, the voice had been too urgent, fearful almost. A rival then? Or just someone to be feared? There were no smaller gangs run by women that she knew of, they were abused in Sunberth for the most part. Few were strong enough physically to deal with the brutes. Something flickered within but was ignored. There was no sense putting up straw men.

“For petch sake” her father breathed and the sword rattled out once more, he was ready to fight.

“Trouble?”

“Only for you daughter”

“Me?”

“A ghost. I’m sorry you didn’t want to join us. It means that you are of no further use and time is running out. Your friend comes”

“Friend?”

“Yes. Goodbye Zandelia. The world will not miss you”

The blade swept around but he had to step inwards to gain the needed reach and even through her surprise at impending death her body was able to fire, to move. Left leg shot out to kick the side of the blade away and right shoved forwards. It wasn’t much of a defense but it gave her a stay for now and he was pushed back with a snarl. She waited for the rushing thrush, his brash temper and rocked the chair sideways, twisting as she fell, feet tangling in her legs to send him face first to the wall behind her. Tortured wood finally snapped at the twisting and the impact of the floor. Head struck table leg and the fog lowered. She shook her head.

“Fallon…Fallon? Fallon!” she whispered, there could be no one else. She had no other friends.

Shame and guilt transformed to rage and the flames began to rise higher. She needed to get out of the wreckage, get up and fighting. Arms and shoulders were bloody from the movements, stitches of shallow cuts only half-closed breaking. She would have scars she guessed, lines like ladders running down the sides from shoulder to elbow - amongst other tortures. She grasped, feeling, searching for the strength and breath rattled inwards and she began to push herself. Where were her tonfa? The corner? The corner. She began the crawl towards them as shifting from behind told her Markus was recovering also now.

She really really needed to kill someone.

“You…you…vagik! she half-snarled and half-hissed.

He had tricked her, made her believe, torn her up within at the idea Fallon had died for her. For her stupidity. Her resentment and every other reason either he or she had been able to throw at her. Now there was the possibility, the small and still faint idea that it had all been a lie. A clever and dastardly lie but a lie all the same. She rolled to the corner, fingers reaching, seeking.

Finding.

[Fallon]

Beat. Breathe. Beat. Breathe. Her form came forward, the desperate rattle as he continued his hammering - desperate, scared, like a child left to fight his nightmares alone. Blooded steel slid out, that ever apparent grind as she closed in on her target, steps quicker, louder, as the guard continued his shouting. It would attract, she knew that - but right now that did not matter. The breaths turned into a growl, a build up into a snarl and snapping bark. There was only a last look of horror before she was upon the man, steel clean and a terrified scream slicing through the air. Hurried steps sounded out behind her, the chink of steel and wood as the men were alerted.

Circled, entrapped, she saw the first bang desperately upon the door seeking security and safety from the world within. But nothing came. Her hand grasped and ripped him away from it, a clenching fist, broad and arching - the work of a novice - swinging round straight after with the tulwar clenched tightly within it. Blood boiled, teeth clenched as she found her rage coming round. They got in her way, they thought to separate and divide. No more, it would happen no more.

In the past, there had been much gained and much lost. Things that were worked towards, relationships, feelings, companionships - something always ripped them apart and separated her from them. An empty gnawing sensation only being left behind. From the hazy days long gone, she remembered the girl, her guard, her hope against the chains that bound her; ripped and torn asunder in her separation - leaving Fallon hollow and seeking to always forget the nightmare long past. Her mentor, Aleric Skylar, her teacher, her warden, the one who encouraged her no matter what to grow and to seek, to see the world and fill it with story and adventure - perished. Egyptus, the final tie to aid, the walker through the fire, her hound, her brother - gone and vanished to the air.

And now there was Zandelia, left to see the blunt roar, the raging beast, the inner torment and suffering she had known so long; but regardless she was there, guiding in her own subtle way and once more, that final time, to open up the heart and embrace the emotions that rested within there. She was not about to give up that final chance. Her light, her spark, her sanity and sunshine. It was such things that kept her going through the darkness.

