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Sorry for the delay replying 😁

 

 

Alessio crept on the deck, wary for the slightest move.

He expected people there. At least a smattering.

But it’s empty.

With a slow, soft inhale Alessio rehearses everything in his mind again. This is where the man said to meet him, He had a plan to stay alive, he needed to know what his enemy’s motives were to take advantage of it. He didn’t have a lot of assets here, and no clue what he was doing, and…

Whatever. Just stop.

He twists that now-oily blanket tight around him arm. Box of matches from the kitchen, fastened under his surcoat, half cracked to snatch quickly, There’s a bag of flour, but he left it in the kitchen close to the hall, that’s where he’d need it.

His bow’s on his side but he carefully set it on a corner of the deck, to avoid the temptation to use it. If the villain wanted him to come armed it had to be to his advantage…Alessio wasn’t going to use his weapon and let it play into his hands…

Where is he…?

It’s ghostly quiet. So quiet he can almost hear his own stifled breathing. He knows it’s not actually audible, any more than the throbbing of his heart knocking inside his chest like a bouncy ball.

Devils, where is he?

Can’t mess this up. No one’s going to get killed because of him…He needed to stop his opponent, immediately.

Footsteps. Metallic on the floor of the deck.

It’s not going to happen this time!

The sound’s coming from behind him.

Nithel would protect him…

Right behind him, close enough he could feel the air displaced along the back of his spine. It wasn’t a flashback.

Alessio spun around face to face with charcoal dark outline of his enemy in the shadows. For all the world he looked like a demon spat out a black abyss, coal-black except for the glimmering slits of eyes through his mask.

“Run and Arsene’s dead.” The words reverberate like a taunt wire.

Alessio whips a kick at the man’s jawline, but only catches his arm. His enemy reacted fast, but the first blow was just a distraction. Alessio dropped to floor and swerved another kick at his opponent’s legs but he evaded just as fast, and backed a step. The motion doesn’t click, Alessio was open for a brief second.

So why didn’t he attack?

“Who are you, sir,” Alessio demanded in a low voice “and what do you want from me?”

Just say something.

A gloat or a threat…

…just start talking

If he could get any response he could gauge his enemy, delay him. Maybe gather some level of data that he needed so bad. He was still frozen in a crouch, eyes poised for the slightest movement that would warn him of a strike. The air in his lungs was dry, crisper with every inhale, like a token reminder of the adrenaline pounding – volatile and shaky – through his nerves.

But the man didn’t respond, didn’t move. Just leered silently like an invitation to attack first or die.

“Yeah, not answering is unfathomably polite.” Alessio snorted, even to his own ears sounding like a cornered animal trapped between fight and flee. Losing the ability to feel human again.

Noiselessly, Alessio straightened a little, bracing for another onslaught, his mind racing a million different strategies to get out alive.

“Fine, sir” he prodded “what if I don’t want to fight you?”

“I kill Arsene.” The man didn’t even hesitate.

Everyone knew it. He was too weak to save anyone who got too close, wasn’t he? Just the thought of it paralyzed his brain at its frayed seams, sweat inking between the creases in his palms.

“Yeah, how?” Alessio provoked just a little more, just to delay.

Without warning, the man was charged him with his katana like a night draekon. Every nerve taunted as instinct kicked in and he vaulted over his enemy, like he would any palace ledge in a pitch black to the curses of his father after he’d had a few.

As he feet collided with the floor’s surface a rush of air sent him springing half his body backwards before his enemy could bash his face in. Didn’t want to give ground, he planted his feet firm and dived to strike his opponent’s side. He caught the man’s sheath, jerked out in the nick of time.

Alessio caught eye contact with his would-be killer. Cold in a way that would’ve made him shiver if it wasn’t a sensation so familiar.

“You don’t have a weapon.” The villain observed, laced with just the edge of a threat. Alessio consciously didn’t look at the bow shoved to a corner as a contingency, and instead gave his most innocent and wide-eyed.

“My disarming mien and witty repartee don’t count?” He asked artlessly. A nice trick to help people think he was cute when he was like ten. It was just annoying now, which was even better.

