[Flashback] Mishaps, Maladies & Milady (Milya)

[Larcen]

510 AV 77th of Winter Snow cascaded down from the skies in copious amounts, flooding downwards giddily like drunks in search of an open tavern to join their fellows down in a vast blanket of white that wreathed the land in winter's grip. The dinghy warehouse was one of the few buildings set apart from the imposing structure of Stormhold Castle. Built in a desolate location within the city's outskirts, the warehouse saw little to no traffic from most Sylirans. A forlorn-looking rooster perched upon the very edge of the roof was balanced diagonally upon a directional axis, the bird looking rather sad as it swayed in the light spring breeze, creaking pathetically. Waiting directly below the rusty old weather-vane, were several men dressed in dark outfits, all hooded or cowled. Their faces were grim and heavyset, and all of them were armed to the teeth. Their attire suggested they were not from Syliras, but rather, hailed from somewhere further northeast - like Sunberth. They appeared to be waiting for somebody. Seconds passed. Then minutes. As the first hour ticked by, the men started growing impatient, and begun fidgeting. "He's late," one of the thuggish hirelings snarled. Several others chorused in agreement unhappily. "I don't like being here," another one of them muttered. "Too exposed. Too well-patrolled. The damned knights might swoop down on us any minute." "Swooping is bad," somebody offered. "Quiet," hissed a tall, perfectly bald man who appeared to be the leader; his egg-shaped head gleamed in the moonlight in an oddly sinister way. "I see him. Our man. He's here." Everybody stiffened as they watched something shift in the shadows before them. One of the darkly-clad group was holding a torch, which was the only source of light in the otherwise pitch black environment. In the distance, the contrasting, brightly-lit streets of Stormhold Castle resembled a faraway gargantuan pile of glowing embers. Ring-a-ling. The sound of the bell alerted the torch-bearing thug, and he held the flaming stick forward to shine some light upon the shadows, making some of the others step aside. The flickering light washed outwards, and illuminated the feline figure of a handsome-looking tabby cat with a bell worn around his neck, who paused before the sudden light and hissed in surprise, then took a step away. "Just a cat," the torch-bearer said dismissively. Ring-a-ling. This time, the ringing sound came from the far right of where the cat's position was. Some of the thugs looked nonplussed. The bald leader scowled, then turned on his men and demanded, "Which fat noblewoman let out all her pets tonight?" Ring-a-ling. "Oh for the love of-!" The leader of the thugs swore in an exasperated voice. "Damn it, somebody grab that cat and-" Twang! Zzzz-ssschkt! What the bald man was going to do to the cat after somebody had grabbed it was to be a mystery, for his words ended abruptly in a strangled gurgle. He took a step back, grasping at his neck, causing several concerned thugs to step forward. One of them hurriedly caught their leader as he fell backwards; he then dropped the body with a yelp when he realized a now-bloodstained dart had sliced clean through the bald man's neck and punctured the jugular in one swift shot from the shadows. The bald corpse fell to the ground with a heavy thud and was promptly hit by a string of convulsions. "What the blazes happened?" One of the thugs asked no-one in particular before a rattling from the roof dislodged several tiles, one of which landed precariously close to the speaking thug, making him yelp in surprise. A moment later, the sound of a cloak flapping in the wind could be heard, and the thug was promptly slammed into the ground with crushing impetus as a black-clad, hooded figure, landed right on top of him, and drove a two-pronged blade around the back of the terrified thug's neck at the same time. The hooded man tilted his head sideways, looking inquisitively at the bunch of thugs gathered around their pinned comrade and shying away from their leader's corpse. A bell hung from his waist, giving a final whiny ring. There were three of them, excluding the one pinned on the ground. A jumpy thug promptly drew his dagger, and, in a hysterical voice, screamed, "Who are you?!" Wrong move, Larcen thought as he twisted the sword-catcher held at the pinned thug's neck. With a swift jerking motion to the right, followed by a downwards snap in quick succession, a sickening craa-aaack sound announced the downed thug's neck had been snapped. Rising from the now-lifeless body on the ground, Larcen pulled his sword-catcher free of the rather meaty neck, and held it outwards in his right hand. With his left hand, he gestured to the three remaining thugs quietly. Tauntingly. Come on. With an anguished cry, the thug who had demanded his identity and received no response save for his friend's snapped neck lurched forward. He stabbed wildly with his dagger. The blade of a dagger was too short to catch efficiently in a sword-catcher. Larcen hurriedly stepped backwards, allowing the wild dagger thrust to miss by a wide arc, then took a huge step forward and slammed the sword-catcher's two prongs into the thug's gut, driving all the air out of him. He took a step back, then with his free left hand he grabbed onto a throwing dagger worn at his belt, pulled it free with an unorthodox reverse grip, then turned away from the thug and slammed the blade backwards into one of the flailing man's eyeballs, resulting in a disgusting explosion of fleshy jelly, blood, and indiscernible veiny bits doctors had yet to come up with a name for. Even as Larcen struggled to pull the bloodied dagger out of the mauled eye-socket, the other two thugs charged, screaming battle-cries. Unable to avoid in time, Larcen grimaced in pain as one of them, wielding a mace, swung downwards and crushed Larcen's left hand, driving a sharp lance of pain into his body, making him feel like all the bones