Archive of Our Own

The spirit watched her unmoving, its not-so-conscious gaze flowing as if blustered by the light breeze.

Revenant turned her head, slowing at her task, her hands working at the string of her lyre, "I'm taking it from you." The thin non-physical membrane wove like a butterfly around her fingers, ducking and weaving through the ornate instrument. "I'm running away with your life."

From its distance, it watched, its form's opacity weakening, slowly departing.

She frowned, "Does it not bother you?"

Its head shook, very slightly.

"I'm taking your life." She spoke slowly as if it were dull and couldn't quite comprehend the words. Widening her eyes for emphasis.

Although fading, so unbothered a posture it kept.

"Ugh!" She stopped her weaving, pressing the lyre down in her lap, "Care why won't you?"

Its body strengthened again, the lifeforce inhabiting it once more. It teetered on its heels before falling straight as a plank onto its back, as if turned to stone.

What a drama queen. She thought. "Well you should, fool." A moody mutter. She shifted to free her legs from her crouch, stretching out and allowing the grass and ferns of the garden brush her.

"Whatever." She slammed back to the ground, limbs splayed, lyre thrown carelessly to the side, and hair strewn.

Spatters of light blinded her between the garden's thick canopy, she closed her eyes. Now her distraction was gone, her traitorous mind began again to race, her embarrassment and shame rearing like the great waves which had been her folly.

She tried to focus on the sounds of the hold, the quiet wind rustling the leaves, the distant swells crashing lightly against the nearby cliffs. The tickling of flora on her limbs, the smell of the trees and the Iron Menial's well tended flowers, and the weight of her dress on her body. She brought her hand to the feather she'd stowed in her dress, feeling its softness as she ran her fingers along its length.

"To whom were you speaking?" A voice sliced unwelcomingly through her peace. It was the witch.

"Go away." Revenant whispered, squeezing her eyes tighter and withdrawing her hand. Wishing the intruder would just leave.

Silence.

Revenant released an exasperated sigh, opening her eyes and reaching for her instrument, strumming it with one hand to summon a large spirit. "Frederick, obliterate that person."

The burly cook didn't move, looking from its indecently sprawled summoner, to the witch, and back. Apparently deciding now was a good time to disobey, he sat heavily down beside her, his hammer dispersing from his hands.

"Seriously?"

"Revenant…" Recluse stepped around the spirit and up to look down on her, hands on her hips, concerned.

"Leave me! There is nothing the matter!" Revenant's hand found a loose pebble and she chucked it up at Recluse's face.

She smoothly dodged the projectile and allowed it to fall back down without intervention, striking Revenant in the forehead.

"Ow!" The doll sat upright, rubbing her head, mood foul. "What!"

Recluse sighed and moved to sit lightly before Revenant, offering her hand forward, "You needn't be frustrated."

Revenant crossed her arms, pointedly ignoring the offer, "I don't care… And anyway, I've not a clue what you're even referencing..." She very poorly lied.

"Listen," Recluse consoled gently, reaching to caress the doll's forehead where the rock had struck her, "You beat only yourself up. No one else cares for the blunder, they're all simply trying to help..."

Revenant groaned, tucking her knees into her chest and burying her face in her hands. Not wanting to hear that the others were working to right it all. She was unable to even look at Recluse, so ashamed she was at her own foolishness.

Revenant had spent the entire day yesterday running to and fro between the hold and the island's beach. Determined in her goal of setting up a nice little place just for herself.

Around the western end of the shore where the cliff rose tall, and just beyond the semi-arch of a vine covered ruin, was a lovely little patch of sand. Just big enough for one person and one visitor. The water lapped calmly. soothed by the nearby rocks, and just on its surface was a delicate covering of small lily-pad shaped plants, bobbing and dipping with each slow swell.

She liked the place. Her own little corner of calm, out of sight from the hold, away from the nightfarers and their endearing yet sometimes bothersome selves.

With as much discretion as such an action could allow, she had carried pillows and blankets, stolen from the appropriate beds (Wylder's, Ironeye's, and Executor's), outside and onto the beach. It was of most importance that her dress wouldn't get too sandy in her spot, their sheets were quite up to the task.

Along with some nice vases, candelabras, and a collection of books for entertainment.

This was all much to the curiosity of the others, she was well aware of the eyes following her about all that day. Duchess suspiciously turning from talking to Recluse, declining the Iron Menial's questioning assistance, Wylder slowing in his whetstone work with her every passing. Even Raider had attempted to ask her about the strangely bare beds, just as she guiltily carried out a stack of Executor's sheets.

But most annoying of all: Ironeye.

Initially, he had simply asked her 'What in the lands are you doing trying to drag a dresser outside?'

To which she had simply dismissed, 'I owe you little explanation.' In her usual soft voice. To his credit, he had offered to help, implying that she looked as if she were struggling.

'I have strength more than you, string puller.' She'd declared before continuing to heave the cabinet down the stairs.

After this, he had taken it upon himself to follow her around, in a very much not-so-stealthy way. For the entire rest of the day, she caught glimpses of his infuriating green cloak. Little glances every now and then revealing his eyes watching from around corners, and behind pillars. He was doing it on purpose, she knew. And it greatly annoyed her.

But finally, as the sky became streaked with orange, it was complete.

A wonderful thing that she was quite proud of. An invitingly messy nest of blankets and pillows, well shy of the water's edge, beckoned for someone to snuggle right into them. A pile of books and a lit candle atop the small dresser, which had been long emptied of clothes, and a single wooden chair sitting just beside. Balancing around on the ruin and on the rocks was a collection of pretty vases, each housing flowers freshly picked from the garden.