Crashing came within, and roaring came from without. She felt the net of bodies close around her, her hands grasping onto both hilts tightly. A swing, a pivot as weapons were caught and snagged. An angry shout, the scraping of an edge across her side as she quickly stepped. A storm of swords, a dance of blood, the aching body continued its protests. Her shoulder stretched and pulled, muscles screaming in pain as the bludgeon swung round and cracked her in the rips. But she could not stop. Not yet.

Inside had to have the woman, and until she got in there to see it with her own eyes, until she had carved a path with blade, tooth and nail, she would not rest. It was the inner passion that consumed her and kept her going. Blood fell in patters, the slicing as she thrust the tulwar forward into one and ripped it free. Sweat continued its clinging, dark patches blooming upon the armour. And that seeping tiredness making itself known. A foot raised to kick one into the door, a hard one at that. Wood groaned and complained, the left sweeping round for a back slash - a deterrent at best.

A run up to the one at the door, the inner curve of the right pressing against her left shoulder, her form breaking into a crouch to send her charging forward. She was getting in no matter what stood in her way. A charge, a shouting scream. Wood came from its hinges, a second step back and a cry of pain as she threw herself at him once more. A gurgle, a spray, that moment of suspension as the world crashed around her into a red haze. The black cloak fell across her, the features dipped behind the shadow of the cloak.

Inside of the warehouse the dust kicked up, a mist of sawdust and pink upon the dark air, the shapes slinking and twisting within the darkness. There was another clatter, the rising up of the feral form. Blade tip pressing against the ground, the silent steps around the warehouse. Dirt pressed, blood fell, her brow creasing as she came to terms with her new injuries.

She felt the slice into her shoulder, the joint inflamed with pain from over straining. She felt the firm slash into her side, the crimson dripping free into a patter and staining the floor. Her foot refused to meet the floor properly tendons straining as she put her weight upon it. Blooded eyes looked upon the back of the man, the Bear among the humans, the scrabbling form of the woman, smothered with cuts and injuries. Her chest lurched and retched, a grimace in pain as the torso complained.

Shoulders rolled, the abyss of black covering her. Tulwars gleaned, the fangs bared as she gave the pivot round in response. A roar, a feral, unchained animal, a declaration of death if they even thought of coming near her or to the woman. Lips spat out a mouthful of blood, a slower pace march onwards, each step finding certainty upon the ground. Her head swum, a moment of lightness consuming her - but she shook it off. She had to. Her throat gave a rasp, a clicking as it formed a distinct sound from her pit. The blade tip rose, the other hand ripping the cloak free and exposing her for what she was - a monster.

A hiss escaped, the smear of blood as she pushed the mane of hair back. A wolf, eyes wide, teeth bared as she found the snarl ripping into her throat, directed to the cause of all this pain, this suffering. Markus Sansom.

"Move."

[Zandelia]

The hands grasped the handles, fingers curling around old friends that mirrored the owner in their scarred and battered forms. The grunt of effort, the growl at the back of the throat. One last battle, the stand against the filth of the streets. Bloody arms seeped but still held strength enough, she had her legs and as long as she could still stand she held the power. Rolling sideways, the levering upwards to one knee her gaze searched and settled. The man that represented everything she knew that she hated. She had never been good at picking sides, had seen it as a weakness that could be exploited. Now though…now there was no way not to take a side. Even if that meant she would be exposed, it was right to do so. The screams from outside called to her, deep passions stirring and striving to break free of the bindings of rationality.

She needed to get out, to discover what they were caused by. There was a silent hope, steeled and determined in its forming. What if it had been a lie? Everything would change, the pain would fade. The guilt would remain but at least there would be something precious again. Teeth were shown as lips raised and the door crunched and groaned. Sagged. The pause, time lengthening and drawing out in one deep breath. She prepared to face the storm. She began to push herself to her feet and then the door all but imploded. Wood splintered, showered the room and she whipped her face away, left arm brought up and around defensively. Silence.

Do I dare look? Have it taken once more? flickered through her. The grinding of steel, the feral sounds guttural and familiar.

