by Harlon Banks
She locked eyes with Jonath briefly, before looking to Delaren with a half-assed, one shoulder shrug.
"Sorry, but I'll pass. As much as I'd like to take you down like I did Snowflake I'd rather not show my entire arsenal here. Besides, I've had a sudden change of heart. Call it another sudden instinct." her words made all the boys look at her cautiously confused. The woman sheathing her knife and arching her back in a stretch as she lackadaisical expressed very little concern over the danger she was in now. Her cerulean hued eye opening back up to look upon all of them, its earlier transformation gone and back to its normal aesthetic.
"I guess destiny dictates you don't die today, not by me at least. I'm outnumbered and never was the type for direct confrontation, you got some fickle luck with you Jon." She shrugged glancing back at Jonath with a friendly smile that betrayed the intent to kill she had for him earlier. As if it all just faded away and it was like this never happened in the first place. "That means we can be friends a little while longer, pretty boy. I can't say I'm upset over that possibility, especially considering that irritating feeling I had earlier about your existence seemed to have subsided for the time being." She tapped her lip in thought while looking off to the side. Eventually dismissing any further concern over the situation and turning her back to them as she walked away.
"At any rate, enjoy the view of my backside while you can as I vanish and go get something to eat. Attempted murders make me hungry." She taunted with a flick of her layered, spiky black hair before her aura fluctuated for her departure. One last look over her shoulder, half hidden gaze looking at Jonath as a very slight smirk etched across her lips. Though her gut told her him being around was a bad idea, her curiosity got the better of her in that moment. Curiosity may have killed the cat, but that brief instant she sensed from Jonath right before he was saved piqued a new level of curiosity in her.
She'll wait and see, just for a bit longer... They might have more in common than she thought after all...
Jonath suddenly scrambled to his feet about to call out to her on what she said to him. Before he could say anything however Delaren's yelling cut him off as she vanished in another flare of red and black. She was gone without a trace...
"You fucking coward!" He barked lashing out at the ground, a small arc of orange flames searing the air before he sucked his teeth and ready to chase after her. Lee's arm blocking his path the only reason stopping him, amber meeting fuchsia eyes. "What the hell are you doing!?" He asked blatantly irritated.
"Don't bother, we chased her off and I doubt she'll come after Jonath again. Try not to draw any more attention to this or it'll be a real pain dealing with the drama that comes with it after." Lee's words were relaxed and analytical. Delaren's inherent anger he possessed when a chance for a fight came around subsiding. "We don't need everyone in our business, it'll swamp us with attention I'm quite frankly better off not having, let's just go back to our rooms and keep this little fiasco between us." Lee gestured with a head nod.
"Whatever, fine. You okay with that?" An audible snort, and the red-head looked back to Jonath whom was still looking off into space in silent thought. He had to talk to Melissa again, there was so much he needed clarification on. However first things first, turning back to Delaren and Lee, he spoke from the bottom of his heart.
"Yeah, I'm ok with it too. Thanks, you guys." His words were sincere and the look in his eyes firm and grateful. He was glad they weren't the type to get others involved unnecessarily, it kept Melissa from drawing attention too in the long run and opened up more easily accessible opportunities for him to approach her again. Yet, once again Jonath couldn't help but feel disgusted at his own weakness again; this was just like those other times...
The other times where his life was in the hands of someone else, and he was powerless to stop them. Having to be saved by a third-party yet again to survive.
Delaren and Lee looking at him and nodding without words, both turning to head back to their rooms and just forget all of this even happened for the most part. None of them really seemed the type to go snitching to the higher-ups about it, they all deemed it enough if handled by themselves. As the two walked away Jonath couldn't help but clench his fists in growing frustration over yet again being saved by someone else. It was really pissing him off now... First Liariana, then Blade, now Lee and Delaren. All of them having saved him from the brink of death; why was he so weak!?
He had enough, of all of this. The next time he was in trouble he swore he'd get out of it himself or accept his own death. Looking up at the full moon again with solemn pale eyes, the young amnesic turned away and followed after the others. This was already a stressful day, more so than he ever imagined possible. From this point, no doubt it would only get worse.
A crack of thunder booms in the distance, a thunderstorm growing ever closer as a wave of thick, puffy clouds made their way towards Luminous City... No doubt it would be upon everyone by tomorrow morning. For now though, Jonath had the rest of the day to try to relax. He made sure to try to enjoy it while thinking about his next move.
The Yelkath & Her Blade
The Challenger Chapter Thirty-Eight: The Yelkath & Her Blade
Later that night...
A flash of lightning illuminates the dark skies as a crack of thunder chases after it. The brewing storm above having finally settled over the heavens of Luminous City and the nearby landscape. Rain drops began to fall one by one, growing exponentially heavier as seconds passed before a torrential downpour overtook the once calm windy night air. The city inhabitants all rushing to get inside to dry warmth and comfort, the streets soon empty as shops closed down and everything was cleared away. The winds grew stronger, blowing rainwater away in waves of thick spray that fanned over brick, stone, and glass. Such a heavy storm having come from the ocean so quickly, a normal occurrence with the weather over this isolated continent.