He’d tensed for another attack, but the man did the last thing he expected. He drove his sword back into its sheath with a hungry slicking sound. What kind of fight or deceit was this? Not knowing was worse – a lot worse – than a fight.

“Do you want to kill me or not?” It was sort’ve a dare. Anything but the mystery.

His enemy didn’t respond but he slowly grasps his head, wincing through his mask. A black, misty mesh overwhelmed the man’s arm.

Alessio’s eyes widened slightly, watching the solid darkness slowly consume his body. He swore he wouldn’t flinch but he did, he retreated a step, palpating terror like needles diving under his skin.

His father went crazy – completely mad – from the windigo fever. It consumed a person inside and out until they rotted to shadow. Crept into to small dark spaces like vents and tunnels. He hated the suffocating sensation of drowning in pitch blackness, the idea of your own mind being that blackness…

“What do you want?” He forced himself not to let his voice tremble, but it did, ever so slightly. He didn’t want to go mad like his father, he didn’t want to get close to it. The black web permeated the man’s entire body now.

Alessio crouches defensively, hearing his own rattling breath. Don’t touch it…

In an instant the villain dived at him, ramming a dark-mist coated hand at his face. Alessio jerked to the side, and thrusted his elbow directly toward his opponent’s neck. Pain exploded through his ribs almost instantly and he bit back a yelp, skidding back.

For some reason his enemy coiled away, Alessio didn’t even care why. Shock and panic funneled through his veins like an electric wire as he grabbed his injured side black smoke sweeping between his fingers from the wound. He darted a glance at the man, then at the bow in the corner. Any move he made now he had to be fast enough. Everything spun dizzily, wildly. His hands, the nerves under his skin. It was all both numb and trembling hot and cold. He couldn’t afford to lose it now!!!!

It was fading, black sifting to grey around his side.

He watched the man’s eyes narrow toward his wound.

With a gasp, Alessio ducked as his enemy’s fist barely misses colliding with his chest. Another blow in breath-taking succession, then his opponent’s in the air and Alessio jinked out of the way as his fist impales a large dent in the steel floor.

Can’t stay on the defensive.

He was probably half the man’s weight, most of his attacks just wouldn’t have the force to knock him out. But Alessio was used to being outmatched.

Before he could think what a stupid plan this was he leapt on his opponent twisting his legs around his neck, both to keep his grip and to compress the jugular veins at exactly the point that could knock him out if he could just hold on. He threw his whole weight back to throw his enemy off his feet but in a second he slammed against the floor but he whipped a kick square in the man’s face.

Alessio landed in a crouch as his enemy recoiled back, just a moment.

He was fairly confident now he couldn’t kill him, so he wouldn’t really have to hold back.

With a snap he lit a match from his sleeve and ignited the blanket wrapped around his arm. Fire whipped and crackled over his skin as eager as scarred memories. Even if it wasn’t his fire it hissed through his veins, intoxicating and feral.

He leveled a deathly stare at the monstrous man.

“Come on!” He dared, alert to the slightest movement. His enemy aimed a blow for his legs and Alessio sprang over his head and hurled a blow directly at his face. A stab of pain barely registers and Alessio’s flung to ground. It didn’t matter though, he’d made contact with the man’s face, he could see red streaks across the villain’s burned mask right before blackness consumes the man’s arm.

Solidifying smoke twisted into sets of giant claws…Alessio ducked and rolled to the side as a black hand smashed through the floor a hair’s breadth away from him. He snatched his change to dive down the opening into the lower floor.

He lands on a table cramped with vegetables, meats and knives. His foot grazed a metallic pan as he skidded off the surface.

There’s a soft thud through the walls but it barely registers. The kitchen is filled with people screaming with alarm at his sudden entrance. But not half as frantic as they became when the table smashed to pieces, materializing a furious assassin. Alessio catches the airborne pan and whips it in front of him just as the villain’s fist collided with the makeshift shield, smashing it in. Then he pulled back another punch. By now everyone had dashed out but he could still hear them screaming.