Revenant crawled into the nest, digging herself deep into its folds to combat the coming chill of the evening. The blankets smelt pleasant, a hint of the herbs Wylder used for cooking, and a little of pine mixed with a faint scent of paint. She yawned.

She could imagine the drapes of curtains she might want to hang on the ruin tomorrow, or the many kinds of things she could store in her cabinet. She might even invite Recluse to share the space sometime, or even the quiet Executor to paint the scene.

She might pull up her dress and enjoy the cool water, swinging her legs over the underwater cliff's edge, as Helen sparred with Frederick just off to the side. Sebastian the spectator and peacekeeper.

It was just the thing Chloe would simply have adored.

Revenant pressed her hands to her eyes, memories of her and her friend doing such similar things whisking her away. The quiet gossip Chloe used to tell with such enthusiasm, not that there was a whole lot to gossip about at the estate, but regardless, it was always fun. The foodstuff that Chloe had smuggled from the kitchen, much to Frederick's ignorance. The stories she had read aloud for her, and the dreams they had shared, sitting in quiet contemplation as they described the hopeful images that flooded their minds. The simple comfort they had gifted each other.

Revenant sniffed. She released the pressure on her eyes and unfurled to drag down a book from the stack. 'Carmilla' its title read. She'd recognised it earlier, it had been a new addition to the Northerncroft's library before that awful night. Chloe had been quite enthralled by its premise.

"Miss Revenant."

She jumped and whipped around to see the Iron Menial coming to a stop just beneath the ruin's archway.

"I do apologise if I am intruding on something." They said cordially, bowing their head, "But supper is prepared, and won't remain warm for too much longer."

Revenant just stared at the doll, a flicker of fear impeding her thoughts before she shoved it securely down. "Okay."

Thankfully, the Menial took leave, with hands clasped passively behind their back.

She considered simply not eating, forgoing the meal in favour of the warmth that enveloped her. Absently flicking through the pages of the book, her head tilted and focus elsewhere. Distractingly, her neck prickled.

"Ironeye!" Revenant suddenly snapped, her mood suddenly sparking, "What is your issue?"

The guilty archer's head poked over the cliff's edge from far above. His blue eyes piercing through her distrustfully.

He grunted, "You act bereft of usual."

"Oh?" Revenant frowned, resting her head on a pillow to more comfortably look up at him. "Look who's talking."

His eyes squinted, "Those are my sheets."

"Not any more."

"That's my pillow."

"I don't see you using it."

"Ha!" He barked, "That's because you're always off doing odd things like this."

"So how then, am I acting 'bereft of usual' as you so claim?" She calmly cornered him.

He went quiet, allowing satisfaction to settle in the small doll. With a huff he disappeared, but not for long as she could hear him treading grass and then sand to round her spot, this time, with a little more dignity. His eyes scanned over her funny little setup, arms crossed, and posture somewhat curious.

"For what purpose?" His voice, more passive now.

"Wouldn't you like to know." Revenant backchatted, not letting go of his lurking.

He stared at her, and at the blankets, the dresser, her books… All set up in a corner of the beach as if the walls of a room had simply evaporated and its contents were suddenly so starkly out of place.

"Do you have a problem?" She eventually pried, resisting the urge to begin fiddling nervously with the book.

He looked at her, face inscrutable behind his mask, bright eyes the only visible thing against the darkening sky. "Perhaps."

Revenant frowned.

"This is silly."

"It is not." She winced, her rushed words sounded so childish. "It is not silly, Ironeye." Her voice now leveled and calm, "You clearly have no mind for enjoyment."

"I have plenty mind enough to know the poorness of this..." He gestured around the spot.

"Poorness." She repeated, exasperated, "How ignorant you are. What right have you anyway!"

Ironeye narrowed his eyes at her, "I have the right to my own sheets and pillows."

"There are plenty spare! Go use those if you're so hurt!"

"Why couldn't you?"

Revenant's cheeks flushed. "You-" The real reason she would never admit, hardly even to herself let alone to this man, "Shove off!"

He blinked in surprise, his tone shifting, "What is it?"

"Oh!" Before anything more could show on her face, she buried her head into the sheets, handfuls gripped in her fists as she prayed for him to just disappear.

She could practically hear him standing there, his presence watching confusedly. He'd been so weird all day, and now she was the one being weird. She suppressed another yawn and tried to ignore his piercing, discomforting eyes.

Just before the already thick air became unbearably heavy between them, the man scuffed his boots and footsteps could be heard walking evenly away. Revenant peeked her head up and followed him with her eyes, a small frown still turning the corners of her lips.

Guardian ladled into two bowls the pasta dish that the Iron Menial and Wylder had cooked up for supper. The smell of tomato paste, filled with well chosen herbs; the meat ground and seasoned satisfactorily; all cooked to a practiced consistency, wafted pleasantly through the kitchen as the nightfarers gathered to eat.

As Recluse sat, she graciously took the bowl Guardian held for her, before tucking in to let him take his usual place beside her.

"Aye, I can smell it!" Raider slopped an oversized portion into his own oversized bowl, "Done a good job Wylder, Menial." The big man crashed into his chair, ignoring its groaning complaint. "Thank you!"

"You make my head pound with your noise." Ironeye stepped to his own seat, his presence leaving only one gap at the table: Revenant's empty chair. Between him and the ex pirate.

