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A shrieking cry erupted in the dead of the night.
If they were any closer to any civilizations, someone would be on high alert now, maybe even risking stepping out of the comfort of their bases to check on the noise.
But they were clever enough to avoid any suspicion, any interruptions. Now, between him and the target stood only a small distance closing ever so slightly with each passing moment.
Frankly, Ewron wouldn't be risking much by saying it was the most alive he felt in a long time.
The target, now hit by an arrow, lumped with each step, still continuing their attempt at escape, halting only momentarily to take the source of their pain out of their leg.
Scarlet trailed down their body as they ran, small stains marking the forest grass. If he focused his sight hard enough, Ewron could easily make out the spots, blood visible against the soft green even when lit only by the faint silver glow above.
Ash did a good job.
Noting to himself to mention it to his companion later at night, he surged forward, gripping his sword tighter.
The final strike would belong to him.
— What's the fun with killing them in one precise blow? — the boats rocked along with the water, an unpleasant, soft creaking of wood making his ear twitch.
— Sometimes precision is the most… entertaining a murder can get — Ash looks at him from his boat, up from the book he carefully scribbled their ideas in. — Make your enemy believe they have any say in their situation, and then lead them into a trap, all according to plan — and it's the smile he gives, the oh so ever hungry smile of a winner that has Ewron straightening from where he's practically laying down on his boat.
— It sounds delightful, truly, but we could spice it up, you know? — his boat rocks dangerously to the side as he sits closer to Ash, the man shooting him an interested look. — How about… a competition? — lowering his voice, Ewron watches as Ash entertains his idea, sly smile creeping onto his face.
He knew the other would not turn such a proposal down.
— Whoever kills them first wins, it's as simple as that — he adds.
— But are you really up for such a challenge, my blade? — a playful glint appearing in Ash's eyes. — Last time I saw you fight you couldn't kill mobs in one shot.
Ewron huffs annoyed.
— And I was the first one to kill a wither here, but nooo, why mention that — crossing arms on his chest, he leans back onto his boat, back hitting it with a blunt “thud” the boat yet again set in motion.
Ash puts a hand on the side of it, as to stabilize it even a tiny bit.
— I'm sure if I wasn't busy with so many insolent pests a wither would be long dead, slain by my blade.
— Well, I did slain it, so it checks out — eyes setting onto the other's hand, he smirks.
Something in him twitches at the sight, and Ewron finds himself wishing he could take Ash’s hand into his, feel the warmth of his body against his own. The thought is loud, roaring through Ewron's head, almost like it's begging to happen.
He sucks in a breath. The sheer need of complying to whatever fantasy his mind created spikes fear in his heart.
Because how can he, one day, betray this man when he's so eager for any sort of closeness between them?
On the boat next to him, Ash gives him an unamused look.
— Fine, we can have a competition.
And so, they find themselves deep in a faraway forest, save from prying eyes who constantly seek betrayal.
Ewron could afford a bad reputation, his current one being rather shaky anyway. But how many threats would hang above the Regime if anyone was to see their doings? No, they could not afford an audience yet.
But that was what made this thing so, oh so, interesting. Excluding some mobs, it was only them - two hunters and their soon-to-be-dead prey. An injured bird among hungry wolves.
Hunger. It was what pulled him into the idea of killing the server, what motivated him to hunt, to stay with Ash even with his many doubts. To feast on the dead, knowing they had fallen to his sword, his doings.
But he hungers not just for blood, he’s a far more exceptional hunter than that, an assassin born to take joy out of his acts. Ewron lusts and he lusts for the adrenaline, for the cries of the prey, for the moment he claims another life. It was always about fun. Always about lust.
The target jumped to their left, uncoordinated as always since the beginning of their game. Ewron only scoffed, shifting his grip on the sword. Somewhere down that direction awaited Ash. And he would not give the man the satisfaction of the last blow.
So, he continued the chase, footsteps quiet on the grass, avoiding the branches that cracked under their target's feet.
He was close. Close enough that all he needed to do was take one good swing, one fast cut.
Raising his sword just in time for when the target turned around, stainless silver glistening in their hand. They lunged forward, too suddenly for Ewron to adjust his stance.
He let out a hiss when a surprisingly warm dagger cut the skin of his arm, a burning itch rising. Ewron did not falter, even as his blade shook a little from the sudden pain, and so the target laid on the soil ground, head hitting a nearby tree as the body fell down, the blade cutting through the neck, patches of scarlet glistening against his outfit, slowly dripping down the sword's edge.
Somewhere above, the moon shined bright.
— You prove yourself to be an exceptional blade — a voice rings behind him, but he's all too focused on the dead in front.
Blood pools under them fast, red staining the green.
— Ash — for some reason, he can't bring himself to say anything more, heart racing with excitement, as Ewron hides his sword into the scabbard, still messy with blood. He never minded the stains anyway.
— You won — the man comes to his side, staring directly at the cut.
— I can't help but feel like you went easy on me. — Ewron raises a brow, shaking his ear. — But you were amazing too.
— You won — repeats Ash, slower this time. — Isn't that what you wanted?
— Yeah… — he can't help but smile, the expression forming on his face slowly. — Is it a bad thing I enjoy… this — with his hand, Ewron gestures to the body. — I like it when we go to kill someone.