Liariana lied on her back across the scratchy and dingy red sleeping bag Jack had given her some time ago. Her deep red eyes staring empty at the ceiling as she remained silent in the dark, decrepit hotel room. Her shoulder length black hair splayed all across monotone features, bloody bandages still wrapped over the bridge of her nose where Blade had left his mark during their bout. The billowing winds fluttering the broken glass of her window, threatening to tear down the tarp nailed over it and flood her room with sprays of cold rain. The halls of the building creaking and howling as winds blow through every crack and crevice it could find coupled by the distant, vague chattering of the rest of the vagrants that took refuge in this abandoned slum.
Blade had said he wouldn't attack Liariana again as long as she stayed within the city as per their bet. However she would be a fool to believe that promise carried over to his friend that she'd seen or any other mercenaries that Draven had hired to kill her before his gruesome death. No doubt another group could be coming to this slum afterwards to hunt her at some point in the future; she had to always think about the worse case scenario for her safety. She wanted to believe Blade, Tesla and Cronos were the only mercenaries hired by that insufferable Draven, but until she was for certain this was the case, she had to stay on edge. Nobody was her ally in this city, she couldn't trust anyone.
Should they do come either way, Liariana still remained behind her conviction to kill them over run. She'd have to do it sooner or later anyway. While she let her thoughts mull over the entire altercation that happened a few hours earlier she turned her soft glowing gaze to the broken blade hidden in its sheath by the wall off in the corner closest to her. Her solemn stare fixated on the weapon, recalling the amount of stress it undoubtedly took from her constant defense against Blade. Her bandaged up to their base fingers reaching up to tread along the wrappings over her nose and around her head; the sequence of her and Blade both inflicting wounds on each other in their last scrap replaying like a broken record in her mind.
Her lips twisted into a slight scowl, her eyes narrowing in irritation and disappointm
ent at her own shortcomings. She should have been able to kill him without so much as a scratch. She was a Yelkath, her namesake in itself relished in the strength of her clans natural ability to wield swords. However she never once believed the namesake was the reason behind her skill; she was strong off of her own desires and strength alone, she believed. Yet, she was unable to break through the defenses of Blade and even get injured by him as a result of their battle. Was she growing weaker? Did all of her time on the run dampen her lethality? How could some irrelevant mercenary be capable of injuring her? Blade admitted that her combat abilities were superior to his, yet she couldn't kill him...
Why? Why was she unable to defeat an opponent she clearly surpassed in raw martial skill in a close ranged fight? Despite all of these questions that rushed through her mind, Liariana already knew the answer; she just didn't want to believe it.
The answer being that Blade had to have been much better than her in other aspects to offset her superior martial prowess and perception. So much better in those regards that he was able to compete with and even overwhelm her with his own swordplay. His strength, durability, defense, and fighting style, all of it at a level on par with her own to the point he could easily contest with her agility, aggression and sword play even with her Veralen assisting her somewhat. It was infuriating to think about despite never having showed any emotion at face value through her expressions, body language or gaze. It reminded her so much of ...
Jonath having wounded her during their fight in the ruins flashed across her psyche, adding insult to injury. That vivid recollection causing her slight scowl to shift into a full-blown visage of irritation. To struggle against people she should be able to defeat in an instant was something that made her emotions stir inside. Jonath having even pushed her as far as to use her Black Flames... If she could have, if her life depended on it, would she have used her powers on Blade too? Was she really so inadequate that she needed the same strength she hated so much to compete with the natives here?
Another boom of thunder roars across the skies beyond her window, the rain beating against the building in heavy downpour as she drowned out her thoughts with the noise for a moment to calm herself. She shouldn't concern herself over such trivial things, they would do more harm than good. Nevertheless the simple thought that she wasn't able to defeat either Jonath or Blade tugged at the back of her mind like a persisting mongrel nipping at the heel of a fleeing prey animal. The possibility that she would have to use her powers at full extent to defeat Blade should she meet him beyond the city disgusted her.
"Never again." She whispered to her lonesome self under the echo of the pounding storm outside. Never again will she use those powers regardless of the situation; she would rather die. The weight of her disdain for those in her past and her namesake so heavy it now bordered on raw stupidity. She didn't care anymore however, she couldn't give them the satisfaction of being right.
Deciding she had enough of letting her thoughts wander to things she wanted to forget, Liariana sat up and reached for the small lantern nearby. A turn of the knob and the kerosene within ignited to life a small, dancing orange flame that dimly illuminated the barren, decrepit room. Her red eyes gazing over to the medical waste near her satchel beyond the lamp that she used to tend her wound; hands reaching behind her head to finally undo the bandages with a quiet huff. No doubt this was the first injury that would forever leave its mark; she would make sure that it would also be the last she'd ever get.