in his left arm had just shattered. His now-useless left arm dropped to his side limply, and Larcen barely dodged the next blow, a wild sword swing from the next thuggish attacker. Bringing his sword-catcher up, Larcen caught the blade as it next struck, then gave it a savage twist. If at full strength, Larcen would have snapped the blade clean in half, but with his left arm mauled, he could only muster so much power. The sword-catcher still did it's job, however, and wrenched the sword clean out of the thug's hands, leaving him disarmed. Larcen quickly dived forward and struck the two-pronged weapon around the thug's neck, then twisted sideways. Another craa-aack, and this thug, too, fell lifeless to the floor. The last thug took advantage of this distraction to swing his mace at Larcen, who was unable to turn around to dodge in time. At that moment, the cat shot forward, yowling, and landed on the thug's face, scratching furiously, making the man cry out in anguished pain as the sharp kitty claws dug into his tender skin. Larcen twirled the sword-catcher around, to hold it in a reverse-grip, then slammed the pronged end into the final thug's jaw, sending a jolting nerve-crippling blow into the thug's brain. The man's eyes crossed, and he fell to the ground heavily just as the cat leaped off his face. "Thank you, Mister Fluffy!" Larcen obliged his cat, who mewled in response. As Larcen sheathed the sword-catcher and worked on pulling the dagger from the maimed eye-socket of one of the thugs he felled, a rustling sound in the shadows caught his attention. He sighed heavily, extricated the dagger after a prolonged struggle, then wiped it on a corpse's shirt and tucked it back into his belt. Standing up again, the black-clad killer turned to face dozens of thugs closing in around him, several of them armed with crossbows. One of the crossbowmen clicked his tongue. "Larcen." "Unimportant, unnamed individual whose about to die." The crossbowman furrowed his brows. "We're not playing games, Larcen." "What a coincidence. Neither am I." "You fabricated this whole thing. There was no informant on our side. There's no secret passage to Syliras. You made the thing up to lure us here." "Took you awhile to figure that out." "Cost us five thralls, but we've caught you at last, haven't we? You like working in Syliras now, do you? Like betraying your old brothers?" "You were never my brothers. Just whelps I had to disown." Larcen stared down the crossbowman who was talking. Scorn emanated from every pore in his body. "You people betrayed me before I betrayed you. Remember?" "She was just a whore, Larcen. It's still not too late. Come back. You've got good info on your side now. You're more valuable than ever to us. The boss will give you anything you want." The black-clad man's eyes flashed dangerously. His cat skipped back into the darkness. "She was not a whore." The tone of his voice was grave enough that several of the crossbowmen stepped back. "Run now, and you'll yet keep your lives." The speaker frowned. "You're a fool and a liar, Larcen. You think you can outmatch us all?" "At the cost of my own life, yes." He reached into his cloak swiftly and pulled out a bottled vial, which he held out with his right hand while trying to ignore the throbbing, increasing pain in his left arm. "This is one of the most deadliest neurotoxins known in all Mizahar. If I drop this, it will release a deadly gas that covers this entire area in less than two seconds. You don't even need to inhale it. It'll sneak into your pores and drive you insane. You'll prick your own eyeballs out and then bathe in your own excrement before even dying of the venom." Several of the thugs were now noticeably scared. "You have ten seconds before I drop this vial and kill us all." "He won't do it." The man speaking for the thugs didn't sound so confident now. "He's a coward and a turncoat. He wouldn't commit suicide like this." "Ten." "He won't do it!" The speaker roared. Several of the thugs were backing away. "Nine." "Stay, damn it," said the speaker, now worriedly. Many of the crossbowmen were sweating. Their aim was wavering. "Stay! He's bluffing!" "Eight." Many of the thugs promptly took off, screaming at the top of their lungs. Several of their fellows, seeing them flee, ran after them, scared witless. Many of the crossbowmen, ostensibly the most dedicated of the thugs here, were also considering running. "Seven," Larcen continued relentlessly, seemingly unaffected by the fleeing thugs. "FIRE!" The speaker roared. At this command, most of the remaining thugs ran for their lives, along with some of the crossbowmen. Still, the remaining crossbowmen took aim and fired. Bastard! Larcen thought to himself as the crossbow bolts soared towards him. He was so sure they were going to avoid firing entirely. Damn it. The first quarrel slammed into his left thigh, forcing him to kneel. The second rammed into his waist, making him gasp in pain. As he turned and started to flee, a third, then a fourth quarrel, rammed into his back in quick succession, throwing him onto the ground. The triumphant roar of the thugs' commander was the only thing Larcen could hear, barely, dimly. Painfully, Larcen gripped hold of the vial he held - it wasn't a real poison gas, but it was still deadly, for it was bottled acid. Hurling it outwards, Larcen made sure his throw sent the vial soaring towards the thugs' leader, slamming into his face and exploding with the impact. Screams rent the air as the acid devoured the thug leader's face, while Larcen made use of the distraction and limp into the night, amidst the chaos that followed. On his way out, he hung the bell he wore at his waist on a nearby protrusion from the old warehouse, and vanished into the night, back towards the center of the city of Syliras, where he would bunker down and work to remove the bolts and mend his body. Ring-a-ling, the forlorn bell rung, as if calling out for it's master, who was abandoning it to the night. Ring-a-ling-a-ling.