"Jus' excited!" Raider replied, his focus on messily mixing the contents of his bowl, but his voice was decidedly a little quieter, "Aye…" He shifted glancing at Ironeye in quite a different manner, "Well?" He implicitly changed the subject.

The archer sighed and sat back in his chair, his gaze on his dinner, head shaking slowly, "She's a mystery. I think perhaps…" He glanced at Duchess sitting just by his side at the table's end, "I was the wrong one to investigate."

To his surprise, Guardian caught a strange feeling from the archer, much unlike his usual self. Recluse shared with him a worried look.

"I think not." Duchess eased. "It is a different case, she wishes for her own space." She took a spoonful followed by a sip of her tea, "There is nothing wrong with that, and we should respect it."

"When I was a young lad," Raider decided to input, "The most amount of space I ever got required befriending the family of man-eating rats in our lower decks! T'was a messy tussle!" He laughed heartily.

"Isn't it lucky we don't have that problem here." Duchess raised her eyebrows at him.

"Well…" He gestured not so subtly in Ironeye's direction, whispering loudly to Duchess. "Better watch one in particular, following around the poor doll…"

Ironeye kicked back his chair as he stood and wielded his spoon at Raider "No way! It was both our ideas! And you well know it!"

The big man chuckled good naturedly, "I jest Ironeye. You know this!"

With a shadowy squint the archer diffused to delve hungrily back into his meal. Recluse shot Guardian another look, this time, indecipherable.

"I think," Recluse started, "Duchess is right. If she needs space, then we must allow her such grace." She paused, curiosity seemingly winning her over, and her voice dipped to a hush, "But Ironeye, where exactly did she-"

A sudden bump sounded and the whole table shook, cutlery clattering, and making Ironeye jump.

Duchess cried a quick 'Ow!' as she reached to rub her bumped knee. But her eyes were fixed past Recluse significantly. "Revenant, here, yours is served already." She smiled and pushed a bowl, before the doll's empty spot.

Guardian watched as a somewhat sleepy looking Revenant rounded the table to take her place between Raider and Ironeye. Not-so-gently elbowing the archer to forcibly make him move over. She didn't seem to take notice of the silent blanket which fell over the table. Guardian taking in the glances the others all shared as the doll's focus was occupied  with the meal.

Well, all except for Executor who seemed content to pretend complete ignorance. Him and the doll were the only two eating.

"Thank you for dinner." The doll distractedly broke the silence in a quiet voice, her mind evidently elsewhere.

Wylder hummed in recognition, and the Menial bowed gratefully.

Beside him, Recluse gazed across the table "You look tired, deary." A motherly look which she reserved only for the doll flooding her eyes.

"I'm not tired. Just hungry…" She objected, evidently quite falsely as the poor thing's eyelids were barely even open anymore, her spoon was falling slack in her small hand.

An instinct that Guardian didn't even know he possessed moved his limbs into action, he pressed back from his spot and efficiently rounded the table just in time to catch Revenant as she slumped from her chair. She'd fallen fast asleep.

Before she could slip further, he lifted her from the seat and cradled her in his arms as comfortably as he could. Leaving him standing somewhat awkwardly, unsure what to do with the limp thing. Her chest rising and falling slowly, he made certain her head was satisfactorily supported. She was surprisingly light. Delicate.

"Oh…" Duchess rose from her spot.

Recluse shared with her an unspoken conversation, before gesturing to Guardian, "Follow."

He was led into the sleeping room, where the witch rushed to fix up Revenant's bed, spreading out a blanket of her own over it. Fussing about while Guardian stood watching, the small doll sleeping soundly in his arms. An odd feeling washed over the knight. He looked from Recluse, working to pull back the sheets, and to prop up the pillow, to Revenant, a thing which suddenly seemed so fragile and small.

An altered type of protection, not one that requires a great shield, not to brace against the molten flames of a drake, nor to heave against the grating and sparking sword of a hunter's vicious swing. But instead, one where weapons were set aside, the heart pounding violence to boil blood no more, and for battle worn claws to turn tender and gentle.

If all it did was fight, a flock would be reduced to only another army.

Guardian's taloned hand curled softly around Revenant's shoulder, lifting her hanging arm and resting it more comfortably into her lap. Looking down at her restful face, he noticed a small mar patching the base of her neck and disappearing beneath her dress's lace. His brows knit. With a careful hoist, he moved her such that he could brush the wound with one talon, gently as he could.

"Hum…" He mused worriedly.

The witch placed a newly lit candle beside the bed and moved over to him. Her eyes grew sad, realising what Guardian had seen. "The doll is bound by her past."

Recluse ever so slightly pulled down the neck of Revenant's dress, revealing the slowly warping lines of night which stood so starkly against her light porcelain, spreading far wider along her collarbone than was pleasing.

With a quiet sigh, Recluse pulled from Revenant's head the intricate flower crown and flowing veil, and gently brushed her long, slightly wild hair with her hand. "We can do naught for her but to retain her comfort, and gift her guidance. It is her battle to fight."

Guardian hummed quietly, thinking, "When one of our own fell ill, high upon the cliffs and mountains where we perched, wraps made of fine cotton we bound about them, and we carried them down to where those who could not fight tended to our invalids."

He walked over to her bed, and ever so gently bent to let her sink into the mattress, extracting his arms from beneath her body with care. "I once toiled there for a time. When I had sparred too strongly and gravely injured my shield arm. I was still able to move about to a degree, and continue doing my part for the flock."