Alessio wheeled to the side, narrowly missing another blow that destroyed an oven behind him, igniting the stovetop all through the large fractured shards.

So Alessio – being such the rational person he is – ducked behind the burning wreckage as a makeshift shield. Bags of flour plume powdery white through the disaster that is this once-kitchen. Fire from the demolished oven coiled around Alessio, protectively.

His enemy didn’t move, he just waited.

“What?!” Alessio demanded.

Alessio tensed as the man drew his sword with a crisp hiss of steel. Any second he had to be ready to dodge. With a silent oath, Alessio realized his bow was still on the top floor. He was weaponless…mostly.

Alessio darted a glance at the bag of flour.

Another hiss of steel. To his surprise, the villain returned the blade to its sheath and look at the kitchen door. Why-? He ripped the thrice-cursed door off!!!

With an involuntary curse, Alessio jerked out of the way, quick as a whip snatching the flour which burst across the room. It reminded him of the palace cook trying to whip up a quick meal without any helpers cleaning up after her.

White powder blurred the entire area but he could still lock eyes with his attacker. He smiled, and flicked a match awake.

The thing about flour is…it’s very flammable and combusts in split second bursts. The perfect self-contained explosion.

His enemy fell back and Alessio was delighted to still be alive. For exactly two seconds.

Wraith black blades materialize right under his feet. Yelping a curse, Alessio dodges to the side, and flips a stack of plates into his hand, hurling them with deadly speed and accuracy. (Would’ve been deadly…if it was a deadly weapon.)

But Alessio just need the diversion. He was gone before his enemy had time to look up.

He skidded down a corridor.

In moment he could hear his opponent stalking down the hall. Hidden, Alessio listened for the slightest noise, coming closer and closer. His breathing was audible, in sharp, hushed pants. He knew it would give him away, but he couldn’t hold his breath anymore, every choked inhale burned.

He couldn’t hear his enemy’s footsteps now, there was too much commotion. People running, security shouting for order.

So he was virtually blind, he couldn’t see or hear his enemy but he knew it was only a matter of time…

“Everyone head calmly to the bottom floor!” Cracked a metallic voice from somewhere “There is safety in numbers, everyone please remain calm, and head to the bottom floor! Security will deal with the issue, please remain calm!”

Yeah. I’m totally calm!!! This is me, being calm-! He repeated in his head so sarcastically he almost believed himself.

A loud slam cracked behind him and Alessio stifled a yelp, dropping further into the crowd. Consciously, he straightened, projecting as much confidence as he could afford to avoid being noticed straight off as someone hiding. It also made people get out of the way a little more.

‘When does doing what it takes to survive become a sin?’

Alessio dropped back the moment they made it to the next room, ducking his head deeper into the hood of his awkward cloths.

‘When it harms more than it helps.’

Being in a crowd made it safer for him not for them. He was just so scared of being alone with that. So tired of being scared.

He numbly wrapped his arms around his sides, just a little shaken. Fortunately, the black substance had faded from his wound, but it still hurt like only a punch in the gut can. Whatever, he was used to that, he could keep moving. He lost the crowd, crept down another out-of-the-way passage. There he dropped to the floor and considered his options.

‘What is the purpose of surviving?’

Devils if I know, Nithel!

He mechanically unwound the stupid blanket from his arm, still oily and smelling of smoke, but he wrapped it around himself all the same, more for comfort than warmth. Survival was getting to be waste, like what did he even have to keep alive for?

That wasn’t what Nithel had meant he was pretty sure.

Alessio banged the back of his head against the wall to focus. It didn’t really work though, everything in him was screaming to just give up, he didn’t have any reason to live. He was pathetic. He didn’t want to go crazy, maybe he already was. He couldn’t live with that, he was nothing but trouble.

Every choice he ever made got other people killed. Like Muqarrib-He wasn’t going there, now wasn’t the time to think about it. Never might be a good time to think about it but…He just needed to keep moving.

“Nithel would be upset if I died, so I better live five minutes longer.” Alessio grumbled, climbing to his feet.

 

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