[Milya]

Milya is out at night because that was the time there were less people. She still hadn't been able to cope with being alone, three years and she still couldn't let it go. But who exactly could expect her too? Or help her. She had been pretty much completely anti-social for three years. She turned 14 this winter and she still hadn't gotten out yet. There were those rare occasions that she got out and talked with some people, but not usually. Tonight she just wanted to walk, she was armed of course. It was dangerous anywhere at night, so she had brought her brothers dagger or it could now be considered her dagger, but she liked to say it was her brothers. This way she could still have a part of her brother, always.

She had managed to get out to her and her brother's favorite spot and she relished in it. She breathed in the fresh clean air and walked around. Memories flashed through her eyes, she had been getting better at coping with the happy ones. It was the sad ones that made her hurt. She knew she should get going, she needed to be in bed so tomorrow she could get some tasks done in the day. She disliked going out in the day, it was annoying to her. All those people and places. She use to love going out and going places, but that was when everybody she loved in her life was alive.

She started walking back inside, but something had caught her attention. A cat. She walked over to it and smiled, it might be nice to have a pet, then she realized it was probably somebodies. She was just about to leave it when it meowed, it tugged on her pants and pulled her to behind a tree. There was a man passed out slightly hidden by the shadows, tree, and plants. She knew it was best to keep walking, probably a drunk man passed out. But being so kind and those years of her parents lecturing her to be a good person made her go over to him. She looked over him and saw blood, that wasn't a good sign. She quietly shoved him to see if he responded and then grumbled at him to get up. She was not going to drag this person all the way to her room, she was tired as heck already.