The knight drew up Revenant's sheet, Recluse's own blanket atop it, and tucked it snugly around her. He straightened, and with a quick movement, stretched out his good wing, raised his hand, and yanked a single, large feather from it.

He winced, it stung. But that was how it had to be. Anything else would be an insult.

"The very closest of the injured and the sick would pluck from their own wing a sole feather." Guardian continued, aware of Recluse's hand which was held to her chest in surprise. "The very finest we possessed. And we would place it by the injured's head as they lay to rest."

He reverently placed his feather just beside Revenant's pillow.

"Just like so."

He finished, stepping back to wash his gaze over the small doll, sleeping as innocently as if she had never before witnessed a war. The ferocity of this fate was fair on absolutely none of them. It is particularly cruel that no matter their determination and the strain they exerted, the night abated no less. As proven.

But still they fought tooth and nail. Blood boiling against the cold, the drenching of the acidic torrent which their feet kicked up high into the air, devouring all living things. Droplets catching in the ghastly wind and flying to assault their eyes and ears and mouths relentlessly.

And then they sat around a table, chatting and joking and enjoying a fresh, lovely smelling meal. Prodding each other and sharing tall tales over the flickering candlelight. As lively as a true home should be.

And they were also here, in the calm room with mist lulling at its edges, taking rest and care and providing homely comfort and warmth. Settling each other and soothing themselves in a way that only such a precarious situation could evoke-

"That is beautiful." A light touch on his arm brought the knight's eyes around, falling upon the witch's own kind eyes. "It is quite…" She searched for the right word, hesitating, "Lovely of you."

Guardian did not react, could not, for his breath had ceased. He did it solely for the doll. For some instinct in which he must protect those who needed protecting. A little bit of support he would offer without even a beat of hesitation. And as he looked over the sleeping thing, he realized the way he felt about her.

He'd never before had offspring of his own. But now…

Guardian exhaled, and glanced to his side. The room's surroundings darkened, highlighting the person right there, her hand resting on his forearm, her slight fingers feeling his feathers. He could smell her sweet, unobtrusive aroma. Of sweet lavender and newly opened books.

Of comfort and a stirring within his breast. An excited prickling of his feathers and an urge to do something just for her. Just as when he had held her hand, and provided her balance as she walked the slippery steps of an ever stretching ocean. He cared not for his own state, for if she were to unbalance, he would have scooped her up in his arms, letting not a single drop land upon her pretty form.

His mind blurred with ribbons of deep purple and red and black, and his arm moved of its own accord, taking in his claw her hand and bowing to touch his forehead lightly to the back of her palm.

"It is only tradition." He spoke.

He tilted his head to meet her eyes which were sparkling with surprise and joy. Alight at his courtingly gesture and unusually, a little embarrassed. But she didn't look away, or pull her hand free. Her lips here ever so slightly parted, her bare shoulders pressed gracefully back. Her fingers flowing warmth into the palm of his claw, and her aroma encased him in her enchanting presence.

Lightly, she exhaled, her head tilting and her eyes growing sad. "My knight… Let us see it but flutter by."

The tips of her fingers dragged on his palm as she lifted her hand from his. His own fingers reached to continue the precious contact, but it was already gone.

"You are too chivalrous," She walked past him, her clothes brushing his arm as she passed, like the woven wings of a drifting butterfly, "Too kindly to let fall, so let us keep this without a beginning." He could no longer see her face, but her voice was greatly controlled, a little too steady. "So our future fates may ravage us less. I'm sorry, Guardian."

He was torn, wanting so much to deny her words with his entire being, to wrap her in his wing and let her head rest upon his shoulder as she slept, keeping her safe and warm in his downy embrace. But also wishing to tread the path of least pain, not for himself, but to keep her own soul from hurting. In his heart of hearts, he knew she was correct.

But another part of him knew it was already too late.

The knight turned to see her knelt down by Revenant's bed, brushing away the stray hair from the doll's face wistfully.

"But please," She continued in a more relaxed tone, "never let yourself lose such honorable respect." Recluse picked up his gifted feather and moved it a little closer beside Revenant's head. Her voice grew soft as if she were half in dream, "As it means more than you might know."

The doll twisted a long lock of hair with a practiced hand, folding and weaving and laying over again before the end was reached, and an adorned band was wrapped to keep it from unraveling. She swung her legs over the bed's edge, letting fall her sheets and warm blanket, donning her flowers and veil with minor adjustments, and reaching to grab the pretty feather which still lay on her pillow.

A flush of excitement ran her chest and she inhaled lightly, the corners of her lips turning up as she remembered. The safe, comfortable space she had created just for herself.

On light feet, and with a floating heart, she brushed through the hold, veil fluttering behind her, ignoring the inviting sounds and smells coming from the morning kitchen in favour of something much more important. The courtyard's grass cool and tickling, beams of light stretching long through the hold's compromised walls and ceiling, little motes floating lazily through the rays.

But her eyes were only for her spot, and her mind dedicated to its wraps, to smell its aroma again and feel peace in the secret solitude. A little mischievous in an amusing way. She could imagine the jealousy the others might feel, wishing they too had a nest as nice as hers.

Ironeye certainly. Perhaps Wylder as well, Executor… Raider, probably not, the oaf could sleep on rocks meant to sink ships and still manage to snore out to the starry heavens.