Head turned and the world shone a little brighter once more, a flicker as the gaze took in the woman. She had been dead, given up and lost. The return slammed into her and pulse rose as she was flooded with emotion. She hadn’t lost her, lost the love. Not yet. Breath caught for a moment and then hissed out as the battle continued and the roars throbbed in her ears. She finally saw, gaze shifting from that face, the eyes, and trickled down and across the form. The rent armour, the stains of red and the hinting as a myriad of injuries. She had suffered, so much it seemed. Sorrow, guilt. The need to protect, in that dark place. So long ago and yet so recent. Those hands, seeking and exploring. The faint smile, the minx-like teasing. She could lose it again and that brought a shaking fear. Hardy she was but not even her Wolf could live forever if she took much more of a battering. Wrath broiled, seethed and ripped forwards. She didn’t see her father anymore, nor hear the word spoken to him for the beating in her ears. Knuckles cracked and she came, finally, to her feet.

“Wolf, I thought you were…” it finally registered fully, it had been a lie, “he…you” she screamed at Markus, stepping forwards and smashing a kick into his ribs as he tried to rise. Leg pulled back and up to stamp on his back viciously.

She couldn’t entertain him though, there were others and each of them sought to wipe out Fallon for a second time. Eye flashed darkly, one smile for the object of her joyous desire, one linked gaze. Then the shadows loomed in the doorway once more and she stepped upon and over her father as the need arose, the want to protect and save. As she had been saved. There was a debt now, no matter what the other thought, and she would repay it immediately. Arm brushed against Fallon as she swept past to put herself before the woman and the now shattered opening. The wall had come with it and she wouldn’t be able to block the gap for long but every chime would count and bring time.

“Kill” she snarled as the first opponent coalesced from the light and stepped into the shadows and dust.

Dual bludgeons snaked out as she crouched and slammed them into a knee and enjoyed the crunch of bone and shattering of joint. The scream of pain that ended with a sharp gurgle as tonfa were brought around and back in unison to smash across the side of a head. Left elbow bent and pushed the body forwards and away from her, back into the light as it fell and the beginnings of a barrier was made - the first body. There would be more she knew. There were many who would follow one such as Markus for gold alone, more just to cause suffering to others.

“Not today” she growled.

The second one stepped forwards and tonfa came up in a guard even as her body protested. Fight of flight kicked in, erasing the pain in its attempt to keep her alive. She would suffer later, if she still lived. She meant to, meant them both to. Left came around to block, give in a little and slide a weapon away, to receive only another cut, and at the same time right came up and over, vertical spin thudding into skull and following through. Tonfa clipped a twitched elbow to bounce it back the other way. Wrist jerked and the weapon slammed upwards to shatter teeth and jaw.

The second was down and, for now, Fallon was safe. She was tired but she would give everything that was left. The promise.

Back to back, snarling defiance. No overtaking. No hamstringing. If they want us then they can come and try to break us. Only death will stop the blazing

She stood her ground.

[Fallon]

There was only the turn of the feral gaze, the laboured breaths as she tried to breath clearly. The armour was restrictive, tightening at every moment, the hurts rubbing up against it. As the man continued to rise, did his daughter rush him, cold, calculated, surprised that she stood where she was. Fear strained in her heart, the sinking in to serve as a shield. Passion, courage, strength, a vigorous fire burning from within. Her last chance, her last moment of battle before it all petered out. Noble, even within the feral gaze that consumed her. Human and Monster joined hands, the knight and the beast stared forth upon her foe and began the final dance.

She moved, presence consuming, the once growl falling into silence. She watched Markus stagger up to his feet, gasping and wheezing. There was a fleeting touch, only the parting of the lips in acknowledgement - it hurt to smile. Conflict insured, the crunch of wood and bone, the sickening gargle as attacks came. Blades swung, steel grinding in reciprocation as she closed in upon her target. Her prey. Fallon, was one for the ideal of mercy. She often encouraged it in the woman, to reconsider and to back down from what she had tasked herself to do. And with enough time she did - she allowed the man to live.