He'd be ashamed admitting that to anyone else. Yet Ash made it so easy, to open up that dark part he kept hidden, to feel true joy at the sight of blood on his hands. Ash made it easy for him to be the worst version of himself, almost like he wanted that version of Ewron, as if he desired the same adrenaline, the feeling of power, of holding the strings of someone's life deciding how to cut them. Almost like they were truly nothing more but feared assassins.
— Scarlet suits you — Ash's voice surprisingly quiet.
Ewron only turns at him and smiles, tail wagging behind, suddenly all too aware of how small the distance is between them. If he leaned a bit to the side, their arms would brush against each other…
The itching burning returns with twice its might.
Gritting his teeth, he hisses, bringing his injured arm closer to his face.
Next to him, Ash shoots him a concerned look.
A part of his sleeve is drenched in blood, its red all too visible .
— They did it? — the harshness of Ash's voice makes Ewron look at the other again, an angry frown on his face.
— Uh, yeah, they had a dagger hidden, but it's nothing — shaking his head, he notices Ash's breathing - heavy and latched with anger.
— They're dead. Nothing you can do about it — he adds.
— I'll make sure the entirety of their alliance knows my wrath — Ash scoffs, and the sheer disgust in his eyes as he glances over the body tells Ewron he's being serious.
— Mhm. And you know I'll happily help — he meant it. The joy of death was unmatched by anything, and Ash provided him enough opportunities to taste it. It was moments like this, when he realised over and over again - he was carved out to be a weapon. And only Ash could match his potential, outdo his ideas.
It could only ever be Ash.
— But for now we have to get rid of the body — he cuts his thoughts short, but it was always like that. Whenever the other man appeared in his thoughts, he owned them for hours, and owned every topic his mind strayed into, as if Ash owned not only his servitude and body, but his psyche as well.
— We have to stop your bleeding first — Ash insisted instead.
— It's fine, I'm not even bleeding anymore! — he threw his arms in the air, the sudden movement causing another sting, another hiss. — Well it hurts, but it's nothing bad, we had it worse — and to prove his point, Ewron rolls up his sleeve.
The cut is, in fact, not that deep, seemingly just unfortunately close to the wrist. It does not stop it from dirtying most of his bottom arm with blood, dark red and mostly dried.
— We should at least disinfect it.
— You can lick it clean if you're really, oh so worried — tired of the other, Ewron shrugs . He won't die, so why bother.
It's only when Ash keeps quiet, unusually so, he looks up to the other.
The way Ash stares at his wound, like he's hungry for something, makes Ewron shiver a little.
And he can't quite tell if it's from anticipation or worry, maybe both.
— No, no, what the fuck, I wasn't serious — but would he really say no?
Ash reached out to his arm, keeping a firm grip on it. Ewron felt his breath get caught in his throat, letting out a shudder instead.
It felt wrong.
As Ash brought his arm closer, mouth mere centimeters away, the sudden luke warm breath against his skin made Ewron jolt. It felt wrong, but it felt good, felt right. And the initial wrongness came from Ash’ eyes, never leaving his, even for a moment, as slowly, he lapped the blood from around his wound, tongue burning against the cold skin.
It felt wrong because if anything, it should've been the other way around. They both knew it.
But who was Ewron, to deny his wielder the pleasure of indulgence?
Ewron’s silent groan of disappointment broke their shared silence as Ash raised his head a little, stopping in his movement.
— If I knew you tasted this good — warm murmurs against his skin made it tickle a little. — I would've drawn your blood myself way faster.
And with that he's back to focusing on his blood, squeezing at the wound a bit to taste it fresher, leaving Ewron dumbfounded, tail wrapping around the other man's thigh.
The burning sensation felt good, flooding his senses, overpowering his mind. He wanted to give himself to Ash entirely. To let him ravish and devour, to give everything away to the man.
It did not matter people awaited him home, did not matter he had alliances to uphold - in this lone moment, he was nothing but Ash's war hound, his blade. He would've joined the Regime if its leader asked.
Something cold ran through his body, as he jerked away from Ash, uneven breath speeding up, tail untangling itself from the other's body.
He could not join the Regime. What was he even thinking?
Ash looked at him, not bothering to hide both his disappointment and confusion.
— It's nothing, it's just… — he tries to think of something, anything that would prove to be a good enough excuse. — I started to feel too light headed.
And they both knew it's a lie, a cheap one too.
The stiffness of Ash as he nods only confirms that.
— So, the body — still laying motionless, fallen victim to not only the swords of the assassins, but rigor mortis as well. — We ought to throw it somewhere for now.
— The first to fall by our hands — coming closer, so his boots are just right next to their targets head, Ash begins to speak. — The first to set my plan into motion. Soon enough, all shall fall one by one, leaving only ghosts behind — Ewron listens, of course he does. Ash had a special talent of captivating anyone he spoke with, as if words always came effortlessly to him. — And that ghosts of hatred will too sink into the soil, until the server itself agonized by hatred threatens to eat us alive.
— And if it does, we'll kill it too — adds Ewron, despite the tense air between them. He's not sure if that means killing the Federation.
Either way, as long as he gets to sink his teeth into flesh, it'll be alright.