She scrunched her eyes as she exited the hold, blinking in the wash of light, but unwavering in her approach. And as her adjusting vision fell over the shore, her mouth fell open in horror.

Strewn over the entire beach in unorganised heaps lay the drenched sheets of her little spot. All their comfort drained, and now crinkled and swimming with sand. Vases reduced to mere shatterings of ceramic dotted the beach, their flowers now only drowned and limp blobs of colour. The lovely wooden dresser which she had taken so long to drag all the way down, was floating off just beyond the shore like some sad. misshapen boat.

Revenant's throat released a tiny, woeful sound. Her heart tumbling over the cliff, and her chest constricting her breath. How foolish an oversight.

In hurried strides, she crossed to the beach and knelt to begin scooping up the miserable mess into her arms. Fear suddenly wracked her mind. What if the others saw her folly? Her heart seized painfully at the idea.

She scrunched up a sheet and tucked it under her arm, unwieldy and dripping down her side. She crawled around to begin collecting the endless remains of vases, the pieces clinking against her porcelain hands. A growing desperation that gnawed thoroughly through her stressing mind. Hoping against hope that she wouldn't hear the footsteps of an approaching nightfarer. Of the very footfalls which she could swear were drawing near at that very moment.

A quick glance back and her cheeks grew icy. She squeaked and turned away, back stiff as stone and clutching the guilty sheet to her front like a lifeline, wishing she could dive deep into the ocean never to surface again.

"Revenant…" Duchess's accented voice beat down on her. Scalding, accusing, mocking her idiocy.

She could sense a hand stop just before it touched her shaking shoulder.

"Revenant, are you okay?" The Duchess asked gently, almost as if she were concerned more for the doll than the great mess all about them.

But Revenant knew what she was really thinking.

"There is nothing the matter!" Her temper suddenly flared, anger bubbling up to consume any skerrick of embarrassment, "Leave me be and forget all that is here~" Her voice wobbled out the last word, an awkward crack in her falsified mask.

Duchess stood statuesque, her eyes swimming with thought and face shifting with emotion. Revenant's knees grew weak in anxious anticipation of her response, clutching the wet sheet closer not caring that she was squeezing its cold all through her front.

"There is no need to be upset..." She finally spoke, softly and far too kindly, picking up a stray shard from the sand to inspect its shattered state. "We can help clean it all-"

"Stop!" Revenant snatched the piece from the Priestess's hand and drew it tightly into her embrace, unable to bear the thought of everyone strolling down, all to see her stupidity laid bare over the entire shore, "Just leave, I needn't any help!" Her breath shook, and she added with a pathetic whisper, "Please?"

Duchess looked at the doll strangely, taking in the fret, her face unreadable which only lent more to Revenant's distress.

"You aren't… embarrassed? It is only me." Duchess soothed, "I care not for mistakes, for it only shows one's willingness to try." Naught a change occurred in the doll's face.

Duchess sighed, "If you need, I can keep the others away from here for a short while."

A wash of gratitude took a steady hold of Revenant's shivering shoulders, and Duchess smiled, clearly quite pleased at the reaction.

"What great typhoon struck at this place!"

They both jumped to the booming voice of an ex pirate, sudden mortification wrapping chains around every one of Revenant's joints. Duchess's jaw dropped open.

"Looks as if you two've been fighting a possessed wardrobe! Ha!" Raider chuckled good naturedly, completely oblivious to Revenant's paralysis.

"Are these not…" Ironeye stepped near, his blue eyes scanning over the ruined sheets all strewn every which way, "What happened?"

"The fault is all yours!" Her fury shot up hotter than Tartarus's own blazing fires, "You fool of an archer!"

With blurry eyes, she shoved her sheet hard into the man's stomach, throwing all her weight behind the assault. He stumbled back in surprise, awkwardly reaching for her arms around the cloth, evidently worried she'd just tripped herself up.

With a swift strike of his shin, he released her, grunting and doubling over to the ground at her bruiseworthy kick.

"Revenant!" Duchess called after her, but the cries faded as she stormed up through the courtyard and ran through the hold, vision reduced to vague streaks of colour and shapes, before finding herself collapsing into the soft, green undergrowth of the garden.

Her heart pounding and wishing only to escape this prison of an island, simply to run away from the ones who knew her to be a fool. Her teeth grit and eyes scrunched, she curled into a ball, the garden's grass and flowers and draped leaves and ferns wrapping her body.

She groaned in frustration, hoping her form was hidden from the hold's view as all confidence in her own self fluttered off upon the airy wings of a moth.

Ironeye clutched the ragged sheet in his arms as he walked slowly along the beach, his shin still throbbing from the unwarranted aggression. Behind him, the other nightfarers were working on collecting all the spoiled remains.

He moved westward, turning around the rising cliff and finding himself beneath the arching ruin. His gaze washing over the spot where Revenant had so comfortably set up. It was now so sadly empty. He dug free an object from the sand, a book so ravaged that its cover was entirely indecipherable and its running ink had turned black the pages.

Why? Familiar curiosity welled in him. Just as yesterday when his insistence on following her and finding out what she was doing, had annoyed her so much. In truth, he cared little that she had stolen his blankets and pillows. But why had her reaction been so visceral?

He took seat on a nearby rock, looking out to the sea, gazing upon the little plants growing just by his feet, and letting the quietness of the place envelop him. Absently he flicked through the once legible book.