But, he betrayed that offer. He took her moment of mercy and exploited it. And it was because of that reason that Fallon had come across to lay judgement upon him. There would be no mercy this time, there would be no second chances. The offer to change was granted to him and he wasted it. So, with a cold gaze was she upon him, the curved edge swinging round to rattle against his broadsword. He stepped up to the challenge, eyes filled with fury as he fought back. A blurred mind struggled to push, a gasping breath as he rose up to his feet.

Swing after swing, attack after attack. Steel screeched, loud and piercing as the second tulwar came racing round. Hot breaths, difficulty to suck in the air, her reactions were off as she gave a duck and the sharp edge scraped across her forearm. Red bloomed, feet snapping back and together as she continued her pushing. Everything rebelled, the snapping snarl of Zandelia, the beat of the heart even as it faltered. But, she had to keep going. She gave a glance back to the woman, eyes checking and rushing to take everything in. Woman, battle, tired, need to protect, back to back. There was a gasp as she felt the fist crunch against her stomach, the air escaping her lungs as she was forced into a stagger.

The world blinked in and out of colour, shades masking her vision as she backed off. The broadsword came rattling round, her right barely lifting as she was put into a retreat. She could not breathe, she could not hear herself as the sickening sensation crept in. She lifted the blade up once more, teeth gritting as she gasped for air, a flail of the left as she tried to push the man back. The world gave a tilt, her feet slamming onto the floor as she tried to stand her ground. The left was dropped with a clatter, the disarming slash forcing her backwards. She watched the broadsword reel back, and then shoot forward. The right pushed down, swinging to deflect and push it away from its desired target - an attempt to survive the impending death.

There was an ungodly howl. Her head knocked back with it, the pain searing as it sliced through the soft flesh of her shin. Eyes widened, her leg buckling in response to the intense burning. It all screamed. Her hands slammed against the earth, the tulwar lost from her grasp for those valuable ticks. She heard the laughter, the sickening slide of steel as it came loose. Her mind spun, teeth clenching as she gasped. Her hand flailed for the tulwar hilt, instinct ruling to push him away. It fumbled blindly, the world slowing into a dizzying shade. Pain, agony, too much of it. Her hand hovered over the tulwar hilt, fingers sliding to grasp upon it. Fight! Not today!

It took her several ticks to register the second strike. Another scream, another gurgling cry as she felt it seep in. Hand pierced, the tip struck into it and twisted. Her voice grew louder, a second howl as she felt the crippling pain consume her right. She could not think, she needed a weapon, anything. Eyes saw the face leer in, the rip as the tip came free from the flesh - the painful slice in being distinctive upon the glove. She still could not breathe, lungs bursting, her gaze turning as she felt the back hand strike her across the face. Colours, stars, her hands clawed and scrabbled as she tried to grasp for a weapon. Fight, protect, live. Her leg buckled, the pain burning through her veins as she blindly searched. That laughter, the bear roared as he toyed with her, the quick slashes as she tried to find something.

Her Djed would not focus, the pain would not ease off. Her hand met the side of the toppled table, her arm pulling her up. The left hand fumbled, a gasp of pain as she tried to pull herself up. She heard the steps, the knocking approach of death upon her door. Anything, anything would do. She felt a hilt within her grasp, the flared butt of a familiar tool within her grasp. Slick fingers curled, the stronger leg curling up beneath her as she turned to face him. The laughter, the sneer, the echoed taunts as he brought the blade back one last time. There was no second chances, no retakes on this occasion.

Eyes blinked to Zandelia, her eyes taking in the struggling form. She wanted to know more of her, she knew that, those precious few moments, that close intimacy - to tease and be teased. To adore, to protect, to love. Her eyes stared up to him, focus draining in through all the blurring pain. The blooded tip stared her down, and it was with that final push she consumed. Fire raced through. The better leg and right arm being used as a force to push her up with all the strength and speed she could muster. the left arm came reaching forward from its hidden grasp, the old familiar slicing upwards. A cry of surprise, a final shout out in defiance to him. Cold iron met his throat, a spray of blood as it sliced open.

