Sleep falls away the moment I hear the rasp of steel leaving leather. A sound i know far too well for someone who's chosen weapon is his body, the sound of a dagger leaving it's sheath
I don't move yet. Not because I fear what's behind me, quite the opposit, but because I know who it is. Daz, although the man is fast and has strength comparable to a mine-troll, i find myself disarmed by how poorly he hides his intentions and emotions, clearly used to being top dog, a position afforded to him only by a unique skill he possesses which works on monsters of the dungeon. His breathing is shallow, rapid. He's close. Fool thinks I'm asleep. He thinks he's a predator now. I can hear the tremble in his footfalls, the indecision clinging to each one like mildew to damp stone.
Then, unexpectedly, a soft woop cuts through the tension. Followed by a low, dreary growl.
Arson shifts in his sleep, curled near Carmine who still rested on his chest, tail twitching as if chasing something in his dream. It's not directed at Daz- he hasn't seen or smelled him. He's just dreaming of the hunt or perhaps a particularly thick femur which didn't turn to ash after a kill.
But it's enough to startle the yellow bellied demi-human.
Daz freezes. I can hear the hitch in his throat, the scrape of panic rising in his lungs. Cowardice wins out, and he backs away into the dark. i chuckle and smirk to myself
I don't pursue. Not yet.
it seemed my short bout of laugher woke Carmine, as her Amethyst eyes flutter open still half asleep till she meets my gaze, she turns nearly as red as her hair "A-A-Ah... GOODMORROWCAELUNHOWAREYOUDOINGTHISFINEMORINGHAHAHA-" she blurts out, as she springs off my chest, out from under the pelt and to her feet in a flash, my own face takes on a slightly darker hue that only those who had been around me long enough to recognize my mannerism was a rather prominent blush.
"ah good Moring to you as well Carmine..." the air stills for a moment with tension of the kind i would call good before we both chuckle and start about packing up camp and waking our sleeping travel mates.
We break camp soon after, climbing ever upward through the Dungeon's winding arteries. It's a long, cautious journey from the 29th to the 14th floor. Too many detours, backtracks, false paths. All to avoid being seen. I'm fairly certain they don't want word spreading. Not until I've joined their familia. Until then, I'm a liability. An unknown. A dangerous question with no answer, that i know of at least.
They talk about it in common. The tongue of this land, for the most part. I pick up a few words here and there- names, directions, dates- but nothing of substance. I don't care enough to ask. They think it's about hiding me from rivals, but I know it's also about hiding me from their gods. Not all deities would approve of what I am.
Still, I've decided. I will join.
Not for their sake. Not even just for Carmine, though she would be reason enough. No, it's because the Falna… this blessing from the divine… it reminds me of something once envied. A gift not unlike the grace given to Tarnished by their maidens. Though I was always the stronger of us, I watched that strange friend of mine- reborn soul from another world- rise again and again and again, as long as he had runes to feed his flame and a maiden to tend it.
I had my Great Rune, yes, but I never had that gift. That divine permit to grow limitlessly. The falna is not so different from the grace of gold. It recognizes effort and strife. It transforms violence into strength. It speaks in a language I understand and am oh so fluent in.
By the time we settle for the night on the 14th, the decision is made. I will accept Ishtar's mark. I will rise higher, perhaps one day high enough to realize the divinity of my blood. And if Carmine walks the same path, all the better. She has said one of the benefits of the falna is slowed aging, while not a factor for me, the stronger she gets the longer she will live... worth consideration
Tonight, I lie alone. No warmth pressed beside me. Carmine sleeps further off, Arson curled up beside her, head on her thigh. He's grown close to her. She's begun feeding him magic stones from weaker monsters- beasts that offer no thrill to a level five Amazoness and much less a tanker like herself. It endears her to him. It endears her to me.
The fire is low. The air is still.
Then I hear it.
The same sound again- leather and steel- soft feet in a shaken predator's rhythm. Daz.
This time, Arson does not stir. He's too far. This time, Daz's courage has carried him too close.
The dagger is already drawn when I move.
My hand snaps back, faster than a whip. I catch his wrist in my grip and rise with him still crouched, still thinking himself a killer.
The firelight catches his face. His eyes go wide.
"hoh!? up for round two then Daz?! why didn't you jus say so!" speak in an intentionally booming tone, i need not justify myself and the rest know of Daz's resentment, but the remainder of the trip and future in the Ishtar familia will go much smoother if they see proof with their own eyes.
The others stir as I tighten my grip, as the dagger clatters to the stone. They rise to see him pinned beneath me.
His mouth moves before his brain can catch up. He denies. He pleads. Thrashes like a caught fish as he tries to escape, stump waving in the air. He looks to them to Carmine, to the others. "STOP WAIT, EVERYONE HELP ME THIS BARBARIAN IS TRYING TO FRAME ME!"
But there is no defense in their eyes. Only shame. Disgust. And pity for a comrade lost to his own delusions of grandeur.
He looks back to me. I see it in his expression then- not fear, not regret.
Only sorrow and despair.
Not for what he did.
For failing.
I pass my judgment without a word. other hand reaching out to his head as the one on his arm slides to his collar.
One sharp twist, fast and final.
His neck turns a half circle, bone snapping like dry twigs. The breath leaves him with a shudder. He slumps to the ground, eyes still open, face locked in betrayal as he stares from his back.
The others say nothing for a long while.
When they do, it is only to curse his foolishness.
"gods damn it Daz." they mutter things along those lines, some sheding tears others clenching teeth the mage simply stared on with a hollow gaze.
All of them but Carmine mourn, apparently most in the party shared some form of unrequited love for the outwardly young man.
But no one protests.
And I return to sleep, knowing the true danger of the night is gone.