It had to be just right, he realised. She'd spent a good amount of time contemplating whose sheets to steal. Quite a while had been taken searching the many overflowing bookshelves for a certain one in particular. And she surely didn't have to drag the dresser all the way out here… but she had. In the spontaneity of her actions, had he missed just how precise she was being?

Had she not spent an entire hour arranging, folding, stacking and weaving the cloth just right before she finally settled into it? How odd he thought she was, but is there not in oddness, in the strangeness of things which might seem so outlandish to the external viewer, a base of sound reason?

Ironeye shifted, tucking one leg up for comfort.

If someone were to observe the habits of limveld's inhabitants, the old nobles digging pointlessly in the dirt, mindlessly wandering in packs like some hunt of wild beasts. Taking drunken, pathetic swings as if their mind had forgotten which limb was which. The useless pacing of undead around collections of tombstones. Such oddness from all of them, but was there a purpose beyond the mindless insanity they all externally exhibited?

Were the skeletons, with frayed cloth clinging to dirt ridden bone, and weapons so old their shafts could snap at the most imprecise of swings, simply trying to protect the mournful graves of their fallen comrades? The worn nobles, subconsciously enacting the parties they had once enjoyed, with merriment and jests between allied houses as they traveled the lands between?

A sadness fell over the archer. He thought of the flicker of mischief in her eyes when they had exchanged banter the previous night, she had enjoyed his confusion and her own secrecy, the joviality of her actions and presumed silliness of it all, even despite her objection. But shrouding it all there for a reason to which he knew nothing of. He was ignorant. It was not as pointless or spontaneous as one might assume. Her actions did have sound reason. Even if it were invisible to himself, that didn't matter. A pang of guilt flushed the man's cheeks.

And this morning, a confusion of emotion flooded him as he realised what she might have felt, why she lashed out the way she had. Strangely, an urge to jump up, find the poor doll and try right his foolishness pulsed through his guilt. But he did no such thing.

Instead, he pushed free of his seat and strode back up the beach, not meeting the eyes of the others as a determination consumed all thought. For he perhaps knew of a better idea.

Her hands took strands of grass and lengths of ivy, and wove them around one another, over and through, and intertwining it into the patterns of greenery which she worked so quietly and attentively on. Calming herself with the slow and relaxing work of weaving a small, green circlet. Not unlike the flowery crown upon her head. Beside her Recluse worked away similarly, but of glintstone blue strings and coolly toned stars. Reflecting the sun's light pleasingly.

"...such abilities can become so natural only with great expenditures of time." Recluse continued, her voice one which Revenant enjoyed listening to, "Indeed my own skill has been nurtured since the very day I was born, and continued ever since. It is simply a case of locality. Opportunity. Almost beyond one's control in a way." She chuckled lightly. "But in the end, it matters not how early you start conjuring, or how late you might begin, you will find yourself side by side eventually. Sorceries are just that, a thing to be conjured."

They sat in the garden, where Recluse had found her seething and sulking away. Their conversation carried by the witch as Revenant asked short questions, her mood improving among the calm interaction and the repetitive focus of her work.

"What of the woods?" She asked in a far away voice.

Recluse thought for a moment, "There are a great many magical things which reside in such a forest." As she spoke, her fingers worked delicately on the ethereal circlet, while her mind travelled elsewhere, "For instance, circles would oft appear in the strangest of instances, mushrooms, flowers, the nests of birds, collections of spider webs, the trees themselves. Or rarely, and more ominously, the bodies of small critters.

"Sometimes, there would appear strands of elemental essence hanging from a tree's branches or smattering the grassy ground." Recluse recounted, Revenant's attention wrapped, "On one particular occasion, they led to a pond of wondrously shifting colour, its fish with tails and fins of long, wavy curtains. Another time it was a warning of a rotten clearing's fall…"

Recluse's voice faded as something starkly unpleasant caught her eye. The fluttering of a green cloak.

Revenant sighed in utter exhaustion, "Oh, not again…"

"Dear?"

"Tell him to leave me be..." She whispered as she turned her back on the approaching man, hands instinctively rising to hide her face.

It had to be him, of all the nightfarers… Who'd known the most of her admittedly silly attempt, he'd probably been laughing it up behind her back all night and all morning. Enjoying the amusement of her oblivious naivety and her own distress. Was he simply wishing to poke her further, so he could see her squirm in discomfort-

"I repaired it."

Revenant's runaway thoughts stopped in their tracks.

The man cleared his throat, "Your spot I mean… Revenant."

She straightened very slightly, hands releasing her head, somewhat confused. He sounded almost nervous.

"I care not for it." She replied, unable to release her ire, "You are still a fool~" There was a strange pang in her gut as the sentence left her mouth, its final word trailing off weakly.

Silence from behind her, only the rustling of his cloak in the breeze was proof of his presence. She knew Recluse was sharing with him a silent conversation of the eyes, and that infuriated her.

"Revenant," The man stepped closer, rustling the grass and shrubbery as he bent knee, "I fear I may-"

"Go!" She clutched her head once more, bending over as if her front were exposed, "Please! I know what you think of me, so why bother! Do you wish so much for your other shin to be struck? Just leave~"

It was horrible, did he leer at her? Or did he pity her? How much was an act, and what did he really think? She held herself still among the undergrowth, eyes squeezed and ears pricked as footsteps slunk slowly away, and a pressure weighed unpleasantly on her confused mind.

"I believe," Recluse's calming voice came back to her, pleasant among the racing of emotion, "He was attempting to apologise."