Metal clattered shortly after, the body of the bear crunching to the ground in a heap, his fingers prying in vain to the hissing second smile he was granted. The kurki slipped from her grip, the blurring colours sliding past and fading. Fallon's shoulder crashed against the floor, a slight bounce as she met the hard earth. Limbs fell heavy, strength having sapped itself and fallen into blood. Eyes blinked, the burning sensation growing within her chest. Not that it mattered to the fogging mind. Nothing mattered any more. The nightmare was slain, the wolf had beaten the bear once and for all. And Zandelia? She would be safe from such a foe once more.

Numb, cold, the black ring began to close in around her vision. It was done.

[Zandelia]

There was nothing but the light, the shimmering gap into the realm beyond and the gathering threat. She was confident in the skills of the wolf, she had won the last duel and though it came through injury Markus was a dead man. She held onto that idea as she kept her gaze forwards, not daring to look back despite the welling need to do so. She had her task, gripped it though it cut deeply to do so. The wolf had hers and it was survival, bloody and hard but filled with possibilities. She smiled as the third stepped forwards. She didn’t wait, she was done waiting - playing. The wild swing, an arc of a shimmer.

The step forwards and left, the duck underneath and into the guard and the filth. Right snapped forwards as the clattering of steel punctuated the air behind and met sternum, feeling the give and the pushing back of bone and muscle. The turn to bring left around and crunch into the back of the skull a moment later. Another loss the city would not miss. Breathing labored now, deep and rattling with exertion. The stolen glance as the screams were ripped forth from the wolf. Eye widened and the world flickered. She stepped towards the locked pair and felt the crunching of wooden club against the back of her knee, buckling forwards and hitting the floor.

No! Keep fighting. Ignore. Can’t fall. Protect

She shifted around on the floor, painful grinding of kneecap as weapons broke the ankle of on leg and then the next as the follow through sent the assailant tilting, slamming to the floor and she pushed herself atop him with a howling that matched the wolf’s, striking, savaging until they were still. She rolled backwards and pushed to a knee just in time to see the pinned hand, the flash of red as brutal kukri tore through throat and showered all in the droplets. Face bloodied ,the eye watched Fallon fall backwards.

Save. Guard. Kill. Kill. Killkillkill…

That was when thought ended, even instinct faded until there was but the mist. It was something beyond what she had felt before and it tore through her to take her over. She had no control and, for all intents and purposes, Zandelia did not exist for a time. There was only the flashing of blades, the roars and the crunching. The blood and the bile. The retching and strangling, biting and tearing. Numbers didn’t matter, it could have been but a single enemy left but they had come to kill the wolf and they paid for their wants. Ripped to pieces in the haze. It was a time before she came to her senses, the retreating backs of others and the shouts of surrender as they fled. Consciousness flickered once more and she tilted her gaze around the wreckage of both building and body. She spat out the blood and hairs, wiping her mouth as clean as she could with the back of her hand.

She turned, slipped upon the slick floor and hit the floor hard. She was weak now, so weak, but the job had been done. She had fulfilled her promise though there had been much pain in the keeping. It would have been a moment to cherish had memory not been brought rushing back and kindled the still frame, the sacrifice to keep the enemy at the rear occupied and put him down forever. She crawled, weaponless now, to the prone body of the Wolf. She made it to the side, looked down with fear. Trembling hand reached out to touch the chest as firmly as she dared to, to feel the beat, the rising and falling of the chest. She couldn’t find it! Panic, sorrow…relief. There it was.

Caught breath was released, though the sorrow remained. The body was so battered, sliced and torn asunder. Tears welled up as fingers brushed the side of the face, cupped the cheek. She was alive, there was hope but with the damage…she couldn’t bear it. She had given everything for her rescue, that reality was rammed home. She wasn’t sure that she deserved it but the wolf thought that she was and so she accepted that, bitterly hard as it was to do so. Leaning forwards, lips to the forehead.

“Fallon…thank you. I…”

Words weren’t enough to express the depth of what she felt then, upon her knees and head bowed over the woman. The love, the want. Her woman. Not to own but to have. The silently accepted accord of exchanged emotion. If there had been any flickering of uncertainty of what truly lay beneath the surface they were gone now. Burned away in the flares. Not only of the other but for herself too. She had never experienced such rage, such a yearning need. It shouldn’t have been like this. It should have been…but it wasn’t. The cards had been dealt to them and they had to play as best as they could with what had been given. She tapped the cheek, trying to revive and keep consciousness alive.

