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"So, what do I do…? I just… sit still?" Henryk asked.
"Yes," Marina said. "Just stay still right there, on the floor."
Henryk stared up at Marina where he lied, his eyes glancing around skeptically. "This is supposed to make me closer to Alll-mer?"
"Sure is," Marina replied. "It just might sting a bit."
"Why would it sting? What are you going to do?" Henryk asked, perturbed.
"Nothing," Marina replied. "Now close your eyes."
Henryk sighed heavily, heeding Marina's order. He furrowed his brows, resting his hands over his stomach and picking at his nails.
Marina took out her knife, inspecting Henryk's face for a moment. She barely stuck out her tongue in her concentration, taking Henryk's face in her hand and holding the knife up to his pale skin.
Henryk's brows furrowed further at the touch. His jaw clenched and his Adam's apple bobbed as he swallowed.
As soon as the blade kissed the skin below Henryk's left eye, both of his eyes had shot open. Henryk, moving to sit up, was stopped by Marina, who tightened her grasp on the chef.
"Don't move, or I'll gouge your eye out," Marina said.
Henryk's eyes widened, sporadically gawking at his surroundings before settling on the blade once more, his brows furrowing deeply.
"Y-you're gonna kill me?! Is that how you expect me to get closer to Alll-mer?!" Henryk's body began to shake. His lips curled crookedly as he laughed flimsily— panicky.
"No," Marina said. "But I will if you keep moving around! Don't want me making any mistakes, right?"
"I— I…" Henryk's eyes widened further, warily watching the knife. "No," he mumbled softly.
The knife nudged itself further along Henryk's skin. He winced and squinted his eyes, trying to brave past the pain.
With the first cross below Henryk's eye done, Marina lifted the knife, slowly moving to his forehead.
Henryk's eyes widened further, swallowing nervously, before grappling Marina's wrist, quickly forcing it away from his head.
"I—I'm done," he said. "I don't care what you're going to accomplish with this, but it's certainly not worth it!" Henryk sat up, leaning on his free arm— and eventually, both, as Marina drew her knife away.
"I thought you were religious," Marina said.
Henryk paused, scowling.
"I am! I believe in our god Alll-mer. But I've not heard of any ridiculous things like… this…" he troubled himself for a word. "…this dark magic in his name! It's an insult!"
"Face carvings are rather common among the religious," Marina explained. "And so is human sacrifice— Prehevil being one of the places where this is happening." She paused, tilting her head. "You… did see that cross in the old town, right?"
Henryk stared, bewildered, lips parted. He slowly shook his head, looking beside Marina, then at the floor. He lifted his gaze once more before speaking.
"Well, you're a kid. How would you know?" He asked.
Marina pursed her lips, staring at Henryk mutely. Henryk's accusatory expression melted away and left a matching monotone one.
Henryk's eyes fell, surrendering their stare down.
"I— well, I… I just mean… it's not what I believe," Henryk said, "it's not what I was taught."
He frowned as he looked down, noticing a new, large red splotch on his shirt. He touched his own face, inspecting the blood that pooled from his cheek.
Marina leaned in and pressed a fabric from her pocket against the wound. Henryk winced.
"You don't have any water?" He asked.
"This isn't an infirmary," Marina replied.
"Psh."
Henryk blinked a couple times before looking around once more. "Is there a mirror around here?" He asked.
"What for?" Marina replied.
"I need to see the damage," he said.
Marina inspected their current location, noticing a shattered mirror in the adjacent room. She quickly stood and made her way over to it, gingerly plucking one of the larger shards from the floor and walking it back to Henryk.
"Here," she offered.
Henryk took the glass carefully, attempting to remain cautious as to not cut himself.
He peeled back the cloth and inspected himself in the mirror— his brows furrowing when observing the change.
"Ah— it's so large!" He whined. "You've carved some cross into my cheek—" he looked at Marina, his eyes widened with disbelief. "You've made me look like a lunatic!" He shook his head, inspecting himself in the glass once more. "How will I find a wife now?!" He cried.
Marina tilted her head, unamused. "That's what you're worried about right now?"
"Of course! And I was going to start with that redhead at the train! Just imagine what she'll think of me— walking around, like some nutcase, with a random, jagged scar on his face that looks like I only did it to seem like a hardened gentleman!? Augh, I'm ruined!" Henryk shook his head in defeat, slumping in place and returning to lie on the floor.
He sighed. "She's a beauty, too, a real looker. That clean braid, those lean arms— and her huge—"
"I know what she looks like," Marina interrupted. "Just calm down. If you let me finish this carving though, I'm sure at the very least you'll live longer so you can see her again."
Henryk lazily rolled his head to stare at Marina. "You really think so?" He asked.
"Yeah," Marina replied. "And if it'll make you feel better, I'll do one on my face, too."
"It's better that only one nice face is sacrificed today," Henryk lamented. "But thank you for your assurance. I would be contented as long as we can make it back to the train— or, unless, you know of any other place we should go."
Marina shrugged.
Henryk sighed.