She let out a sigh as she knew he was injured, she carefully dragged him out into some light from the wall and didn't wait for a reply or to see if he was awake. She quietly pulled out the arrows that were in his body, she usually wouldn't of done this so care-freely but she needed to do this for his sake. She took out her dagger and cut his shirt off, she wasn't too educated on this kind of stuff but her mom had taught her that she needed to apply pressure. She cut it into strips and tied it tightly around his wounds. Then she remembered the cat, she assumed it was his cat. It seemed to be looking at her intently like she should be caring for her master very carefully.

[Larcen]

It had taken him what seemed like an eternity to stagger his way towards the city. At the gates, he wore his cloak loosely and shuffled past the guards while acting like some sort of beggar, to avoid attention to his wounds. Once through, his cat guided him through the arcing streets and alleyways of Syliras. He needed to get home. Quickly. He didn't want to remove the bolts, since he had no real way of bandaging his wounds after the gaping holes were torn open and blood started pouring out. But it seemed like one of the quarrels had been poisoned, for his vision was beginning to blur and his head started pounding as nausea set into his body. He inhaled deeply and tried to exhale slowly, resisting the urge to vomit. The mask he wore aided him somewhat in channeling his breathing. The black hood and cloak drew suspicion from the vigilant knight-patrols that roamed the streets diligently, so he had to move into the alleyways, away from the brightly-lit streets of the night, and delved into the darkness. The only sound in the alleyway was the squirreling of rats, chattering noisily, upsetting rubbish and stray metal bits lying on the ground as they moved. The only movement came from the odd exposed rat, and the many insects darting about here and there. Safe, then. As he took the first few steps forward, to the other end of the alleyway, to an exit, a sudden wave of pain took him. His left arm pounded madly, and searing pain seemed to threaten to tear his head apart. He let out an exasperated grunt, and fell to one knee. Blood spurted forth from his shot-through thigh. "Damn it," Larcen hissed. His cat mewled in concern as he swayed on the spot, trying to get to his feet. "I'm not so good, Mister Fluffy," the black-clad agent mused, gritting his teeth in pain. "Not. So. Good." His eyes crossed then, and the pain became too much to bear. Sliding, skidding on the trash-strewn ground, he collapsed against the grimy wall of the alleyway, and remained still. The only indication that he was alive was the haggard breathing, very slightly puffing his chest up. The yowling of Mister Fluffy filled the night, breaking the fragile silence of the gloom and scaring the rats away. It was then the girl appeared. Why she saw fit to suddenly help, Larcen didn't know. He was a stranger to her, was he not? Still, in his barely-conscious state, he couldn't help wondering what she was doing. At first, he thought she was robbing him blind, in which case he frowned mentally at Mister Fluffy's resilience. Then, he realized she was helping him. Why? Soft grunts of pain emitted forth from his pursed lips as he lay there while she plucked out the projectiles stuck in his body one by one. Rrriii-iiip. There went his shirt. He rather liked that shirt. He watched as she bound his wounds. Having no real knowledge of healing, he knew little of bandaging and was slightly amused that his shirt could be used for such a thing. As she worked, Mister Fluffy watched her carefully, at times nudging her arm with his nose, at times mewling when Larcen grunted in pain, and at times going to the girl's side and rubbing against her leg gratefully. When his wounds had been bound, Larcen took a deep, rattling breath, and opened his unnerving green eyes for the first time, probably startling her in the process. The poison still coursed through his veins, but it didn't seem to be having as much of an effect as when it first activated. He needed an antidote, perhaps. But no, it had been smeared on a bolt, so the potency was probably down. It should wear off in time. Might take awhile, but still, that was a comforting thought. Looking tiredly up at the girl who had aided him, Larcen mustered his strength and managed to speak in a dry, tired voice, his mask muffling his words somewhat. "It'll be gone in about four hours," he croaked, ostensibly talking about the poison's effects. "Maybe five. Thanks for stopping the bleeding."