She couldn't regenerate like Blade or Jonath without her powers, so the only way to have taken care of this was obviously the more mundane way. A series of treatments with disinfectant and healing salve. The bloody black bandages tossed aside with the rest of the waste, the young Yelkath tracing a pale index finger over the fresh horizontal scar right across the bridge of her nose. The scar was rather clean despite the severity of the swing that caused it, the discoloration was rather vague, maybe a shade or two darker than the rest of her skin and ran from the inner edge of one eye to the next. Her eyes looking into the broken mirror shard she found on her way back up to her room after Blade left; fixated on the mark that now marred a once flawless face.
The knock on the door almost went unheard under the crack of another, much louder boom of thunder outside. Liariana's red hues glancing over to the door as Jack slid it open haphazardly and peeped in with his grimy visage. Onyx colored eyes meeting her own as he blinked a bit stunned for a second before whistling in surprise.
"Whoa, your face isn't perfect anymore!" He chuckled jokingly and as expected got nothing but an unamused, blank stare back from her. The man pushing the door open more to let himself in, assuming she was okay with it considering she never told him to go away. His tall lanky figure clad in the same tattered mess of cloths and fabrics as before as he stood a few feet away from her. "Jokes aside you actually don't look any less attractive than before if you don't mind me saying. The scar makes you look battle hardened now compared to earlier when you looked like a depressed foreign princess." He paused raising his hands defensively with a clear of his throat.
Liariana the entire time he talked looked at him with a glassy stare. His friendliness met with a stalwart barrier of distrust; she wouldn't let her guard down. He was just a stranger like the rest of them.
"Not trying to come on to you by the way haha. Please don't slit my throat with that sword of yours over there." He smiled genuine and friendly. The Yelkath glancing over her shoulder at the blade hidden away in its sheath before placing the mirror fragment down and looking solemnly off to the side. A few passing seconds of silence felt like forever in that brief period, Jack tilting his head at her with a raised brow. He was about to ask if she was okay, but what she said next stunned him entirely.
"I'm sorry, for bringing those mercenaries here and causing you trouble." Her words were soft yet profound, black hair masking away her eyes as she looked at the space between her extended legs. "If you came here to ask me to leave I will comply without any argument." Her words felt heavy and solemn. She couldn't blame him if he did want her gone. Regardless of her distrust, he didn't deserve to be a future casualty of her past. She viewed Jack in higher regard than those vermin that snitched on her for a bag of money for the simple fact he never betrayed her for coin. Wait...
Jack didn't betray her, he could be trusted, right?
Right?
Jack blinking again at her, his silence brief before he handwaved her apology and stepped a bit closer to squat down in front of her a foot or so away. His eyes friendly and relaxed as he cleared his throat and spoke in a laid back tone. Everything about his body language and attitude gave Liariana no impression he was anything like those hobos that tried to turn her in for money. She wanted to stay on edge, to not let him get too friendly, clear by the cold look in her eyes when he got closer yet...
"Nah! Don't worry about it. Ya dealt with your problems asap and chased em off far as I could tell and I'm not one to turn a blind eye to those in need. I mean look at me." He gestured half-assed to himself with a snort. "I'm a middle-aged deadbeat who's been down on his luck since birth. The struggle is all I know. I'd be a fool and a bastard for telling you to get your shit and hit the road." He sighed scratching his terribly unkempt black beard. "My morals transcend any need for money if I do say so myself. No way in hell I'd take your money then take those mercenaries money too and throw you under the bus. I'd never be able to sleep with that on my conscience."
Liariana suddenly looked at him with taken aback features, the gaze in her eyes was much softer than before as well and she was left without words. Her mind reluctant to believe him, telling her to keep her distance and stay alert yet the words that came out of his mouth and the solid tone they were spoken with...
"You don't strike me as a girl who does bad things for the hell of it nor do you strike me as someone who enjoys killing like those mercenaries prolly do. I can tell though, that you got some emotional baggage behind those empty eyes of yours
, doesn't take a genius to see it." Jack briefly paused again to look at the tarp over the window when it began to shiver harder from the winds. He planned to fix it if it suddenly came off for the girl. His gaze soon turning back to her as he nodded thrice with a warm smile. Vagrant hospitality was something Liariana never would have imagined could be this... warm.
He could be trusted, right? He was sincere...
Right?
"I may not be anybody worth a grain of salt but if you ever want to talk about whatever is bugging ya I'm always down to have a chat. My mom before she passed away used to always have a saying she told me as she struggled to raise me. Never judge someone until you know their story; I live by that code to this day." Jack stood up and backed away a bit dusting his hands off and cringing at the smell he emitted. "Bah I need to go get me a good shower; ain't had one in years. I don't smell too bad do I? Came here to check on you without realizing I prolly smell like a dead animal. Don't want your nose falling off." He chuckled lightly. His shadow dancing across the dirty cream-colored walls with the flickering flame of the lantern.