"Well a daft try it was." She shot back, wanting not to hear of his intentions, but at the same time wishing for her dooming thoughts to be proven wrong.

"You didn't even allow him to finish speaking."

Revenant uncurled herself and turned to look at Recluse, her eyes were soft but firm. She opened her mouth to object, but something stopped her, a distant feeling of wrongdoing, one she really didn't want to meet face to face. The corners of her lips turned further down, her already beat posture weakening even further.

"Oh dear." Recluse whispered and reached to wrap the doll's hands in her own. "It is as I said already: An honest mistake. And there is no shame to be had. The only one who thinks so dreadfully of it, is yourself."

Revenant could no longer meet the witch's kind eyes.

"You can see by your own terms. In how he spoke, I'm certain you noticed. In my own words to you, in the actions of the others."

The doll retracted a hand from the witch's and reached for the feather she'd hidden from within the folds of her dress. She was aware its appearance on her pillow hadn't been a mere accident. Certainly not for a feather as fine as this. She brushed a finger along its length, once again enjoying its feel, her mind calming and contemplating quietly.

Guardian was just that, a frustratingly honorable knight. Recluse was comforting, non-judgemental. But Ironeye… he was brooding, sometimes to being ridiculous, hard to read. Sometimes he made unintentional mistakes, trying to cover his blunders in a kind of goofy way which she was certain kept the man up at night. But now, he was also confusing.

She turned the feather over in her hands, the sun's light revealing vibrant shades that had been previously hidden. A new side to the gifted thing with surprising definition, new patterns and depth revealing themselves within its form. He had done something so nice for her, it was a surprising new side to the man. It questioned her image of him.

But it was in a good way, she realised.

Revenant sighed. Something in her chest had lightened, an emotion other than anger at the rising cliffs of misunderstanding, an archway revealing itself. Except of course, it had been there all along.

With feather in hand, her weaved circlet forgotten, she pressed herself up and strode from the garden.

Ironeye's shoulders weren't held as strong as usual. His confidence waned.

As accurately as he could, he'd recreated her little spot. A new dresser and wooden chair just beside a comforting nest. Complete with sheets stolen just as she had done before. The only thing missing were the strange looks he'd been expecting to receive as he moved from inside to out with armfulls of blankets and other stuff. The exact same as the doll had done yesterday.

And one other thing: it was no longer on the beach, but in a nice crook of the castle's walls, not too far from where he liked to tune his bow's string. Plenty of distance from the ocean's reaching waves.

He stepped closer to light the chandelabra's candles with a brisk flick of his knife on an arrow's tip. A light to comfort no one.

He'd spent a whole hour arranging the things just as she had, getting completely confused and mixed up with all the twisted sheets in the process. He was only glad that no one had seen him struggle so embarrassingly. On the dresser's top rested a small collection of books, ones he'd chosen with much indecision and contemplation. Ones he thought she might like.

Had he unwittingly crossed some boundary? He brushed a gloved hand over the books, they'd had no such issue in the past with their banter. Perhaps this time, it was more personal. Would he offend her with this then? The back of his neck grew cold. Was this a very wrong thing to have done? Would sparks of displeasure and hate be ignited if she were to see it? Ironeye was suddenly aware of how exposed he was, standing in a recreated sanctuary's corner. There was nowhere to hide, no shadow to jump to if he were to be attacked. If anyone were to come around the bend, and see him. Most of all if Revenant were to see him, would she hate him?

Why did he care so much? Traitorous thoughts they were. He was here for a purpose, he needn't feel such way for anyone. They would only hate him in the end regardless. Despise his guts for what he would do. Iron claws gripped his chest, squeezing out any ounce of free air, leaving no room for any foolish emotion to strain its way blasphemously in.

And he immediately buckled hard onto his knees. His breath was none, and his eyes squeezed pricks of liquid. He was dead. And he was also alive. He could move without a beat of heart, and he could fight without a lick of air. With a trembling hand, he reached to begin pulling off his glove so he could gaze again over his borrowed flesh. His skin dark, not of race, but of existence. He paused, the glove barely even displaced. Despite knowing of its solidity, he shuddered to reveal so much, it was unnatural. Quickly, he reached to check his mask, it was still pulled in place, fingers shaking, his hood still shrouding his head. He sighed in relief.

A carapace as thick as the hold's stone walls scraped its way about him. He was cold, heat was not required to survive, it could only melt away that which was most important, so he quenched the shivering. All he need do is stay alive. No more. But most certainly less. Such was his purpose.

Something was wrong.

The dead man whipped around to see a ghost staring at him… Rather, into him. Beyond his cloak and gloves and mask, seeing through his skin and gazing terrifyingly on his frayed and picked bones. His sunken jaw and his rotted teeth and into empty eye sockets, through his empty chest and out past it, piercing to see his thin, pathetic, true form.

And he was struck with absolute horror.

The thing knew what he was. Just as he knew what it was. It knew they weren't so different. But for how long was it aware? For how many days and nights did it muse over him, his eyes were wide, jaw clenched with stress, when would it spill the secret? He started shaking again, why hadn't it already, and what could it possibly want from him?

It sniffed, unamused.

"What are you doing?" Its voice was pleasant, if a bit perplexed.

He was mortified. The terrible revelation binding him as if he were buried twenty feet underground.

It looked at the little space he'd spent so long making. And to his amazement and surprise, a gentle blush began flushing its cheeks. Its hands clasped tightly before in its lap as it just stood there. Dress fluttering around its bare legs, a lightness to its fair form as if the thing could be blown off the cliff's face by the weakest of gusts, its eyes looking aside gracefully in either abashment or gratitude.