[Milya]

Milya was surprised when he spoke, she didn't make much sense of the first part, but the second part she nodded and said "your welcome." Should she leave him? She wasn't sure. She guessed if she took him to her house he wouldn't kill her or steal from her considering that she helped him. She looked at him and sighed, she couldn't just leave him here. "Um, can you walk?" She shifted awkwardly on her feet and stared at him. She gave him a weak smile and carried on, "You could come to my room if you'd like, it's small but I'm sure you could stay."

She found it weird that she was doing this, and inviting a man to her room. It sounded wrong when she phrased it like that, she was just helping him. So he didn't end up like her brother... or parents.. she thought bitterly. She went into memory land again, it was of her parents telling her about her brothers death, then it flashed to the time she found her parents dead in her old home.

She narrowed her eyes as she remembered every detail of each event, but then something else flashed through her mind. It was all those times her family had stopped to help others, which was what she was doing now. Something told her that this was good, that she was doing the right thing and not to fret. She still had her family in her heart which was good. She drifted out of her la-la land and stared at him, unsure if had spoken yet. That happened at times, she couldn't focus and didn't listen. She should probably work on that considering it would really make some people mad if they kept having to repeat themselves.

[Larcen]

Amusement crossed the black-clad man's features after she poised her invitation. Or at least, the features that showed through the heavy cloak, cowl, and mask. "I can try," Larcen offered, placing one hand on the side of a wall, then heaving himself upwards, before staggering slightly, attempting to regain his balance while his body battled the poisons raging in his bloodstream. He took one unsteady step forward, and nausea swept through his very essence, making him almost retch, if not for the mask. "... I can," he grunted after a moment's pause. "I can walk. If with some difficulty." He flashed her a weak smile that furrowed the mask it hid behind. "Inviting a strange man to your house? That sounds dangerous. Won't your parents object?" He took another step forward, more steadily this time. Mister Fluffy mewled, in concern, perhaps. Larcen shrugged at his cat in a manner that suggested the wound wasn't threatening enough to warrant feline concern. Mister Fluffy waved his tail from side to side haughtily in response. He wasn't that concerned. Larcen chuckled a little, then turned his attention back to Milya, who appeared to be lost deep in her own thoughts. Would it be safe to take her up on her invitation? He'd lost a lot of blood, and getting somewhere close to here, with the aid of a helper, would be wise. Still, his pursuers. They might not have dared come into Syliras, but they might have eyes in the city already. They might spot her. Would he endanger her, if he took her helping hand? A pang of pain, unrelated to his wounds, seemed to slash into his heart. He'd already hurt one girl before, hadn't he? Larcen's lower lip trembled a little, before he stifled her. The girl likely would not see a thing that occurred behind that mask, which was why masks were so useful. A mental war waged in Larcen's head all of a sudden as he quarreled silently with his subconscious. You'll harm her. Will I? She'll be hurt, in the end. And it'll all be your fault. And I won't hurt her by turning her down? What will you do if she dies? I'll prevent that. You're no god. I'm determined. She's only helping because she has good morals. A good upbringing. Honest parents. A family. Something you'll never have. Does she? She seems lonely. She's on the bright side of the spectrum of life. You're in the dark. You can never blend. Never mix. Never be together. Won't get that far. I'll just be in her debt for awhile. That's what you think. But you'll stick to her. Like a leech. The shadows always flock to the bright lights. In the end, they blot out the light. You'll be the end of her. No. No? I won't. ... Larcen closed his eyes as he had his little personal struggle. When he next opened them, he nodded weakly at Milya and tried to smile. But she'd never see the smile he attempted behind that mask. "A nearby place to stay for the night would be nice. Thank you."

[Milya]

Milya winced as he tried to get up, she probably should have helped him. But she smiled a bit as he stood up, she grabbed his arm and put it around her, trying to take some of the weight. She wasn't use to this, she had only seen people around do this stuff, never been taught. She felt silly and awkward right now, and was barely listening. But she caught enough words to know he talked about her parents, of course he didn't know. Who would suspect that a girl her age is living alone and her family dead? She bit her lip and faced the truth, she wasn't going to lie. "M-My parents and.. brother are dead..." She said it barely a whisper, yet she knew he could hear it. It brought her pain to say it, but she was happy she did.