“Fallon…Fallon! Wolf! Please, stay awake! I don’t know what to do!” the harsh panic flickering once more and she dulled, confused.

Shoulders sagged and she fixed the task once more into her mind - save. She needed help, tending and caring. Healing. She sighed and pushed her arms underneath shoulders and knees. The groaning of the effort, the pain shaking her and sapping strength. Feet placed and muscles screamed but with enough effort she managed to sway upwards, steadying pace sideways to take the weight. She left the weapons, all but the kukri that was so cherished, they were unimportant and cheap. They could be bought again but nothing…nothing…would replace her.

The step towards the light, in more ways than one, and into the world that they sought to change together. A dream, one which she would keep alive at all costs.

[Fallon]

Somewhere above, hovering there on the distant consciousness of her mind did the cry of battle and pain answer her. Somewhere, beyond the muted hues of red and the voided nothingness, did Zandelia continue her rage. Somewhere, there was pain, but right now that was bathed behind the numbness of cold.

Lips twitched, the red mist floating somewhere above and marring her vision. A struggled breath, the armour restricting the flow of air. There was no strength to move, no power to bring herself to rise and pull herself up. She was spent, crippled and lying within her own strewn mess. Pushed too far and too hard, it was the price she had to pay. She knew that now. But still, Zandelia stood watch over her, guarding and protecting, ripping whatever came their way until there was no more. Her gaze rolled, a slow blink as she let her eyes shut.

Cold, numb, she could feel the shiver tracing its way down her spine. The hand quivered, a faint croak out as she heard only the silence remain. Above, the ceiling danced with colours, flickering stars of black and white. But it did not matter now, Zandelia was safe. Alive. She would heal, recover, get better in time. There was an inhale, a wheezing rise of the lungs as her mind slipped, twisting and falling deeper. Lids fluttered, colours blurring together as she took in the fearful gaze of the woman above her, the gentle patter of warm drops upon her face. Tears? Was she crying? Was she in pain?

There was a slow blink, a coughing gasp as she tried to focus herself. It burned. The hands touched, gentle, light, ghostly almost in what they should have felt like. Those familiar hands, that voice hovering upon the distance. There was another blink, slower this time and one that existed longer within the state of darkness. Those lips, that feeling, her chin tilted slightly as she savoured it through the pain. Gods she felt tired. Incredibly so. A tap of fingers, a luring encouragement as she once more was pulled forth from the inky consuming black.

Glassy gaze stared back, the panicked tones. How much she wanted to reach up, to grasp tightly upon the woman and pull her into the embrace. Chase away those fears, those nightmares that plagued her. Her throat croaked, her eyes blinking as she tried to pull herself free. Wounds complained, the slight crease of features as she tried to reach up to her. Her hand barely moved before the intensity of the pain settled in once more. Still, she had to try and say something, anything. Communicate and comfort in any way possible.

Eyes blinked, that pull, that weightlessness as she was taken from the broken ground and brought up. The limbs fell limp, her head lolling inwards and resting against the shoulder. Warmth, that was what she felt. The gentle heat of another body, the cocoon of safety as she was taken. Cradled, Fallon let herself exhale, a press of the forehead as she was carried away from the darkness and decay. Lips gave a mumble, her face growing wet - was she crying? She did not really know, she could hardly hold onto that state of mind any more.

The scene gave a blink, her lips breaking into that weak curl and the faint tingling of a memory brushing up against her. Darkness beckoned, to fall into slumber and to be no more. Below, the crunch of foot falls, the heavy strained breathing, the low hum of reassurance. Warmth, arms, safety, the faint lingering of promises within the darkness. No more, it was done now. The war of the Bear and Wolf was over. Her lids rested once more, that gentle rocking with every step sending her into a lull.

"Za, Za. Za... Za..."