The spirit saw him for who he was. If it loathed him, why wasn't it acting as such? It seemed so innocent, almost oblivious, so was it then that it knew no different? Did it simply not care?

"Thank you~" It whispered.

A glacier slipped, and a mountain cracked. His heart finally thumped, and his breath drew refreshingly in.

And he smote himself. In his own failure, he was a great, irredeemable disappointment, for he knew that he had fallen. His long unbeating heart had failed to stay so. Frustratingly, and entirely beyond his control, he knew: He cared for every single one of them.

He could curse the world, wish death upon all, pray that night drew its ugly curtains to steal every bit of land from those who still can fight, to bury all hope of life and rebirth, and to scream the profound unfairness of it all till his throat tore itself to bloody, irreparable shreds.

And he would still care.

For the small doll who looked about as fragile as her temper. The swordsman to whom his attention was inexplicably drawn, and the ex-pirate whose friendship he so valued. The knight and the witch who he could trust with his life, and the hold's Priestess who wished only for their comfort. He even knew the quiet crucible knight would give his entire being to see each of them alive till the very sun was turned as dark as oil.

There was no point in pretending otherwise. His damned heart could not change.

The doll walked lightly by his kneeling form, curiously investigating the books he'd selected. He couldn't even look at her, his nerves still raw and exposed to the knowledge she held.

"I'm sorry." She spoke.

He flinched at the painfully genuine apology, his mind flicking confusingly between the multitude of things she could be referencing. But in it, he found he didn't entirely mind. "It is… my apology to make." He rose, voice gravelly, and back still facing her.

"Well," She hesitated, slightly reserved, "It is thoughtful of you."

From the very corner of his eye, he looked at the arrangement of sheets and blankets and pillows, "They are stolen, just how you like it."

A rustling of cloth, and for a moment, Ironeye was scared the doll was undressing herself just there, he whipped around before rational could correct him to see her simply laying her folded veil on the chair. And after it, she promptly fell into the nest. Fussing to arrange herself just right, and leaving the man to wonder how in the lands this thing could ever boil over with such fury as she so often did.

"You're staring." She said blankly.

He blinked and started, turning to lean casually on the dresser, pointedly looking straight ahead, gaze averted from her. His nerves resting at only an uncomfortable simmer.

He exhaled, voice lowered and airy, "Well?"

"I already said."

He closed his eyes, "No, I mean…" He had no doubt she knew, was she just feigning? He could feel her piercing gaze on him, seeing him through and through, a hopelessness to the point where he might as well just give up right now.

"You're as dead as I." She spoke, "So why would I care?" Her voice, indifferent and even, "Do you?"

"Of course I do." The words tumbled from his lips without thought.

"Why?"

"Because the others would-" He stopped himself, "It goes against my pact."

"Might I guess that your pact is already broke?"

Ironeye glanced sidelong at her, at the very one who must have torn his bindings in two at their very first meeting of eyes so long ago. He met her gaze, unintentionally confirming the guess.

"You pry too much." He scolded her, looking away with cheeks growing hot. "What of yourself?"

"There is little I can do, obviously. But Ironeye," She rebutted his attempt to shift the attention, "If it weren't just me, do you really think the others would give even two graces about how you really are?"

He pursed his lips. An honest part of him knew there was grounded truth to her words. But decades of fear and beatings leered over him like the stone lid of a sarcophagus.

"Keep it to us, I beg of you." His voice wavered. Unpleasant to his own ears.

"It is not mine to share. And I have standards, you know?"

He made a noise that was half grunt, and half chuckle.

"I amuse you do I?" Her mood immediately swung.

"You do," He quickly continued before she could spit back a remark, "And I would have you no other way."

The small doll stared at him. And he turned to stare right back.

There was something in her porcelain face, in the way her eyes gave to something no living being could replicate, that offered him both reassurance and honesty. That he was looking upon a soul pure and innocent, as something rare and in need of preserving lest it be marred by the endless cruelties of this world.

A sizable pebble struck him between the eyes and he staggered back.

"Not you too archer." Revenant squinted at him accusingly, suddenly appearing right in front of him, fists on hips. She'd spoken the last word as if it were a slur. "You're really asking to be kicked again."

His hand rubbing his forehead, he looked down at her angry face. She was actually quite cute when she was mad.

A starburst of flame shot up his already bruised shin.

Through grit teeth he groaned, "What is with you?"

"You're invading my space."

"I made this!"

"And?" An infuriating grin began to turn her decidedly pretty lips.

"You-" He winced as a stinging wave rebounded up his leg, "You're impossible!"

"And you're still here." Her face alight with such entertainment.

For fear that he might very well be struck again, and knowing that he could never bring himself to fight back, the poor archer was forced to admit defeat. Head pounding with fury as he began to hobble slowly away.

She was the one who found him amusing.

And in realising this mutual feeling, of the way she thought of his being, torn as he was between open secrets and things that should have been kept hidden, he didn't feel so bad. The bruise would heal soon enough. And an odd understanding shook his ground, rather, steadied it. They had each other's trust. In an ordeal, he knew he could place faith in her, and she in him. Their expression of such was simply achieved in the most roundabout way they knew.

Perhaps then, they were both quite amusing.

His lips pressed together into a small smile, gratitude stirring his heart.

And unbeknownst to him, the small doll watched him go with big, similarly grateful eyes.