It hadn't crossed her mind until now, why was he wounded by arrows? Why was he wounded at all? Was he actually an enemy of Syliras and she had just helped him? She frowned at the thought, if he was why was he here? Wouldn't the knights have gotten him by now? Also he was running towards the city so it didn't make much sense. She frowned, not even realizing that he himself was lost in thought. She snapped out of it when he said something, something that ended in thank you. She murmured, "Your welcome, it's no problem" not really knowing what she had said.

She looked at the ground and kept walking, heading to her room. She knew the pathway by heart when looking at the ground because that's how she usually walked. She didn't like looking at all the people that passed who was probably ridicule her for what happened or who she was. She let out a sigh and looked at the cat. She should get a pet... they would be nice company. They could be there for her, it could be the beginning of a nice friendship. She found it amusing that she thought of that, she had always wanted a pet when she was younger. But since her family had died she hadn't thought about those things she wanted from life, like how she wanted to go on an adventure so badly. She wanted to explore all of the world and see everywhere. It would be nice if her dream could come true...

[Larcen]

Larcen blinked at the sudden revelation. It took him a few minutes to settle the surge of emotions - guilt being the foremost of them - that came forth when she told him what she did. He'd been rather insensitive, it seemed. Still. He wondered why he felt those emotions for her. He thought he'd been honed through his life experiences to be emotionless. These kind of stories shouldn't be affecting him anymore. He supposed it was mainly the fact that someone so young, so innocent, and in a place as safe as Syliras, was subject to it. Most of the time he'd hear these tales in Sunberth, or Ravok. So even the 'Fortress-City of Peace' wasn't immune to suffering, huh? "I'm very sorry to hear that." Larcen said sincerely after a moment's pause. She had been forced to say a painful thing, but it seemed as though the clarification had consoled her a little, for all the painful memories it recalled. How strange. He appreciated the help she gave in supporting him, feeling someone foolish for having to rely on a mere lass's petite physical strength to drag him to safety. How old had he gotten? How weak? The indignity of it was amusing. He glanced casually up at the snow-stained skies. "It's cold tonight." Larcen remarked, more to himself than to her, then glanced at her dispassionately as she glanced at Mister Fluffy. The handsome tabby cat meowed proudly, his tail flicking upwards, as if showing off while the girl observed him. Larcen grinned a little. Always so proud. The damned feline. As she guided him towards her room, Larcen limped along, trying to keep pace. After several silent minutes sailed past, he decided to break the stalemate of conversation. "I'm Larcen. Your name is?" He knew it was dangerous to get close to her. More dangerous to her than to him. Or the other way around? Still. If she was making the effort to help him, the least he could do was learn her name. He regretted being unable to tell her his real name, though. But he never used it anyway. Sometimes, he even feared he'd forgotten it. Moments after he asked for her name, he added softly, "Must be tough living alone."

[Milya]

Milya wasn't really listening again, her zoning in and out had been really bad lately. She had been writing the other day and then had been thinking about birds and the ocean. She didn't really understand her head right now, it kept leading her to weird thoughts. It was hard for her to focus too. She hoped that it would stop soon so she wouldn't feel like she was crazy. Apparently she had heard him, just hadn't realized it because in the next moment she said, "My name is Milya, and yes it is tough to live alone. You can call me Mily if you want, that's what my brother did." The words just spilled out of her mouth, she didn't even think about it. She bit her lip as she thought about it, what had she just said? Mily was one of her brothers favorite nicknames for her, but she just told a stranger to call her that. She sighed, she must be feeling lonely again. This had once happened when she was 12 and met a boy, they had been friends until he had to move again.