[Zandelia]

The walking didn’t prove to be the hardest part of the movements, the carrying seemed easy in comparison to what she could see and hear. It set her teeth on edge, jaw clenching viciously and grinding enamel painfully until she was sure that whatever back teeth she had possessed before must have been shattered under the strain. It would have been apt, that part of her was broken just as Fallon had been. Not nearly as much but at least a portion, a small sliver of shared shattering. The name, of half a name depending upon the perspective. It flashed through her and conjured the memories from deep within that she couldn’t face, not then, perhaps never after the day’s events. She remembered the dark room, the biting of jaws on her defense and the tiny hands that probed. The gentle spirit that even through its own pain had only asked her to smile. She staggered under the emotional pressing and managed to slam her back into a wall painfully for support before she buckled.

“Oh gods, it was you!” she hissed, she shook her head in an attempt at denial but it all came flooding back, “the pendant, the eyes, even the spirit. What have I done? I promised, even back then…no…no. Must get somewhere, somewhere safe” she mumbled to herself, pushing herself upright once more with a swaying step and finding her balance again.

She concentrated on the steps, trying to ignore the tears and the head wedging into her shoulder, only the steps. Left, right, left, right. One after the other. Slow, steady and as strong as she could make them. It was the longest walk of her life and every step seemed to sap some form of strength from her until she wasn’t even sure she could give any more to the effort. Slowly she emerged from the warehouses and into the wider streets of the city. The looks the others gave her, the hushed words, she didn’t care. They could burn for their accusations. People gave her a wide berth but for once rumor proved to be as reliable as she claimed it to be. A figure coalesced from her reverie to her left, mouth moving but no sound coming out. The world swam and she stopped, dazed gaze taking them in.

“Jarral?” she asked softly, not quite believing.

“Web! What the petch happened?! Are you being followed?”

She shook her head dumbly, only then did she realize as she came out of the darkness of the past that her own cheek was soaked. She stared at him forlornly, looked down at Fallon again, back to Jarral.

“Help?” was all she could muster.

“How? How!” his hands gripped her shoulder and she hissed with the crackling of pain, finally brought fully to her senses.

“Doctor. Scarlet Sanctum. Matthew. To the Pig’s Foot. Warehouse back there. Weapons, black armor. Get them. Bring him. Watch the tavern” she sighed and she continued the long walk, stepping away from him and leaving him to the task.

He was capable enough, he knew people and could achieve the small things she had asked. Small! Hah! She hoped he could or Fallon would fade fast, she would lose it. That spark. She pressed onwards through the streets, feet taking her where she needed to go without thinking. They knew their way around the city even if she couldn’t presently fathom direction fully. The door, pushed open by someone she didn’t see. The silence, condemning and pitifully wretched silence as everyone within stopped what they were doing and stared, surprise. She couldn’t meet their gazes, simply stared at the floor. She heard the door shut behind her and truly hoped it didn’t sound like a death knell.

“Room…”

“Web I can’t let a war happen in he-” Merv began gently, coaxingly, he knew her proclivities to some degree.

“Room” she stated flatly as if she hadn’t heard him.

“Look I like you. Like Bitzer. I kept the things for her but this…this is too mu-”

“ROOM!” she shouted into the silence.

The fires crackled, the mercenaries edged backwards at the tone of feral desperation - they knew someone who would get themselves killed if it meant killing when they saw them. She held the body tightly, cradled it as protectively as she could and Merv stepped forwards. She shrunk away with a snarl at the expected attack, no one spoke to him the way she had and managed tog et away with it. She flinched at the shadow but the assault didn’t appear. Instead he showed her far more compassion than she deserved.

“One. Night. Until you tell me what happened. Then…we will see. Double price though mind, you hear? And you better not bring trouble or I’ll hand you over to whoever they are. Understand?” he told her curtly.

She nodded and with that she was helped with the burden, she had garnered some favors by helping others and for once they didn’t have to be called in. They helped without bargaining and Fallon was laid upon a bed and the door shut behind them. A fire had been kindled from somewhere, or had been there before. She couldn’t tell, she was lost within the tempest. She was sat in a chair next to the bed, arms dangling without strength and staring at the body, the blood, the rent clothing and armor.

Silence, but for the flames. And how they burned.