When they finally arrived at her room she opened the door, and frowned. Where was he going to sleep? She only had one bed. She sighed and stared at her tiny bed. "You can sleep in my bed, I'll sleep on the floor." she said with a frown, she grabbed a blanket from her bed and a pillow and started making a small place to sleep on the floor. She yawned and grabbed a pen and paper from her desk, starting to write about her day to her brother. Sure he was dead, but she still kept him alive.

She sighed and looked at her visitor. "Do you have a family?" she said it trying to make conversation. She was bored and lonely most days, and now she finally had somebody to talk too. Then she moved onto another question remembering her questions form earlier, "Why were you hurt? Why were you passed out back there? Who are you exactly?" She was always a curious girl, but she hadn't had many people to be curious to or about lately. She then added, "I'm sorry about the bombard of questions, I am just really curious."

[Larcen]

Larcen limped along as they neared her room, and upon entry, he blinked in bemusement as she made the sudden decision to let him take the bed. "No, no," he said airily, with a light chuckle. "I still have some measure of a man's responsibilities in this black, black soul. Please, take the bed. I shall make myself comfortable on the floor - don't worry, I'll be fine. Worst I could do is drown myself in my own blood-poisoned vomit and give you a big mess to clean up after." The black-clad figure settled into a corner of the room, leaning against the wall; his cat prowled after him, then leaped onto his lap and settled there while he tried to regulate his breathing in coordination with stroking his cat's furry head gently. This girl seemed strange to him. To help a stranger, to give up her bed, to let him into her room, all without questioning his injuries, nor his rather suspicious dress. Such helpfulness was nigh on alien to the seasoned agent of espionage. Larcen observed her as she strode over to her writing desk, and watched as she begun jotting down what appeared to be a daily diary record. A nice habit. Most attributed to young noble-lasses who chatted incessantly about that charming prince they wanted to bag. Guess the commonplace have their bourgeois moments as well. He smiled a little at that thought. The most he had ever come close to luxury was ... well. The painful memories bit away at him while he put them aside again, then listened intently as she fired a string of questions at him. Slight amusement touched his eerie green orbs. He decided to answer all her queries in order - it was the least he could do. Be semi-honest while she offered him this hospitality. It could be a trap for all he knew, but if she wanted to do him in, her opportunity had popped up but seconds ago. "My family is dead," he said pointedly. "And my loved ones too." He smiled wistfully, the emotion again hidden behind the mask perpetually crossed over his features. "I was hurt because ... well. Let's just say my past caught up with me. I was out there because that was the furthest I got before the poison took it's effect - those quarrels you pulled out are poisoned, by the way. And me? I'm..." A lengthy pause. "I'm just an indecisive man. Don't worry about the questions, it's the least I can do in return for your hospitality." He glanced about the room, taking it all in for the first time. "Nice place." There was no sarcasm there. Just an earnest opinion from someone who had never seen familial warmth in his life. Well. He had glimpsed it. Then it had been taken away.

[Milya]

Milya paused a second before moving from the floor to her bed. "Are you sure?" She asked nervously, she still wasn't use to talking to people exactly. She passed him a pillow and blanket and stared as he answered her questions. She frowned as he said his family was dead and loved ones. She pondered that, only taking in slightly what he was saying after that. She probably should listen more considering he was being kind answering her questions, but she didn't think about it at the moment. She looked at him and yawned. "That sucks, I didn't have anybody but my family to lose. I hadn't really begun to meet people my own age yet, then I didn't feel like it anymore." She paused and then continued, "I did meet one boy when I was twelve, but he moved away after a season." She wasn't exactly sure why she was sharing this, she guessed mostly because she was lonely and didn't get to talk much. She smirked as he said this was a nice place, it was home to her but she was here all by herself. She hadn't really thought of it being nice before, it was just somewhere she was all the time.

Milya yawned again as she played with a pencil in her hands. She was super tired, it was late for her. She usually stayed up a bit but tonight she had stayed up way past her regular time of sleep. She rubbed her eyes and forced them open, then stared at wall. Staring at walls interested her because she could get a nice line of thought going while staring at one. She guessed it was because she wasn't focusing on anything moving.